[ Eddie leans into his touch as he drags his fingers through his hair, lost in how good that feels until Richie continues on–and something about what he say, how coarsely he says it, makes Eddie squirm. He meets his gaze reluctantly once he guides him to look at him, although his eyes flick away again at the question he poses. ]
Why the fuck would I want that. [ –he protests, but it's a half-hearted protest, not quite a denial, and even as he says it, he thinks about it, flushing with shame and...something else, maybe. Heat. What if they got caught? What if someone saw him? ]
What the fuck do you want, anyway. [ He adds it hastily, a little eager to change the subject, and as he does so, he slots a hand in between them, fumbling to press it to where he can feel Richie's erection with the heel of his palm, almost teasingly. ] So horny I might die, you said. What were you doing? [ A beat. ] If you say my mom, I swear to Christ, I'm not touching you for the rest of tonight.
[ God, feeling Eddie squirm like that, seeing the way he can't even maintain eye contact because he's too embarrassed - it's straight out of one of Richie's wet dreams, honestly. It's situations like these where he feels as big as he is, as though he's towering over Eddie, as if he could control him with little more than a strong grasp and a few well-chosen words.
The flush on his face is so pretty that Richie can't keep from leaning forward to kiss him again, a hungry groan rising in his throat when he feels the other's hand press against him without nearly enough pressure. When he pulls back it's with a hiss, and for a second he squeezes his eyes shut, too busy focusing on rocking his hips forward to come up with an answer. ]
You stole my joke, [ he says eventually, opening his eyes and grinning so wide he almost looks crazy. ] But for real --
[ He leans in again, this time so that he can press his lips close to Eddie's ear and whisper the story to him: ]
I was at this work party, right? Everyone was drinking, you know how some of those guys get when they let loose - [ Eddie probably doesn't know, actually, but that's besides the point; ] - and at one point I went to the bathroom, it was so fucking far away you couldn't even hear the music, and as soon as I got in there I heard these voices, right?
[ The images bloom in his mind as he recounts what happened, and Eddie will no doubt be able to feel the way his cock fucking throbs as he speaks. ]
I don't know who they were, but I could hear them, Eds, and they were fucking going at it right there in the stall, barely even trying to be quiet, I could hear fucking everything, and all I could think of was how fucking bad I wanna do that to you, make you need it so bad you don't care who hears you fucking begging for me --
[ Eddie nearly forgets that he'd asked him a question when Richie kisses him–because god, what a distraction. He's even more frustrated when Richie pulls away, particularly if it's to continue on with a dumb your mom joke–
–until he tucks his face against Eddie's and decides to whisper filth into Eddie's ear instead, and Eddie goes a little weak at the knees, clutching at Richie's shirt as he thinks about it, wanting Richie to fuck him badly enough that he'd let him do it where someone could hear, someone could see. He'd teased him about begging before and Eddie had been right in what he'd said back, that it had only happened once, but that didn't mean that the memory hadn't been carefully filed away for more than one guilt-ridden...er, personal session that he's since neatly repressed. Until now, anyway. ]
Oh, fuck. [ –he says weakly, not even quite aware of it until after he's said it. He's hard enough so that he aches, now, and impulsively, he fumbles with Richie's zip, somehow mustering up enough coordination to undo it so that he can grasp his cock. It's a relief, even just to feel him, and he exhales shakily, giving it a cursory stroke. ] Richie–I-I mean, that's–you can't just say stuff like that–
[ Richie doesn't miss the way Eddie grasps at his clothing, nor the way his voice shakes when he speaks. It's something that's come up before, the begging, and ever since that night Richie's been obsessed with getting it to happen again. He couldn't just force it, obviously, but tonight seems like the perfect night to do a little... encouraging.
A choked groan rises in his throat when Eddie starts messing around with his zipper, the feeling of his fumbling almost as good as the actual skin-to-skin contact he finally gets. He goes quiet for a second as he rocks his hips forward, his eyebrows knitting together as a wave of pleasure washes over him. ]
Fucking shit, Eds -- [ His hands shift so that he can grasp the other man's face and kiss him, hot and hungry and hornier than he's been in years. When he pulls back his expression betrays just how affected he really is. ]
I can't? Why not? [ he grins again, wide and wild. ] What if I whispered that to you next time we go out with the others, huh? With Bev and Ben and Bill? What if I just lean in and tell you that I'm gonna meet you out back in ten minutes so I can fuck you exactly the way you want me to?
[ Eddie's not really sure when, exactly, all of this fell out of his control. Richie had all but begged him to come over and let him fuck him, and then he'd seemed perfectly willing to let Eddie issue a number of commands when he'd met him at the door. He likes calling the shots, normally, but it's easier to admit to that than it is to liking this, whatever this is.
Or, well, maybe it's just admitting to it verbally that he has trouble with. Physically, it's obvious that Eddie likes this; how he's a little clumsy as he strokes Richie's cock, how eagerly he kisses him, how hard he is as he arches up against him, caught between wanting to give himself enough space to work with his hand and also, sort of, wanting to climb Richie like a tree. ]
I'd tell you to go fuck yourself. [ –he pants, and that's true. However. ] But I'd, uh. Probably have to meet you in five?
[ It's easy to imagine, somehow, and Eddie isn't quite sure how that happened, either, how easily he, Edward Kaspbrak, risk assessor, apparently became someone who'd be willing to let another man fuck him out back behind some seedy bar. Not exactly one of the aftereffects of Pennywise's defeat that he'd envisioned would come to pass, but he prefers to think about it as a coincidence rather than something directly related. ]
You're so gross. [ He continues on with a complaint, but it's halfway between fond and exasperated. ] I mean, I'd feel it when we came back–when we'd have to pick up the conversation about Bill's new movie, or whatever–
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Why the fuck would I want that. [ –he protests, but it's a half-hearted protest, not quite a denial, and even as he says it, he thinks about it, flushing with shame and...something else, maybe. Heat. What if they got caught? What if someone saw him? ]
What the fuck do you want, anyway. [ He adds it hastily, a little eager to change the subject, and as he does so, he slots a hand in between them, fumbling to press it to where he can feel Richie's erection with the heel of his palm, almost teasingly. ] So horny I might die, you said. What were you doing? [ A beat. ] If you say my mom, I swear to Christ, I'm not touching you for the rest of tonight.
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The flush on his face is so pretty that Richie can't keep from leaning forward to kiss him again, a hungry groan rising in his throat when he feels the other's hand press against him without nearly enough pressure. When he pulls back it's with a hiss, and for a second he squeezes his eyes shut, too busy focusing on rocking his hips forward to come up with an answer. ]
You stole my joke, [ he says eventually, opening his eyes and grinning so wide he almost looks crazy. ] But for real --
[ He leans in again, this time so that he can press his lips close to Eddie's ear and whisper the story to him: ]
I was at this work party, right? Everyone was drinking, you know how some of those guys get when they let loose - [ Eddie probably doesn't know, actually, but that's besides the point; ] - and at one point I went to the bathroom, it was so fucking far away you couldn't even hear the music, and as soon as I got in there I heard these voices, right?
[ The images bloom in his mind as he recounts what happened, and Eddie will no doubt be able to feel the way his cock fucking throbs as he speaks. ]
I don't know who they were, but I could hear them, Eds, and they were fucking going at it right there in the stall, barely even trying to be quiet, I could hear fucking everything, and all I could think of was how fucking bad I wanna do that to you, make you need it so bad you don't care who hears you fucking begging for me --
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–until he tucks his face against Eddie's and decides to whisper filth into Eddie's ear instead, and Eddie goes a little weak at the knees, clutching at Richie's shirt as he thinks about it, wanting Richie to fuck him badly enough that he'd let him do it where someone could hear, someone could see. He'd teased him about begging before and Eddie had been right in what he'd said back, that it had only happened once, but that didn't mean that the memory hadn't been carefully filed away for more than one guilt-ridden...er, personal session that he's since neatly repressed. Until now, anyway. ]
Oh, fuck. [ –he says weakly, not even quite aware of it until after he's said it. He's hard enough so that he aches, now, and impulsively, he fumbles with Richie's zip, somehow mustering up enough coordination to undo it so that he can grasp his cock. It's a relief, even just to feel him, and he exhales shakily, giving it a cursory stroke. ] Richie–I-I mean, that's–you can't just say stuff like that–
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A choked groan rises in his throat when Eddie starts messing around with his zipper, the feeling of his fumbling almost as good as the actual skin-to-skin contact he finally gets. He goes quiet for a second as he rocks his hips forward, his eyebrows knitting together as a wave of pleasure washes over him. ]
Fucking shit, Eds -- [ His hands shift so that he can grasp the other man's face and kiss him, hot and hungry and hornier than he's been in years. When he pulls back his expression betrays just how affected he really is. ]
I can't? Why not? [ he grins again, wide and wild. ] What if I whispered that to you next time we go out with the others, huh? With Bev and Ben and Bill? What if I just lean in and tell you that I'm gonna meet you out back in ten minutes so I can fuck you exactly the way you want me to?
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Or, well, maybe it's just admitting to it verbally that he has trouble with. Physically, it's obvious that Eddie likes this; how he's a little clumsy as he strokes Richie's cock, how eagerly he kisses him, how hard he is as he arches up against him, caught between wanting to give himself enough space to work with his hand and also, sort of, wanting to climb Richie like a tree. ]
I'd tell you to go fuck yourself. [ –he pants, and that's true. However. ] But I'd, uh. Probably have to meet you in five?
[ It's easy to imagine, somehow, and Eddie isn't quite sure how that happened, either, how easily he, Edward Kaspbrak, risk assessor, apparently became someone who'd be willing to let another man fuck him out back behind some seedy bar. Not exactly one of the aftereffects of Pennywise's defeat that he'd envisioned would come to pass, but he prefers to think about it as a coincidence rather than something directly related. ]
You're so gross. [ He continues on with a complaint, but it's halfway between fond and exasperated. ] I mean, I'd feel it when we came back–when we'd have to pick up the conversation about Bill's new movie, or whatever–