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Lick The Plate (Suck The Neck Bones Too)

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By now, all of Buck’s senses are attuned to Eddie.

The fall of his step behind him, the bark of his laugh in the next room, the way he likes his spices when Buck cooks, and even how he smells.

Especially that. After all, there’s a whole catalogue in his head: Eddie in the gym, and when he hits the showers, and when he’s done in there, Eddie after a fire, Eddie with Christopher in his arms, Eddie warm and sleepy on the couch, his and Buck’s, Eddie baking in the sun by the water’s edge as he tried to coax both him and Christopher into the cool salt water.

They had all used the same sunblock but it smelled different on Eddie, filtered through his skin and sweat.

It had clung to Buck’s clothes even after they’d said goodnight and left him alone in his apartment, stuck so strongly to his thin t-shirt he’d be embarrassed to admit he slept in it, pretending they were still with him, that Eddie’s solid, warm, strong arms were around him.

Sometimes he thinks he could find him by scent alone, like a loyal dog. There’s no one he could ever mistake for Eddie; ever misread the way he breathes or moves.

It’s not anything he can tell anyone, not even Maddie.

He’s well aware that he’s pathetic. Especially now.

With Chris gone for summer camp, Buck doesn’t have any excuses for how often he’s still over there, how eager his is to be there for Eddie, around Eddie.

Eddie himself seems to be at loose ends and happy for a distraction, increasingly restless, like he’s itching for someone else in his space. That’s all Buck will ever be, and he’s still ready and willing to do it.

The way Eddie smiles at him makes it worth it. And being around him is always soothing, his familiar scent and sturdy warmth and brown, brown eyes.

That’s why Buck is early, knowing Eddie is about to come back in from a run.

They’d said lunch and the boardwalk, both of them pretending that it isn’t about Eddie helping him get some calm back, a solid weight between Buck and the metal rail and the water on the other side.

It’s the little things, like Eddie panting with exertion, and smelling it too, that keep him going, thinking happy thoughts.

And, anyway, Buck has a key. Eddie won’t mind.

So he’s leaning against the wall and idly texting Maddie when Eddie comes in, soaked and breathing hard.

He’s the most beautiful thing Buck’s ever seen.

And the air that comes in with him is hot and heavy and scented. Which is why he has to say what he’s thinking, if slightly edited: “you fucking reek, Diaz”.

Eddie narrows his eyes at Buck and he’s so distracted by Eddie wrenching the shirt off his back that he doesn’t think to put his arms up.

The damp grey fabric of it hits him square in the face. 

Eddie’s smell engulfs him totally, setting Buck’s heart racing, his ankles moving his legs apart without a conscious thought. It’s like Eddie himself is wrapped around him, too tight to ever let go.

Too slow, his hand comes up, and presses into the fabric before pulling it down. He knows what he must look like, dumbstruck with lust, pupils blown, staring without a single believable excuse at Eddie’s unreadable face.

Buck can’t say anything. Only his tongue comes out, dragging fat and wet over his lips. There’s nothing in his head but a tangle of fear and want.

“You like that?” Eddie says and then he’s on Buck.

He lets it happen, lets Eddie manhandle him, mewls into his chest, licking at the salt of his sweat.

"Fuck yeah, that's- Buck, you-" Eddie rambles, starting to push Buck down. He goes easy, whispering yeah, yeah, yeah.

Whatever crazy they’re on, they’re on it together.

Eddie awkwardly tries to pull down his running shorts with his off hand, the stronger one holding Buck in place on his knees. Even though he’s not struggling, mouth open and whining over Eddie’s hip, sloppy enough that the wetness starting to seep through into the black cloth.

Frustrated, Eddie rumbles something like “too fucking distracting, you want it so bad you do it” and Buck practically falls all over himself, throwing his body all the way forward and clawing the shorts down to Eddie’s calves.

He’s not wearing anything underneath.

The second he uncovers Eddie’s crotch, he’s hit hard by the smell of trapped sweat and testosterone, the usual musk made ten times raunchier.

Buck can feel his mouth water all over again, didn’t know it could make that much saliva. He’d been forced to spend a lot of hours in church as a kid, and he’d never thought that he’d find Heaven like this.

Above him, there’s a long, unsteady, inhale, and then there’s a strong hand on the back of his head, pushing him forward.

Buck goes easily, right between Eddie’s thighs, far back enough that he can put his lips where he wants to, tongue running along the thin skin right at the base of his sack, reveling in the feeling of it drawing up, whispering along his lips.

Eddie pulls him back, jerking like he’s scared Buck’s going to make him too quick on the trigger. Or maybe he’s just scared, full stop.

Buck can feel Eddie’s pulse, pounding in his thighs. But when his fingers loosen in Buck’s hair he leans forward again, kissing Eddie’s cock right at the base.

He doesn’t trust his voice to ask, so he just looks up, and waits.

Eddie’s gaze is heavy and dark, his face flushed. He could still back away from this.

Instead he takes a step only to get the rest of the way out of his shorts. Then he nods and Buck moans, like he’s been gut punched, already so ready he feels like he’s been teased for hours.

Buck licks his lips, and opens his mouth slowly, torturously filled with warm weight, silky and soft and hard and throbbing at once.

His jaw is singing with the stretch of it, Eddie groaning with the way Buck’s tongue and throat work him all the way in.

His hand is tangled in Buck’s hair again, but carefully, undemanding, letting Buck rock and swallow and lick at him.

He tastes even better than he smells, and there’s not a single way in which he isn’t flooded with Eddie, moaning around him.

He can’t get enough, now or ever. And Eddie seems to feel the same.

The hand at the back of his head is no longer soft or unsure. Eddie’s fingers are digging at his scalp, pulling him closer.

The room is going to reek afterward, of them and sweat and sex.

Eddie’s the best, most delicious weight he’s ever felt on his tongue. And he’s done a lot of feeling.

Buck’s own arousal is settled low and heavy somewhere below his stomach. His eyes shut as he focuses, works his mouth all the way down, until he has his nose right against the taut heat of Eddie’s belly, nestled right into the dark hair there where his scent is strongest.

Buck is gone on it, breathing it in, sucking it into his lungs where it can never get out. His throat is perfectly full, a counterpoint to how tightly bound his own cock feels in his pants.

He presses the flat of his palm against it, and it makes him swallow down so hard that Eddie jerks and moans at the feeling.

Buck doubles down, keeps taking him deep, keeps his tongue flat and firm alongside the hardest part of him, taking every bit of the rhythm Eddie’s giving him.

He’s thrusting wildly now, close, letting Buck pull back to the head and then deep again, fingers spasming in his hair without real control.

Until he suddenly snaps his hips forward just as he pushes Buck’s head down, and he goes, a wet messy slide right down to the base, drowning him in the scent, the feeling of it.

Buck’s hands go up, hard around Eddie’s thighs, not to stop him but just to feel him, the way his skin in trembling under Buck’s calloused palms.

Between one rough panting heartbeat and the next, Buck’s mouth is full and salty, leaking at the seams, both of Eddie’s hands grasping helplessly at his hair.

When Eddie’s hands unclench Buck doesn’t so much pull away as fall away, into a small heap onto Eddie’s very nice floor, ass right on his still damp, ripe, t-shirt.

Buck can feel that his mouth is slick and bruised red and purple. The taut crotch of his pants is wet and sticky in a way Eddie can’t miss.

He feels drunk. And Eddie looks just as wrecked, faintly ridiculous in nothing but running shoes and sweaty socks.

“Hey, hey, Buck, are you okay?” Eddie whispers, careful, no matter how loud they just got, gliding careful fingertips over his face like he’s scared the answer is going to be no.

Like he’s just realized what they’ve done.

So what Buck says is what he can say, and what’s true, besides.

“I want you. All the time” he croaks, voice wrecked in a way that surprises even him.

Eddie wraps him up again, right against his chest, so stupidly warm, his arms both soft and strong.

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me” he says into Buck’s hair and Buck shivers, turns his face into Eddie’s neck, and breathes him in.