fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile {steddie smut one shot}

See, Steve has a bit of a problem. More than a problem-Eddie calls it an obsession. Likes to tease him for it, say he needs a doctor, someone to knock some sense back into that concussed head of his.

Steve, on the other hand, couldn't disagree more. It's not a problem, he argues, negotiating his way into yet another fill: it's devotion. Simply pure and utter reverence to what is, by far, the most heavenly thing on this plane of existence. In any and all of them, really.

If it's an addiction, then so be it. Steve doesn't want to live in a world where he can't have what he so carnally craves. He needs it more than he needs oxygen and, quite frankly, he doesn't care how that sounds. His blood stings relentlessly with the burning rush of desire, and nothing soothes the ache quite like this.

Or

Steve doesn't believe in God, but he sure as hell believes in Eddie.