Steve didn’t want a dog.
The seizures started not long after they officially slammed the gate shut on the Upside Down, but it was suspected that they were probably happening before that. It’s subtle for the most part. It takes a while before anybody notices the shifting behind the eyes, the confusion, the dull drag that sinks into Steve’s body and tightens everything up.
They call them absence seizures. And then when Steve convulsed on the Family Video carpet, they say grand mal. They say brain damage and likely permanent, and it’s scary.
It is always scary when Steve’s brain betrays him, when his memory slips and his body fails, and Eddie knows that it’s frustrating. He knows that Steve hates it. He’s been on the opposite end of Steve’s mood swings, of the tears and the anger at going from a kid with no adult supervision to an adult that can’t drive their own car anymore.
He knows the fear that creeps into Steve’s voice through the phoneline when he’s somewhere he doesn’t recognize and doesn’t remember how he got there because Eddie is there. He is on the other end of the line. He is there for the confusion, for the messy emotions, for every breakdown and the attempted break up and Steve saying that he was holding Eddie back when all he ever did was keep Eddie together.
But it is scary.
It is so fucking scary every time that Eddie sits and waits by Steve’s side for him to come back to himself, fearing – always fearing that there might come a day that he doesn’t. But it’s scarier when he’s not there.
Steve does not want a dog.
The first time Eddie brought up a service animal, there are three adult men living in Wayne’s trailer. He’s flipping through a magazine and Steve says no. He says that they can’t afford a dog, much less a service animal and no, Steve would not ask his parents about it. He was lucky enough that they let him stay on their insurance after they kicked him out.
The second time Eddie brought it up, there is money. There is money for a trailer of their own. There’s money for Steve to go to school. There’s a label that signed them and talks of a nation-wide tour, and there’s a song on the radio, and Steve says no. Steve says that it’s unnecessary. He says that he’ll move in with Robin and Nancy while Eddie tours. That it’s okay.
The third time, they have an apartment of their own. Eddie has more money than he’ll ever know what to do with and Steve says no. He’s teaching first grade and he’s happy all the time, and he tells Eddie no. He says that it’s an almost invisible disorder and that sometimes he can pretend that it doesn’t exist. He says he can pretend that none of the bad stuff ever happened, and if he has a dog then it’s just a neon sign that says he’s got his head cracked open. He says people treat him like he’s something that can break when they know, and he hates it. He says it's like they’re all waiting for him to shake apart.
The fourth time – the medicine change, the overnight at the hospital – Steve doesn’t let Eddie get the words out of his mouth. He’s upset and he thinks that no one listens to him, and he says no. He says when he thinks about dogs than he thinks about dark nights, and the junk yard, and the creatures that weren’t dogs but kind of were, and he doesn’t want to be there anymore. They closed the gate. It’s not fair that the Upside Down still lives inside him.
Eddie does not bring it up again.
It doesn’t matter anyways.
It’s been years. They built a system. There are still seizures, still dissociative episodes and sleepwalking, and still the rare but terrifying grand mal seizures that sits like Chrissy Cunningham cracking to pieces in Eddie’s chest. There are appointments and medication, but there is family and friends, and they take the precautions they know to take and learn to take more. And it works.
It works until it doesn’t.
Corroded Coffins’ popularity started to drop off in the early 2000s. They don’t tour too much anymore, but sometimes Eddie leaves for a week to play a couple shows out of town and that was what he was doing four years ago. Neither of them think about Robin visiting her parents or the research position that took Dustin all over the world, or that half of their friends have moved out of the state. They say their goodbyes and they kiss each other, and Eddie comes home to blood tacky in the carpet.
He came home to Steve at the bottom of the stairs after having a seizure and falling, bleeding and in pain, unable to move and calling for a help no one can hear for three days. They have a system, but there are cracks big enough to fall through. Steve may not want a dog and maybe it isn’t what he needs, but it’s the only thing Eddie knows to ask about.
Eddie asks again for the first time in years, sitting next to him in the hospital. Steve says yes with bruises on his face and taste of a concussion on his tongue, and they get a well-trained dog with light fur that Steve names Ozzy.
Eddie feels for the first time in years like he can take a full breath, a little more of his fear slipping away.
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I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃
He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.
Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.
"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.
You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.
He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.
"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.
"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.
"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.
Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.
"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.
~~~
You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?
He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.
The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.
If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.
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