A/N: finally, smut! this section is nearly all spice, and i'm leaving you on a bit of an ambiguous note, but trust i'll have more soon 🫡 so happy to see y'all are enjoying it so far!
~
Their first call of the shift is a MVA downtown.
He’s treating a head wound– just superficial– but it’s bleeding pretty consistently. He dabs blood away, trying to see if the laceration needs to be debrided before he applies a pressure bandage. He’s focused enough on the task that it surprises him when his patient speaks up, voice low and gravelly. “Never would’ve figured you for an omega.”
Eddie resists the urge to roll his eyes. He had no problem clocking this fucker as an alpha the second they rolled up on the scene. He’s got that stereotypical build: stocky and tall, with a scent so strong it’s almost rancid. Eddie might be days away from his heat, but not even the force of biology is enough to make that scent enjoyable. “Not really a relevant part of the concussion protocol.”
The alpha smiles, and Eddie can’t tell if it looks slimy on its own or because this guy is a Grade A dick. “You smell like you’re about ready to drop and present.”
Eddie lets his aim with the tweezers waver when he picks the next piece of gravel out, covering a smirk when the guy hisses with a click of his tongue like he’s considering. “Guess we should run through that concussion questionnaire again. Doesn’t sound like you’re totally in control of your speech.”
The alpha’s eyes flash, but Eddie’s done anyway, securing the pressure bandage around his head. “Go ahead and hop inside.” He says, slapping his palm down on the bumper of the ambulance where the man is sitting. “We’ll make sure you get checked out at the hospital.”
He walks away before the guy can answer, heading for the truck.
It’s only his second day off the suppressants, and already he’s suffering the consequences. Maybe it’s only right. That is the theme of Eddie’s life, after all: consequences.
“Hey, you okay?” Buck asks, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s before they climb into the engine. “Looked like that guy was being a dick.”
The contact shocks Eddie like a livewire, skittering down his arm and across his chest. God, but hormones are such a bitch. He shrugs, trying not to let it show on his face. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
It comes out a little bristled, even though he knows Buck didn’t mean anything by it. He knows Eddie can take care of himself just fine.
Buck doesn’t seem to take offense, just nods. “Good.”
The day only gets progressively worse. No one else harasses him about it, but he can tell by Hen and Bobby’s increasingly concerned looks that his scent is getting stronger. Buck is getting clingier like he always does when something is wrong with Eddie, not straying from his side any further or longer than absolutely necessary, making him tea and annoying him into eating.
And that’s another thing. The idea of eating is becoming more and more abhorrent. It’s the death knell for Eddie’s sanity. At least, it should be.
“Eating around heat is the fucking worst.” Chim gripes, plopping down at the table next to Eddie, who’s surrounded by no less than three different snacks as well as a cup of tea, all courtesy of Buck, who’s pretending he’s not checking on Eddie’s progress from across the loft. “Like trying to drink a milkshake during a marathon.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. If he had any appetite before, it’d be gone now. He hums his agreement rather than chance any words throwing off his concentrated effort to keep from vomiting.
“Doesn’t stop Maddie from trying, though. Spends half her time trying to entice me to eat. Always meal preps a shit ton of food the week before, too. Even though she knows I won’t be able to stomach much of anything. It’s the Buckley Alpha way.”
Buck drops something in the kitchen, cursing as he bends to pick it up. Eddie can’t quite manage to stop the fond twist of his lips. He knew Buck was listening.
Shannon tried. She’d make sure he ate something, try to make their space cozy and warm. But her effort couldn’t do anything to mask the doubt in her scent. The unhappiness Eddie’s sure was rolling off of both of them in waves. They loved each other so much, but in the end it was never the right fit.
For some reason, whether it’s the trust or the familiarity or the lack of an accidental pup conceived between them, all the nesting Buck’s doing just makes Eddie feel taken care of, his omega soothed. Bobby shoves a cutting board and a bag of vegetables at Buck, tells him to put all this energy to use, and Eddie’s gaze snags on the movement of Buck’s hands on the knife, heat flaring in his gut.
The alarm goes off again before Eddie has to reply, and they’re back in the engine in seconds.
And this: Buck’s leg between Eddie’s, their knees pressed together as they bounce through LA— this is worse. Or better. Eddie can’t tell.
His limbs are starting to feel heavier, his brain fuzzier. He should really tell Bobby that he needs to be man-behind on the next call. Thankfully, this one is just a simple medical call. Nothing Chim and Hen can’t handle.
Then, someone touches him.
It’s completely innocent, just a brush of a hand against Eddie's arm as she passes by him, but it slams into Eddie like a truck. It's just the patient’s wife, someone he’s never seen, but he can smell that they’re an alpha. The wrong alpha.
He recoils, and she apologizes immediately, but he already feels off-kilter, like she bodily knocked him over. “Oh, honey. You should be at home.”
He wants to snap at her, tell her that times have changed and omegas aren’t just to be seen and not heard anymore or at least tell her not to touch him, when Buck appears at his side. “Eddie?” His voice is soft where he directs it, but his body language is hard, sharp as he puts himself between Eddie and the other alpha, his chest brushing against Eddie’s.
Eddie nearly doubles over with the force of it. Heat and electricity and mineminemine. Suddenly, it’s the only goddamn thought in his head. Buck. Alpha. Knot. He can almost feel the ghost of Buck’s teeth over his neck, his hands on Eddie’s hips, the head of his fucking huge cock brushing over his rim.
Buck could make him feel better. He would take care of Eddie, and he’d do it so well, he just knows. Please, please, Buck, I need–
“Holy shit.” Buck breathes, wrapping steadying hands on each of Eddie’s arms.
It doesn’t help, Eddie only feels less capable of standing on his own than he did before he could feel each of Buck’s thick fingers making contact with his biceps. Are his hands always this hot?
Buck yells for Bobby, who takes in the scene in two seconds flat. “Buck, get him in the engine. Hen, Chim, let’s head out.”
Then the ambulance is peeling out, and the only relief is that the other alpha goes with it. Buck’s still holding on to him, dragging him toward the engine as Bobby closes the scene.
This is the most intense heat Eddie’s ever felt.
Every touch of Buck’s capable fingers, every lungful of his air tinted with warm, spicy alpha scent has Eddie getting slicker, his knees buckling. His entire world feels narrow, focused on getting as close to Buck as possible, the uncontrollable urge to climb inside of him and make a nest there. He wants a knot, that part isn’t new, but the rest of it– how badly he wants to feel Buck’s arms around him, the way he’s dying for Buck to kiss him– that’s a fresh hell.
“Alpha.”
The word is out of his throat before he even registers thinking it. Worse, everything is too hazy for Eddie to remember any reason he shouldn’t whine it. Especially when Buck growls in response, shoving Eddie roughly into the engine and climbing in after him.
Eddie had planned on them getting back home before any of this started, but he figures the engine is as good a place as any. It’s better than the street like he’d been imagining, and the law doesn’t begrudge a heat-addled omega too much when it comes to things like public indecency. However, Buck doesn’t seem to agree, snatching Eddie’s wrists in his hands before he can get his zipper down. “Eddie, fuck, you– you don’t wanna do that.”
Eddie would beg to differ. Why wouldn’t he? He’s clearly in heat, and all he really wants is Buck’s knot as fast as humanly possible. His higher functioning is already starting to slip, and “want it,” is all he can manage before he’s baring his throat, waiting for Buck to make him submit.
In Eddie’s experience, most alphas want to hear him beg. They want him to present and shake his ass and beg to be filled as if it’s something he wants instead of something his body is demanding. But for some reason, Buck isn’t taking the bait.
The crown of his head hits the seat behind him. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” He ducks his head out the window, hollering for Bobby again. “Running out of time here, Cap!”
He should be growling and baring his teeth and manhandling Eddie onto his hands and knees. He should have already lost all ability to think about anything else besides fucking Eddie stupid and pregnant while Eddie plays the part and gets what he needs. But Buck’s hands are soft even though his body is tense. He’s murmuring sweet platitudes and pushing the hair off Eddie’s sweaty forehead and telling him to just hang on until they’re somewhere safe.
He is, at least, rock hard in his slacks despite this reserve of untapped restraint he seems to have found.
The deep timbre of Buck’s voice vibrates through Eddie’s bones, making him shiver. The urge to strip them both is even stronger now, even if Buck did tell him no. It’s starting to hurt, all the wanting. Worse than it ever did while he waited for the hired alphas or Shannon to get back. It’s like it’s eating him alive, eroding his insides and leaving him scooped out and empty. “Buck,”
Strong arms wrap around him immediately, pulling him in and pressing his face into the scent glands on Buck’s neck. “I know, baby, I'm sorry. Gonna get you home, I promise.”
Eddie gets lost in it, Buck’s grip strong on the back of his neck, his face nestled in Buck’s skin where his scent is strong and calming. At some point, they start moving again, and Bobby’s voice is tinny through Buck’s headset as he grouses, “—should cite you both to hell and back for cutting it this close.”
Buck is saying something back, but all Eddie can hear is the rumble of his chest, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He whines, hips hitching up into the air. He’s struggling to remember why they can’t get started now. He’s so empty, trapped in all this cloying fabric that’s starting to feel suffocating.
“I can’t–” He tries, “Buck.”
Buck reaches up and clamps his hand down around Eddie’s neck, massaging his thumb into Eddie’s scent gland as hard as he can. It’s not as good as a bite, but Buck can’t bite him there without mating him, and Eddie knows he wouldn’t dare. Even with his brain drowning in heat chemicals, he knows Buck would never do anything but keep Eddie safe.
The thought only makes the symptoms worse.
“Almost there, Eds, just hang on, I got you.” Buck tries to soothe, but his tone is so low, so gravelly with desire that it just makes Eddie whine and his skin pebble.
Buck clearly doesn’t get it. He’s going to die. Didn’t the doctor tell him that? He’s so empty, his omega whimpering and begging and clawing at his insides to be filled and knotted now. Eddie doesn’t care that Collins is driving or that Bobby’s here. The fact that he didn’t want Bobby knowing anything about this upcoming heat is incomprehensible now. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck as long as he’s sitting on Buck’s cock as soon as possible.
“Just take care of him, Buck.” The tinny Bobby voice says again. “Call if you need anything.”
He doesn’t register that they’ve stopped until Buck is bodily hauling him out of the engine, hand still firm around the back of his neck as he says something back to Bobby and then guides Eddie toward the house.
Buck takes them back to the kitchen door, which is probably best given the way the front door lock sticks, and the second they’re inside, Eddie’s pressing him back against the wall and working his pants open.
Buck groans. “Bedroom, c’mon.”
“No.” Eddie growls. “Now.”
He tugs at Buck’s t-shirt, but the angles are all wrong. He can’t get a good grip, and Buck is not helping when he spends the entire time touching Eddie everywhere he can reach instead of taking his goddamn clothes off. Eddie gives a frustrated sound and grips the fabric in two fists, tearing it with all the strength he can muster.
Buck chokes on air, stumbling back against the door and closing it with the force of his body. Oh, good. They should probably close that before they give the neighborhood an eyeful anyway.
Finally successful with Buck’s, he makes quick work of his own clothes, stripping down to his underwear. His cock is so hard it hurts, and slick is running down his legs, making it harder to peel his boxers off, but Buck seems mesmerized by him anyway, dropping to his knees and running his tongue up the inside of Eddie’s thigh. “Fuck fuck fuck, Eddie.” he moans. “You taste so fucking–”
Eddie doesn’t get to know what exactly Buck thinks he tastes like because he’s putting his tongue back to use, trying to lick Eddie’s thighs clean like a fucking cat and getting in Eddie’s way again. “Off,” he demands, and it is not a whine.
Mercifully, Buck obeys, tugging Eddie’s shorts off and pulling him down into his lap. He doesn’t even have time to bask in the relief of the cool air on his skin, the need is too dire, too frenzied. “Fuck me,” he hears himself begging distantly. “Fuck me, fuck me, c’mon, please.”
Re: Fill: ace/demi + omega!eddie 3/?
~
Their first call of the shift is a MVA downtown.
He’s treating a head wound– just superficial– but it’s bleeding pretty consistently. He dabs blood away, trying to see if the laceration needs to be debrided before he applies a pressure bandage. He’s focused enough on the task that it surprises him when his patient speaks up, voice low and gravelly. “Never would’ve figured you for an omega.”
Eddie resists the urge to roll his eyes. He had no problem clocking this fucker as an alpha the second they rolled up on the scene. He’s got that stereotypical build: stocky and tall, with a scent so strong it’s almost rancid. Eddie might be days away from his heat, but not even the force of biology is enough to make that scent enjoyable. “Not really a relevant part of the concussion protocol.”
The alpha smiles, and Eddie can’t tell if it looks slimy on its own or because this guy is a Grade A dick. “You smell like you’re about ready to drop and present.”
Eddie lets his aim with the tweezers waver when he picks the next piece of gravel out, covering a smirk when the guy hisses with a click of his tongue like he’s considering. “Guess we should run through that concussion questionnaire again. Doesn’t sound like you’re totally in control of your speech.”
The alpha’s eyes flash, but Eddie’s done anyway, securing the pressure bandage around his head. “Go ahead and hop inside.” He says, slapping his palm down on the bumper of the ambulance where the man is sitting. “We’ll make sure you get checked out at the hospital.”
He walks away before the guy can answer, heading for the truck.
It’s only his second day off the suppressants, and already he’s suffering the consequences. Maybe it’s only right. That is the theme of Eddie’s life, after all: consequences.
“Hey, you okay?” Buck asks, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s before they climb into the engine. “Looked like that guy was being a dick.”
The contact shocks Eddie like a livewire, skittering down his arm and across his chest. God, but hormones are such a bitch. He shrugs, trying not to let it show on his face. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
It comes out a little bristled, even though he knows Buck didn’t mean anything by it. He knows Eddie can take care of himself just fine.
Buck doesn’t seem to take offense, just nods. “Good.”
The day only gets progressively worse. No one else harasses him about it, but he can tell by Hen and Bobby’s increasingly concerned looks that his scent is getting stronger. Buck is getting clingier like he always does when something is wrong with Eddie, not straying from his side any further or longer than absolutely necessary, making him tea and annoying him into eating.
And that’s another thing. The idea of eating is becoming more and more abhorrent. It’s the death knell for Eddie’s sanity. At least, it should be.
“Eating around heat is the fucking worst.” Chim gripes, plopping down at the table next to Eddie, who’s surrounded by no less than three different snacks as well as a cup of tea, all courtesy of Buck, who’s pretending he’s not checking on Eddie’s progress from across the loft. “Like trying to drink a milkshake during a marathon.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. If he had any appetite before, it’d be gone now. He hums his agreement rather than chance any words throwing off his concentrated effort to keep from vomiting.
“Doesn’t stop Maddie from trying, though. Spends half her time trying to entice me to eat. Always meal preps a shit ton of food the week before, too. Even though she knows I won’t be able to stomach much of anything. It’s the Buckley Alpha way.”
Buck drops something in the kitchen, cursing as he bends to pick it up. Eddie can’t quite manage to stop the fond twist of his lips. He knew Buck was listening.
Shannon tried. She’d make sure he ate something, try to make their space cozy and warm. But her effort couldn’t do anything to mask the doubt in her scent. The unhappiness Eddie’s sure was rolling off of both of them in waves. They loved each other so much, but in the end it was never the right fit.
For some reason, whether it’s the trust or the familiarity or the lack of an accidental pup conceived between them, all the nesting Buck’s doing just makes Eddie feel taken care of, his omega soothed. Bobby shoves a cutting board and a bag of vegetables at Buck, tells him to put all this energy to use, and Eddie’s gaze snags on the movement of Buck’s hands on the knife, heat flaring in his gut.
The alarm goes off again before Eddie has to reply, and they’re back in the engine in seconds.
And this: Buck’s leg between Eddie’s, their knees pressed together as they bounce through LA— this is worse. Or better. Eddie can’t tell.
His limbs are starting to feel heavier, his brain fuzzier. He should really tell Bobby that he needs to be man-behind on the next call. Thankfully, this one is just a simple medical call. Nothing Chim and Hen can’t handle.
Then, someone touches him.
It’s completely innocent, just a brush of a hand against Eddie's arm as she passes by him, but it slams into Eddie like a truck. It's just the patient’s wife, someone he’s never seen, but he can smell that they’re an alpha. The wrong alpha.
He recoils, and she apologizes immediately, but he already feels off-kilter, like she bodily knocked him over. “Oh, honey. You should be at home.”
He wants to snap at her, tell her that times have changed and omegas aren’t just to be seen and not heard anymore or at least tell her not to touch him, when Buck appears at his side. “Eddie?” His voice is soft where he directs it, but his body language is hard, sharp as he puts himself between Eddie and the other alpha, his chest brushing against Eddie’s.
Eddie nearly doubles over with the force of it. Heat and electricity and mineminemine. Suddenly, it’s the only goddamn thought in his head. Buck. Alpha. Knot. He can almost feel the ghost of Buck’s teeth over his neck, his hands on Eddie’s hips, the head of his fucking huge cock brushing over his rim.
Buck could make him feel better. He would take care of Eddie, and he’d do it so well, he just knows. Please, please, Buck, I need–
“Holy shit.” Buck breathes, wrapping steadying hands on each of Eddie’s arms.
It doesn’t help, Eddie only feels less capable of standing on his own than he did before he could feel each of Buck’s thick fingers making contact with his biceps. Are his hands always this hot?
Buck yells for Bobby, who takes in the scene in two seconds flat. “Buck, get him in the engine. Hen, Chim, let’s head out.”
Then the ambulance is peeling out, and the only relief is that the other alpha goes with it. Buck’s still holding on to him, dragging him toward the engine as Bobby closes the scene.
This is the most intense heat Eddie’s ever felt.
Every touch of Buck’s capable fingers, every lungful of his air tinted with warm, spicy alpha scent has Eddie getting slicker, his knees buckling. His entire world feels narrow, focused on getting as close to Buck as possible, the uncontrollable urge to climb inside of him and make a nest there. He wants a knot, that part isn’t new, but the rest of it– how badly he wants to feel Buck’s arms around him, the way he’s dying for Buck to kiss him– that’s a fresh hell.
“Alpha.”
The word is out of his throat before he even registers thinking it. Worse, everything is too hazy for Eddie to remember any reason he shouldn’t whine it. Especially when Buck growls in response, shoving Eddie roughly into the engine and climbing in after him.
Eddie had planned on them getting back home before any of this started, but he figures the engine is as good a place as any. It’s better than the street like he’d been imagining, and the law doesn’t begrudge a heat-addled omega too much when it comes to things like public indecency. However, Buck doesn’t seem to agree, snatching Eddie’s wrists in his hands before he can get his zipper down. “Eddie, fuck, you– you don’t wanna do that.”
Eddie would beg to differ. Why wouldn’t he? He’s clearly in heat, and all he really wants is Buck’s knot as fast as humanly possible. His higher functioning is already starting to slip, and “want it,” is all he can manage before he’s baring his throat, waiting for Buck to make him submit.
In Eddie’s experience, most alphas want to hear him beg. They want him to present and shake his ass and beg to be filled as if it’s something he wants instead of something his body is demanding. But for some reason, Buck isn’t taking the bait.
The crown of his head hits the seat behind him. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” He ducks his head out the window, hollering for Bobby again. “Running out of time here, Cap!”
He should be growling and baring his teeth and manhandling Eddie onto his hands and knees. He should have already lost all ability to think about anything else besides fucking Eddie stupid and pregnant while Eddie plays the part and gets what he needs. But Buck’s hands are soft even though his body is tense. He’s murmuring sweet platitudes and pushing the hair off Eddie’s sweaty forehead and telling him to just hang on until they’re somewhere safe.
He is, at least, rock hard in his slacks despite this reserve of untapped restraint he seems to have found.
The deep timbre of Buck’s voice vibrates through Eddie’s bones, making him shiver. The urge to strip them both is even stronger now, even if Buck did tell him no. It’s starting to hurt, all the wanting. Worse than it ever did while he waited for the hired alphas or Shannon to get back. It’s like it’s eating him alive, eroding his insides and leaving him scooped out and empty. “Buck,”
Strong arms wrap around him immediately, pulling him in and pressing his face into the scent glands on Buck’s neck. “I know, baby, I'm sorry. Gonna get you home, I promise.”
Eddie gets lost in it, Buck’s grip strong on the back of his neck, his face nestled in Buck’s skin where his scent is strong and calming. At some point, they start moving again, and Bobby’s voice is tinny through Buck’s headset as he grouses, “—should cite you both to hell and back for cutting it this close.”
Buck is saying something back, but all Eddie can hear is the rumble of his chest, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He whines, hips hitching up into the air. He’s struggling to remember why they can’t get started now. He’s so empty, trapped in all this cloying fabric that’s starting to feel suffocating.
“I can’t–” He tries, “Buck.”
Buck reaches up and clamps his hand down around Eddie’s neck, massaging his thumb into Eddie’s scent gland as hard as he can. It’s not as good as a bite, but Buck can’t bite him there without mating him, and Eddie knows he wouldn’t dare. Even with his brain drowning in heat chemicals, he knows Buck would never do anything but keep Eddie safe.
The thought only makes the symptoms worse.
“Almost there, Eds, just hang on, I got you.” Buck tries to soothe, but his tone is so low, so gravelly with desire that it just makes Eddie whine and his skin pebble.
Buck clearly doesn’t get it. He’s going to die. Didn’t the doctor tell him that? He’s so empty, his omega whimpering and begging and clawing at his insides to be filled and knotted now. Eddie doesn’t care that Collins is driving or that Bobby’s here. The fact that he didn’t want Bobby knowing anything about this upcoming heat is incomprehensible now. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck as long as he’s sitting on Buck’s cock as soon as possible.
“Just take care of him, Buck.” The tinny Bobby voice says again. “Call if you need anything.”
He doesn’t register that they’ve stopped until Buck is bodily hauling him out of the engine, hand still firm around the back of his neck as he says something back to Bobby and then guides Eddie toward the house.
Buck takes them back to the kitchen door, which is probably best given the way the front door lock sticks, and the second they’re inside, Eddie’s pressing him back against the wall and working his pants open.
Buck groans. “Bedroom, c’mon.”
“No.” Eddie growls. “Now.”
He tugs at Buck’s t-shirt, but the angles are all wrong. He can’t get a good grip, and Buck is not helping when he spends the entire time touching Eddie everywhere he can reach instead of taking his goddamn clothes off. Eddie gives a frustrated sound and grips the fabric in two fists, tearing it with all the strength he can muster.
Buck chokes on air, stumbling back against the door and closing it with the force of his body. Oh, good. They should probably close that before they give the neighborhood an eyeful anyway.
Finally successful with Buck’s, he makes quick work of his own clothes, stripping down to his underwear. His cock is so hard it hurts, and slick is running down his legs, making it harder to peel his boxers off, but Buck seems mesmerized by him anyway, dropping to his knees and running his tongue up the inside of Eddie’s thigh. “Fuck fuck fuck, Eddie.” he moans. “You taste so fucking–”
Eddie doesn’t get to know what exactly Buck thinks he tastes like because he’s putting his tongue back to use, trying to lick Eddie’s thighs clean like a fucking cat and getting in Eddie’s way again. “Off,” he demands, and it is not a whine.
Mercifully, Buck obeys, tugging Eddie’s shorts off and pulling him down into his lap. He doesn’t even have time to bask in the relief of the cool air on his skin, the need is too dire, too frenzied. “Fuck me,” he hears himself begging distantly. “Fuck me, fuck me, c’mon, please.”