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I can’t believe I’m back here.
Eddie looked around the restaurant as the hostess led him to the private room Mike had supposedly reserved. He didn’t remember coming here as a kid, but if it had been here then, he knew his mother would never have let him go. That was one thing he’d never forgotten, no matter how far from Derry he’d gone—even after her death, Eddie still heard his Ma’s voice ringing in his ears, like a ghost he couldn’t quite exorcise. Do you exorcise ghosts, or is that just demons? What are you supposed to do with ghosts, banish them?
“Eddie, hey!” Mike’s voice snapped him out of his morbid—and frankly, ridiculous—train of thought. “Wow, you look great!”
Eddie ducked his head, embarrassed. He knew he had a penchant for luxury suits and designer shoes—limo driving paid surprisingly well—but he never really saw himself as part of the image. The suits were a certificate of success, he the frame that hung the diploma up on the wall. Nothing flashy, just sensible, just the background. But Mike smiled at him the way he always had back when they were kids, how he’d smiled at everyone, like when he asked you how you were, he genuinely wanted to know.
Eddie hugged him tightly, then waved a little awkwardly at the stranger standing next to Mike. The man gave him a friendly smile, looking a little embarrassed himself.
“Ben,” he said, by way of explanation, and Eddie’s eyes widened.
“Oh, shit! Hey, how you doing?” Eddie beamed and went to hug him as well.
They spent the next ten minutes or so catching up on their various trip details, not wanting to go too deep into their lives the past twenty-seven years before the others arrived. Eddie wandered over to the fish tank in the corner of the room, watching the fish swim idly through the little cave and the fake plants. Are they happy? What do they think about all day?
Do they know they’re trapped?
“Hey, Spaghetti Man!”
Eddie shrieked and jumped, already scowling when he turned around to face the owner of the voice. His brows furrowed as he took in the other man’s appearance, trying to place him. He was taller than Eddie—although that wasn’t hard, much to Eddie’s chagrin—scruffy, and large, with broad shoulders and stomach straining against a loudly-patterned button-up t-shirt. Eddie felt his stomach flip, though he didn’t know why.
“Damn, Eds, take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the man joked, and it was that name, that specific secret-superhero-identity that finally triggered what Eddie already instinctively knew.
“Holy shit. Richie?” Eddie squawked, throwing his arms around him and squeezing hard. God, he was solid—not in the same way Ben was, all lean muscle, but soft and sturdy. “Jesus Christ, dude, you were a fucking beanpole, what happened to you?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and his face screwed up as he pulled back. “I didn’t mean—like, I just wasn’t expecting—”
“Me and Haystack to switch places?” Richie finished for him with a smirk. “A lot can happen in twenty-seven years, Eddie, my love.” He ruffled Eddie’s hair, making him groan and push Richie away. He carded his fingers through his hair, hoping to fix it at least slightly. Richie’s jaw dropped. “Shit, like that!” He grabbed Eddie’s hand, ignoring his indignant grunt. “You got a rock, huh, Eds? So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“Huh?” Eddie glanced down at his hand, nearly engulfed by Richie’s massive, hairy paw. He blinked, shaking away the distraction when he realized what he’d been referencing. “Lucky guy? Wh—I’m married to a woman, dumbass,” he griped. “I’m straight.”
A flicker of confusion flashed over Richie’s face, but Eddie didn’t have time to process it before the other man spoke again.
“Oh. Well, I’m not.”
They stared at each other for a second too long before Bev came over to greet Eddie. He hugged her back, all wide eyes and fluttering stomach until Bev dragged him away toward the others. What the hell did that mean? Eddie didn’t have time to dwell, though, as the conversation began to turn to Stan—or, rather, the absence of him.
“He said he was coming, right?” he asked Mike again, worriedly. “He should be here by now. Are we even gonna be able to—do whatever we have to do, without him?” He stumbled through the words, memories coming back in bits and pieces.
“L-Lucky sev-seven,” Bill said, sounding almost absent-minded if not for the stutter. Eddie hadn’t heard it until then, and it made fondness bloom in his chest. There’s our Bill. Big Bill, that’s him.
“I’m sure he’ll be here,” Mike placated, though the wrinkles between his brows said otherwise. God, they’d all gotten so old, hadn’t they? The age showed differently on all of them, but it was still there. It made Eddie’s heart ache a little. They’d been inseparable for that one summer, before Bev left for Portland and Stan to Connecticut not long after. They’d missed so much of each other’s lives…
But we’re here now, he reminded himself firmly. We’re all here—well, except for Stanley—and we won’t forget again. We won’t.
After another fifteen minutes or so of waiting, they decided to order the first round of drinks. No use in standing around, and they’d all come directly from traveling, stomachs empty and minds in desperate need of some soothing. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk more than a glass of wine with dinner, Myra’s and his mother’s voices commingling in and outside of his head and warning of liver cancer and heart attacks. That hadn’t stopped Ma from having one of her own, he thought to himself, and took a shot of vodka from the tray.
“To the Losers!”
For all of his worrying about his allergies on the way in, Eddie ate indiscriminately once the third empty shot glass had fallen next to his vodka cranberry. He savored every bite—and it seemed like Richie did, too, if the stacked plates in front of him were any indication. He couldn’t help but continue to glance over at the man, watching as he ate another dumpling and washed it down with his neat whiskey. Mike had joined him in that one with Ben politely declining.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve had enough whiskey for a lifetime,” he’d told them with a soft chuckle—but Richie was putting away the glasses as quickly as Eddie was the shots. He probably holds them better, Eddie mused to himself, with how much bigger he is than me. It looks good on him. Almost as if he could hear him, Richie looked over, making eye contact, and Eddie ducked his head, blushing. He wasn’t sure why—he had every right to look at any of his friends—but he felt caught by Richie, especially with the smirk still on his face by the time Eddie gained the courage to look back. “Another round?” he called out to the waitress.
Another shot and a second glass of vodka cran had disappeared by the time the last member of their party joined them, looking so sensible in his reading glasses and cardigan that it made Eddie ache. He cheered along with the rest of them, pushing his chair back to greet Stanley—and, oh, he had not stood up since he’d started drinking, and it felt like a big mistake. He nearly tripped on the carpet, but just laughed, throwing his arms around Stan before the rest of them could join. “Fuck, Stan! We were worried about you, man, glad you made it!”
“My plane was taxiing for almost an hour,” Stan griped, clapping Eddie on the back. “Looks like the party started without me—smells like it, too,” he teased as he stepped away to greet the others.
Eddie flushed again, turning back to sit down again and crashing immediately into Richie’s sturdy frame. “Shit, sorry—”
“No worries, Eds,” Richie replied easily, holding his arms with both hands, and God, were they bigger than Eddie’s shoulders? He suddenly felt lightheaded and let out a nervous laugh, side-stepping him and sinking back into his chair. He glanced down at his left hand, twisting the wedding band with his thumb. Myra’s probably been calling me. I should let her know I arrived. But even the thought sounded weak to Eddie’s ears, drowned out by the phantom feeling of Richie’s hands on him.
The atmosphere was even more lively after the arrival of the final Loser. They all knew there were plans to make, details to iron out, and memories too scary for words to remember, but for now? They wanted to just enjoy themselves—and enjoy themselves they did.
Eddie was pretty sure he’d never had so much to drink in his life, and he was having a great time. He found his gaze drawn to Richie more often than the others—though, that easily could’ve been due to the fact that Richie was so much louder than anyone in the room; his voice booming and only increasing in volume as he drank. However, that didn’t account for the way Eddie’s eyes trailed down the cords in Richie’s neck, watching the way his muscles moved and strained under the tight fabric of his shirt. He should really get shirts that fit, he thought absently, but then Richie leaned back, revealing a strip of hairy stomach protruding over his waistband, and any criticism about clothing size flew from Eddie’s mind with the rest of his thoughts.
“So, Eddie you got married?”
“Huh?” Eddie looked up, trying to focus on anything other than the image of Richie’s happy trail burned against his retinas. “Married? Oh, I—yeah.” He flashed his ring, giving Ben a weak smile. “Marty—Myra, I mean. Pet name, is all.” Bev cooed.
“Hey, y’know, I got married, too,” Richie interrupted before Ben could ask any follow-up questions. Eddie blinked, head whipping back over. He’s married? He’s—he’s maybe gay, and he’s married? To a man? “Yeah, me and Eddie’s mom really hit it off after Eds moved out,” Richie continued, wrapping Eddie in a headlock and giving him a noogie.
Eddie pushed at his arm weakly. “Beep beep, Trashmouth,” he breathed, feeling dizzy. He could feel the heat of Richie’s body warming his face, could smell his musk and cologne and detergent, and promptly, he felt his cock twitch in his sensible slacks. His eyes widened, and he pushed back, with actual force this time. Richie immediately let go, sensing he wasn’t kidding. Eddie stared at him for a second, lips parted and blinking dumbly.
Richie frowned a little. “Eds, you alright?” he asked, concern creeping to the edge of his tone.
Eddie swallowed hard. “Arm wrestling!” he announced. Richie’s face was unreadable for a second, and Eddie hesitated. “We don’t have to—”
“You’re on.”
The Losers began to clap excitedly, oohing and wolf-whistling, as the two men prepared themselves. Richie’s face had turned cocky, and there was a dark glint in his eyes that had Eddie moving his chair a little further under the table. What the fuck is happening? “You ready, Tozier?”
“Born ready, sweetheart.” Richie grinned at him, his sharper-than-normal canines seeming to flash devilishly in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Eddie watched as he flexed his fingers, and he thought again how much bigger he—
“—one!” Bev finished, a matching Cheshire-cat smile on her face, and Eddie quickly blinked out of his thoughts as Richie’s hand wrapped around his. He strained against Richie’s arm, gritting his teeth as he felt the pure force of him. It would probably be so easy for him to pick me up now. He wouldn’t even have to try.
“You givin’ up already, Eds?” Richie asked, feeling Eddie’s grip waver.
Eddie held on tighter, feeling way out of his depth. “Let’s take our shirts off and kiss!”
What?
Who just said that?
That couldn’t have been me. Did that just come out of my mouth? Holy shit, did anyone hear--?
Eddie’s thoughts were cut off as Richie let out a delighted laugh, pulling Eddie closer by his wrist. “You just say the word, baby,” he murmured, and unlike his own outburst, these words, Eddie knew, were for him alone. He glanced down at Richie’s lips, bitten and chapped, and suddenly let go, exhaling in one long burst.
The other Losers cheered, surrounding Richie and clapping him on the back, but Richie was only looking at Eddie, narrowed eyes scanning his face behind his thick Coke-bottle glasses for any bit of truth. Eddie’s lashes fluttered, and he puffed out another soft breath in disbelief before looking back up to make eye contact with Richie. His hand slipped into his pocket underneath the table, and he quickly looked away as he twisted off his wedding ring. His twitching fingers brushed against his bulge through the thin fabric of his pocket. He exhaled sharply, then glared over at Richie, like it was his fault. In Eddie’s defense, it sort of was.
Eddie wasn’t sure how he made it through the rest of the dinner in one piece. They’d all agreed to finish up and head over to the townhouse not long after Richie’s victory, which was probably the only reason he didn’t faint before he was able to get into a cold shower. They all chatted amiably, arms linked through each other’s as they strolled through the streets towards Derry Townhouse. Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them—probably was—but the alcohol warmed the chill in his veins, and Richie was guiding him with a big hand on his back, and in that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to be scared.
They reached the Townhouse quickly. Stanley went off to call his wife, while Ben stoked a fire in the sitting room supervised by Bev and Mike and Bill went to the bar for a nightcap. “Just leaves you ‘n’ me, huh, Eds?” Richie drawled, slinging an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie leaned into Richie for a moment before remembering he shouldn’t--wasn’t allowed to—like it. He shrugged, fumbling in his other pocket for his room key.
“I’m going upstairs,” he said, waving goodnight to the others before slowly and carefully making his way up—but not without one last glance at Richie.
He shut himself in his room and began to strip, feeling vaguely unclean, covered in Richie’s scent. He went to drop his clothes on the bathroom floor before hesitating, just for a moment. He slowly lifted his shirt to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of sweat and cologne, and let out a shaky breath. He could feel his cock begin to harden again, and he pressed his forehead against the bathroom door. “Fuck,” he breathed. This was normal, right? Was it normal to feel this way about your best friend? He supposed he'd thought about Bill that way, back when they were kids. Not exactly that way, but like he wondered how his lips might feel if he kissed a girl, or if he’d be able to lift him onto Silver’s package carrier. A memory came to him suddenly, of Bill doing just that when Eddie had had an asthma attack and lost his inhaler. He’d carted him to the pharmacy quick as lightning--even while taking the back roads so his ma wouldn’t see them during her weekly grocery trip--getting him a replacement aspirator and staying tucked into the back alley with him so the Bowers Gang wouldn’t find them while Eddie recovered. Eddie had spent the rest of the day wondering if his lightheadedness was from the asthma or the giddiness of Bill coming to the rescue, like how he’d played a prince in their fourth grade play. He’d looked handsome then, too, as much as little nine-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak understood the concept.
Forty-two-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak certainly understood it. He also understood such novel concepts as sexy and strong and masculine—three words he’d never expected himself to think about Richie Tozier, of all people. As he pressed the shirt to his nose again, his palm to his stiffening erection, he understood a fourth.
Queer.
Eddie pulled back a little, staring down at the shirt like it had burnt him. His brain had conjured up the word for Richie—or had it really been for him?
He could hear voices in his head: Bowers, Myra, his mother, all swirling with rage and disappointment and judgment. But there was one voice—one Voice—that was louder than them all.
“Hey, Spaghetti, you in there?”
Eddie dropped his shirt with a little yelp. “Hold, please!” He fiddled with the bathroom door handle, willing his dick to soften in the three paces it took for him to reach the door.
“Hold, please? What are you, a fucking operator--?” Richie began to taunt, but it was cut off as he took in a shirtless Eddie before him. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Eddie swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. “D’you wanna come in?”
Richie glanced behind himself, then into the room, before shrugging. “Uh… sure?” He slowly walked inside, and Eddie shut the door behind him. “I’m not about to be Punk’d, right?”
“Jesus, how old are you?” Eddie snorted. “Wow, Rich…I can’t believe we’re here. This is so crazy.” He plopped down on his bed, covering himself with his hands clasped in his lap. “Did you ever think we’d come back?”
“Didn’t remember we’d promised to until about thirty-six hours ago,” Richie pointed out. “But… I dunno. Think? Nah. Hope?” He sat down next to Eddie and nudged his shoulder with his own.“… yeah, maybe. As much as I always hated this shit town, it had its perks.”
“Are you actually gay?” Eddie blurted out, turning red. “Fuck, I didn’t—” But Richie just laughed.
“I mean, I’m bisexual, but to answer what you’re actually asking, yeah. I like dudes. Big ol’ homo. Extra, extra, read all about it!” he began to squawk, waving an invisible paper and doffing a newsie cap.
Eddie rolled his eyes, tugging both his arms down. God, they’re big. And hairy. Why does hair look good on him? It’s not fair. “I think I am, too. Guys. Like them. I—I haven’t had sex with Myra. She doesn’t seem to care, and I thought I just had a low libido, but then you showed up in your stupid sexy tight shirts and twice my size and looking like you could just fucking throw me around, and now I’m hard, and it’s your fault!” Eddie ranted, bisecting his face with his hand to point accusatorily at Richie.
Richie just blinked, taking in Eddie’s words one second at a time. “Wait, you think I’m sexy? And you’re hard because of it?” He answered the latter, at least, by looking down. Eddie was still, embarrassingly, straining against his slacks.
Eddie’s head spun. “You make me so hard I think I might actually die if you don’t kiss me right now,” he said, and clambered into Richie’s lap without a second thought. Richie instinctually held onto Eddie’s waist with one hand, the other pulling him in for a warm, gentle kiss. Eddie let out the softest whine, making Richie throb in his jeans as he leaned back in.
Eddie quickly found himself wanting more, and he nipped at Richie’s lower lip, gasping in pleasure when it made him growl and flip him over onto his back. “Fuck, baby, you have any idea what you do to me?” Richie rasped, taking the opportunity to kiss down Eddie’s jawline to his neck. Eddie tilted his head, spreading his legs to allow Richie to kneel between them. “So fucking handsome, Eddie, you got no fucking clue.”
Eddie whimpered. “’s you,” he replied, feeling a little dizzy with lust. “Fuck, all I could think during dinner was how big and sexy you were, used to be taller but now you’re bigger all over, it’s so hot, Rich, can’t even take it—”
Richie chuckled against Eddie’s skin, leaving wet, hot kisses on his neck and gently scraping his teeth along his artery. “You got a thing for bears, baby?”
“If that’s what you are, then, yes. Fuck yes, love whatever you are,” Eddie babbled, not fully realizing in the moment the implication of his words. “Fuck, will you touch me, Rich?”
Richie groaned. “When was the last time anyone touched you, Eds?” he asked curiously, already reaching for Eddie’s belt.
“Iunno, long time ago,” Eddie said impatiently, unbuckling his belt and raising his hips so he could toss it to the side. “Doesn’t matter, I want you to touch me now.” In the back of his mind, he knew he sounded desperate, knew he had no experience and Richie could easily get up and walk away—but the front of his mind was being driven by his cock and six or seven drinks, so he couldn’t really bring himself to care.
“Okay, baby, okay, I got you,” Richie soothed, working with Eddie to tug his pants down his hips. “Fuck, can’t believe I get to touch you, finally mine.” He leaned down, snuffling almost dog-like against Eddie’s neck, inhaling his scent and licking over his pulse point as his hand cupped Eddie through his briefs. Eddie felt his eyes roll back a little, and he eagerly raised his hips again, chasing the feeling.
“Fuck, Richie, so big, bet you can’t even see my dick when you’re touching it,” he breathed, making Richie moan into his neck.
“Only one way to find out,” Richie replied, hot against his ear, as he tugged down Eddie’s underwear. He tossed it to the side. “Shit, you got lube?”
“Wha—no,” Eddie sputtered before realizing what that meant, and he whined. “Come on, Rich. Put that Trashmouth to work.”
Richie groaned, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s protruding collarbone. “You might kill me, Eddie Kaspbrak,” he mumbled, but pulled back and grinned. “You actually might, tomorrow morning.”
Eddie shook his head. “No, no, I won’t,” he promised, looking up at Richie with big eyes and begging him to believe him. “I want this, Rich, want it so bad.”
“We’ll see.” Richie held his hand out, then, and Eddie almost reached out to take it before Richie spit into his palm. Eddie recoiled, but then Richie was wrapping his hand around his cock, using his spit and Eddie’s pre-cum to slick the way, and he couldn’t bring himself to care at all. In fact, there was something even sexier about it, the dirtiness, the fact that it was Richie’s saliva all over him. Just like the smell of sweat and man that now permeated the air, it made Eddie’s stomach flip excitedly, and he rocked his hips up again.
“Oh, fuck,” he choked out. “Rich, kiss me—“
Richie didn’t hesitate. He swooped down, their kiss slick and needy as he pumped Eddie’s cock between the two of them. They kissed like that for a while before Richie had to pull back. “Damn smoker’s lungs,” he wheezed.
“Told you, always told you they’d… fuck you up…” Eddie chastised, trailing off as he looked down. His assumptions had been proven correct—the reddened tip of his cock just barely poked out of Richie’s fist with every stroke. He made a strangled sound, cock jumping as pre-cum spurted over the other man’s hand.
“Jesus, Eds,” Richie breathed in awe. “This is really doing it for you, huh?” Eddie could only nod, still watching in fascination. Soon enough, though, even his wet dick wasn’t enough to lessen the friction, and he began squirming under Richie’s ministrations. “Too much?”
“Yeah, hurts—” Eddie grunted, and Richie let go, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Y’know, I’ve got lube in my room, I can go grab it,” Richie offered, ignoring Eddie’s snort. But then he reached out, grabbing Richie’s arm.
“Don’t go. Or—lemme come with you,” he insisted.
Richie shrugged. “Yeah, course. Just means you gotta get dressed again,” he pointed out, laughing when Eddie groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. C’mon, baby.”
“My dick is still hard and you’re gonna make me put on pants?” Eddie griped, slowly pushing himself to sit upright.
“Dude,” Richie replied, looking pointedly down at where his own dick was hard and straining against his jeans. Eddie’s mouth watered. “You can always just streak, if you’d rather—”
“No!” Eddie pushed himself off the bed with a grunt. Richie laughed again. “Don’t make fun,” he grumbled, his face feeling hot as he carefully picked up his clothes to avoid tripping. He leaned against the wall to tug on his boxers, hopping on one leg as he pulled them up, and suddenly made eye contact with Richie, who was watching him with fondness. “What?” he snapped.
“Nothing,” Richie said with a grin. “You wanna put pants on, too, or boxers enough?”
“Boxers’re enough,” Eddie replied, going back over to Richie and pulling him down for a crushing kiss. Standing, the size difference was even more obvious, Richie’s erection pressing against Eddie’s stomach and body completely covering him. Eddie felt himself flush even hotter, if that was possible. “C’mon, wanna go,” he insisted. He reached down to squeeze Richie’s ass, pushing him towards the door. For someone so large, he didn’t seem to have much there, and it made him snort out a laugh.
“Something funny, Spagheds?” Richie cooed before suddenly scooping him up, flopping him like a rag doll over his shoulder.
Eddie felt his erection return with a vengeance. I was right. Instead of whining or protesting like he usually would, he just leaned into it, pushing his face between Richie’s shoulders and letting out a contented hum.
“I can’t tell if you’re that drunk or just that horny,” Richie snorted, patting Eddie’s ass before clomping his way down the hall.
“Mhm,” Eddie replied, inhaling Richie’s scent again. It was intoxicating, in a weird way. The buzz was different than the one he got from the vodka. This was all Richie.
Realistically, Eddie knew it was about twenty steps from his room to Richie’s, but it felt like miles before Richie tossed him with little grace onto the bed. He dropped down with a yelp, which quickly turned into a moan as Richie immediately captured his lips once more. “Drive me fuckin’ crazy, Eds,” he growled, his voice deep and rumbling all the way through his body and into Eddie’s. “I—I can wait. I’ll wait for you. But before we do this—what we came here for—”
“I came here for you,” Eddie replied, and in that moment, he knew it was true. He came back for all of them, of course, for the promise they had made each other that fateful summer, but he’d be lying to himself if he said his thoughts hadn’t been occupied with everything Richie from the moment he’d walked through the door of the Jade.
Richie’s face was a jumble of emotions, but in his sex-addled haze, the only one Eddie could pick out was lust. He reached up, tugging Richie down to kiss him again. “Want you to show me what I’ve been missing for twenty years,” he murmured against Richie’s lips. He could feel Richie shudder, gripping the pillow next to Eddie’s head as if to tether himself to something other than the man underneath him.
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you, baby?” Richie murmured, low and raspy in his ear. “I promise you, baby, I’ll rail you so hard, nobody else is gonna be good enough for you.”
In any other situation, Eddie would’ve cracked up, rolling his eyes at whatever cocky asshole thought he was God’s gift to humanity, but with Richie? He actually believed it. He wanted Richie to ruin sex for him, unmake him and remold him into the perfect shape so he could be Richie’s forever. As Richie began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing miles of hair and fat and muscle, Eddie thought dimly, Maybe I already am.
Richie leaned down, stomach pressing against Eddie’s as he kissed him. “You want me to open you up, or you wanna do it yourself?” he asked, nipping at Eddie’s lip. He pulled back just enough to grab the bottle of lube from atop his nightstand, tossing it back and forth between his hands. The restless energy was so Richie that Eddie felt his heart well up with emotion.
“You do it,” Eddie insisted, wrapping his legs around Richie’s waist to attempt to pull him closer. He was unsuccessful, but Richie shuffled forward on his knees anyway. Open me up, Richie. Open me up and stitch me back together, leave a part of you in me so I never forget you again, Eddie thought hazily, looking up at Richie as he reached for the lube, giving Eddie an overexaggerated wink. He could be so dorky, even as an adult. During the dinner alone, Eddie had counted no less than six of Richie’s old Voices—not to mention when he banged the fucking gong in the center of the room. He was always loud, always the center of attention, but Eddie knew it was just a mask. It was easier to be deliberately obnoxious than to be scared that people might think you were just for existing. Eddie saw right through to his core—which is why it meant even more when he could tell he was being genuine.
Case in point: Richie’s tongue poking between his teeth in concentration, brows furrowed as he fiddled with the lube cap. “Why do they make this shit so hard to open?” he griped. “‘s even harder when you’re already covered in lube, it’s either get it all over yourself or get it all over the bed—”
“I love you.”
Richie paused, eyes traveling almost painfully slowly up to meet Eddie’s. “…what?”
Eddie pushed himself up on his elbows, legs still loosely wrapped around Richie’s thick waist. “I love you,” he repeated. “Don’t know when I’m gonna get the chance to say it again, so—”
Before he could continue, Richie grabbed Eddie’s face and kissed him hard, licking into his mouth and clashing their teeth together. “Say it again,” he growled, and were his eyes flashing? It must’ve been the moon, the way it shone through the dusty townhouse curtains, reflecting in some strange way across his gaze.
“I love you,” Eddie repeated, feeling his stomach flutter excitedly. “Richie, I—“
“I love you too, Eddie,” Richie breathed, kissing across his face before making his way back down his jaw. This time, he began to nip and suck, teeth scraping deliciously against Eddie’s skin. Eddie groaned, his back arching just slightly off the bed. Richie gripped his hips, pulling him against the bulge in his jeans before finally, finally, unbuttoning them and tugging them down his thighs. Eddie tried to look, but he was too distracted by Richie’s mouth still on his neck. He allowed himself to relish in the feeling for another minute or so before beginning to get antsy, and he tugged on Richie’s hair, trying to pull him back.
Richie let out a doglike whine, his hard cock brushing against Eddie’s thigh as his hips bucked. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “Shit, baby, do that again.”
“What, this?” A slow grin grew across Eddie’s face as he tugged on Richie’s hair again, a little harder this time. Richie whimpered, and Eddie was now able to see the wet spot growing across the front of his red plaid boxers. It made his mouth water. “You gonna fuck me or what, big boy?” He wasn’t sure where the words—or the confidence for that matter—were coming from, but the desperate look in Richie’s eyes quickly negated any fear or embarrassment he may have felt.
“Or what,” Richie managed to taunt back, reaching once more for the lube. “I gotta finger you first, remember?” he pointed out. “You wanna be on your front or back?”
“Back,” Eddie immediately replied. “Wanna see you.”
Richie turned a little pink at that. Eddie pulled off his boxers once more and tossed them to the side, not caring where they landed. He tugged Richie down again, kissing him more softly this time. He heard the snick of the bottle cap—Richie could get it open, when it counted—and then felt his large hand trailing down his thigh and underneath.
“It’s gonna be a little cold,” Richie warned him quietly. Eddie nodded in understanding, but still jumped when he first felt Richie’s finger press against him. “Try to relax for me, okay?”
“I’m relaxed,” Eddie protested, but then Richie started kissing his neck again, and oh, he must have not been relaxed enough, because he melted once more, allowing the tip of Richie’s thick finger to push inside.
“You good?” Richie asked, voice slightly muffled against Eddie’s skin. Eddie nodded.
“Feels weird, but… not bad,” he decided. “Doesn’t hurt.”
“Good.” Richie kissed over one of the dark bruises he had left. “Jus’ lemme know.”
Eddie nodded again, carding his fingers through Richie’s hair. “I like it like this,” he said, sounding a little breathless as Richie slowly worked his finger inside. “I know you probably don’t even brush it, but it looks good.”
Richie let out a breathy laugh as Eddie gently tugged on a curl. “If you can speak in full sentences, I’m not doing my job right,” he said, half-joking. He began to move his finger as he kissed wetly down Eddie’s chest, his tongue darting out to lick at his nipple. Richie’s eyes flicked up to gauge Eddie’s reaction and was rewarded with a shaky gasp escaping his bitten lower lip.
Eddie tugged on Richie’s hair, torn between pulling him up to kiss him and pushing him back down to worship his chest—but then, Richie moved his finger, and Eddie’s grip loosened as he rocked closer to the touch. “Holy shit, what was that?”” he whined, lashes fluttering.
Richie chuckled, like he couldn’t help himself. “You never hit your prostate before, baby?” he cooed, grazing his canines—fangs, Eddie thought dizzily—down his stomach. “Feels good, huh?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, a moan escaping through his closed lips when Richie moved again. “Fuck, can I have another?”
“Course you can, sweetheart.” Richie easily obliged, pushing a second finger in alongside the first.
Eddie let out a shaky breath but nodded encouragingly. “Never—never done this before,” he told him, inviting another playful laugh.
“Yeah, I could tell,” Richie said fondly, kissing Eddie’s jutting hipbone.
“Shut up,” Eddie grumbled, tugging on his hair in retaliation. Richie’s exhale was hot against his skin, and his dick jumped, pre-cum beading at the slit once more.
“Shit—” he fumbled for the bottle of lube, pouring a little into his hand before beginning to stroke himself. His head fell back as he let out a soft moan, relaxing even further into the bed. He began to tease himself, keeping his fist a tight hole for him to fuck through. It was almost too much, his cock slipping wetly through his fist as Richie fucked him on the other end, but no way was he going to tell the man to stop. Plus, the way Richie’s eyes darkened when he began to touch himself was more than enough to convince him to keep going.
They continued like that for a few minutes, Richie slowly opening Eddie up as he jerked himself off. Once Eddie’s breathing began to get shallower, his thighs tensing with the effort it took him not to come, Richie finally pulled his fingers out and wiped them on the bed next to Eddie -- who was either too fucked out or too distracted to say anything about it. Instead, he just tugged him down for a kiss, this one even more desperate than the ones before. He panted into Richie’s mouth, his head spinning as their tongues slipped against each other, teeth sharp and biting, salt and sweat and musk intermingling and making Eddie feel high. “Fuck me,” he gasped between kisses. “Please, Rich, I need it so bad.”
“Shit, yeah, okay.” Richie pulled back, making Eddie whine at the loss of contact. “Hey, right here, Eds. Just getting the condom.” He reached over, ripping the package open with his teeth. “I’m, uh…kinda big. Just as a heads up. Lemme know if it hurts, okay?”
Eddie nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows as Richie tugged off his boxers. At the sight of his cock, thick and long and surrounded in the same dark, curly hair that covered the rest of his body, Eddie felt his mouth water. He stared for a moment longer before a nervous laugh came from above his head. “You’ll make a guy insecure, looking at ‘im like that,” Richie joked, and that comment cleared his head a little bit.
Eddie rolled his eyes, getting up on his knees to kiss Richie again. “I was staring because I’ve never seen another guy’s dick before, Tozier,” he pointed out, laying back down and pulling Richie with him, “and besides, yours is fucking huge. Compared to mine, at least.”
“It is compared to most,” Richie replied, and Eddie stifled a moan. His own dick gave him away, though, leaking more pre-cum. Richie whistled as he rolled on the condom.
“Jesus, dude. You get so fucking wet, it’s crazy.” Eddie whimpered as his cock twitched again. “God, you’re hot. Okay, spread your legs. Lemme take care of you.”
Eddie held his breath as Richie slicked his cock up with more lube. It’s really not fair that he wasn’t joking about his dick this whole time, he thought belatedly, opening his legs to let Richie shuffle between them once more. He couldn’t help but check Richie out again, eyes raking from his curls to his scruffy beard down to his soft chest, beefy stomach, and finally back to his cock, hard and clearly slick at the tip even through the—surely, extra-large—condom he wore. Eddie exhaled shakily, and Richie glanced up. “You good?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he quickly reassured, letting out a little laugh. “I just don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on in my life.”
That easy smile returned to Richie’s face. “Well, I’d hope you’re getting something out of this, too,” he teased. “Okay, lemme know if it hurts.” He leaned down, holding himself up over Eddie with one arm while his other hand guided his cock to his hole.
Eddie inhaled sharply when he felt the blunt head stretching him out—Richie had done a good job preparing him, but the sensation was still different, new and intriguing. “Keep going, keep going,” he insisted, looking up at Richie trustingly as he held onto his arm. “I’m okay.” His lashes fluttered as Richie complied, pressing in inch by inch.
“Oh—oh, fuck,” Eddie panted, muscles tightening around the intrusion and instinctively chasing more. He gripped Richie’s arms, letting out moans that were almost definitely audible to the others in the townhouse. Right now, though? Eddie didn’t give a shit who heard. He was back, he was here, with Richie, and in that moment, that was all that mattered.
Then, Richie began to move back and forth. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. “Are you—mmh, fuck—are you all the way in?” he whimpered, feeling almost on the edge of tears with how unbelievably good he felt.
Richie chuckled, but it sounded strained, like he was holding back. “Not yet. Trying to let you get adjusted—” but Eddie was already shaking his head.
“I’m adjusted. I want it, Rich. Want it all, want all of you,” he insisted. Richie didn’t need much convincing, apparently, because in the next second, Eddie felt like the air had been punched out of him—in the best possible way. Richie began to go harder, not speeding up just yet, but driving his hips all the way against Eddie’s ass before pulling nearly all the way out. Eddie groaned in pleasure, digging his nails into Richie’s back. He was sure he would leave marks, scraping his fingers down his skin, but he didn’t care. Richie had left his fair share of marks himself. Belong to each other now, he thought faintly before being brought back to himself a little when Richie leaned down to kiss him hard. He accepted it easily, sighing and moaning into his mouth. At that moment, he almost thought he heard a growl, low and animalistic, but it was hard to tell with his own desperate sounds mixing with the slapping of Richie’s hips against Eddie’s ass.
After another minute of pure ecstasy, Richie began to pull back. “Can I flip you over?” he asked, voice low and raspy. The growl Eddie had heard earlier was almost an undertone to his words, and as he shakily pushed himself up to sit, he swore he saw that glint of yellow in Richie’s eyes again.
“Yeah, but—are you… okay?” he asked, reaching up to touch Richie’s face. The other man frowned, nuzzling into Eddie’s touch.
“Course I am,” he replied, and there was definitely an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Why?”
“You—” Eddie began before shaking his head. “Never mind.” He pecked Richie on the lips and flipped over onto his front. “I’m ready, Rich. Go ahead.” He could feel Richie hesitate above him for a moment before getting back into position.
“C’mere. You gotta—” Richie grabbed Eddie’s hips, pushing his shoulders down and hiking his ass up. “Better,” he said appreciatively. He bent over Eddie’s back as he guided himself back inside. This angle was new, different—Eddie didn’t want to say better, because he really liked being able to see Richie, but it felt even deeper than the first position, and when Richie’s cock grazed his prostate, Eddie was sure he saw stars. He sobbed with pleasure, trying to reach under himself to stroke his cock but not being able to focus on it for very long, not with Richie quickly picking up speed and hitting that perfect spot inside of him with every thrust.
“More, more, more—” he choked out, and behind him, he heard a snarl, felt drops of sweat or saliva land on his back, and Richie’s grip on him suddenly became even tighter. Eddie barely found himself able to turn his head, but it was just enough to see Richie’s eyes turning fully golden yellow, canines sharpening and lengthening as he let out a growl that Eddie could feel through his whole body.
He gasped. “Rich…?” But then, Richie—wolf-Richie?—hit his prostate again and Eddie moaned, pushing back against his hips. Never mind, never mind, more, more, please, his brain chanted, and Eddie was powerless to disagree. Richie’s moans and growls thrummed through Eddie’s ribcage, and when he leaned down and bit Eddie’s shoulder, canines sinking in, Eddie saw white. He came with a sudden yelp, legs shaking wildly and hole clenching around Richie’s cock. It didn’t take long for Richie to follow suit, coming into the condom and grunting as he pressed his face into Eddie’s neck, panting hot and heavy. He rolled to the side, taking Eddie with him, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. “What the hell was that?” he panted, beaming, as he looked over his shoulder. Then, as he fully took in Richie’s appearance, he stiffened a little.
The other man was still Richie, he was sure of it. But Richie didn’t normally have those golden eyes, reflecting moonlight back at him. His teeth had always been a little too big for him, but the way they crowded his mouth now, long and sharp, wasn’t exactly something Wentworth Tozier would’ve been able to fix with braces. And Richie especially didn’t have dark brown ears covered in fur, now pinned back against his hair and almost disappearing amongst the curls. “What…?” Eddie breathed, reaching behind himself to touch one of the ears. Richie whined, doglike, but allowed the contact.
Eddie gasped softly as his fingers grazed the soft fur lining the outside of Richie’s new ears. They flicked responsively, warm to the touch. They’re real. “But—how…?” Eddie couldn’t seem to finish a sentence.
“Surprise?” Richie said weakly, sounding a little garbled with what seemed like twenty extra wolf-like teeth in his mouth. “I didn’t know it would come out tonight, I hope I didn’t scare you—”
“You—you know?” Eddie said incredulously. “Like, this is a thing that happens? Hold on—” he made to flip over, suddenly aware Richie was still inside him, but the other man gently grabbed his arm.
“Wait, please—don’t move. Please?” he asked timidly. “I—my wolf likes it when I wait. Just for a little bit, I promise.”
Eddie couldn’t help but giggle. It sounded so absurd—but then again, so was a cicada-like alien demon clown. He took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. So…have you always been a—a—”
“Werewolf?” Richie finished. “Um, I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. Well, I know I wasn’t born one. The, uh—the clown. When we were kids. It bit me.” Eddie inhaled sharply as Richie continued. “I didn’t wanna tell anyone, ‘cause I was scared, but… it would come out, sometimes. Not all the way, but like this.” He gestured to his general head area. “And a couple times, it went… y’know. All the way. But it didn’t happen to me for years. I didn’t even remember until I got back that it was something that happened to me at all.”
Eddie tried to process what Richie was telling him. Stranger things had happened, he supposed—although, on a scale from 1 to 10, this was pretty high up there. “So… this is real.”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t always control it.”
“Right.”
“And it came out during sex with me because…?”
Richie flushed, his ears going back again. “Instinct?” he offered shyly.
Eddie felt his stomach flip, “Oh, fuck. I don’t know why that was hot.” He laughed a little, and Richie soon joined him.
“Oh, yeah?” he said with a smirk. “Well, he thinks you’re hot, too.” Eddie covered his face in embarrassment.
“Can I move, now? I wanna see you better.” Richie let out a quiet whine, but nodded, letting Eddie move. He groaned, wincing a little at the already-present ache in his legs and lower back, but rolled over to properly face Richie.
The rest of him looked the same, as far as Eddie could tell. Same broad shoulders, same paunch, same thick corded arms… but the ears were really what endeared Eddie. He couldn’t help but reach up and scratch behind one of them, smirking as Richie let out a low groan and jerked his leg. “Oh, so you really are just a big puppy, huh?” he cooed. Richie turned pink.
“Shut up.”
“Whatever you say, big boy,” Eddie purred, and kissed him softly.
In the morning, there would be details to iron out, phone calls to make and wedding rings to toss, but in the meantime? Eddie had a wolf to tame.