( everything that isn't the vein under his tongue feels — vague. steve is vaguely complaining. vaguely resisting. the clock somewhere mounted on the wall is vaguely clicking a one, two tune as eddie rubs his tongue, back and forth, against the protrusion of blood under his lips. god. steve harrington is decidedly not a bat, and it feels — impossibly good. he's so full of blood and vitality, he smells so good as all the blood rushes around in his body, panicked and frenzied. eddie hums, or groans, sucking the skin of his neck lightly, rubbing teeth that feel like a little too sharp against his sensitive flesh.
is he supposed to fight this urge? probably, if he were decent — or actually the hero he once tried to become. but steve stretched his neck, unveiled the path of his skin like he wanted it, and eddie. well. he doesn't run, at least. he keens right into the urge, two thick fangs descending from his gums, serpentine as they rub up against his skin. it's almost apologetic, for the upcoming pain. soothing an ache that isn't there, yet. )
Stay put, Harrington. ( it's sounds like he's talking with a mouthful of marbles. ) Just a bite.
( just a bite. though — eddie has never bitten something that he didn't kill in the process. he's also never bitten anything as big as steve, holding as much blood inside him. not that he's thinking about anything like that. no, he just thinks about his teeth, pressing into his neck until they pierce, until steve blood coats his mouth and he takes a long, hard pull from the spigot.
it's good. steve tastes sweet in a way he's unused to, like eddie just realized he's been subsiding off rotting bats with moldy, black blood for the last however long, and just tasted a cream-filled cupcake. he groans, tugging, swallowing two mouthfuls which is ordinarily his fill — but there's so much and he tastes so good, eddie can't help but swallow more, dragging more of steve inside of him. strange flashes of memories. there's nancy spread on her fluffy, white sheets. robin in a sailor hat. dustin —
yeah. dustin. the vision of the kid makes eddie pull off with a sudden jerk, watching the blood bubbling up from steve's neck with a strange look of horror and arousal. not wanting to waste a drop, he licks the wound, sealing it off with his weird, vampire spit. he swallows the last dregs down, until he can pull away, cheeks suddenly flush, hands cupping steve's waist to make sure he doesn't fall. or — jesus, die. )
So — okay, yeah, dude, I mean — somethings are a little different now! Shit, Steve. ( shit is right. it's a weird slap in the face — a dawning reality that he's the complete and exact opposite of a hero now. he's evil. he's what the papers say he is — demonic, cultist, murderer. he can't stay here, a threat to the only people who ever tried to help him. he's — ) Sorry, sorry, Jesus Christ. What the fuck. Sorry.
and he meant a that truthfully. the fact he was asked to come into work days after gates bisected hawkins is insane. the fact that max is in a coma she might never wake up from because eleven said no is insane. eddie munson is alive, and that’s insane too. which almost makes steve wonder if i’m the grand scheme of things, this, and all this is, isn’t all that insane after all.
( that’s when eddie runs his tongue across his throat again, when eddie groans, and steve can feel it against his skin. feels it go directly down to his gut. and then lower still. )
no, no, this is decidedly crossing a line into insanity that steve’s not sure he’s prepared to cross, and he just very nearly has a spike of energy, a sudden rush of strength, to fully get eddie off of him. ] What are you even-
[ stay put, harrington.
the words carry a kind of weight in them that steve’s not prepared for, and they settle over him like a wave. any energy, any strength, any fight he might have had is gone in an instant, seeped out of him like a switch flicking. part of steve thinks he might not even be breathing, and for some insane, crazy, impossible reason, even that is okay. because he is staying put.
that’s when his brain finally catches up to the puncturing against his neck. when he realizes what is actually happening. because sure, okay, part of him had truly thought that maybe this was just some weird side of eddie munson. being in the upside down fucks you up, and if eddie needed comfort, if eddie needed…wherever this was leading, steve’s not entirely sure he would have said no. now, as he comes to this realization, steve is very aware he hadn’t assumed that would also include sucking his blood, and yet even still…
the point where eddie’s mouth is on his neck is hot. impossibly hot. it feels a bit like he’s burning, like a flame has started right there, and is slowly spreading over his skin. steve’s knees go a little weak, but not enough that he has to over correct, not enough that he’s worried about his balance. some voice in the back of his head says you will stay right here, you will stay put, and so he does.
steve feels lightheaded, a bit like he’s floating, the searing heat of eddie’s mouth just the beginning as every inch of him slowly begins to heat up. there are images of nancy that cross his vision, then of robin, of dustin. some disconnected part of him wonders if he’s dying, while another part replies with would it be that bad? and then just as it started, it ends, and eddie’s pulling away from him. separating his mouth from steve’s neck. he licks a stripe across the spot but steve can’t quite piece together why because very suddenly, very very suddenly, that dizziness is back. the entire world starts to move around him.
thankfully eddie is holding him up (he thinks) because steve sways, trying to blink his eyes back into focus. ] The fuck… [ he mumbles, all but crumpling forward into eddie, something about the loss of that heat, but also a sudden bout of something else, overwhelming him. and if steve stopped to think about it, he might realize exactly where that remaining heat has pooled. instead, or at least in this moment, he focuses on the death grip he has on eddie’s shoulders, the fact that eddie is ranting about something or maybe he’s just talking in that same way he always does but he looks better, there is more color to him, and steve…likes that, in a weird way. ]
Did you- [ another blink or so and it’s coming back, he’s coming back, and he turns to look more directly into eddie’s face. ] Did you just drink my blood?
Yeah, dude. ( he agrees, sagely, hands clenching and unclenching on the sides of steve's shirt. shortly said: ) Fuck.
( fuck, because he should hate himself for the violation. he's an unwelcome invader in steve's territory, the very thing of nightmares and dnd games he actually used to have fun dreaming up, making gorey and deadly and difficult. now? he empathies with the monster. he gets vecna. he just wants to feed, and feed, and feel that rushing sensation of steve's blood coursing through his veins over and over, an animal driven to blood frenzies and other frenzies, the needy, passionate kind, that kind of enjoyed kissing steve as much as he liked eating him.
it all goes hand in hand, he finds. feeding, sex. satiation, the filling and emptying and need that comes along with all of it, intimacy found in sharing the very foundation of your life with a scorned creature like him. not that steve had much of a choice in the process. the very pointed reality of that is what fights eddie off from drinking from him again, from asking if he can bite at his thigh next, or the side of his chest. asking if he liked it. if maybe he wants some more.
can't do anything like that without being a certified asshole. he probably already is one, given the state of steve's neck, and how little remorse eddie feels for the taste engulfing his mouth. he lets out an obnoxious breath, an almost censorious glint to his expression. )
You taste ... good. That's — damn annoying, actually.
( even more annoying that he brought it up, really. who cares what he tastes like? well — eddie, for one. he's pretty confident there's nothing else in the world like him, or maybe it's just a think that you get addicted to the first drop of human blood you ever taste. whatever the case, it's all he can think about for a minute, cutting steve open and lapping at his veins like a hungry dog, tasting where the blood is richer at the center of his chest. tasting where the meat gets tougher on overused muscles, how bitter and strong he can get his blood. how much he'll like it anyway, since it's coming from him.
he forces himself to remember when snapped him out of the frenzy in the first place. dustin, right. eddie presses his hands flat on steve's waist, still chilly but warmer now, thumbs rubbing back and forth on his hipbones. eddie takes a deep breath, ignoring the burn of steve's scent in the back of his throat, teasing him. )
Can't let Henderson see me like this. He's —
( he'll hate me. )
He's gonna freak. You're gonna freak, if you aren't already freaking. Double fuck. ( he lets out a huffing laugh. ) I should not've come back.
[ the ground feels firmer and firmer under his feet as the seconds pass, and the spinning that steve feels starts to slow. his hands are bunched in the torn, tattered fabric of eddie's clothes. eddie's hands are at his waist, and are most definitely holding him up. they are standing in the back room of family video because robin just left to get...whoever. anyone. and steve had stayed behind to watch eddie, to make sure he was okay, that he would be okay.
between that point, and this, something has very distinctly changed.
and maybe that is an understatement. maybe steve is disgustingly underselling the events that have just gone down. but it's also hard to think about any of them at all when eddie is still this close to him, when eddie feels marginally warmer, has more color, doesn't appear to drift away if steve took his eyes off of him. eddie munson, who had died in the upside down, who now has his hands on steve's waist. is now holding him up.
steve blinks, and he feels warm. the dizziness is wearing off (marginally) and he thinks he could probably stand on his own, if he wanted to, but something keeps him attached. keeps him this close. (it's too similar to that meeting of theirs in the boat house, isn't it? eddie's eyes on steve's throat, steve feeling pinned, a little panicked, a little something else.) ] What? [ because steve is still trying to come to terms with the whole eddie just bit him and drank his blood thing, and had been nearly sure he must have hallucinated the whole thing, up until eddie goes and supports it. says you taste good and steve's chest is tightening again.
with effort, steve puts a little distance between them. it's barely half a step, and still within reach, but now steve feels less like he's dependent on eddie's arms and more like he can look at him. like he can see what is going on and figure this out. steve's hands are still bunched in eddie's shoulders as he searches his face, his eyes, catches what he thinks might be edges to eddie's teeth (fangs). but then eddie is freaking out (contrary to what he says) and steve feels himself jerked back into the moment. ] Wait- [ dustin, oh god oh shit he hadn't even thought of that. hasn't thought about what is going to happen when anyone else gets here. what they're going to think. he's still caught up on what the fuck and eddie is alive and the fact that heat in steve's gut hasn't really gone away yet. has gotten almost uncomfortable.
I should not've come back
steve's eyes snap back then, suddenly clear. ]
No- no. Stop. Just- stop, for one second. I'm. [ steve feels a bit like his heart is racing a little too quickly, a little too loudly. a part of him shakes eddie just to get him out of that line of thinking, finding his eyes again. ] You should have come back, it's good you made it back. I don't know how you did it, but you did, and that's- shit man, that's all that matters. You're alive. And Henderson, he'll- we'll figure this out, whatever it is. Okay?
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no subject
is he supposed to fight this urge? probably, if he were decent — or actually the hero he once tried to become. but steve stretched his neck, unveiled the path of his skin like he wanted it, and eddie. well. he doesn't run, at least. he keens right into the urge, two thick fangs descending from his gums, serpentine as they rub up against his skin. it's almost apologetic, for the upcoming pain. soothing an ache that isn't there, yet. )
Stay put, Harrington. ( it's sounds like he's talking with a mouthful of marbles. ) Just a bite.
( just a bite. though — eddie has never bitten something that he didn't kill in the process. he's also never bitten anything as big as steve, holding as much blood inside him. not that he's thinking about anything like that. no, he just thinks about his teeth, pressing into his neck until they pierce, until steve blood coats his mouth and he takes a long, hard pull from the spigot.
it's good. steve tastes sweet in a way he's unused to, like eddie just realized he's been subsiding off rotting bats with moldy, black blood for the last however long, and just tasted a cream-filled cupcake. he groans, tugging, swallowing two mouthfuls which is ordinarily his fill — but there's so much and he tastes so good, eddie can't help but swallow more, dragging more of steve inside of him. strange flashes of memories. there's nancy spread on her fluffy, white sheets. robin in a sailor hat. dustin —
yeah. dustin. the vision of the kid makes eddie pull off with a sudden jerk, watching the blood bubbling up from steve's neck with a strange look of horror and arousal. not wanting to waste a drop, he licks the wound, sealing it off with his weird, vampire spit. he swallows the last dregs down, until he can pull away, cheeks suddenly flush, hands cupping steve's waist to make sure he doesn't fall. or — jesus, die. )
So — okay, yeah, dude, I mean — somethings are a little different now! Shit, Steve. ( shit is right. it's a weird slap in the face — a dawning reality that he's the complete and exact opposite of a hero now. he's evil. he's what the papers say he is — demonic, cultist, murderer. he can't stay here, a threat to the only people who ever tried to help him. he's — ) Sorry, sorry, Jesus Christ. What the fuck. Sorry.
no subject
and he meant a that truthfully. the fact he was asked to come into work days after gates bisected hawkins is insane. the fact that max is in a coma she might never wake up from because eleven said no is insane. eddie munson is alive, and that’s insane too. which almost makes steve wonder if i’m the grand scheme of things, this, and all this is, isn’t all that insane after all.
( that’s when eddie runs his tongue across his throat again, when eddie groans, and steve can feel it against his skin. feels it go directly down to his gut. and then lower still. )
no, no, this is decidedly crossing a line into insanity that steve’s not sure he’s prepared to cross, and he just very nearly has a spike of energy, a sudden rush of strength, to fully get eddie off of him. ] What are you even-
[ stay put, harrington.
the words carry a kind of weight in them that steve’s not prepared for, and they settle over him like a wave. any energy, any strength, any fight he might have had is gone in an instant, seeped out of him like a switch flicking. part of steve thinks he might not even be breathing, and for some insane, crazy, impossible reason, even that is okay. because he is staying put.
that’s when his brain finally catches up to the puncturing against his neck. when he realizes what is actually happening. because sure, okay, part of him had truly thought that maybe this was just some weird side of eddie munson. being in the upside down fucks you up, and if eddie needed comfort, if eddie needed…wherever this was leading, steve’s not entirely sure he would have said no. now, as he comes to this realization, steve is very aware he hadn’t assumed that would also include sucking his blood, and yet even still…
the point where eddie’s mouth is on his neck is hot. impossibly hot. it feels a bit like he’s burning, like a flame has started right there, and is slowly spreading over his skin. steve’s knees go a little weak, but not enough that he has to over correct, not enough that he’s worried about his balance. some voice in the back of his head says you will stay right here, you will stay put, and so he does.
steve feels lightheaded, a bit like he’s floating, the searing heat of eddie’s mouth just the beginning as every inch of him slowly begins to heat up. there are images of nancy that cross his vision, then of robin, of dustin. some disconnected part of him wonders if he’s dying, while another part replies with would it be that bad? and then just as it started, it ends, and eddie’s pulling away from him. separating his mouth from steve’s neck. he licks a stripe across the spot but steve can’t quite piece together why because very suddenly, very very suddenly, that dizziness is back. the entire world starts to move around him.
thankfully eddie is holding him up (he thinks) because steve sways, trying to blink his eyes back into focus. ] The fuck… [ he mumbles, all but crumpling forward into eddie, something about the loss of that heat, but also a sudden bout of something else, overwhelming him. and if steve stopped to think about it, he might realize exactly where that remaining heat has pooled. instead, or at least in this moment, he focuses on the death grip he has on eddie’s shoulders, the fact that eddie is ranting about something or maybe he’s just talking in that same way he always does but he looks better, there is more color to him, and steve…likes that, in a weird way. ]
Did you- [ another blink or so and it’s coming back, he’s coming back, and he turns to look more directly into eddie’s face. ] Did you just drink my blood?
no subject
( fuck, because he should hate himself for the violation. he's an unwelcome invader in steve's territory, the very thing of nightmares and dnd games he actually used to have fun dreaming up, making gorey and deadly and difficult. now? he empathies with the monster. he gets vecna. he just wants to feed, and feed, and feel that rushing sensation of steve's blood coursing through his veins over and over, an animal driven to blood frenzies and other frenzies, the needy, passionate kind, that kind of enjoyed kissing steve as much as he liked eating him.
it all goes hand in hand, he finds. feeding, sex. satiation, the filling and emptying and need that comes along with all of it, intimacy found in sharing the very foundation of your life with a scorned creature like him. not that steve had much of a choice in the process. the very pointed reality of that is what fights eddie off from drinking from him again, from asking if he can bite at his thigh next, or the side of his chest. asking if he liked it. if maybe he wants some more.
can't do anything like that without being a certified asshole. he probably already is one, given the state of steve's neck, and how little remorse eddie feels for the taste engulfing his mouth. he lets out an obnoxious breath, an almost censorious glint to his expression. )
You taste ... good. That's — damn annoying, actually.
( even more annoying that he brought it up, really. who cares what he tastes like? well — eddie, for one. he's pretty confident there's nothing else in the world like him, or maybe it's just a think that you get addicted to the first drop of human blood you ever taste. whatever the case, it's all he can think about for a minute, cutting steve open and lapping at his veins like a hungry dog, tasting where the blood is richer at the center of his chest. tasting where the meat gets tougher on overused muscles, how bitter and strong he can get his blood. how much he'll like it anyway, since it's coming from him.
he forces himself to remember when snapped him out of the frenzy in the first place. dustin, right. eddie presses his hands flat on steve's waist, still chilly but warmer now, thumbs rubbing back and forth on his hipbones. eddie takes a deep breath, ignoring the burn of steve's scent in the back of his throat, teasing him. )
Can't let Henderson see me like this. He's —
( he'll hate me. )
He's gonna freak. You're gonna freak, if you aren't already freaking. Double fuck. ( he lets out a huffing laugh. ) I should not've come back.
no subject
between that point, and this, something has very distinctly changed.
and maybe that is an understatement. maybe steve is disgustingly underselling the events that have just gone down. but it's also hard to think about any of them at all when eddie is still this close to him, when eddie feels marginally warmer, has more color, doesn't appear to drift away if steve took his eyes off of him. eddie munson, who had died in the upside down, who now has his hands on steve's waist. is now holding him up.
steve blinks, and he feels warm. the dizziness is wearing off (marginally) and he thinks he could probably stand on his own, if he wanted to, but something keeps him attached. keeps him this close. (it's too similar to that meeting of theirs in the boat house, isn't it? eddie's eyes on steve's throat, steve feeling pinned, a little panicked, a little something else.) ] What? [ because steve is still trying to come to terms with the whole eddie just bit him and drank his blood thing, and had been nearly sure he must have hallucinated the whole thing, up until eddie goes and supports it. says you taste good and steve's chest is tightening again.
with effort, steve puts a little distance between them. it's barely half a step, and still within reach, but now steve feels less like he's dependent on eddie's arms and more like he can look at him. like he can see what is going on and figure this out. steve's hands are still bunched in eddie's shoulders as he searches his face, his eyes, catches what he thinks might be edges to eddie's teeth (fangs). but then eddie is freaking out (contrary to what he says) and steve feels himself jerked back into the moment. ] Wait- [ dustin, oh god oh shit he hadn't even thought of that. hasn't thought about what is going to happen when anyone else gets here. what they're going to think. he's still caught up on what the fuck and eddie is alive and the fact that heat in steve's gut hasn't really gone away yet. has gotten almost uncomfortable.
I should not've come back
steve's eyes snap back then, suddenly clear. ]
No- no. Stop. Just- stop, for one second. I'm. [ steve feels a bit like his heart is racing a little too quickly, a little too loudly. a part of him shakes eddie just to get him out of that line of thinking, finding his eyes again. ] You should have come back, it's good you made it back. I don't know how you did it, but you did, and that's- shit man, that's all that matters. You're alive. And Henderson, he'll- we'll figure this out, whatever it is. Okay?