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Summary
But lying here, loose and relaxed, with a warm flush spreading over his skin and a lazy sense of pleasure singing in his veins, he’s a little too gone to care. Buck’s voice is dripping in starlight, hot and familiar in his ear, and with his eyes shut he can almost pretend that he’s here, beside him. He can almost pretend it’s Buck’s fingers that are making him feel this good; can almost pretend that Buck’s eyes are on him, dark and wanting as he watches Eddie lose himself.
Or, the one where Eddie has lots of very homosexual gay as fuck thoughts about men. And about Buck. Mainly Buck.