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Summary
It’s then that Eddie’s hands stutter to a halt, palms pressed to the soft flesh of Buck’s belly. Blinking foggily, Buck catches Eddie’s line of sight, to the way his gaze has drifted to the very noticeable bulge in Buck’s sweats.
“Fuck,” whispers Buck hurriedly, a fiery dose of humiliation and shame washing over him. His heart thumps miserably beneath his ribcage, and he swallows against a swell of nausea. “Fuck, I— I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Buck looks up again in time to catch Eddie’s eyes, now trained on Buck’s warm face.
God, Eddie’s not even doing anything, and Buck’s about to bust. He’s— he’s on a hair trigger, like he’s sixteen again.
After a too-long moment, Eddie clears his throat. Almost whispering, he says, “It’s okay. It happens. It’s… pain receptors; your body is just… you’re in overdrive. Adrenaline. It’s normal.”
OR: Buck’s humiliation ritual of the day.
Series
- Part 23 of ejo + 911