eddie psl post.

[heatmetal]

boop boop banoop

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[retromix]

... Do you need more blood now, Eddie? To heal up? How much?

[ A finger holds up at Billy. ]

You get blood second because you're fine by comparison. Argue with me and see where it gets you.

[heatmetal]

[ Jesus, Steve. ]

... Way more than you got, Harrington. But.. uh... [ he glances at billy. ] Enough to keep me going 'til I get out of here.

[camarod]

Steve Harrington, aren't you a charmer.

[god. ] Ed - maybe just a little. I'll make sure you don't hurt him.

[retromix]

Whoa, whoa, whoa! I wasn't offering. Jesus. I like my blood inside me where it's supposed to be. I was going to say that I'll go see if I can steal some blood bags from the hospital or get the others in on this too.

[ Because that's clearly a better option, morally. ]

[heatmetal]

[ ... but people need those. ]

Okay, sure, yeah. You can try that.

[camarod]

- Steve.

[look, he's using his name and everything. ] I offered. Hell, I could probably steal 'em better than you, but people need them for actual emergencies. The shit they're pumping through him is - it'll do.

[retromix]

Sorry for trying to figure out how to replace all the blood he lost while he was dying.

[ Snapping, he loses his grit as he looks over Eddie's state in the bed. He's so pale, they both are. It looks ... off.

Steve's shoulders slump. Who else can handle being a bloodbank? Not the girls (he'll piss them off arguing against it if he has to), no way the kids. Jonathan? Maybe.

Jesus.

It's just him.

The highkey blend of fear and stress cancels each other out into a numbness that lets him sit on the edge of Eddie's bed, back to him with shoulders bowed. ]

Fine. Do it, use me. You need to use someone, right? I don't want you dying again, man. It's fine.

[heatmetal]

[ he should tell him no. that he'll survive, and they can figure something else out later. but... but...

steve's so close and he smells so good. eddie's teeth chatter and a wavering moan pulls itself from his throat.

he reaches. gently grasping steve's hand. ]

... If we're gonna do this, let me bite your wrist. [ because he doesn't... trust... himself. not with the jugular vein right there, pulsing and delicate. ]

[camarod]

[he sits back. sprawls in the chair with his hands on his thighs, knows that Eddie isn’t out of control. hadn’t been, even with Jason. Billy, on the other hand -

well. he’s watching Steve’s jugular too. pulse moving, heart racing, but he can bite his own hand if has to. maybe bite Eddie’s instead, just for that moan.] Easy, E.

[retromix]

[ He twitches when his hand is touched, jumpy. Nods and half-twists on the hospital bed to turn his wrist toward him. Billy gets a look that weighs whether he's able to control Eddie or not.

Back to Eddie, Steve looks resigned but anxious. ]

Don't take too much. The first time.

[heatmetal]

You're safe, big boy... I didn't do what I did just for it to end like this.

[ more to himself than steve. he presses a soft kiss to the wrist, trying to sense the best place to bite - licks to anesthetize the area, and then those sharp fangs are sinking in. ]

[camarod]

[it’s not jealousy that pools in his gut. it’s a strange relative that feels like want and longing. he can smell the blood, yeah, but the kiss, the tongue - Billy watches Steve’s face and feels something in him break, just a little.

he looks at Eddie bent over that wrist and feels his chest swell. he goes a little slack jawed, finds himself up and at Eddie’s side, fingers sliding to stroke through his hair.

to Steve, he murmurs, low:] Doesn’t hurt much, does it?

[retromix]

[ His breath stutters at the kiss and lick, hitching tight as fangs pierce his skin. It doesn't hurt much, no, but it still feels like his blood is being sucked out. Shuddering as he fights not to pull away, he feels out Eddie's arm and latches onto the hospital gown's sleeve, head bowed away from the sight he knows is happening. ]

Feels ... weird.

[ Breathe, he tells himself, just breathe. ]

[heatmetal]

[ maintain control. don't lose it. he's -- starving. and steve tastes like heaven. far better than jason carver could ever dream to be. he leans his head into billy's hands, eyes shutting as he revels in the euphoria. ]

[camarod]

Stings? [soft, soft strokes. the smell is maddening. he doesn’t know how Eddie isn’t losing his shit, doesn’t know how he’s holding himself back either.

because there’s Steve looking away, exposing that pale neck. open, inviting, and his hand grips tightly for a moment in Eddie’s hair as he forces himself to stay.]

[retromix]

Stings like a bitch, yeah. H-How much more?

[ Swearing under his breath, he licks his dry lips. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he has to stop. now. before he can't. eddie pulls himself off, the the compulsion is there and he wants to sink his teeth back in to that soft, living skin. suck steve dry. he's hungry and he's a starving man who just had a taste and -

he turns and bites billy instead. ]

[camarod]

[he isn’t expecting it. too distracted by Steve’s heartbeat, and then he’s snapped back, breath hitching into a surprised groan, the grip tightening.

it stings good, but maybe that’s just him.] Jesus, E, warn a guy -

[especially when he’s running low.] Fuck - Steve either give me that wrist or go put some gauze on it.

[retromix]

[ He startles at the violence in Eddie's bite as it transfers to Billy, the sudden move with a slight edge of inhuman speed as well as the hunger. Dripping blood on the sheets, he stares at Eddie feeding and follows the train of energy from Billy to ... himself.

He offers him his wrist, watching him steadily. ]

[heatmetal]

[ the smell is driving him wild. his fingers twist in billys shirt, drinking down his own leftovers. it's stale and rancid in comparison to Steve's blood on his tongue, leaving him near crying with frustration. ]

[camarod]

[Billy doesn’t bite. he licks, then sucks a wet kiss over the wound. the blood is so hot and sweet, has his head reeling with how it intoxicates. he keeps his mouth there until the wound clots, tongue flat against Steve’s pulse.

he realises he’s panting some time after it: too much sensation from Steve (the smell, the warmth, the sticky sweet blood) and Eddie’s teeth baring down hard. he feels half-feral with it, wants to bite down just as hard to hear either one of them beg.

it’s a marvel he has ant restraint at all.] He tastes real good, E. [murmured against Steve’s wrist. ]

[retromix]

[ It's strange to have his wrist numb but also feel the pain lacing up his arm, the ache of a headrush as more blood leaves his system. Steve bites his lip, trying to focus; Eddie's torment is horrible to see. ]

He needs to heal faster than this. Give him my wrist again.

[ Steve would, but he feels all floppy. ]

[heatmetal]

[ he's not letting go of billy's skin, teeth deep in his bicep, curling against him while his claws tear at the fabric of his shirt.

he tastes good. sweetens billy's blood - his blood - and makes his head spin. when he's slightly more himself he licks the bloody wound in apology. ]

[camarod]

If either of us heal faster, people are gonna notice.

[A whole coherent sentence for how loopy he feels between Steve and then the immediate blood loss. It’s a new feeling, makes him sway slightly, reaching for Steve to steady himself. He lets the wrist drop as he does so, feels himself turning just enough to put the other arm around Eddie, pulling him head to chest, bicep knitting itself back together while his fingers sink into curls.

It reminds him a little of falling, the lightheadedness. The drop on a rollercoaster, or the way a high hits fast and hard. He should lie down, probably. In his own hospital bed, away from Steve and away from Eddie, because he feels real checked out. ]

[retromix]

We can't just leave him like this, his leg ...

[ He brings his wrist back up, staunching bloodflow with his palm. Steve gets off the bed to crash in the chair nearby, head tipped back as he catches his breath and tries not to feel lightheaded, having lost a pint of blood. ]

Jesus, fuck.