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there are a lot of places that buck has never wanted to end up in his life.
a three am rabbithole into nutty putty cave had sent him spiraling about cave-diving, he still holds his breath when he goes over the walkway of the journalism building because of the regency walkway collapse, and one of the last documentaries he watched was about a cruise where everything shut down and people spent a week shitting into plastic bags and living under tarps.
and now he's on a cruise ship, full of glass walkways with wire-thin supports, and he knows that eddie has been eyeing a cave excursion that made him nervous just reading the description on the website.
across the deck, the rest of the pikes are pouring a bunch of condiments into a bowl, and passing it around, some form of demented hot potato that buck knows will end in some poor idiot having to drink it. his head rings from how loud they are being, there's a circle of older, redder men standing behind them, cheering it on. he does not know why he is here, when he did not want to do this, but he'd been added to a group chat, and then peer-pressured on top of the peer-pressure, and there's something about being the tallest person in the room typically that makes people think he's more social than he actually is. he sees how they confused him for one of their kind, but they hadn't seen him frantically unpeeling the bi pride flag sticker from his water bottle.
there had been a moment, in high school, where following after eddie all the time got a lot harder, it was hard when he wanted to drive up to the capital to go to protests, it got hard getting caught by eddie kissing boys behind the church, it got really, really hard when he agreed to keep that last part to himself, because they couldn't afford those types of secrets; eddie had been right, because now that secret is stuck to the roots of his teeth and making his gums hurt.
and worse, now, doing the spring break thing, and feeling like the lone human surrounded by animals, he can't help but to think there's been a mistake.
it's just that in the documentary that he watched about a baby getting left with wolves, it wasn't a cute disney movie, the baby ended up with the type of trauma that leaves people with those eyes that creep him out, nothing behind them but just whatever fucked up thing happened to their brain to make it easier to shut everything down.
he gets that stare, now. he gets it, after the half-week that he's had, trapped on this floating disease island, shuttling back and forth between tourist resorts, surrounded by shirtless men he's not allowed to look at, but not allowed to get caught so obviously not looking at. he glances at tommy, who has sufficiently painted himself to cover up his black and white stripes; no zebras to be found, no siree.
eddie is so close to him, and it is so early in the morning, and he can feel his sanity peeling at the edges, worse and worse, with each hoot and holler. somebody finally eats the bowl of nonsense, and ends up losing their breakfast over the railing, into the water below; the crowd is disgusted and jeering; they disperse quickly when the fun is over.
eddie is so, so close to him, and he cannot hide in his thoughts anymore.
there is an inch of space between them, and buck can feel every bit of it, and so he moves his chair over, just enough, trying to time it for when the band picks up with what turns out to be arguably the world's worst cover of don't stop believing; he doesn't know why he agreed to this. there were so many things he could be doing with his spring break, but when offered the rock and hard place of his parent's basement and going on a cruise for charity, trying to forget about that night, and well.
he'd tried to get his maymester study abroad paperwork in on time, and a misread email had done him in, and he can't help but wonder what it would be like to be trekking around spain with dr. grant-nash instead of sitting hungover in between eddie and ana who aren't fighting, and being leered at by tommy, who keeps shooting him the types of looks that end with lotion being lowered down to him in a bucket for fear of hoses, surrounded by the members of eddie's fraternity, and not a single, kind-eyed, preferably a little dominate drop to drink.
he pokes around at his soggy pancakes and sighs; the only thing holding him together is a watered down mimosa; in the edge of his hearing, he can tell that ana is gearing up for her thousandth passive aggressive comment of the morning; before she can make it very far, his world is shifting in a way that definitely isn't the cruise ship moving; he startles and lurches into eddie, who laughs at him.
"you were too far away," eddie says, smiling, too smug and proud of himself for making buck jump; his stomach rolls, and it's not from sea-sickness; he doesn't know what face he's making, but he's sure it's deranged; he gets flashes of neon lights and oil and rain slick parking lots, and the feeling of being pushed away, and the pancakes start threatening to make a reappearance.
"i was leaving space for jesus," he shoots back, only barely keeping his composure; at least it makes eddie laugh again, even though his heart is beating in his throat, being this close; he wants to be better than this; he feels like the type of person they crack all of those jokes about when he's just brave enough to go to the gsa meetings that are rather ironically held in the chapel on campus; he moves his chair away again, only to get promptly dragged back, the feet of the chair scraping against the metal surface of the deck.
ana coughs, and tommy stares at both of them like he's putting something together that buck would rather he didn't; it's embarrassing enough that maddie knows; if tommy puts it together, he might actually end himself.
"we've got an hour until our excursion, we have to get down there to take the boat before the rest of our group can take up all of the spots, we don't want to be late" ana says, breaking through his ashamed haze; her tone on each we says he's not welcome or invited; he'd planned on doing his own exploration anyway, but also he'd planned on taking a break from tommy if he can manage it, even if that means cliff-diving. and he's not even thinking about the rest of the pack of guys that stare at him like they can tell he's not like them; he's broken from his thoughts when eddie pokes him in the side.
"are you excited for ziplining, buck?" eddie's tone is pointed, and ana makes a face, and the worst part is that buck can't even blame her; he'd also be ticked if someone who was in love with his boyfriend kept tagging along on all of their obvious dates, too.
"i'll leave that to you guys, i just wanted—" his chair gets pulled even closer, and he squeaks, and it's horribly embarrassing; he is going to throw himself into the ocean; eddie coos at him, somewhere between honest and mocking, and he sinks into his chair.
"it's part of the package, we're all going together, it'll be fun."
this should be the moment where he says something; ana is staring at him, shooting him messages with her eyes; tommy is staring at him like he can already feel the skin-suit he's gonna make and it fits like a glove; eddie looks ever-oblivious and too handsome for how obviously hungover he is; this is the moment he should say something, and yet he just plasters on a crazed smile and nods, a bit too wobbly to be natural; in the corner of his vision, ana rolls her eyes and deflates; it's a strange posture on someone so beautiful; her bracelets click together when she folds her arms.
the universe is testing him, and he is failing at every turn.
on the tender boat, buck takes the hint and takes leave; ana offers him a rare smile as he moves away from her and eddie to sit at the back of the boat; he gets about a minute of peace before he gains a shadow in the form of tommy, who leans against the railing next to him.
"you know, there's something about watching you watch him that is sort of sweetly pathetic. very three-legged dog energy," his tone says that he's joking, but his face has a barely restrained frustration that makes buck wish it wouldn't probably kill him to take a jump over the railing and swim to shore, which surely would be less awkward.
"sure, man, whatever—" he doesn't have a witty response to that, he's hoping the awkward lull and silence will be enough to send tommy away, but he doesn't take the hint, and just moves a little bit closer; he is wearing too much cologne and it is clashing with the fact that he's sweating tequila, buck leans away from him for even a hint of fresh air; he still does not take the hint.
"i'm just saying. you won't know how good your other options are unless you realize that you have other options. i'll do you the same kindness someone did me when i was pathetically pining after a straight boy. he doesn't want you, he will never want you, find a dick that'll get hard when you suck it."
buck stares out over the horizon, with his heart in his stomach, feeling embarrassingly close to tears; in a rare show of empathy, tommy touches a hand to his arm, an attempt at some type of comfort.
"the best way to get over him is to get under someone else," he starts, and buck shakes his hand off; he'd been wrong, apparently, and all of that comfort came bursting at the seams with an agenda; he steps away from tommy, and he follows, yet again; his skin burns at being so cornered.
"to borrow your own words, tommy, i don't want you, i will never want you."
tommy scoffs, but buck just shakes his head, feeling bile rise up in his throat, feeling so impossibly embarrassed and annoyed.
"find a dick that gets hard when you suck it."
it's awkward, again, when their group comes back together, because tommy has gone from pouting to stewing to an anger that basically comes off of him as steam; buck stands as far away from him as he can get, which only means that eddie is clinging to his side by the time they make it off the tender boat and onto the dock.
he eyes the bus that the rest of the passengers all start to walk towards, and the path that leads to the beach and the rest of the small resort on the island; buck starts to wander towards the path only to get dragged back by the shirt; eddie is smiling at him, but his eyes are unsure.
"you've been trying to get away all day," eddie says, and tommy scoffs somewhere in his peripheral.
"i just wanted to give you some time alone," he tries, making frantic eye contact with ana, because he wants it to be clear that he's trying, that he gets it, that he'll make himself scarce until he can purge whatever this is from his system and never make the mistake that he made again; he tugs away again and she sighs, rolling her eyes and pasting on a smile.
"and you don't have to do that, that's the entire point of going on a trip with friends, is to spend time with friends."
when she says it like that, it almost sounds like she means it, if it wasn't for the way that her smile doesn't reach her eyes; it barely makes it past the corners of her mouth; she looks so miserable that buck can't help himself but to put his foot down, this has gotten ridiculous.
all she wants is to spend time with her boyfriend, and all her boyfriend wants is to put as much space between them as possible, and more selfishly, if he has to spend more time with tommy he's going to end up in a jamaican prison for shoving him over the side of a cliff that they aren't supposed to jump over.
"no, you two need time alone to have fun. i can go do the cliff-diving alone, and you two can have your ziplining adventure, and tommy can—" he realizes that tommy has wandered off to go bother another tourist who seems to actually be appreciating his flirtation; he'd gotten over buck quickly and taken his own advice at the same time; it makes him feel relief to see tommy take off with their group as everybody splits up; he doesn't know that he minds the lack of company, and ana looks so excited he can't help himself; eddie is staring at him like he can see through buck's soul, and it makes him nauseous for a second, being so transparent, but he just can't do this right now; he needs to move on and stop crowding them.
"you're sure?" it feels like there's more to that question, he knows he's reading into it; now is the best time to stop, so he just smiles at them, and for the first time in a long time, ana's smile at him seems honest; he gets why eddie likes her, she's beautiful when she's happy.
"yeah, i'm sure. go have fun, lovebirds."
he's proud of himself for not staring after them as they leave; he's at least got more pride than that.
buck would hate to admit it, but he can feel a weight leave his shoulders the second that ana and eddie leave him behind.
he hikes up his backpack and boards the bus with the rest of the passengers; their guide cracks jokes the entire drive up through the trees and the rough roads, curling up and around the jagged landscape and the jutting cliffside; it's impossibly hot, even with the windows open, and he's sweating through his shirt to the point that it's a little embarrassing, and it's still the best he's felt the entire trip, the wind rushing through his hair and all of the people chatting and laughing around him; when they pull up to the beginning of the trail, everybody gets off of the bus in a single file line, with a few of the kids orbiting their parents nervously; the sky is so blue it's almost hard to look at, through the gaps of the trees, and everything just seems brighter.
they make a short hike to the top of the cliff; there's a bar with music playing, and a huge infinity pool of the brightest blue water buck thinks he's seen in his entire life; he peers over the railing at the sharp, jagged rocks, and more impossibly blue water and his stomach swoops at how high up they are; it's not the scariest thing he's done in his life, dealing with his mother takes the cake, but it's a close second or third. there's no ropes or harnesses, just a straight plunge down into the depths, unless he misses and manages to fall straight into a giant rock.
there's two men, one of them shorter and more muscular, and the other wiry and tall; the taller instructor gathers the first group around, calling for all of the kids to walk over to a safer section to jump from, with yet another man who gives them bright orange wristbands, and then the rest of the group goes up further.
"now this side, it's about forty feet. this is for the braver souls in the group, and i know none of you will chicken out on me, right?" he laughs, showing all of his bright white teeth, contrasting against his dark skin, tossing his head back on a bright laugh. his happiness is contagious enough that buck can't help but to smile back at him, the rest of the group looks more wary but excited, still staring over the edge of the cliff.
"so who wants to go first?"
nobody else moves, so buck steps forward alone. he's spent the entire trip feeling like a coward, and it feels a little good to be brave; the instructor winks at him, and tugs him forward by the wrist; his palms are heavily calloused, it's obvious that he works with his hands.
"that's what i'm talking about. you ready?" buck nods, but it's hesitant and he's sure he's grimacing the entire time. the instructor pats him on the back with another bell-clear, melodic laugh.
"no, you're not, but it doesn't matter. do it, and the ready will find you in the water, yeah?" buck isn't sure he knows what that means, but it sounds good enough that he takes a deep breath and steps forward just that much closer to the edge of the cliff.
he knows how to dive; he thinks of every pool he's ever stood at the edge of, with his father's voice barking in his ears, and the sound of timers and worse, the disappointment when he lost; the only thing that ever made it worth it was sitting in a whataburger with maddie and eddie after, laughing it off; he thinks of the view from the treehouse in eddie's backyard, he thinks of the freedom he felt, finally driving into the city, and seeing the tower and the bell-curve of the capital building, and leaving everything behind for college.
this doesn't weigh him down as much as all of those losses did, it feels more like that freedom; his feet leave the ground and for a moment, it feels like he's flying; when he hits the water, he realizes the instructor was right.
he swims out of the way for the next person and floats on his back for a second, enjoying the water against his skin and the sun on his face; he feels the best he has in days.
on the way back, the sky goes dingy white with thick clouds and then a darker green-grey color that spells a storm coming; it makes all of them hustle a little faster; the driver eyes the sky nervously but they make it down safely.
they meet back up at the dock to board the tender boat; buck sneaks on with a family, hiding behind a dad that gives him a side-eye that he meets with a sheepish smile, but he manages to go mainly unseen; tommy is still clinging to his tourist from earlier who looks far less charmed than he did before; eddie and ana are sullenly distant from each other, like there's an invisible barrier; he feels guilty, but he feels so light, and it's the first time he hasn't felt bogged down by that night in months; it's nice to feel a little bit more like himself, even if it's still tinged with a little bit of loneliness; he can feel the space where eddie would normally be so much more than he typically does, when he looks up and eddie isn't next to him, but hand in hand with ana, and surrounded by the crowd of pikes, painted burnt orange and white at a football game that he almost never wants to be at.
when they get back to the ship, buck is completely exhausted, and finally happy, kind of, at getting some time alone; he'd like to ride this high because he cannot stand the idea of tommy reverting back to his assholeness or mediating arguments between ana and eddie bringing him down, and he definitely doesn't want to party with the pikes, and the growing collection of weirdly interested fathers trailing after them; he looks over his shoulder the entire way; he doesn't rest until he's back in his room, and the little side panel by the door reads 'do not disturb'.
he sits on the balcony with his feet propped up on the side table, and watches the water rush by, and the sun set slowly over the horizon into the gathering clouds until it disappears completely behind them and the storm finally splashes across the sky; it's not raining yet, but he's sure that they'll be sailing through a storm for most of the night, and he's looking forward to a nice night of peaceful sleep; he sits there until he gets hungry, and then he orders room service; a greasy burger and a giant pile of fries, and an even more giant frozen cocktail that is pure sugar and rum, and outside of the cliff-diving, it's truly best he's felt the entire trip, sitting there, stuffed full and happier for it, and most importantly, the blessed silence from the lack of sniping and bickering.
he knows how happy his parents were when he got into a school that wasn't an embarrassment to tell their friends about, he knows how happy they were when he started hanging out with guys in a fraternity, and had more friends than just eddie and maddie, and he knows that the proudest they've ever been of him has been the little bits of normalcy he's collected; he looks good on the mantle, now, finally enough for a square inch in their shrine of mostly maddie.
but sitting here, the only thing he wants is to be as far away from all of it as possible; it doesn't feel as worth it when it blows this fucking hard and he feels so bad at it, and he had such a good day, not thinking about all of the things waiting for him at the end of this trip. buck sits against the headboard trying to shake himself out of spiralling; he puts on a movie and orders another cocktail and tries to distract himself enough to fall asleep, tipsy and rocked to sleep by the steady motion of the ship against the waves as the rain starts to come down.
buck wakes up because he hears a loud knocking that makes his heart beat so fast it makes him nauseous; he mistakes it for a crack of thunder until it happens again.
there are three more loud knocks at his door; loud bangs that send panic and a rush of adrenaline through his system before he also hears the loud offkey singing from outside and realizes that the knocking was probably just a drunken drum solo that will splinter the wood if he doesn't do something quickly.
buck rolls out of the bed, grumbling and swiping at his crusted over eyes; when he opens it, eddie tips through the door, falling into him. his skin is over-warm and sweaty, and his hair is curling against his forehead; he's got his shirt tucked into his back pocket, twisted up and half-tangled around his leg; buck steadies him and he blinks owlishly into the dim lighting of the sconce next to the door, creeping and casting shadows over the cheap carpet. both of them sway for a second with the motion of the ship; he can feel every bit of the lack of space between them, and neon lights flash in the back of his memory, again.
"well, hello, stranger. funny finally running into you." eddie's words are slurred, and his gaze is unfocused, and he's looking at buck with something behind his eyes that makes him nervous.
"your room is across the ship," buck says, knowing that eddie is barely listening to him, "and your girlfriend is across the ship in said room, and i'm sorry but i don't feel like being yelled at over breakfast."
"she won't yell at you," eddie says, or mumbles, really, standing up to his full height only to slump again, collapsing against the cheap built-in closet, breathing heavily like just the work of keeping himself upright is too much.
"right. she'll just be really passive aggressive for an hour and make me feel bad for not surviving off of egg whites and deep breaths because of toxins in pancakes or whatever. just give me a second and i'll walk you to your floor."
buck goes to pull on his flip-flops, but he's stopped by a hand on his arm; eddie pins him in place, with his eyes closed, taking another labored breath; the tequila is coming off of him in waves; it's a miracle he's still standing and talking; he blinks his eyes open and their gazes meet; whatever he's thinking, buck really can't figure it out. he breaks their staring contest and turns away, only to get pulled back again. his eyes are dark; too dark. buck can't look away again, he's not that strong.
"i can stay here," eddie says, his voice low, "we've shared a bed before, it's fine."
he stands up with a groan and a pop of his back, stretching and tugging his shirt from his pocket, dropping it onto the desk; it's funny, watching him act like he owns the place, an ease and comfort that hasn't been around in so long; in tequila veritas, apparently, buck thinks, staring after him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and collapses face-first into the pillows, before rolling onto his back; buck looks away while he shuffles his jeans off, dropping them over the side of the bed; when he looks back, his breath gets stuck in his chest; it's just a sight he's seen time and time again and will never get used to; eddie, reclined against the stark white sheets, glowing in the low light, eyes glittering and hazy from the alcohol, and then all the rest of it; carved from marble, dark ink draped over his bicep, solid muscle and a fine dusting of hair up his thighs; the man he's grown into is nothing short of art; he looks away again, feeling caught.
"you're not gonna shower?" he says, just for something to say, just because he doesn't quite know what to with himself, when it's just the two of them, and no buffer of a friend group that he barely feels like he belongs to because he's quite sure that he doesn't; between ana's irritation with him, and the fact that tommy tends to stare at him like he's picturing him hog-tied with an apple in his mouth when he's not slinging insults.
and then there's this, again, because eddie doesn't answer him, he's just doing what he's been doing, which is staring.
"what are you staring at?" it's a dumb question, mainly because of all the eye contact, but also because he isn't sure he wants an honest answer to it; when he meets his embarrassing end and all of his life flashes before his eyes, he hopes he gets to skip the montage of eddie moments that is mainly him feeling as stupid and devastated as his body can handle before his heart gives out; even now, it skips a beat.
eddie doesn't even answer, he just keeps watching, like there's something he's trying to figure out, but his brain is too soaked in tequila to get there; he pats the bed beside him, and buck is a good dog, he comes when he's called.
he sits gingerly on the bed next to eddie; there's not a lot of space; it's a full-sized bed, and they are large men, and there's barely any room between them; he can feel a line of heat coming off of eddie next to him, but he doesn't know if it's in the air or just the temptation to bridge the gap and touch.
"you think i don't remember," he says, quietly, almost like he's talking to himself, and buck freezes, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach, but somehow leaving his heartbeat behind to pound unsteadily in his throat.
"remember what?"
in the corner of his vision, eddie looks at him, and buck doesn't look back; he focuses on the ugly piece of too-trendy artwork on the opposite wall. he can still see eddie bring his hand up to his mouth, gingerly; his heart beats even faster, seeing just the shapes and shadow of him touching his fingers to his plush lips, almost in awe; there's a sun-flush that settles over his skin, burning hot from the desire and embarrassment.
"nothing. i'm allowed to keep secrets," buck can't help the sharp irritation that claws into his stomach, tempered by the fact that it's more shame than anything, shame and fear and the realization that he's been so impossibly stupid about this, seeing shadows and jumping at ghosts; whatever he's talking about, buck doesn't want to put hope in his mouth.
"eddie—" he speaks before he can stop himself; it's desperate, and embarrassingly so. he knows what he hopes eddie isn't talking about, and what he hopes that he is, and then he knows that he should be better than that; he remembers maddie picking him up off the floor the morning after, and the promising; you deserve someone who sees you like that, and i'm sorry, he just doesn't see you like that.
he can almost taste the wine, and the soft vanilla of the candles she's always burning in her townhouse, and that imploring stare, the wisdom of an older sister that he knew he was going to ignore before the words could even fully leave her mouth; he didn't want to tell her how good he's gotten at being invisible, how comforting it feels when at least it's eddie, who still turns to him more often than not; he'll take what he can get when it's this; when it's the way that eddie's hand creeps across the sheets to tug at his, linking their pinkies together; his other hand is draped over his thigh.
"you think i don't remember," he says, tipping his head back, still wiggling their hands, with a soft smile, "but i do remember. i might be pretty but i'm not stupid. felt like," he hiccups, and then giggles to himself, raspy and liquor-soaked, like he can't even help but to be amused at how bizarre this situation is, "felt like stepping into the sun. figures you'd do that to me, like you're always doing it. don't even know you're doing it and i didn't know either. and then, you just—" he stops moving their hands, and buck holds his breath when eddie picks up his hand and holds it between his own, calloused fingertips and soft palms, turning buck's hand over, tracing over the veins and scars, "you acted like it was nothing. turned my world upside down on a tuesday in a p. terry's parking lot and then moved on like it never happened."
he breathes slowly, unevenly for a second.
"but then i realized that you were just as cut up about it as i was, and i was so drunk, and that—i remembered. i remembered, and i kept remembering, and then i started dreaming, and then i just—"
he drops their hands, into the cradle of his thighs; buck holds his breath the second that eddie breathes out, feeling the soft hair against his knuckles; the heat against his fingertips is too much for his broken heart; he can't handle this, he can't handle being this close, he can't handle the way the tequila has loosened eddie's tongue.
"you kissed me. i didn't forget about it, buck. you just—you didn't give me enough time to kiss you back, and then you ran. and i need you to tell me what to do, because i feel like i'm losing my mind. "
"you think you're losing your mind?" something in him snaps; he's not mad, but he feels rabid, "and i didn't run, you pushed me away and that was it. you didn't remember it correctly, eds. i just—i thought we'd figured it out, i got good at not thinking about how much i—" some dumb part of him wants to say love you, and the rest of him is smart enough to cut it off and keep talking, even though it's awkward and surely obvious, "and then i kissed you, and i fucked it up, and then you showed up with a girlfriend two days later. we didn't say it out loud, but didn't we agree to never talk about it again? it's been five months, i thought that was all she wrote."
"i'm sorry." his voice is low, and wavering, not like he's going to cry, but just hoarse and exhausted, "i don't know what i'm doing. you—i pushed you? buck—i'm sorry, i don't know, i'm sorry—" he spirals for a moment, voice cracking down the middle, before he gets that look in his eyes, that crazy steel-solid look in his eyes that he normally gets before he does something dumb that buck has to clean up after, and it's a look that has led him to some real stupid places, but he can't help himself.
eddie looks at him, and he can't look away.
"do it again, let me get a do-over. kiss me, again, please—"
"no," he goes to move away, but for the thousandth time that day, eddie yanks him back, and he's dizzy from it, even though he's the most sober person in this situation, and the alcohol is still making his brain crash against his skull; it's like time slows to a syrup-thick crawl, and in this moment, it's just the two of them, staring at each other, with eddie's hand grabbing his chin, probably making him a little cross-eyed; he's being kissed before he can even process it, and for a second, it's not a good one, slobbery with too much teeth and too much residual salt, lime, and tequila, but he tips his head and eddie zigs when he zags, and suddenly, it's not that complicated; it's just the two of them, and that's all that matters; he sinks into eddie and it feels like coming home.
he pulls back, leaning their foreheads together, about to talk, but eddie cuts him off with another kiss, and then another, and then he tips buck's head back to get to his neck, and in between the sheer amount of biting, he remembers that he was trying to say something.
"we can't, eddie, eds, we can't—" getting everything he's wanted since they were mud-stained and the same height should feel better, and not so much like a test of his decency, as a human being, or as a man, says a voice that sounds too much like his father for the places that eddie's hands are wandering; he's moving faster than buck was expecting, and it's strange to be on the other side of this eagerness that inside of him, has been barely contained, and in front of him, is too much for his heart to handle.
"we can, and we are, buck please—" eddie speaks the words into his neck and he's embarrassed at the sound he makes in response to how good it feels, damp and lust-drenched, but he knows they should stop. it's just that he'd surely be more convincing if he tried to fight against eddie's hands instead of doing his best to fuse with them, or if he stopped eddie from tipping him onto his back, or if he even paused for a second to mention his relationship, barely hanging on as it is, it still exists, it's just that it feels too good to get what he wants, for once; eddie's hand finds its way to his shorts, unsurely, but still trying. this is all moving so fast and he doesn't know what to do with himself.
eddie is finally successful with his shorts, and yanks them down impatiently; he's so rough, and it shouldn't do it for buck the way that it does, the greediness behind his touch, but it sends a fire up his spine the way that eddie pushes him fully onto his back and pins him in place, there's something about how solid he is, but more, how he can't seem to wait to get his hands on every inch of skin, like they've been having the same fantasies about what they'd touch first and he doesn't know where to start with his bottomless desire.
he gets buck's underwear out of the way, too, stretched too tight around his mid thigh, and then he just stares for a second; buck is expecting to be pushed away again, but he just keeps staring, and then buck finally looks at his face and sees a hunger there that would make anybody with more self-preservation run for the hills, but it just makes him wobble in place; his head somehow feeling stuffed with cotton and too heavy for his neck at the same time; he almost loses it when eddie swipes the back of his hand across his mouth because he's started to drool.
when he ducks his head down, he gets bucks legs over his shoulders, and then he's truly pinned with nowhere to run from it; eddie isn't even looking at him properly anymore, it's like his eyes have glazed over and his focus has drilled down to one thing; the first touch of his mouth to buck's cock is sloppy and wet, and it's clear he doesn't know what he's doing or where to start, he just knows that he wants; he just licks and sucks and gets spit on whatever skin is in front of him, pressing his mouth to his shaft and giving a suckling french kiss to the tip of his cock, sucking at his foreskin; it's enough to make buck keen and push against the hands holding him down for more, but eddie just keeps him in place like it's nothing and he can't do anything but give into it; it doesn't feel like being sucked off, it feels like being eaten out, and he's dumb enough to look down and see eddie's head between his legs and then he can't look anymore, because he feels like he's losing his mind.
"eddie, fuck, i can't—" he doesn't know what he can't, there's too much happening in his brain and it could be anything, any option; he can't breathe, he can't speak, he can't figure out how this happened, he can't understand how good it feels when eddie finally gets the hang of something and manages to take all of him into his throat, and he's remembering now, an unfortunate boner at a state fair hot-dog eating contest in high school; he knew about eddie's lack of gag reflex, he just didn't think he'd be experiencing it, and now his brain is shutting down, fully done, that's all she wrote; he's going to die from getting the best blowjob he's ever gotten and it's not even that good, there's a glance of teeth every time he bobs his head that would normally make buck pull away, but it's eddie, and there's something about the fact that he can't get enough and can't even slow down enough for guidance, he just needs to take, like he's all rotted through with it like buck has been, like they've been starving the same and finally feasting.
his temples hurt and he can taste his heartbeat, and it feels like every sensation is coming to him second hand so his body can focus solely on the wet plush, silky softness of eddie's mouth, and the squeeze of his throat, and his tongue, licking and flicking against the base of his cock; he feels like he's going to burst, too-ripe and tender, like georgia peaches and texas strawberries; his vision goes watery and then starts to fog at the corners; he tries to say something, but it comes out as a slurred, keening cry; he can feel eddie swallowing around his cock, throat clutching and squeezing like he can't get enough, and tears start to bead up and fall from the corners of his eyes, rolling down his temples; he comes so hard that his leg cramps up, all of his muscles seizing and making his head throb, and eddie doesn't let up for any of it, not a single breath, just greedy, greedy gulps of him, like he can devour buck as much as his gaze wants to.
when he finally pulls off, he's breathing heavily, and his eyes are red, and tear-stained and crazed; buck can barely move and he feels like his soul is somewhere a little to his left, making friends with the headboard, but eddie isn't done with him; he kneels over buck, who can't help but to drop his eyes to eddie's underwear, which are drooping from how soaked the fabric is, all buck can think about is how wet he gets, enough that there's a dark shiny spot at the tip of his cock that drips down, making the fabric cling to the tip; when he finally pulls himself free, the tip of his cock is red and dripping, a shiny string of pre-come that makes buck's mouth water. he's embarrassed by the yelp that he lets out when eddie tugs his legs over one shoulder.
the fabric of his own shorts and underwear end up tangled and trapping his legs together; he has no clue what eddie is about to do, and is mustering up the strength to tell him that assholes do not work like that, but then eddie squeezes his thighs together, and then slides his cock between them, and buck takes the hint; he's still slick from all of the spit and the mess that eddie made of him, and it helps that he's so wet, every thrust is hard enough to send buck a little up the bed from it, and he can't help but to watch eddie watching his cock as he fucks the channel between buck's thighs. every noise that he makes is more desperate and higher pitched than buck was expecting them to be, had dreamed them to be, soft and punched out of his chest; his eyelashes flicker against his flushed cheeks, and his chest is heaving; the grip he has on buck's knee is tight, and when he bends buck even further, both of them groan at how good it feels; he can't get hard again but g-d if his body isn't willing to try; every slide of eddie's cock against his makes him moan, too.
he's obviously already close, and it doesn't take much for him to come all over buck's cock, making a mess of him, painting his skin shiny white and slick; he watches in awe as eddie rubs his own mess in, all over buck's cock, rubbing it into his skin, with a possessive, hungry look on his face; he looks deranged, and buck is right there with him; everything he wanted, and he's still not sure he isn't going to wake up wet and embarrassed and tangled in his sheets with the sun shining through his window, and all of this will go up in smoke; there's a crack of thunder beyond the ship that rattles his nerves and the windows at the same time; through the window, the rain is coming down so hard there's not much to be seen except for the sheen of the moonlight against the steady drumbeat of water.
eddie gingerly puts his legs down, and suddenly; it's just the two of them, feeling every bit of naked that they are; he sits up, and he sits up too quickly and gets a little dizzy because of it.
"i'm drunk, but that wasn't a mistake and i don't take it back," eddie says, still a little frozen, with his underwear tugged down; he looks a little ridiculous, with his cock hanging shiny and wet between his legs, and the spit on his chin and his swollen mouth, and buck is still captivated by him, it's embarrassing, "and i'm not—i'm not pushing you away. i want you. can we try? i don't know what i'm doing, but i'm—i'm tired of running from it. i'm not pushing you away, i promise."
buck tugs him close, by the arm, he goes easily, and curls up next to him; both of them are filthy and sweaty and the air stinks of sex, and he can smell the tequila and come on eddie's breath still, somehow; he gets close enough to count his lashes, and presses a kiss to his forehead; he thinks of standing on that ledge, and he feels even more nervous than he did in the face of the jagged rocks, but.
the ready doesn't find him in the water this time; it finds him with his fingers tangled up in eddie's, so many miles away from sure land.
"i'm not pushing you away either."