Archive of Our Own

“Okay, dispatch says a woman is acting erratic. Normally, this would be just a medical call, but they’re asking for backup because she keeps lighting fires in her shop to keep the police out,” Bobby informs them, the squeal of the sirens a familiar background noise. Buck raises an eyebrow at the description dispatch has given them, and everyone else has a similar expression on their face.

“A-Are we looking at some sort of drug-fueled rage, Cap?” he asks, unable to stop himself. He wants to know if the team is going to be dealing with some roid-raging woman, or a junkie who could stab them with used needles.

“Cops on-scene are unsure; Athena is there as well, so we’ll hopefully gather a bit more information.” Bobby smiles at him as they turn the corner, parking close to a slew of police cars that seem a bit over the top for this sort of call, but safer than sorry. He and Eddie exchange a look as Hen and Chim pull up behind them in the ambulance, knocking wrists with his best friend before scrambling out of the truck. They’re not wearing their turnouts, just the issued LAFD t-shirt and uniform pants, as there’s no active raging fire.

In the mess of cop cars, Buck makes out a small shop sandwiched between a bakery and some sort of office, looking at the sign atop the awning spelling out ‘Mystic Maggie’s Mage Shop.’ Buck can’t tell why, but a bad feeling is stirring under his naval, staring at the store with apprehension as they follow Bobby into the fray, finding Athena with ease. Eddie stands beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, as the bustle of cops and flashing lights swells around them. Inside the shop, a woman is screaming behind the glass door, looking manic. She’s got a mess of brown hair that can only be described as a ‘rats nest’, matted to hell with dreads poking out here and there. She’s got a mess of fabrics slung around her hips, little vials of what look to be herbs hanging from a thick leather belt hanging low on her frame. She’s pale, but her face is flushed with anger, screaming into the phone held in her hands.

Ah, seems like negotiating isn’t going well.

“Oh, thank god,” Athena says, turning to find them all staring there, watching the scene with matching bewildered looks. “It’s good to see some familiar faces in this chaos. As I’m sure you can tell, negotiating isn’t going well. Miss Maggie over there does not want to leave her humble abode.” Athena shakes a hand toward the store, where Maggie is hissing into her phone, her distant voice echoing from the negotiator’s phone, who looks like he’s aged thirty years in less than an hour. “Her employee called it in, citing she was showing erratic behavior after complaining about her left side feeling ‘buzzy.’” Athena uses air quotes and Chimney whistles, looking at Hen.

“We’re thinking stroke?” He asks, as a common sign of a stroke is often the left side of the body going numb, but seeing as the woman is pacing in the storefront, she looks okay. “It could be that whatever she’s taken is having an adverse reaction if she’s taken anything. Won’t know until we can get her checked out.” Hen hums silently, looking at the woman.

“Well, we need to get her out of the storefront before then. We’re thinking about a different approach before we use brute force.” Athena turns to look at him, and everyone else does, making him freeze.

Buck sputters slightly, resisting the urge to step back slightly, blinking rapidly. “Uh,” he starts, wondering if he’ll make it far if he runs. Athena sets her hands on her hips, and Buck deflates. “Okay… what do you need me to do?”

-

“I’m going to put this on the record, I hate all of you,” Buck says into his radio as he inches closer to the shop, while everyone is behind police barricades, like wimps. Of course, he’s the one asked to go into the fray to try and chill out this crazy woman who looks like she wants to eat him as he approaches.

“We love you too, Buck,” Hen cackles into the radio, and Buck huffs, resisting the urge to flip her off. He spoke to Maggie a bit on the phone, but she just kept screaming, but not as much as before, which made him the one chosen to go in because going down from about fifty curse words to forty in the time of talking to him is progress.

Apparently.

“If she sticks me with something and I die, I’m going to come back and haunt you all, and whisper the q-word from the great beyond during your shifts,” Buck huffs into the radio, clicking it off before he can hear their laughter. Eddie is probably rolling his eyes at his dramatics, but he’s not the one about to possibly duke it out with a crazy lady who is about half his size, but Buck is not underestimating anyone.

“GO AWAY!” Maggie shouts at him through the glass, seething and grinding her teeth as she tosses the phone away, balling her fists up.

“I can’t do that, Maggie,” Buck says, keeping his voice gentle but ensuring she can hear him. “Can you come outside for me? All we want to do is check and make sure you’re okay!” His hands are raised, and he is careful not to make any sudden movements, as if he’s approaching a wild, caged animal. Maggie pauses in her screeching tirade, nostrils flaring as she looks at him. She has these piercing green eyes that dig into him, and he feels flayed open, but Buck doesn’t back down, licking the backs of his teeth as he takes a careful step forward and another when she doesn’t react. It’s progress, and Buck is almost optimistic that he can get her out of the shop without much fuss.

Well, he’s right about one thing.

He does get her out of the shop, but not without a fuss.

The door swings open suddenly, and Maggie—who cannot be more than five feet tall—charges at him like a bull, hands fisted together as she closes the distance in an alarming amount of time. He can barely yelp a quick “shit!” before she climbs him like a tree and shoves some sort of opalescent powder in his face before trying to dart past him. Even as he sputters and coughs the sweet-tasting powder, he manages to get an arm around her waist and haul the flailing woman off the floor.

“CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU!” She screams right into his ear, which makes this experience so much better, in Buck’s very humble opinion. Her feet kick and smash into his hips, abdomen, and dangerously close to his dick, making him silently pray he does not have to get an icepack of shame for this whole ordeal. “I CURSE THEE!” Maggie roars with such fury that it’s almost impressive. Then, she stops her screaming and starts humming and yodeling these ominous tunes that make his skin crawl and his spine tingle, still trying to get the powder off his face, even though he’s sure he’s inhaled and ingested a good bit of it.

Another trip to the hospital, hooray!

Finally, Hen meets him by his side and jams a syringe of sedative into the flailing, muttering woman’s body, and all of the jerking only makes the sedative work quicker. It’s less than thirty seconds later that Maggie is dead-weight in his arms, and he quickly deposits her on the awaiting stretcher before hacking up a mouthful of shiny spit.

“F-uck,” he rasps, accepting the water bottle he’s given, pouring it over his face, and scrubbing the dust away. “Can I say I hate you guys again? I’m gonna say it anyway.” he coughs, using the rest of the water to wash his mouth out. It’s not a bad taste in his mouth, but he does not want to know what it’s made of.

“I think you’ve earned that and a trip to the hospital, kiddo. You know the drill.” Bobby pats his shoulder as he stands, taking the empty bottle from him as Buck whines in the back of his throat. He feels fine if not a bit tingly below his belt, but he’s pretty sure that’s because he got kicked there a bunch of times.

“Yay,” Buck says, tone utterly dry as he walks to the engine, following the ambulance as Eddie checks him over inside the truck on the way to First Presbyterian. “Just my luck.”

Eddie gives him a sympathetic smile, making him feel better.

Eddie always makes him feel better anyway, so it doesn’t count.

-

“You have a clean bill of health; the blood labs all came back clean, and you don’t seem to be under any effect of the powder thrown in your face,” his doctor says, reading off her clipboard. “We sent a sample of it down to the lab, but we suspect it’s just a bunch of crushed herbs or edible glitter from the color.”

“See? I’m fine, guys.” Buck waves at his doctor, who has a wry smile on her face. She’s been his doctor for a few years, so she’s used to their antics. “Can we please go back to the station now? I am not staying in these sparkly clothes for longer.” Buck points down to his front, which is shining under the fluorescent lights of the hospital from where he washed the powder off his face. He looks like he rolled around in highlighter he pilfered from his sister’s makeup bag.

Which he hasn’t done since he was seven, for the record.

“Yes, yes, come on, let’s get you out of these clothes,” Bobby sighs, ushering all of them out of the hospital room, seeing as Buck was discharged twenty minutes ago. “I took us offline for the next two hours so we can recoup and eat.” A symphony of delighted sounds come from all of them as they clamber into the firetruck, heading back to the station finally.

-

Buck hogs the showers first, grabbing a fresh uniform, ready to wash the crazy call off of him as Bobby and the rest of the crew scatter. Bobby said he will be making a pasta dish he found a recipe for a couple of days ago for lunch, and Buck is excited. Bobby’s pasta dishes are his favorite, but that’s not a high bar because everything Bobby makes is his favorite.

He doesn’t bother cataloging the injuries on his body, no doubt knowing bruises are forming where Maggie kicked him, letting the warm water sluice down his body and wash the call and remaining powder off of him. He got a little scrub-down at the hospital, getting it off his face and out of his hair, but that was more cursory than anything, but now he can be thorough.

Buck opens his eyes and blinks water out of them. He grabs his body wash and lathers his hands up, watching the liquid froth and bubble before spreading it down his body. He hums a tune he heard on the radio under his breath. He works down his chest first, careful around the tender spots on his abdomen, spreading it over his flank and finally down past his hips. As he bops his head, he slides a hand down his naval, running fingers through the trim thatch of pubic hair, further down to where his cock rests, flaccid between his-

Wait.

Buck’s eyes pop open as his fingers explore past the dusting of blond curls he keeps neat and short, unable to find his shaft, instead slipping between slightly sticky folds.

Folds?

Where is his dick???

Looking down, his dick is, well gone. In place of his flaccid shaft is a soft pussy, folds spreading around his soapy fingers as the water washes it away, sluicing down his rigid body. Now, Buck is superstitious and believes in the q-word curse because he’s witnessed its wrath first-hand, but this? Even this is a bit too much for him, bordering on I probably got knocked the fuck out by that tiny, rabid woman I wrestled and am currently having a weird coma dream.

“What the fuck,” he intones silently, fingers slipping through his folds experimentally, finding his soft, chubby clit. It’s fat, dark pink, and makes sparks skitter up his spine when he circles it slowly, wondering if this is real. He almost wants to pinch himself, but he has a habit of doing that in dreams and not realizing he’s still dreaming when it hurts. “I… o-okay, okay,” Breathe, asses, reasses, and think.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

His dick is gone.

Closing his eyes, rubbing them and rubbing them a bit harder when he gets leftover soap in them and opening them again, his dick is still gone, replaced by a freaking vagina.

He has to go find someone to pinch.

With rapid movements, he turns the water off, dries off with sharp precision inside the showers, and slips his uniform on. His hair is still a bit damp, mussed by the towel he’s running over it, and the tips curl slightly under the force. It’s not long enough to return to his natural curl pattern, but it’s showing through.

He shoves his feet into his socks and books, lacing them quickly as he deposits his dirty towel in the hamper to be dealt with at a later date. All he needs to do right now is find someone to pinch so he knows this is not a dream and his twisted, unlucky reality.

Of course he would be the person to be cursed into losing his dick and gaining a pussy.

That is quite literally just his luck.

He finds Eddie pretty quickly as he lopes up the stairs, finding the man already staring at him, hand tipping his phone down. “Bobby’s almost done cooking,” The brunet says, patting the seat next to him to beckon Buck close. He does go forward, but he doesn’t sit. Instead, he looms over Eddie momentarily, reaching out, and pinches the brunet’s arm.

“Ow! Shit, Buck, what the hell?” Eddie yelps and smacks his hand, rubbing the reddened part of skin Buck pinched. Right, well, not a dream.

Great. Great, great, great.

“What was that for?” Eddie grumbles at him as he flops onto the couch next to him, a little dazed as he tugs his phone free from his pocket to find a way to distract himself from the brewing panic in his chest.

“Felt like it,” he says, like a liar. Eddie eyes him weirdly, huffing and flicking his ear, making him yelp and duck away. “Dick,” he mutters, and gets shoved onto his side before Bobby barks at them to behave.

It’s the familiarity that keeps him from spiraling into a panic attack, laying on his back and swinging his legs into Eddie’s lap, ignoring the man’s huffs before they settle down and wait for lunch to be served. Throughout that time, his search history gets increasingly concerning, and Buck attempts to figure out how he will get through this shift without trying to clue everyone in on him acting weird.

He’s got this; how hard can it be?

-

Buck is acting weird—has been since they got back from that call with the manic shop owner. Eddie almost wonders if he’s having some adverse reaction to the powder, but just delayed, but Buck got a clean bill of health, and he’s not showing symptoms. He’s just acting weird.

The shift ends at four PM, and Eddie decides that, since Chris is set to go to a sleepover in an hour after Eddie gets home, he’ll go check on Buck, maybe order some Thai, and pry whatever the hell is up with his friend out of him. It’s a solid plan, and Carla agrees as they simultaneously pull into Eddie’s driveway. Chris lets Eddie hug him for all of two seconds before he darts off into the house to ensure he’s finished packing, even though he’s been packed for two days already.

He and Carla share a laugh before he sends the woman off with a hug and a well-wish for a good evening for her and her husband. Chris’ friend’s mom should be here soon, so Eddie trots into his house to help Chris triple-check his backpack and feed his son a plate of apple slices and peanut butter, making one for himself.

Twenty minutes after they finish their snack and conversing about the crazy calls from Eddie’s twenty-four-hour shift, the doorbell rings, and Chris is out of his chair before the tone can finish.

“Eager, are we? I see how it is; dear old dad can’t compete with a sleepover,” Eddie jokes, helping Chris grab his over-stuffed backpack and open the door as Chris wiggles at his side.

“Duh,” Chris says with absolute certainty, making him huff as he greets Eli’s mom. A polite handshake is exchanged between the two of them, and Chris and Eli take off toward her minivan, with them trailing behind. Eli’s mom, Alice, is a kind woman who has hosted a bunch of sleepovers between their kids, so Eddie doesn’t feel the need to go over the spiel about Chris’ exercises and whatnot, because he’s said it so many times to Alice, he’s sure she could repeat it back to him with ease.

“I’ll drop him off around noon?” She says as Eddie hands Chris his backpack after helping him buckle the seatbelt. He would let Chris do it, but these seatbelts get a bit stuck and are a bit harder to tug down.

“That sounds good. Text me if you need me for anything. Have a good time, mijo.” Eddie smiles at the woman as she rounds the car to get into the driver's seat, dropping a kiss on his son’s head.

“Love you too, Dad,” Chris says, smiling at him and letting him kiss his head again before Eddie tugs the door shut, waving them off. Eddie breathes out a slow breath, walking back into the house to snatch his wallet and keys off the kitchen counter before locking up and driving to Buck’s.

Time to find out what’s up with his friend.

-

The panic attack he has when he gets back to the loft is a bit embarrassing, but Buck dries his tears, gulps down two glasses of water, and ambles upstairs to collapse. It’s barely five PM, and Buck is ready to drop, flopping on his back and not bothering to pull the covers out from under him. There is a moment of silence as Buck shifts, throat clicking as he swallows, feeling the fabric of his boxers shift against his crotch.

Buck shifts his hips a bit more and stifles a whimper when the brush of fabric makes him burn with that familiar sparking blaze of arousal. Now the panic has vanished—mostly because, seriously, what did he do to deserve this?—all that is left is curiosity.

Buck has slept with a lot of people, women mostly, and he knows his way around a pussy. He’s blown more minds than he can count with his well-earned skills, so why not put them to good use? His fingers hook around his shorts and boxers, pulling them down and off to fling them elsewhere, excitement thickening in his blood. He jerks off reguarly to ease the edge after a shift that leaves him brimming with too much adrenaline to deal with, and occasionally fucks himself on the dildo hidden away in the hidden comparetment his nightstand has. It’s not often he gets to do it anymore, too busy or spending more time at the Diaz household than his loft, spending his time elsewhere than fucking himself silly in his lonely loft.

Buck stares down at himself, his right leg bent at the knee, while the other lays flat on the bed. It’s a bit arousing to look down and see something other than his dick sitting between his thighs, the thick clit he has protruding past the hood and folds, almost begging for attention. His fingers crawl down his body, following his happy trail till he slips two fingers around his clit, hiccuping a whimper when the rough skin of his knuckles scrape the sensitive gland. Fuck, this is a whole new set of sensations, and this is how it feels for girls?

He’s a bit envious.

Buck has always been sensitive, between one-night stands, and two-week fuck fests with a friends with benefits he’s discovered a lot about himself. Especially about the fact he’s sensitive as hell, and can cum with ease, but also has a very good stamina.

It’s a glorious dichotomy that leads to mind-numbing, tear-jerking overstimulation that leaves him in a heap of fucked-out mess.

His fingers slip around his clit, working up and down the fat little gland, throat clicking and bobbing. The sensations are entirely new to him, sending him reeling as his fingers slip further down, keeping his clit trapped between them as he presses his fingertips into his weeping hole tentatively. He’s dripping, which shouldn’t surprise him, considering how much he leaks precum when he’s aroused, but this is entirely different. His fingertips are covered in his slick, pussy hot and throbbing under his exploring fingers as he bites his knuckles. Even though the walls of his loft are thick, this moment feels too intimate for loud, warbling moans. His palm—rough from his physically demanding job—brushes against his clit, with the perfect amount of calluses and coarseness against the delicate gland, whimpes slipping past his knuckles, hanging in the cool air of the loft.

Eventually, his clit slips out from between his fingers as he plunges them into himself, a whine ripping from his throat as he crooks them up, finding the spot inside of himself with efficient ease. The sparks that spill into his vision and the headrush of pleasure are invigorating, warbling keens trapped in his mouth by the fingers pressing against his lips, tears collecting in his vision.

Still got it, he thinks as his thighs tremble, and he gasps into his palm, working his fingers in and out of him at a steady pace. His right heel digs into the mattress, groans slipping past his fingers at the wet sounds his pussy is making. The clench of his pussy around his fingers is arousing, euphoria simmering in his gut as he plunges his digits in and out of himself, scraping past his g-spot in teasing, mind-numbing motions. It’s glorious, so wholly different from fingering his ass open. He wonders what it feels like to have a dildo in his cunt compared to his ass. Would it stretch him wider than he’s used to? Would the orgasm feel different?

Buck wants to know, craves the knowledge and answers like he craves connections, so hungry for the knowledge he’s getting lost in the sensations. Two fingers become three, and Buck sobs something weepy and needy, head tipping to the side and locking eyes with Eddie, who is standing at the landing, wide-eyed and beet red.

Uh-oh.

-

Eddie expects a lot of things when he pulls into Buck’s apartment complex, takes the guest spot next to the charcoal grey jeep, and kills his truck’s engine as he sits there for a waning moment. He’s not sure on what he’ll find—his best friend mid-way through a panic attack, his best-friend halfway through a to-go box of crab rangoon and two beers down, his best friend cooking food as if he’s been entirely normal the entire day and hasn’t been weird since that call.

There are many things he’s expecting, and he’s hoping it’s just his friend being his ole’ weird self and getting back to normal in the safety of his loft.

This, though?

This is not what he had been expecting to see when he decided after their shift ended to check on Buck, having waltzed into the apartment with his key after knocking twice. The loft is quiet. Buck’s rucksack is sitting next to his kitchen island, shoes are next to the door, and nothing seems unusual. Eddie kicks off his shoes to put them next to Buck’s, socked feet settling on the cold loft floor. He opens his mouth to call out for his best friend, but something tells him to keep it shut. He ducks into the living room to find it devoid of his friend, the coffee table clean and not overrun with takeout boxes and beer bottles.

Eddie walks out and looks up toward the stairs where Buck’s bed is, licking the back of his teeth as he silently takes each step one at a time, hoping Buck is taking a bath or conked out. It’s barely five-thirty, and Buck doesn’t usually take naps after shift—something about how a thirty-minute nap is dangerous to his sleep schedule, as it refills his energy levels for another twelve hours—but sometimes the blond gives into the urge and faceplants into his bed and sleeps for fifteen hours after a long shift.

He walks up the steps, stalling when a cracked whimper echoes in the loft's silence. Eddie takes the steps quicker, wondering if Buck is having a bad dream or is in the throes of a panic attack. There are no panicked, heaving breaths, so Eddie is more inclined to think it's a nightmare.

He finally gets close enough to peer over the floor of the loft, steps faltering and coming to rest on the landing as he stares at his best friend, who is naked from the waist down, fingers plunged deep into a…

Is that a pussy?

Eddie will admits his entire system shuts down, an emergency reboot sparking through it as he stares at the sight in front of him: Buck, who had a dick twelve hours ago, flushed with arousal and fingering himself, moans crackled and airy in the quiet atmosphere. Eddie is staring, unable to wrench his eyes away from the scene, and thunders downstairs to try to scrub the scene from his head. Not that he wants to, because Eddie isn’t as stupid as he plays it to be when it comes to his sexuality. He knows there’s some deep part inside of him, remnants of teenage Eddie letting his gaze linger on his guy friends a bit too long at the pool or in the lockeroom after PE, that surface whenever he stares at his best friend too long.

Eddie’s dick seems to come online before his body does, chubbing in his pants as he feels his face flush, mind finally kicking back on when Buck tosses his head back, moans as sweet as candy before his head lolls to the side and they make eye-contact.

Mierda, he’s a vision.

“Ed-” Buck’s mouth opens to stutter out his name, which is more arousing than Eddie should find it, cheeks red-hot and burning. Buck’s fingers don’t stop, and he is almost mindless in his actions as they stare at one another, tension thick and palpable between them. Buck’s eyes are dewy, glassed over with arousal in a way that makes Eddie want to study how the blues in his eyes fluctuate and darken with the feelings. “Eddie,” Buck keens, flushed and heady, and Eddie is a weak, weak man.

“Buck,” Eddie croaks, finding his voice too low to be his own, as if someone has stuck a speaker in his mouth and is speaking for him. His lips are dry, and he darts his tongue out to wet them, finding Buck’s blue eyes following the movement. “You-” What’s Eddie supposed to say in this situation? Hey, you had a dick twelve hours ago, what the hell? or Hey, you look like sin on legs, but I knew that already, and I really want to fuck you right now.

No!

Buck whines, drawing Eddie in with a flappy hand that had been covering his mouth until they locked eyes. Eddie is helpless, feet moving before he can even process he’s now looming over Buck’s body, knees brushing the side the mattress, so close yet so far from his best friend, whose fingers become erratic in their thrusting pace, mouth tipped open, soft moans spilling free. Buck looks desperate, in the way where he begs for the last double chocolate muffin, or when he really wants Eddie to watch something with him that isn’t something Eddie usually watches, but this is both the same but different.

Eddie is very aware he’s a bit insane about his friend, thoughts that would make a priest balk and call him devil-spawn about his friend stay hidden in a little box and spill out when he’s alone. He’s thought about this scenario a thousand times over, finally being able to get between those thick thighs, fuck the brat that is Buck into the mattress, wipe that cocky smirk off his face and replace it with something fucked-out and desperate for more. There is a line they haven’t crossed yet—which Eddie feels like he has unintentionally walked over as he entered the loft—but he knows the looks they get when Buck brushes against him when they walk, or when they sit pressed together on the couch, unable to find where one starts and the other ends, but this is different. There is no toeing this line; this is jumping over it and promptly setting the line on fire so it can burn.

Eddie is also more perceptive than he looks—because, seriously, he was in the Army, it’s ingrained in him to tear people down to look past sinew and muscles to find if they’re lying to him, to scan his surroundings, to observe—and knows Buck is on the same level of insanity as him, because he knows the blond stares at his ass more often than not when Eddie’s back is turned toward him, sits too close to toe the boundaries, stares a little too long as they laugh together, a hidden look of longing like a beacon to Eddie’s seeking eyes.

He is setting a knee on the bed before he can think, can ask is this okay? Or should I fuck off and dig my own grave somewhere to die in embarrsement from? and Buck is dragging him down by the collar of his shirt, and they’re kissing. The clack of teeth is worth the sweet, warm press of Buck’s chapped, bitten-to-hell lips against his, a groan slipping from his throat as Buck keens against him. The blond is tugging him closer, sucking him into the orbit that surrounds him, and Eddie is helpless to it, not that he wants to stop it.

“E-Eddie,” Buck sobs, eyes fluttering as they pull back for air, eyes locked as Buck’s fingers work in and out of him, frantic and desperate for something. His legs are shaking, hips rolling up to grind against his palm. He’s a sight, a vision Eddie is going to engrave into the inside of his eyelids and deep inside his brain to never forget it. Buck has always been a frantic type, unable to take it slow and go through the motions.

“Stop,” Eddie mumbles, trailing his fingers down Buck’s moving arm, drifting between his knuckles as Buck’s entire body siezes, mouth dropped open in an achy sob; however, he heeds Eddie’s tell—command—perfectly, fingers stopping inside of him, trembling under Eddie as if he’s weathering a storm. “Slow down… What’s the rush?” Eddie presses a kiss against Buck’s birthmark, nipping the red skin as Buck shudders, free hand crawling up Eddie’s back to fist his shirt, desperate for purchase so he doesn’t slip and shatter into a billion pieces.

Eddie explores Buck’s cunt, drifting through the small thatch of pubic hair, curling his finger to rest it on the underside of Buck’s fat clit—it make sense to Eddie that Buck’s clit is fat, because he’s seen that man’s flaccid cock and that thing is impressive and has served a lot of Eddie’s midnight fantasies—and rubs it gently, watching as the visceral reaction rolls through Buck. Buck’s eyes slip up and back, warbling a sob-moan that’s shaped like his name, his hand twitching where it rests next to Eddie’s, but he doesn’t move them.

Even if he’s desperate for it.

Eddie leaves Buck’s clit alone, slipping to caress Buck’s slick-covered digits gently, throat bobbing and swallowing thickly. The fog he’s been in since he stood on Buck’s landing and watched his best friend finger-fuck himself open seems to recede, movements stilling for a moment. “Are you sure?” he asks, staring down at Buck, who traces his face with his eyes, a tear or two slipping down his face occasionally. “This is-”

“Yes,” Buck says before he can finish his sentence, his desperate plea to say yes, please, I need you to say yes. Eddie stares at him, seeing the sincerity, the want in Buck’s eyes as the blond pushes his neck up, lips grazing his. “E-Eddie, I’ve wanted this for so long, please, please just-” A frustrated sound echoes from Buck’s throat as he flops back down, lax and small under Eddie, which is a feat for the six-foot-two man.

Mierda.

Buck is going to kill him one of these days.

Eddie’s hard inside his pants, throbbing as his fingers slip down toward a dripping hole, following the hooked curvature of Buck’s fingers before his gently slip inside, fingers sliding inside of Buck. Buck crackles a weak, shivery moan, staring intently where their fingers lace and press against one another inside of him, stretching him open more than his fingers did. Eddie knows that while Buck may be taller, Eddie has larger hands than him, and he will use that to his advantage.

Buck’s fingers are still as Eddie’s rock in and out slowly, pressing against dripping walls and scraping across a gummy g-spot that makes Buck’s thighs shake, sighing out a shaky t-there when Eddie finds the spot. In his catalog of all things Buck inside his mind, he files the information away under the more… suggestive and erotic stuff he’s found out about Buck. Buck’s always been a bit of an open book when it comes to his sexcapades, especially with Eddie, and he knows more about his best friend’s sex life than he should, but it all works out in the end, doesn’t it?

“Good boy,” Eddie whispers, crooking his fingers up to slip them around Buck’s still ones, rubbing against his g-spot and drinking the whimpers the blond lets out, watching baby blue eyes flutter close as the praise washes over him. Buck is dripping, soaking his asscheeks and inner thighs with how wet he is, keens of pleasure soft and silent in the humid air. “Gonna make you cum, then I’ll fuck you. How’s that sound, hm?” He’s not sure where this confidence is coming from—maybe because he’s three fingers deep in his best friend’s curse-made pussy or Eddie is finally tired of beating around the proverbial “will they wont they” bush—but Eddie likes the way Buck squeezes around his fingers, moan gargly and slipping off his loose tongue.

“Y-Yeah,” Buck whines, nodding emphatically, mouth dropped open as Eddie abuses his g-spot, pushing and sliding his rough fingertips over it, watching how Buck reacts with vigor. “Y-Yeah, yeah s-soun…ds..! E-Eds, th-there, I-oh.” Buck’s head flops back, Adams’ apple bobbing under his skin erratically as his throat clicks loudly, moans gaining in volume and pitch.

Eddie groans, cock rock-hard in his pants, brain feeling as if it’s about to leak out of his ears as it turns to mush. Buck’s slick quelches out of him, making their fingers a mess of frothy, slippery slick that spiderwebs between his palm and Buck’s knuckles as Eddie fucks his fingers in faster, urging Buck to reach completion. Buck’s fingers twitch erratically inside of him, as if he’s not aware of the movements, head tossing back and forth, hips jerking and tilting downward to give Eddie a better angle unconsciously, chasing the pleasure that is starting to consume him. Buck’s chest heaves for air, inhales and exhales as shaky as his quivering thighs, toes curling and digging into the mattress under Eddie’s watchful gaze, arousal simmering in his gut as Buck writhes under him.

He’s doing this to his best friend, making him feel good, making him writhe in pleasure as Eddie finger-fucks him till he’s sobbing, fat droplets racing down his cheeks as he tries to speak, throat clicking around dying words.

“O-Oh,” Buck sighs out a weary sound as his body locks up, cunt squeezing Eddie’s fingers hard, pulsing and writhing around the thrusting digits as the blond cums. It’s a messy orgasm, a thin line of drool slipping down Buck’s chin, fat tear drops racing down his face to drip into his hair, and a burst of squirt wetting Eddie’s wrist and palm as it drips down. Buck’s orgasm lasts for what feels like hours, clenching and unclenching around his unstopping fingers, whimpers and sounds shaped like Eddie’s name permeating the humid air as Eddie watches, committing the view in front of him to memory.

The view in front of him is ruining him, and Eddie is sure the way Buck looks when he orgasms will rewrite his brain, making him unable to look anywhere other than Buck for someone he wants. Buck’s throat clicks noisily as his free hand comes to gently press at Eddie’s soaked wrist, whimpers echoing from flushed pink lips. “T-Tooo…” Buck slurs, eyelids fluttering half-mast, “t-too mu..’sch.”

Eddie hums, stilling his fingers to heed Buck’s plea for reprieve. Buck heaves in air like he’s begging for it, head falling back to lay atop his pillow, sinking into it as Eddie watches him, rubbing his still shaking thigh with his free hand, fingers resting inside of Buck’s body. He hooks his fingers around Buck’s digits and drags both of them out in one slow motion that has Buck’s face twitching, eyes slipping close as his hand hangs limp between his legs. Eddie spreads his fingers, watching the slick cling to them, spiderwebbing between his digits, the stir of arousal thickening in his core.

Wiping his fingers on his pants, Eddie flops down next to Buck, still aching hard in his pants, but he’s not going to bother with it for now. Either it’ll go down on its own, or he’ll get release somehow. “So…” Buck rasps, eyes still closed, but he’s shifting closer to Eddie, who throws an arm over the pillows to welcome Buck into his side, like they’ve done far too many times. Buck is a cuddler, and Eddie likes not having to ask for physical touch—because a man shouldn’t crave being touched, the intimate presses of a warm, breathing body against his side, soothing his soul, shouldn’t be something he needs—and they’ve done this same song and dance a thousand times over. However, not when Buck is naked below the waist and Eddie is hard and throbbing in his pants.

Eddie hums, holding Buck close. He raises his hand to card it through his damp curls, making Buck huff softly and nuzzle into his fingers. “So?” he prods, waiting for Buck to respond. If it were up to him, he’d be fucking Buck right about now, aching and ready to go, but with Buck, it’s a fifty-fifty as to where this conversation is going to go. Either it’ll be this is awkward, can we forget and go back to how we usually are? or I want more, but I also am scared to ask for more and Eddie is hoping it’s the second choice. Eddie isn’t looking at the blond, resolutely staring at the loft ceiling, preparing him for rejection or acceptance. Either way, he’s not losing Buck to this stupid curse, even if Eddie will never be the same after it.

Buck is worth it, though.

Buck doesn’t say anything for a minute, a warm mass against Eddie’s side, so he continues his slow movements of carding his hands through Buck’s hair, twisting a curl around his finger on occasion. The wait is nauseating for Eddie, creeping up his throat; however, he resolutety swallows it down and locks eyes with the different patterns in Buck’s ceiling, trying to make something out of the pattern-free material.

Eddie must’ve gotten lost in his mind because he comes to hearing the slow zzzziippp of a zipper being opened, and it takes a moment to realize his zipper is being opened. Eddie’s head pops up, finding deft fingers sliding into the open front of his jeans to caress his hard cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, a groan leaving his throat as Buck looks up at him, sheepish and coy, baby blue eyes glowing behind flaxen lashes. “This okay?” Buck mutters against his pec, voice low and soft. Eddie bobbles his head up and down emphatically, unable to find his voice as he watches with rapt attention as Buck’s fingers skirt up and down his cock, framing his throbbing shaft and tracing the prominent vein running on the underside of his shaft.

“Mierda,” Eddie rasps as Buck’s fingers slide under the band of his boxers, tentative as he takes his cock into his hands, warm and rough and perfect. Buck moans gently against his side, focused on the way his hand stretches the fabric of Eddie’s boxers, jerking the brunet off slowly. It’s maddening to feel Buck’s hand around his cock—a scenario that’s haunted Eddie’s wet dreams for longer than he’ll ever admit—in real life instead of fantasy or deep in REM sleep. “Buck-” Eddie moans, the hand in Buck’s hair clenching around blond strands as his hips pump gently into Buck’s closed fist, fucking it through the wet tunnel Buck’s slick-covered hand makes. Fuck, Buck is using the hand he’d been fingering himself with to jerk Eddie off, covering his shaft in his slick to guide the jerky thrusts.

“Always wanted to do this…” Buck mumbles, throwing a nude leg over Eddie’s, tangling them together as the blond presses close, plastering himself to Eddie’s side. “Never thought I’d get the chance to, but I suppose the curse turned out to be a weird blessing, huh?” Buck’s chatty; another thing he files away in his Buck-cyclopedia for all little things Eddie notices about his best friend. Buck’s hand never stops moving, working up and down his cock, twisting his hand perfectly when his fingers encircle his head, making Eddie weep precum.

He’d be talking right back, but the only thing that he can focus on is the sensations of his best friend’s hand around his cock, tugging and jerking it in the exact way Eddie likes it. He can feel Buck’s grin press against his chest as he heaves for air, eyes attempting to roll past his lashes and into his skull. “Still bigger, though… you’re thicker, though… wonder what it’d feel like inside of me.”

Dios, Eddie thinks, slightly delirious, he’s trying to kill me.

“Roll over and I’ll show you how it feels,” Eddie rasps, feeling Buck’s fingers squeeze around his cock, a weak moan muffled against his chest. “Want that?” Eddie chances a look down, gripping Buck’s hair and pulling his face up to look at Eddie. Buck looks wrecked, face flushed and eyes drippy with tears, staring at him with blown wide pupils haloed by blue rings.

Buck’s mouth works open and close, the bolt of his jaw pressing against Eddie’s side. He almost looks surprised at the offer, as if his hand isn’t around Eddie’s cock, and Eddie didn’t just finger-fuck him a few minutes ago. The blond looks bashful as he nods, a bit jerky and hesitant, careful not to jerk Eddie’s hand free from blond curls. “P-...Please? Please.” Eddie hums, twirling blond curls in his hand, scratching Buck’s scalp, and tracing the shell of his ear.

“Roll over then,” Eddie rasps, picking his hand out of Buck’s hair and mourning the loss of Buck’s hand around his cock as the blond pratically flings himself away to roll over, peeking over his shoulder at Eddie shly. Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes as he rolls over as well, one hand landing on Buck’s hip as he plasters himself to the blond’s back, feeling every twitch and jerk of those sculpted muscles. “Good boy.” The praise slides off his tongue like it’s been waiting, watching the shiver slide through Buck’s body as his cock nudges between soft, hairy legs. Buck’s pert ass is pressing against his abdomen, thick and enticing.

Eddie slides his hand down Buck’s beautiful body, hooking his hand under Buck’s left knee, picking it up till it’s at an angle so Eddie can slowly thrust his cock against the blond’s sopping pussy, the warmth radiating from it almost too hot to stand. Buck moans gently, thigh quivering in Eddie’s gentle hold. “Good?” Eddie asks, voice no more than a rasp. Buck’s injured leg is the one he’s holding, and the surgery scars healed over and are soft under Eddie’s hand.

Buck nods, a whimper leaving his cracked-open mouth, hips working against Eddie’s frotting cock, head nestled on his pillow. “I-In… please, Eddie,” Buck pleads, looking at Eddie through his lashes as he turns his head, an absolute vision to Eddie. Buck’s hand comes crawling down to cup Eddie’s cockhead on his fingertips, making his hips jerk at the contact before Buck is guiding him inside his cunt, hole spreading around his head as it pops in. Twin groans echo in the silent atmosphere of the loft, Buck quivering against his chest. Eddie is no better, biting his lip so hard it starts to bleed, eyes fluttering shut as he presses his forehead into Buck’s shoulder, mouthing the naked flesh that’s presented to him when Buck’s shirt slips down his shoulder.

“Tight,” Eddie rasps, voice a hoarse croak dripping down his tongue as he slides in slowly, squeezing the fat of Buck’s calf that he’s holding for a better angle as Buck’s pussy envelopes him. Eddie isn’t one for casual sex and barely masturbates, but he knows Buck has ruined any of that for him. How could he go back to fucking his fist in the thralls of darkness when he has a tight, wet hole blooming around his cock? Eddie is ruined, scooped out, DNA unwoven and rewritten long before his cock even slipped in, and pressing in deep only cements those changes. “So good, cariño.”

Buck rasps a ruined sound into the air, melting into the mattress as Eddie pumps his hips back and forth in slow, tantalizing movements that slowly spreads Buck wide around his cock till he’s pressing balls-deep inside of the blond. Buck is shivering, crackly moans hidden in his soft pillows as Eddie lets him adjust, and allows himself adjust as well—the quiver and squeeze of Buck’s pussy around his cock is almost too much for Eddie to bear, having long forgotten when the last time he got off was. At minimum, it’s been a few weeks, with work and life getting in the way.

“E-Eddie,” Buck whines, cunt squeezing and unclenching around his cock in addicting, stilted patterns. “M-Move, please, ple-ASE!” Buck’s last plea gets punched out of him as Eddie pulls back and slams in, the slick quelch of Buck’s pussy echoing in the loft as Eddie starts fucking his best friend in earnest, working his hips in slow, deep strokes that seem to drive Buck wild. Buck is moaning sweet, hiccupy sounds that Eddie wants to record and box up in his mind for future midnight use.

His pussy is dripping around his cock, weeping thick rivulets of slick that Eddie fucks in and out of him, groaning deep into the crook of Buck’s neck. His teeth ache to bite, to sink his canines—that Buck has shamelessly stared at more often than the blond realizes—into the delicate, pale flesh presented to him that’s slowly flushing pink as Eddie continues to fuck into the beautiful body in front of him. Instead of doing so, he trails kisses up and down Buck’s neck, licking the pale, sweaty flesh and hiding his moans in it as Buck squeezes around his cock hard.

Eddie pistons his hips in and out, the wet drag addicting as Eddie muffles groans and bitten-off growls into Buck’s neck, fingers caressing the leg he has in his grip, jerking Buck up and down with how hard he’s thrusting. He’s ravenous, greedy with it because Buck is giving it to him, tipping his hips back till that bubble butt is pushing against his abdomen, rippling with the strength of Eddie’s thrusts. Neither of them are speaking, long beyond words, nothing but guttural sounds and honeyed moans hanging in the humid air of the loft, the slap of skin and the sounds his cock driving in and out of Buck’s pussy makes echoing. It’s rough, and Eddie is sure there will be a handprint on Buck’s leg from where he’s holding it, digging his fingers into the soft, corded flesh, but it’s different in a way—it isn’t mindless, lust-driven sex; it’s more.

It’s Eddie pressing kisses into Buck’s skin, Buck moaning his name through honeyed, wanton keens, and the two of them meshing on a level far beyond the platonic-but-also-not-platonicness they’ve come to adopt into their friendship.

It’s more, and Eddie doesn’t want it to change, grunting and hissing bitten-off curse words in a mesh of Spanish and English into Buck’s damp skin as the blond sobs with ecstasy. Just the knowledge of knowing what Buck sounds as he’s fucked is ruining Eddie, changing who he is as a person down to the fundamentals that make of Eddie Diaz. He’ll never forget the way Buck’s cunt—even if it’s a fleeting experience, a one-time curse or permanent—squeezes around his cock, how wet he gets from fingering himself and a couple lingering commands that sink into his skin and make him droopy and submissive under Eddie.

It’s Buck, who is yet again showing Eddie how perfectly he slots into place with him, tucked against his chest and ruined by his cock.

Buck is babbling, a mesh of nosense with littered yes, ye-es, yes! and p-please, please, dun’…don’t stop between sweet moans as Eddie fucks into him, strong hips swinging and sweat dripping down his body, face screwed in pleasure and concentration. The arm holding Buck’s leg up is starting to quiver, muscles burning. However, Eddie pays it no mind, used to working past muscle fatigue till he’s ready to drop and still continuing, moaning something rough and heady into the back of Buck’s neck, nuzzling into the short hairs there. Buck’s hand comes around their pressed-together bodies to grip Eddie’s hip, clinging to the rough fabric of his jeans, which he didn’t even bother taking off. He’s still completely clothed, past his zipper being undone, and Buck being naked below the waist is doing something to him. Buck clings to his hip, hand squeezing hard as his moans hitch an octave or two, wavering as Buck’s swiveling hips become erratic.

“Close?” Eddie rasps, although he already knows the answer. The erratic squeeze and pulse of Buck’s pussy is telling him all he needs to know, nibbling tenderly on Buck’s neck—enough to appease the need to brand and mark Buck’s body, to leave physical evidence, a trace that says Eddie Diaz was here—enough to leave little red, quick-fading welts and lines courtesy of his teeth. “You gonna cum, cariño? Cum around my cock while I fuck you through it, hm?” Buck shivers a weak moan, nodding quickly to answer Eddie, face flushed and birthmark popping against cherry-red skin.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Buck chants, like the words he’s slurring are the only thing tethering him to reality, whimpers leaving his throat at a breakneck pace, one after the other. Eddie isn’t surprised that Buck whimpers because the man often whines whenever something doesn’t go his way, he gets stuck with a tiresome chore that provides no mental stimulation, or Bobby won’t let him do something stupid. “I-oh-hngh, c-close, Ed-” Buck stammers out something—a plea for more, a plea for less, Eddie isn’t sure—dripping with desperation, the hand on his hip sure to leave a bruise with how hard the blond is gripping him, but Eddie doesn’t mind; he actually relishes in the burning sting and pressure on his hip urging him to fuck harder, faster, deeper.

“Close too,” Eddie rasps, hiccuping a rough sound as fucking deeper, hiking Buck’s leg up further to change the angle slightly, and just like that, it’s over for Buck. The blond cinches tight around him, a gargled sob-moan leaving him as Buck squirts, wetting the bed further with his arousal as Eddie fucks him through it. The sight is arousing, his cock throbbing inside of Buck as he hooks his chin over Buck’s shoulder and watches with rapt attention as slick and squirt goes flying thanks to his rapid-pace movements. Buck is sobbing, head rocked back and throat exposed, Adams’ apple bobbing as his throat clicks. Eddie’s movements lose rhythm, focus zeroed in on one thing: reaching completion. Nothing else matters past fucking Buck through his orgasm and reaching his own, throat bobbing and swallowing down a thick wad of saliva as he moans into the damp air.

Buck is gripping his hip like it’s a lifeline to him, squeezing the fat and muscle there, whimpers and quivering keens echoing as his leg shakes in Eddie’s hold.

He doesn’t last longer, just a minute or so past Buck, eyes rolling up as his hips stutter, rolling and grinding against a beautiful ass he’s aching to fuck, cock throbbing and twitching before he molds himself to Buck’s cunt and pumps the first rope of his load into the blond. His eyes close, galaxies bursting behind his eyelids with colors Eddie cannot even comprehend existing in the void in front of his eyes. His head drops to rest against Buck’s, nosing sex-fllushed skin as his hips roll, erratic and jerky with the movements, moving with the sole purpose of extending his orgasm and milking his tight, heavy balls dry till there’s not a single drip left.

His hips don’t stop till Eddie is quivering where he lays, huffing and gasping into Buck’s neck, peppering kisses there and feeling Buck’s neck flex as he gently massages Buck’s leg and guides it down to the mattress. He’s still nestled deep inside that tantlizing pussy, unwilling to leave and still half-hard, pumping lazy, waning ropes of cum inside till Buck is sure to be bursting with his cum.

Buck is still gasping, drawing in hiccupy inhales through his cracked-open mouth, the bolt of his jaw working slowly. Both of them lay there for a minute, sinking deep into the sweat-soaked mattress sheets and basking in each other’s presence as Eddie sweeps a warm hand up and down Buck’s flank, rubbing his fingers into the joint of Buck’s hip to ease away any lingering soreness that’s sure to be there from being stuck in the air for so long. His chin hooks on Buck’s shoulder again, a soft, raspy hum leaving his throat as he looks at Buck, who is gazing at him through clumped flaxen lashes. Eddie smiles at the blond, knocking their heads together gently, and gets a soft smile out of Buck, who lets out a sweet, dizzy groan.

Time passes, and Eddie isn’t sure how long; he’s content to lay here, sweeping his hand up and down Buck’s side, stroking away gooseflesh with his warm hand before he sweeps a hand over Buck’s abdomen, drifting further down before he’s carding fingers through that soft, unruly thatch of hair framing Buck’s cunt. Even if it’s not too long, unruly but clearly trimmed, it doesn’t hide Buck’s clit, which protrudes past Buck’s cherry-red hood, pulsing as Eddie sweeps a slow, teasing finger on the underside, feeling Buck tremble around him. He’s still halfhard, keeping the load of cum he just pumped into the blond deep inside of him. The image of his cum dripping from Buck’s pussy is arousing in itself, but Eddie is content to leave seeing said image for later.

“Do… do you,” Buck’s voice cracks, hoarse from crying and moaning as he was fucked, “think the curse’ll lemme keep it? I-I mean, shit that was the hardest I think I’ve ever cum before,” Buck lets out a weak, raspy chuckle, and Eddie groans at the squeeze around his cock. Eddie hums, thinking about how unplausiable this entire situation is—seriously, cursed to have a pussy? Only Buck’s luck could do that, and before this, Eddie did not believe in curses, but seeing as he just fucked a curse-manifested pussy, he’s beginning to believe—and wondering if there is a cure for this, or Buck is stuck like this forever.

He’s sure when the novelty wears off, Buck will have a massive panic attack over the absurdity of this whole thing if he hasn’t already, but Eddie isn’t willing to dwell on those thoughts right now, stroking the underside of Buck’s clit, relishing in the soft twitches and whimpering keens the action gets him.

“Dunno,” Eddie says finally when his brain decides to load words to reply to Buck’s question. “Maybe. Maybe not, but let’s not waste this opportunity, hm?” Eddie grins, all sharp edges and mischievous, rolling his hips to make his intentions crystal-clear to the glassy-eyed blond, cock already hardening inside of that soft, warm pussy.

“S-Shit, I-... c-can I ride you?” Buck asks, all hiccupy and desperate, rolling his hips back to match Eddie’s languid, teasing pace. Eddie’s grin widens further, leaning in close to nip the shell of Buck’s ear.

“Well, get to it, cowboy.”

Buck has never moved faster.