Reblogged
Heated Rivalry episodes 1-4 + tropes
Source: jakeperalta
Reblogged furnaceofdreams
”genetic” girl WHATEVERRRRR
Reblogged furnaceofdreams
For about fifteen seconds there, we were actually playing tennis. And we understood each other completely. So did everyone watching. It's like we were in love. Or like we didn't exist. We went somewhere really beautiful together.
CHALLENGERS (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino
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because @martyreddie’s post really did speak to me
Eddie’s lips tingle afterwards.
He doesn’t touch them. It's not a conscious decision, not really, but also it kind of is, just a little. Like touching them would be a step too far, a damning evidence.
The firehouse is lively, buzzing with chitchat and laughter, and Eddie stands there, now as faraway from every mistletoe as possible, and that's another decision he doesn't really consciously make. Self-preservation, maybe, even when everything in him is aching, wanting.
It was just a peck, he keeps repeating to himself. Because it was. Just a peck, barely a touch. It lasted maybe two seconds, was over before Eddie could even really register what Buck’s lips feel like, how soft they are despite how Buck keeps biting them.
From where Eddie stands now, he can see that Buck hasn't shaved, and he wonders, fleetingly, if he would’ve felt it rubbing against his skin if the kiss had lasted longer. Would it have left a visible impression? Rubbed his skin until he was feeling tender and raw?
But the kiss was over so quickly, and Eddie… wants. He can’t help it. He just wants; to feel Buck’s lips on his again, to taste the hot cocoa on his tongue, to feel the stinging sharpness of a missed shave against his skin.
Mostly, he thinks, he just wants Buck to look at him. He wants to know if Buck's lips are tingling, too.
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The first time Eddie rides Buck it's like his body is moving on instinct, no input from his brain, stupid with pleasure, but it's also tinged with shame, how slutty and gluttonous he's being. His face is burning up, he's sweating all over, shaking with a collision of desire and embarrassment, screwing his eyes shut because he just can't look Buck in the eyes while he's... bouncing in his lap like a... like a...
But Buck's always read Eddie better than anyone, he knows Eddie, and he lifts a hand from Eddie's hip to his cheek and murmurs, voice warm and kind and safe, "hey, it's okay, it's just me, its just us here, take what you need, it's okay".
And Eddie honest to god whimpers at the same time as the arousal and love shoot through him, his hips twitch uncontrollably, thighs spreading even further, and his whole face goes slack, eyes burning with tears, the relief of being free, and his body caves, and he takes and takes and takes.
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Eddie does not actually see himself as a tits-guy. I mean, sure, a nice set of breasts will earn a glance from him, or maybe even two. Sue him. But he would never label himself as that. He thinks it is too immature for someone with a refined taste such as himself. When asked about his preference, he likes to say he prefers someone who can hold a solid conversation. If pressed further, he would perhaps add that having long legs does not hurt their case either.
But right now, as he lay on the too-small bed provided to him in the lodging arranged by the Nashville Fire Dept., his face merely inches away from Buck's chest - Evan Buck Buckley's bare chest, his well-practiced, pseudo-intellectual preferences seem to have been desecrated by whatever is going on inside his pants.
It has been 20 minutes since he has been up, too afraid to move a single muscle. He drags his eyes off of Buck's nipples and looks up at his face, currently hidden by the forearm thrown on top of it. Eddie sighs at the ridiculousness of it all. This isn't the first time he has seen Buck shirtless, courtesy of their job, and the nature of their friendship in general. Eddie shouldn't be feeling things about it right now. He tries to coax out a silent laugh but finds his throat too dry. He is parched.
Eddie focuses on the naked chest in front of his face again. It's heaving in a gentle rhythm. His eyes trace the outline of Buck's tits. They are perfect. I mean, Buck is perfect to him, always has been. That's his favourite guy. But his tits specifically. Eddie just knows they must be soft. They look like they're made of steel. But they have to be as soft as the heart they hold, right? But are they? Eddie isn't so sure. He has never touched them. And he really shouldn't make such assumptions without really making sure himself. That's unscientific. And God, why is it a thousand degrees in here? Fuck Nashville weather and fuck whoever arranged this fuckass room.
He feels like a creep. He really shouldn't be thinking about which shade of pink the nipples are. And he really should not feel as inclined as he is to do something about the havoc wreaking inside his pajamas right now. Something other than rutting against the mattress, that is, which he is definitely not doing. He is not a juvenile.
And he definitely should have backed up to make more space as Buck scoots his torso towards him, chasing heat. How can he run hot enough to go shirtless overnight and then feel cold? Body temperature regulation of a fucking lizard.
But Eddie doesn't back up because the fuckass bed is too fucking small. So if you absolutely have to blame someone for what happens next, blame the Nashville Fire Department for fucking up their room booking.
As Buck arches towards Eddie, his chest brushes against Eddie's face, the right nipple slowly dragging across his nose, to his lips, forcing his mouth slightly open in a short gasp of air and desperation. And you absolutely cannot blame him when, instead of backing away, Eddie inches forward. The bed is simply too small. It is absolutely not Eddie's fault that his jaw flexes, mouth opening further, allowing his teeth to lightly graze the skin of the nipple. In fact, you should congratulate him for the sheer restraint he shows, even after the grazing earns him a soft, muffled moan from Buck so obscene that all the blood from his head rushes south. Eddie should receive another silver fucking star for not closing his jaws then and there and biting on the soft meat. Yes, they are soft, Eddie can now say that with certainty.
So, as Eddie Diaz is washing off the evidence from his pajamas, definitely not replaying the events from this morning scene-by-scene, inside his head, he decides that people change, they grow. And maybe he is a tits guy after all.
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HEATED RIVALRY 1.05: I’LL BELIEVE IN ANYTHING + HRTwT VERSION
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the thing about heated rivalry is that u start it because you want to watch hot guys be gay. like it could be good it could be bad but who cares, it will still have hot guys being gay. and then u watch it and realize every episode is like getting shot in the chest five times while experiencing every emotion imaginable bc you’re actually just witnessing a work of art unfold week by week. and you STILL get to watch hot guys be gay. absolutely top tier viewing experience
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everyone in the league calling ilya an asshole meanwhile he’s apologizing to the bartender for his rowdy teammates, smiling politely at the nurse, playing mermaids with the kids, painting hayden’s kid’s nails and then his own nails to show them that boys can paint their nails too, getting excited over the team puppy, and then spoiling his dog rotten when he finally gets one. sorry but idgaf that he’s mean to grown ass men, they deserve it 😭😭
Reblogged furnaceofdreams
those last three minutes in episode 5 feels like this, kinda