❝︎ 𝙈𝙪𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 . ❞︎ ━︎━︎ 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

『︎𝑷𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉-𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌』︎

Ship; Steddie

Smut

By Sarah_Vincent1506 on Ao3

Stan picks Eddie up from his boxing class

This shit is long and kinky- ur welcome.

~

Stanley Uris has never really enjoyed sports.

Back in middle school, he tried baseball a few times. It was fun, sure, and, granted, the slightly surprised, and elated look on Bill's face every time Stan suggested it, was more than worth the effort, on its own; Bill, himself, has been the star of the baseball team all the way through high-school, and now in college, too. And, Stan isn't often one to praise his own physical prowess, since he has never been particularly strong, nor athletic, but he's fast, and lithe, and he always found baseball rather easy and freeing. He has stuck to running, since, because group sports and 'team spirits' just aren't really his thing, but every now and then, he'll get the urge to play. At the very least, nowadays, it's an excuse to watch Bill in all his wiry, sweaty glory.

In fact, it would probably be incorrect to say that Stan doesn't enjoy sports, at all. Rather, he doesn't particularly enjoy 'participating' in sports. But watching the straining tendons in Bill's forearms, the attractive sheen of sweat across Ben's forehead when he's running, the powerful expanse of Mike's broad shoulders when he throws or catches a football...sure, he enjoys those things plenty.

But nothing really compares to watching Eddie while he's boxing.

It's the first time Stan has ever seen Eddie in action; he hasn't been taking boxing classes for very long, perhaps a month or two, and he has always been rather shy and secretive about it. They always supposed that it's because Eddie doesn't like being watched, in general. He hates being the centre of attention, and Stan understands that feeling all too well, but Eddie is far more insecure, still. He has been cheerleading for much longer, almost as long as Bill has been playing baseball, Ben has been running track, and Mike has been playing football, but, even then, Stan has only been to one or two of Eddie's cheer practices, over the expanse of what must be closing in on four years. So, mostly, they just let him do his own thing.

Now, though, Stan cannot quite comprehend why on Earth Eddie would be insecure about this.

He watches silently from the doorway, as Eddie lands punch after punch against the heavy bag in the corner, relentless, determined, while a figure beside him urges him on and counts out the reps. Stan briefly speculates that the other, much taller figure, must be Eddie's instructor, but, as observant as Stan normally is, he doesn't even register the sex of this person. They blur into the background, like an unimportant extra, at the edges of a scene in a movie.

There's a lengthy, detailed list of the things Stan does notice, though. And the crowning glory at the head of this list, is the tan, defined curve of Eddie's left bicep, the one Stan can see clearly from where he's standing, softly shimmering with a layer of sweat beneath the bright light above him, a highlight which accentuates the surprising swell of the muscle there. Everyone knows that Eddie is fit, and that he is strong; a tiny, intense accumulation of raw power in human form, but Stan now wonders in quiet reverence, how just how strong Eddie really is, has ever escaped his notice. Each solid blow to the bag is thrown with such force, that it's almost frightening, every impact sending tense sparks of movement through the powerful muscles in Eddie's arms. Stan feels each one like a shock of electricity, stoking a fire deep in his nerves.