Steddie switches who quickly figure out they both absolutely love getting railed in bed and agree to take turns, but the agreement isn't really holding and Eddie's losing his mind.
Eddie's more than fine with fucking Steve, absolutely, he loves that. He's definitely not complaining. The feeling of Steve's warm, silky tightness around his cock, the moans and whimpers he makes, the way he desperately claws at Eddie's back, screams Eddie's name as he comes; all of that is already better than his wildest wet dreams from several months ago, when he was pining after the guy he'd assumed was straight.
And yet, dammit, every time it's supposed to be Eddie's turn, Steve keeps playing dirty. He starts off weaponizing his words, whispering in Eddie's ear in great detail how much he loves Eddie's dick inside him; if Eddie even attempts to stand his ground, Steve resorts to whining and pouting, batting his ridiculous eyelashes up at him as he nuzzles at Eddie's crotch and begs, "Please fuck me, baby, need to feel your cock"; and Eddie is a weak, weak man.
Things escalate further. Eddie would undress him, and Steve would guide his hand down, where he'd already be wet and ready, having stretched himself before coming over; what's Eddie supposed to do, not immediately sink into him?
Eddie would take five goddamn minutes to go shower and return to the sight of Steve's ass up in the air, glistening with lube, a corner of his smug smile visible from where his face is pressed into the pillow.
Once, Steve doesn't warn Eddie that he's about to come and spills in his mouth, then lies back on the bed, spreading his legs wide and shrugging, "Well, I guess there's only one thing left for us to do, babe." (Eddie feels absolutely vindicated as his overstimulated boyfriend keeps whimpering and squirming at his brutal thrusts.)
Another time, Eddie wakes up to Steve already sinking onto his morning boner, grinning at Eddie like he just won a million bucks. What the fuck. Again, absolutely not complaining, it's hot as hell, but what the fuck.
Eddie hasn't gotten a good ride on Steve's cock in two weeks, and, finally, he snaps. He's either getting what he wants (no, needs, has been dying for) tonight, or they'll need to have a talk about whether Steve perhaps lied when he said he liked being on top as much as the other way around.
He (metaphorically) dusts off his good old dildo that had served him well in his chronically single pre-Steve years. He timed it perfectly, already showered, stretched out, naked on the bed and sliding the toy in just as he hears the front door open, his boyfriend coming straight to his trailer from work.
"Hey Eds!" Steve calls out, "I was gonna order a pizza, do you want—"
Eddie's not really listening. The toy glides just right along his sweet spot, and he doesn't even try to hold back a broken moan that rips out of his throat. Two. Motherfucking. Weeks. He is very aware that Steve heard this, because his footsteps falter and then speed up, in the direction of Eddie's room.
There's a sharp clank of keys falling to the floor. Steve's frozen in the doorway, open-mouthed, eyes darkening, looking at Eddie like he wants to eat him alive, the front of his pants obviously tenting as he watches.
"Hey sweetheart," Eddie looks at him with hooded eyes, smiling innocently before he moans again, still slowly fucking himself. "How was work?"
Steve groans and reaches the bed in two wide jumps, practically collapsing on Eddie, which breaks his rhythm but he doesn't even mind, not when Steve stares down at him like that, gaze dragging down at his body, to his hard dick, the toy still inside his hole, then up again to his face, with flushed cheeks and a completely awestruck expression.
"Holy shit," Steve mutters and then, to Eddie's surprise, grins. "Finally. Been wondering if you were ever gonna up your game, baby."
"Huh?" Eddie frowns, and as if it wasn't already hard enough to focus on what Steve means, Steve reaches down and grabs hold of the dildo himself, sliding it back inside Eddie and resuming the same deep and slow rhythm. Eddie's eyes roll back in pleasure, hands grasping at Steve's jacket.
"Oh... oh, fuck, Stevie, god yes..."
"I was starting to think you were just letting me win."
"Win what? Oh, fuck!"
"Nevermind," Steve chuckles, pressing wet kisses to the side of Eddie's neck, turning the dildo inside him in agonizingly slow circles. "You want my cock instead of this?"
"Fucking hell, yes please, finally, fuck me already!"
Steve doesn't even bother undressing. He unzips his jeans and pulls out his dick, already hard, then slides the toy out of Eddie and immediately slides in its place, groaning.
"Ohhh fuck Eds, you feel so good." He rolls his hips, slowly at first and then picking up the pace, panting into Eddie's neck. "Oh god, so good, you're so tight, fucking perfect, holy shit I missed this."
Eddie feels hysterical. The meaning of Steve's words finally catches up to him.
"What the hell, Stevie— ughhh, god. Then why'd you even— mmm, fuck— keep this up?!"
Steve's rhythm falters as he giggles, raising himself on his elbows to look down at Eddie, panting.
"Wanted to see how long I can get away with it."
"You're such a dick," Eddie laughs, but he can't even be mad, because Steve starts moving again, and he's finally fucking Eddie hard and fast, still fully clothed, shoes, jacket and all, when Eddie's completely naked; and somehow that's so fucking hot Eddie's brain short-circuits.
Sometime later, Steve figures out a genius trick of fucking himself with the dildo as Eddie rides him. It takes a minute to find the right rhythm, but finally, they have a solution to their little sex conundrum.
