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Richie does a lot of things as a joke. It’s his MO, making a joke out of things or running his mouth dangerously, only to palm the stupid things he says off as funny and meaningless.
He likes to joke. He really does. He likes how he’s a little bit of a loose cannon at times. And as such he has become no less of one now that he’s dating Eddie. Richie actually might be worse.
For one, he hasn’t stopped joking about the dildo. Or talking about the dildo, finding random ways to throw it in a conversation in a sly way of suggesting it to Eddie without actually communicating.
That actually might make it less of a joke and more of a solicitation, but the point still stands.
The horizons of his boundary-pushing jokey behaviour have been slowly expanding in tandem with his frustration.
…sexual frustration, that is.
Not that Richie doesn’t find what Eddie’s doing painstakingly delicious– he does very much enjoy it, actually. He’s just greedy and needy and all sorts of fucked up. So when Eddie purposefully denies them both, it's kinda difficult to swallow. In every way.
Well. They have been having sex, so it’s not actually that dire. And it has been good sex, Richie’s like 99% sure that even bad sex would be good sex with Eddie, so really, he’s in no drought.
It’s just that he really wants to get properly fucked more than once or occasionally twice a week. And he really, really wants to put that dildo to use. He’s practically gagging for it, actually. Maybe that’s the reason Eddie abstains from it. To make him whinier.
Anyway. Richie can’t take it anymore. He’s gotta say something. Y’know. Communicate, like adults do. Time to stop making vague, borderline uncomfortable jokes in the vain hope that Eddie will understand and acquiesce. The issue is not even that deep, and he figures that letting Eddie know could only result in a net-positive for him. Or at least that’s the idea.
But he wouldn’t be Richie Tozier without keeping quiet and waiting until his needs reached the boiling point.
“I want you to want things.” Richie said, over bacon and eggs at their dining table. He was feeling especially insecure and on edge that morning, and for no good reason too. Richie, actually, has never been happier, his relationship with Eddie blossoming and only getting better and better, four months in. Usually, feelings of insecurity don’t itch him like this any more.
“Of course I want things.” Eddie replied, eyebrows quirking in amusement. He didn’t like that Eddie was the one having more fun than him in this moment, knee bouncing, irritated, under the table. Stick to the plan. Net positive, remember?
“No, like.” Richie tried valiantly for his words. “I bring it up every so often. You know…” He went shy, despite being the one to initiate this conversation. He can’t help his thighs squeezing tight together beneath the table at his own embarrassment. It kind of drives him higher in a weird, fucked up way.
Eddie was nothing but his soulmate however, reading the meaning behind his words. “The dildo?”
“Yeah. It’s totally cool if… if you don’t. But you’ve said you do. So, when?” It was hard not to let the desperation leak through into his voice, with how Richie was feeling. It was just so stupid, a residual concern of his that flitted throughout his head all the time. Like an intermittent microwave buzz, always reminding him that something’s ready. The something being him, but that’s not the point.
The look on Eddie’s face at his desperate plea quickly dashed his hopes of ‘net-positive’, however, as he looked somehow even more content and quietly satisfied at Richie’s begging.
That specific look is one of many that Richie is familiar with. He knows Eddie, and he knows what Eddie will say. He knows that Eddie loves, loves to make him wait until he’s a sopping puddle of need, brainless with it. He knows that Eddie won’t say yes today.
“Oh, trust me, I want it. You just have to be patient, Richie.” His sage smile was nothing but agonising to Richie, and however much he loves Eddie and loves this game that he plays, Richie is getting restless with it. He wants to know, wants to feel. Hell, they might not even be together yet if not for that fucking dildo. Richie at least feels that they ought to give it some credence.
It was this frustrating breakfast that solidified in Richie the idea. He, simply, cannot go on any longer without at least attempting to get his way.
So, if Eddie won’t say yes on his own, maybe Richie just needs to find a way to speed up the process.
-
It was a dangerous game, what Richie was planning to do. If he wasn’t certain that they were secure with each other in their relationship, Richie wouldn’t have even considered it.
Still, there were some small caveats that he had to ensure before trying it.
“Do you think…” He trailed off ominously, waiting with a smile to hear Bill’s response.
“Hmm?”
“That Eddie would be mad if I flirted with someone in front of him?” He said, and immediately it sounded horrible.
Bill threw Richie a ‘really?’ look before replying. “Is that e-even a question? Obviously.”
“No, no, like” He paused. “Seriously mad. I’d be doing it to rile him up.”
“For what?” Bill asked.
“Uhh.” Richie’s brain froze, not having thought this far ahead. He wasn’t very keen to open up to Bill about his wish to introduce dildo play into his and Eddie’s sex life. “For things. A reason.”
“A-alright fine, don’t tell me then.” Bill rolled his eyes. “He probably wouldn’t be seriously mad. It’s not like you’d try to cheat in front of him.”
“Exactly, thanks Billy boy!” And it was decided. Richie’s gonna pull some game, be real suave, make Eddie jealous, and in theory get fucked all the way into next week.
Or at least that was the idea. The night Richie had decided on, the Losers’ bi-monthly Friday pub night, rolled around far too quickly for his liking. He was nervous, but stubborn, however, bolstered by the rotten teasing of Eddie.
Richie had never felt like a whiny bottom getting his dick sucked before, but somehow Eddie’s coaxed that out of him. To the point that Richie doesn’t recognise himself, lost in free falling pleasure all the fucking time. It’s surreal.
Which was, as he reminded himself, the exact reason why this plan was necessary.
The man he picked to target looked fairly ordinary, and Richie moseyed his way over to his spot by the bar with a casual sort of air about him. If you ignored the taut excitement and nervousness split down his face.
Eddie was over in the Losers’ booth (minus Stan and Patty), sitting with a glass of red next to Bev. Richie had told him he was getting another, finishing the rest of his drink in one big gulp for liquid courage. Fuck- alright. He’s going in.
“Are you here with anyone?” Richie asked the guy, voice cracking a little. There goes suaveness.
“Um. No.” The guy looked at Richie weirdly, and shit, how the hell do people approach others at bars?
Honesty was probably the best shout. “You interested in making my boyfriend jealous?”
The guy’s eyebrow quirked and he turned to face Richie. “Sounds intriguing. Trouble at home?”
Richie bit the side of his mouth. “Not exactly trouble.” He hesitated, casting a glance back at the booth. Eddie wasn’t looking at him. “Mind if I sit?”
“Go for it.” The guy said, gesturing to the barstool with a smile. It felt really weird, sitting down next to a guy that’s not Eddie. Richie kind of felt uncomfortable already, even though it was his idea.
“Let me buy you a drink. Whereabouts is your boyfriend?” He asked, swilling the rest of his beer around his glass. Richie clammed up, sitting tensely on the barstool, being ridiculous. This better work.
“He’s in the booth behind us. You don’t need to buy me a drink, I’m sure he’s already seen us.” Richie placated, but the unnamed man shook his head.
“It’ll really sell it.” And he flagged the bartender down. He didn’t ask Richie what he wanted - so he was most likely ordering another of that frothy ass beer. Richie much prefers fruity little cocktails or oily, grotesque shots, but he won’t interrupt.
Besides, Richie is reasonably sure that Eddie is looking at him, judging by that eerie prickling feeling on his neck. His breath quickened impossibly without warrant, and Richie had to press the heel of his palm into his thigh to try and control himself.
He was probably tucked away in that little booth, where the table was so high that it practically blocked Eddie out from view. He was probably dark eyed, glaring daggers at Richie and this bloke right now. He probably looked really fucking hot doing it.
God. Richie just wants Eddie to use him like a fucking mutt.
The beer plonked down on the table, sloshing a little at the rim and pulling Richie out of his ruminations.
“So, what’s your name?”
He had two options here. Answer normally, sip away at that beer and hope that Eddie will have had enough and come over and save him (from his own stupid idea) eventually. But Richie’s not confident that Eddie’s that pressed yet, the level not being near enough to evoke such a reaction. If he stayed at the bar with this guy and didn’t do anything, he’d be risking Eddie leaving without him in a strop.
He has to take it up a notch.
Richie lifted his eyes to the guy’s face and sucked in a breath before leaning towards him. Being cautious to miss the man’s face or skin, Richie’s mouth kept a careful distance as he faux-brushed against the dude’s ear. This was the farthest he’d go.
“I’m Richie.”
“Hi Richie.” He replied, but Richie didn’t even manage to hear his name in response, before the guy’s eyes coasted over his shoulder in amusement. “Didn’t need to do much.”
Before Richie could understand what that meant, a firm, hot arm planted itself on Richie’s shoulder, leaning just atop of the back of the stool.
Hook, line and fucking sinker.
“Thought I’d get another too, Rich.” Eddie said, coming around to face them both, hand still against Richie and slithering around to lean against his back, like a fucking claim. “Hello.” He said stiffly to the random guy.
It was exhilarating, how quickly Richie could rouse Eddie into huffing jealousy. Very hot, too, the snug hold he has on him provoking the molten lava in his veins. Richie could literally erupt.
The guy was eyeing them both up with obvious humour on his face, apparently continuing the charade that Richie had asked of him. Not that he needs it anymore (well, he might? Richie barely got to do anything to provoke Eddie).
It was like the guy read his mind. “You looking for a third?” He said, all of a sudden, and Eddie practically quaked.
“Fuck no.” He replied before Richie could get there, feeling thoroughly flabbergasted. “We’re going, Rich.”
“Uh- okay.” Richie said meekly, standing up and glancing forward to grin haphazardly at the guy before being herded away. Eddie was buzzing, arm sliding down to rest on his waist.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” He asked quietly, and for a second Richie was worried that he was actually mad, until he focused in on the beautiful flush coating Eddie’s neck. He’s about 98% sure that Eddie is not seriously mad. Maybe 97%.
When Richie didn’t answer, he continued. “All of a sudden I’m not enough, hmm? You’re so fucking greedy for dick that you’d go and flirt with whoever, no care in the world?” Eddie asked pointedly.
“No! No. Didn’t actually want him.” Richie combatted, surprised at how that haze was starting to creep in already, feeling light and petulant, almost. He doesn’t really want to be at the pub anymore, and Richie grits his teeth whilst being slid back into the booth, Eddie’s hand pressing down on his shoulder.
What was stopping him from just taking them home?
Bill gave him an amused look before turning back to Ben and Mike, giving Richie and Eddie a little privacy. God knows where Bev went.
“Oh, sure. So what was it you wanted?” Eddie asked slyly, any real irritation gone from his face, leaving a heavy look in Eddie’s eyes. A flush (from anger or exhilaration?) on his cheeks. He looked at Richie like the fucking akinator.
Richie’s face flushed a matching red. “Eds.”
“C’mon, Trashmouth. Say it. You’ve said far worse.”
“Nothing I’ve meant.” He’s so embarrassed, fighting the urge to cover his face with his hands. Eddie clearly knows already, their conversation about the dildo still fresh enough to be a reasonable explanation. What Eddie doesn’t know (or might not remember) is what Richie wants him to do with it.
It slipped out months ago, just before they fucked for the first time. Obviously, it was more just a garbled idea then, coming flying out of Richie’s mouth without his permission, revealing a desire that he hadn’t even properly considered yet but somehow knew he wanted.
Want you to fuck me with the dildo and your dick.
Richie’s been considering it- well, more than considering, honestly. Beneath Eddie, hole stretched around his boyfriend’s dick, Richie has invasive flashes, the impulse to beg for more.
It would be fucking hot. For Eddie to overwhelm him like that. For Eddie to penetrate him twice, truly make Richie his little bitch. Richie practically hasn’t stopped thinking about it, for what it’s worth. The idea has even started to scare him a little, what with how much he’s obsessing over it.
But does Eddie remember? Maybe not, Richie thinks. He brings up the dildo in nondescript, amorphous ways when he’s begging for it. Richie hasn’t actually said it since that night.
“Rich?” Eddie’s tone had softened up, most likely in response to Richie’s quietness. His throat feels croaky when he replies.
“Eds. I want you to…” Richie’s words dropped off, observing the stillness of Bill’s neck whilst in conversation with the others. He was definitely listening. “Take me home.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but the hand that slithered down to squeeze Richie’s knee was affectionate. “C’mon then, let’s go.” And if Richie were stupider- or perhaps less Eddie-fluent, he’d think he was in the clear.
But no, he definitely wasn’t. Eddie tugged him by two fingers out of the bar, barely bidding the other Losers goodbye. They lapsed into nervous silence on their way out, Eddie one-handedly booking a cab. And Richie can just tell, he can just tell that Eddie’s not going to leave it at that.
The curb was deserted, the only people around hopping in and out of parked cars, and the pavement shone a little under the illuminated sign of the bar. The rest of Eddie’s fingers slithered into the spaces between Richie’s.
“If you wanted something,” Eddie said quietly, firmly. “You could’ve just asked me, instead of pulling that. I’d have made you beg, but at least you’d get it.” And fuck. Has he literally just set himself lightyears back in his mission? He has half a mind to drop to his knees on the wet, filthy pathway and clutch at Eddie’s pant legs. He’d beg, alright, even if it was in public.
He said so to Eddie.
“And make a fool of yourself?” He asked curiously. Richie knows that Eddie would never take him up on it, too worried about the germs and too private to ever let anyone else see Richie beg, but still. A thrill shivered down his spine.
“Yeah.” Richie said casually, trying to behave as nonchalant as he could. Maybe if he pretended like it was cool it’d make it less embarrassing to admit.
“Slut.” Eddie said, teasingly albeit not with a darker undertone. He bumped his arm into Richie, who had gone quite quivery. His knees felt fragile, like he was standing up on a fast train next to a window.
The cab arrived and Richie couldn’t get in it quick enough, diving headfirst in the door. The driver had an upbeat pop sounding album blaring through muffled car speakers, but not even that managed to break down the mood very quickly forming between them. Richie can feel it, tangible in the air, the hypertension of almost almost circling around their heads, the heavy weight of the unknown, of what Eddie might do (or not do) dependent on invisible factors dancing on the outskirts of his mind.
Richie wasn’t subtle in his ogling of Eddie, observing helplessly how his hair curled a little with sweat against his neck. Eddie’s cheeks were red, or at least they seemed to be in the passing orange of the streetlamps.
He wasn’t quite prepared for the dull strike of unabashed love to hit him. It felt heavy and corporeal, like his body has degenerated into a jelly of affection, and all his hands can do is hold it.
However much Eddie is particular, specific, intentional and irregular, Richie cannot get enough. It feels like the perfect niche, the correct shade of colour that he just can’t get enough of. It feels rare, like a once in-a-lifetime thing. If it were anyone else, Richie wouldn’t like his quirks as much.
Can Eddie see it? The love, so heavy, hanging right above Richie? The dove that cooes when he rests his tired eyes on the other man?
Richie hopes so. He hopes now, so valiantly, after everything. It’s like one final ‘fuck you!’ to pennywise, in a way. Richie didn’t hope for a long time, because of that fucking clown and what he took with him out of Derry.
His problems are much more trivial now. Hoping that you’ll get laid is very different from hoping that you’ll find acceptance and love for who you are (finding who you are at all). Richie figures it had to be his turn someday.
“You right, Rich?” Eddie asked, forcing Richie back into the moment. Richie’s throat clicks around his dry swallow. Despite the awkward dynamic with them in the taxi, Richie simply can’t help himself.
Without a second thought he leans over. “I’m so fucking hard.”
Eddie’s widened eyes cast a nervous glance at the taxi driver, his tongue dipping out to lick his bottom lip. “Fuckinghell- Richie.”
It was so reckless. It was so, so reckless and stupid, but Richie was overcome. He simply cannot go on any longer like this. Keeping it all in has suddenly become so tiring.
His stupid trashmouth (likely bolstered by the odd sense of confidence that was no doubt a by-product of his inebriation) had been set free.
“Are you?” Please say yes please say yes. If Eddie’s not even a little bit aroused at least, Richie might just have to throw himself out of the cab. Maybe a little dramatic, but it’d definitely warrant a time out corner, at least.
“Be quiet Richie.” He hissed, before ducking his head a little. “Yeah, I am.”
“How hard?” Bit of an odd question, sure, but Richie doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s been run ragged by his own thoughts, at the end of his wire. He has to know– has to know his chances of getting fucked tonight. Even if it’s not in the way he wants, which, he still has to tell Eddie about properly, anyway.
“If this is you worried you’ve blown your chances being a fuckwit earlier, you haven’t.” Eddie addressed quietly, oblivious to the angel’s chorus that had just burst out in song above Richie. “Think you need a reminder of who can please you best.”
“Yes– right, right. He was probably impotent anyway.” He agreed eagerly, nodding dumbly at Eddie, who was trying to look annoyed whilst clamping down a smile. He has the weird urge to whoop in victory.
“Shut up Richie.”
“Yeah, alright.” He bobbed his head, the electricity that had been knocked into him impossible to ignore now. Keeping his trap shut was probably like, top ten most difficult feats, especially in this situation where he’s buzzing, stationary. All Richie wants to do is ramble and plead. Like a fucking dog.
Christ. He cringed at the thought, at how horribly true it was.
The cab took that familiar turn onto Richie’s apartment’s street, and deposited them just outside on the curb. Eddie spoke for both of them, thanking the driver whilst driving his thumb into Richie’s wrist. A warning- perhaps, to behave. The pressure was delicious, honeyed in Richie’s state of mind, cobbled between his undying love and aching horniness.
But still, Richie didn’t talk. He could be good, he can stay quiet when told to shut up. Maybe if Richie shows Eddie just how good he can be, maybe then when he speaks he’ll get what he wants.
Eddie didn’t acknowledge Richie’s obedience, seemingly enjoying the companionable, albeit tense, silence between them during the walk up to their apartment. It was a delicate, tender little moment. One that Richie thinks he’d definitely shatter if he spoke up, as he often does with his impulses.
“You need water? Something to eat?” Eddie asked him finally, twisting the key in the lock. Their apartment was illuminated quickly by the flick of a switch, but Richie wanted the lights back off almost immediately. It was unnerving, having Eddie look at him in the cold, full lighting. Not when he’s teetering on a knife edge of desperation and humiliating honesty.
“Nah, um, I’m good.” He coughed a little, eyes darting away from Eddie’s face nervously. It wasn’t lost on him that he was still in trouble, that they were most likely going to have earth shattering sex tonight, that he still needed to fucking communicate. Richie’s just not as effortless as he claims to be, always ending up reduced into a little fumbling puddle of nervousness and rambling.
Eddie hummed before turning towards the kitchen. “Go to our room. I’m going to have a drink of water.”
And maybe Richie really was a well trained dog, because at the word his legs began moving before his brain could catch up. Their room was dark when Richie reached it, pushing the door open with a nudge, but instead of turning on the full lights, he reached for the lamps. It’s not that he’s insecure as such… just that he feels kind of quivery (and not in the best way just yet) about what he’s about to do.
Richie has found that he very much likes begging Eddie for things, he likes being embarrassed, he likes being praised and teased and indulged. But for however much he likes those things, they kind of scare him a little too. It could be the intensity of it, how much he wants it curdling nastily in his gut, getting mixed up in fear.
This is one of those things. His fantasy of getting two cocks sunk into him just a little bit too tantalising and raw to be an easy admission. Richie’s not really ashamed anymore (for the most part). He’s just scared.
Eddie was taking fucking forever, the distant opening and shutting of cabinets in their kitchen putting Richie on edge even more. It was an easy distraction to reach over, throwing himself down across their bed, to tug open the bedside drawers. He wasn’t that long, having to blindly fumble around in the drawer for what he wanted, arm outstretched beyond his head.
His long, clumsy fingers battered against a number of things. Lube… box of condoms… empty condom packet… lube again… some sort of… tape?
The fuck? Richie’s fingers closed around the hollow loop of– it was definitely tape- before tugging it out to look at it in the light. It was black, unopened judging by the plastic packaging still wrapped around it. Richie stared at it dumbly in the dim light, brain stalling to a halt.
Firstly, what the fuck is that? Secondly, where is the dildo? He craned his head, shuffling further up the bed, hand holding the tape reaching down to bolster himself over the edge to peer into the drawer.
It wasn’t there.
“Richie?” Eddie said from the doorway, and he jolted up in surprise, clumsily getting legs caught in the bunching blankets. When the fuck did he get there? He was in the kitchen like two seconds ago.
“Howdy, howdy. Uh. Didn’t realise you were there.” Richie blubbered, twisting to look at the other man. He stood in the doorway still (weird) and was looking at Richie with a quizzical, if not slightly anxious look. The weirdness of the situation tugged Richie’s mind away from the tape thing, now focusing in on what Eddie had in his right hand.
“Looking for this?” He asked, raising the stupid fucking dildo up in his hand. Richie’s whole body clenched up. Eddie looked really good holding it. Really good. Very natural and effortless, much the opposite of Richie, in his bumbling awkwardness. Very, very sexy, in fact. Did Eddie’s dick need sucking? Cause Richie would be very happy to do it right about now.
“Ha… how’d you know?” Was it suddenly really hot in here, or is it just Richie? The feeling of his sweat clammy on his arms as he tried to rearrange himself on their bed.
It was like some higher power had completely zapped Richie of any sense of a plan, feeling glassy and dumb and immobile, poised to follow whatever Eddie asked or said of him. He could do anything right now, maybe start explaining himself, maybe question Eddie on the roll of tape in their bedside drawer, maybe even just jump headfirst into begging instead of letting the moment stretch.
Richie’s a pussy though, first and foremost, and just the sight of Eddie like this was enough to lock his joints up. Eddie’s gonna have to do the heavy lifting this time.
“Oh Richie. Of course I knew, you get that little look in your eye whenever you think about it.” He said endearingly, if not slightly patronising. Eddie wasn’t done though, approaching the edge of the bed and reaching out with his free hand. Richie observed his hand, feeling very stupid. Was he meant to kiss it or something? Tug him down?
Eddie must’ve seen the confusion on his face. “That’s mine, Rich.” And ohhh. The tape. Obviously.
Wait…
“Wait wait, okay.” Richie gave it to him, arm feeling a little limp lifting it. “What- um. What is that? For?” It was a struggle to keep his head afloat enough to ask, but he managed. Barely.
The question made Eddie look a little sheepish. “Um. It’s for you.” At Richie’s furrowed brow, he continued. “For me to use on you.”
Holy.
“What.” Eddie has never mentioned anything of the sort before. Richie assumed it was just him with the kinky, kind of weird, embarrassing desires! Eddie’s never spoken up beyond his thing for calling Richie names, so Richie just kinda assumed that was it from him. Not that he’s complaining, obviously!
Thoroughly spun, Richie sat up and scooched forwards to watch him as he continued, the lovely flush of red blooming up his neck as he scrambled to explain himself. How the tables have fucking turned.
“We don’t need to use it!” He hastened to say, gulping a little (cute). “I- obviously was planning on bringing it up with you at a later date, if not for your fucking snooping around. It wasn’t on my agenda for tonight.” Eddie sounded kinda defensive, which was one big indicator that he was actually feeling embarrassed.
Richie’s too distracted to delight in that. “What is your agenda for tonight?” And- why is he so far away?
“Well, originally it was– Richie!” Eddie’s explanation was cut short by Richie’s tugging hands, yanking him forwards to stand between Richie’s legs, knees bumping thighs.
“Sorry. Just wanted you closer.” Richie felt his face flush further and fuck it really is hot in here.
Eddie was looking down at him, looking so weirdly that Richie can’t quite place what emotion is on his face. Mystified? Satisfied yet puzzled? Maybe he’s annoyed but fond?
Richie wants to kiss it off his face.
“You’re acting very entitled for someone who pulled such a stunt tonight.” Eddie said, and yet his hand still went to Richie’s jaw, tilting it up just a little with the barest pressure.
“Yeah yeah I know. M’sorry, okay? It was just to get you to touch me anyway.” Richie said, (definitely not sulked). Besides, there were more important things to address, and Richie kind of didn’t want to think about that random guy anymore. He was too hot and restless for more stalling.
“You can use the tape on me if you want. Sounds hot.” Richie mumbled loud enough for Eddie to hear, and he didn’t miss the shudder that his permission provoked out of Eddie. It wasn’t like Richie isn’t into Eddie being controlling and particular in bed, anyway, this is a reasonable extension.
“You’d let me? I’d be binding your hands together. Binding them to the bed.” Eddie said bluntly. His other hand dropped the dildo onto the bed beside Richie, fingers grazing his leg.
The image of Eddie, looking down at Richie with that indescribable look, as he wriggled and writhed, hands restrained behind his back, was so suddenly arousing that he couldn’t help releasing the whimper sitting behind his teeth. Richie doesn’t care, he wildly, earnestly, could not give a fuck anymore. He’d let Eddie do whatever he wanted, he’d let Eddie touch him everywhere but his dick for eons if only it meant he’d be touching him at all.
“...yeah. You could do that to me.” Richie replied, finally. Eddie’s shuddered little inhale made him the picture of overcome and Richie just–
“Jesus Eddie, come down here. Fucking hell.” Richie’s distantly aware that he sounds mad when he’s anything but, however any room for miscommunication was quickly swallowed up by his arms and body leaning up to tug Eddie into a kiss.
Eddie’s huff of exasperation served only to drive the fire in Richie’s gut further. His hands (his body, really) felt clammy and malleable beneath Eddie and it was just so easy to get lost in it. The ebb and flow of their kiss, the push and pull.
And all of a sudden Richie was being crowded backwards, Eddie’s thighs (beautiful, meaty thighs) straddling him as he pushed forward and forward and forward. Richie’s jelly arm was forced to abandon Eddie’s cheek to keep him propped up, pushing him back into the kisses.
“God Richie. I never want to see you talk to a stranger again.” Eddie mumbled, breaking the kiss as he fixed his attention on rucking up Richie’s shirt from his pants. “You don’t know what that did to me. I don’t even want to let you leave the bed. Dickhead.”
“So don’t.” Richie panted out. “Asshole.”
He meant it to carry the same, annoyed cadence as Eddie’s ‘dickhead’, but regrettably it came out much softer and cut with the edge of pleasure. Eddie’s pressure, his weight resting on top of Richie, was so delectable it was hard to think straight. He finds that he’d much rather just give up and let Eddie do it all, anyway.
They really are well suited.
“You’re such a lazy fuck. Can’t even undress yourself.” Eddie murmured, pulling Richie’s shirt off around cobbled limbs. And he was right, Richie is lazy, he’s so lazy he can’t even think.
“Yeah.. I can’t. Need you.” He said, fainter than a whisper before attaching his mouth to the crook of Eddie’s neck and shoulder, making the task of undressing infinitely more difficult.
“I’m here.” Eddie’s voice lost its hard edge, his hands caressing Richie with love, something that shouldn’t be so astounding to Richie, considering that they’re in love with each other. Still, it feels unexpected and miraculous that the love of his life would be touching him like this. Pure, brazen.
He is lucky. Richie has so rarely been lucky like this, not without having to lose something else in the process.
“-ichie. Richie.” Eddie was saying his name, fingers stalling on Richie’s bottoms. He blinked blearily up at the other man, vision swimming in a silky lake of throbbing desire.
“Mmhm?”
“Turn over. I…” Eddie looked away, bashful. What could have made him so shy at this point?
“You..?” Richie mirrored.
“Want to rim you– I know we haven’t talked about that before but… ugh. I don’t know.” Eddie was losing steam quickly, seemingly embarrassed and lost to the impossible task of explaining what he wants. It was actually quite refreshing to see. Richie’s not the only one struggling under the weight of wants and feelings.
A lazy sense of affection rolled through his gut at Eddie’s sputtering. “God, yeah. Okay.” Richie gasped out, his hips canting upwards uncontrollably before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing and rolled on his side before flopping down on his front.
“Good boy, Rich.” Eddie said behind him, apparently recovering his confidence despite the airiness of his voice. His words only served to dishevel Richie further, drawing a gasp that gave way to a winded little moan.
Good boy. The words unlocked something in Richie, pushed and shoved down so deeply he wasn’t even aware it was really there. All of a sudden, solid certainty came to him in the thought that he’d perform a hundred more tricks to hear that again. He couldn’t kick his pants off fast enough, despite the cracking and popping of his joints, impeding Eddie’s attempts at wriggling him out of them slowly.
“Yesss. Yes I’mgood– I’ll be soo good Eds. Fuck, just touch me already.” He whined into the bedsheets, shifting restlessly in an attempt to look appealing.
“No, god Richie be patient,” He scolded, not without excitement. “I just… fuck. I need to have a plan. Can we… time out? Or something?”
The nervousness evident in Eddie’s voice swiftly derailed Richie’s ideas of spewing aimless pleads and instead dropped him feet first into concern and compliancy.
“Yeah, um, totally.” He said, blinking rapidly while trying to tug his brain to shift gears. “What’re you needing from me, Eds?” Richie asked, leaning on his side to gaze back at Eddie. He was totally at ease, in a little bubble of bliss.
“What do you want me to do with the dildo?” Eddie asked, and all of a sudden all of Richie’s perversions came roaring back to him, and that feeling of ease practically dropped off of the face of the earth.
“Oh.. I- um.. The dildo.” Richie said, reverting back into a bumbling fool at the barest thought of it. “God, Eds. I’m embarrassed.”
“Never would’ve guessed by how frequently you bring it up.” Eddie teased, before softening. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s just me.”
It was the way he addressed it, gentle and patient and promising, that emboldened Richie to say it.
“I.. wantboththedildoandyourdick.” He blurted out in a rush, looking away from Eddie hurriedly. Fuck, he felt like a whore even saying it.
“Hmm?”
Fucking kill me. “I want you to penetrate me…” He paused, grimacing from his own confession. “With both.”
“You want to be doubly penetrated?” Eddie asked, presumably for clarification, but even the words made Richie’s ears positively burn.
“Yeah.”
Eddie was quiet, before huffing a little satisfied laugh. “Thought so.”
“You remembered?” Richie said, twisting back around to clock the smug look on Eddie’s face.
“Obviously Richie. Just wanted you to say it.” And oh god, isn’t that fucking humiliating. Richie’s never been harder, dick throbbing, trapped beneath him.
“Hey. Fuck you, man.” Richie said breathily around his stupid smile. Lovestruck would probably be a fitting word.
He was met with rolling eyes and a reluctant smile, before Eddie shook his head. “No, numbnuts, I’m fucking you. I just need to decide how I want to do it first.”
Richie hoped the shudder that wracked his body at the words was subtle enough to be missed. (It wasn’t).
“Well. You wanna rim me and then do it? Is… is that good?” Richie suggested, meeker than he’d like. So much for a time out, he can’t seem to shake the warm, floaty feeling.
“Mm. Yeah.” Eddie agreed, distracted. “Or… I could restrain you and then make you take it.” He looked fairly dazed, before his eyes snapped to Richie’s. “If you still wanted the tape, of course. You don’t have to.”
Richie felt wrecked already. “Uh–Aye aye, cap’n! Definitely still up for the tape, yes siree.” His stupid joke accent likely didn’t cover up his surprised arousal at Eddie’s open fantasising. Like he wasn’t even there.
Eddie ignored it. “Good. That will scratch my itch.” Eddie said. He still lingered, hesitating.
“Itch?”
“To tie you to the bed and never let you leave. I’m gonna fuck you stupid, Richie.” Eddie’s words were confident but his chest was heaving, glowy and warm in the lamplight. Richie wants Eddie to crush him, his toned muscle to just fucking squash Richie into the ground.
“Not a lot of fucking me stupid happening here. Might have to go ask the beer guy if you don’t hop to it.” Richie deflected away from his exhilaration.
Only… it didn’t work this time.
“You’re not fooling anybody Richie. Turn back over.” Eddie’s tone was low and Richie scrambled onto his stomach, legs together as he arched his back- just a little. Just enough to present his fucking ass to Eddie. Like the desperate slut he is.
Eddie knocked his knees apart, hands coming down to rest over his hips, one curling into the crevice of his legs, one smoothing along his back. “God.”
“Not god— Just my ass.” When Eddie didn’t scoff at Richie’s dumb joke, he shifted a little. “Something wrong back there?” Richie asked despite himself.
It was highly irregular for Eddie to want to- even suggest rimming. He won’t be shocked if he gets cold feet.
“No.” Eddie croaked. “Shut the fuck up.”
Before Richie could spit out a retort, a hot little breath brushed the cleft of his ass that promptly shut him up. His teeth clacked together with how quickly his mouth shut. Holy shit, Eddie’s about to eat him out.
A hand slithered back, pulling open Richie’s cheeks a little more, before the puffs of breath dipped lower. Closer. Richie can’t help himself, hole fluttering and clenching in anticipation.
A hair-breadth away, Eddie stopped. “So desperate, Richie. So lovely.”
The words were enough to draw a moan out of him, one that spiked as the brush of lipsonskinonasshole closed over him. The barest hint of wet- of tongue pooled something delicious and volatile in Richie’s gut, yanking his groin and he can’t help but drop his head down, between his taut shoulders.
“Oh fuck.” Richie exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut as Eddie began to lave his tongue flatly across Richie, the sensation so weird yet painstakingly erotic.
Eddie’s moan, faint over Richie’s laboured breathing, broiled his arousal even more. Eddie was enjoying this. He was enjoying doing this to him.
The rasp of Eddie’s chin against his skin was electrifying, the wetness of his saliva smearing like paint around his hole as Eddie licked and sucked at him, tongue circling around the fluttering muscle like a fucking predator. Richie’s hands found their hold in the sheets, clutching at the bunching blankets like they’d save him from this delicious torture.
His nerve endings were frayed, and Richie couldn’t help the blubbering moans and cries as Eddie’s tongue pushed against him just a little firmer, his hole relenting to his tongue, allowing it to dip in just a little. The sensation was so painstakingly weird and wrong that it was even more erotic to Richie, feeling the warm swell of tears weigh in his eyes.
“God Eddie, you’re– you’re fuckin’ eating me for dinner. Aghh.” His head hung heavy below his shoulderblades as Richie’s mind rolled out from his crown like ribbon, the dumb attempt at a joke pulled under by the waves of pleasure knocking him about. The unbridled enthusiasm of Eddie’s plying mouth was heady, and the mumbled little groan his words got in response made Richie shudder evermore into his touch.
It was intoxicating, how thoroughly Eddie was messing him up, coating him thoroughly in spit and getting him sloppy, not out of necessity (Richie knows that Eddie will insist on fingering him before anyway), but out of pleasure.
“God, Rich.” Eddie said, pulling away with a smack. He rested a wet chin on Richie’s tailbone. “You ready for a finger?”
“Mmhmm… yeah.” He mumbled dumbly, mourning the loss of Eddie’s mouth on him even as the cap of the lube popped. It was so surprising and so unusual for the other man to even entertain that idea, let alone do it, so Richie’s prepared for this to be the last time he’s eaten out. But he hopes it's not. He wants to be enticing to Eddie, he wants for his ass to change Eddie irrecoverably.
“You’re so fuckin hot, Eds.” He sighed, slumping down on his forearms to keep his hips aloft as Eddie traced a lube-slickened digit around his already sloppy wet hole. He felt like the dirtiest whore, soiled by Eddie’s mouth only to be fucked to tears by his fingers, his cock and then the dildo.
Richie can’t fucking wait to get stuffed full. He shudders under the embarrassment of the thought, however his dick was no less hard and aching for it.
“Aww. I’m glad you think so.” Eddie said, voice a little scratchy but nevertheless unaffected (how does he do that). “Nobody else could get you this way, hmm? Driven mindless by your own slutty needs. You could fuck a hundred guys and you’d still be craving this, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I just– I just need you, Eddie. You need to fuck me everyday, or something– ohh.” Richie’s stupid babble was disrupted by the slip of Eddie’s finger into his ass, the resistance greatly lessened by Eddie’s tongue and the pliancy of Richie’s hole.
It was such a shock to Richie, when after that digit slipped in his hole, Eddie’s tongue came fluttering back over it, tonguing the space between his finger and Richie’s hole. Molten heat pooled in his gut.
“God, godgodgod–” He sobbed, a fat tear rolling down his cheek. It must’ve been the cocktail of conditions, the poignancy of Eddie’s jealousy, the way Richie’s put himself on edge tonight, the unfamiliarity of such forward passion and desire from Eddie, that coaxed it. Richie never cries.
Except when with Eddie. Or without Eddie. Always to do with Eddie, the biggest exception in Richie’s life. He always has been.
“Please Eddieplease– touch my dick. Touch me touchmetouchme.” He begged inanely, canting his hips upward and jutting them into Eddie’s face in a desperate effort to bring attention to his drooling dick. Eddie completely neglected it, swatting Richie’s ass cheek halfheartedly, before pulling away to focus on squeezing a second finger beside his first.
“Fuck.” Richie groaned, feeling his body jerk uncontrollably, wanting to push back but also to drive forwards, away from the pressure. It was overwhelming, Eddie’s single minded intensity in just touching him. He hasn’t even been fucking jacking off during this. It was unbelievable.
“Oh Rich, relax for me.” Eddie’s tone was so fucking condescending, but Richie thinks it’s to mask his caring words (he loves it, anyway). “You’re so fucking tight. What’s wrong with you?”
“So much. So fucking much. Touch my dick, please.” Richie nodded around his garbled pleas, but Eddie made no move to touch him.
“You could try begging.” Eddie suggested, whilst stretching Richie out with careful, kind fingers. Richie could very easily get lost in how Eddie’s fingers flexed closer and closer to his prostate, but he was too distracted by the near-sting of his orgasm on the horizon.
“Never mind– nevermind, fuck Eds, close, agh–” Richie shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut around salty tears as the first pulses of his orgasm wrangled free from his self control. But Richie should’ve known not to announce it, any stimulation from Eddie except from a stray finger caressing his hipbone ceasing immediately.
His dick struggled and sputtered, and the sparks of orgasm turned stinging, fizzling out like water-doused fire.
“No– Nono please. Eddie.” He whined, a few more tears slipping out. His body was highly strung on a thread of pleasure, and an all-encompassing need to just get Eddie’s hands back on him strangled him.
“Please touch me, f–fuck Eddie, c’mon.” He’d sob and whine and blubber so sweetly if only it meant that Eddie would continue his ministrations again. One glance down confirmed what Richie already feared– that he was still somewhat hard, even though he just came.
“I will, but only because I want to.” Eddie said, fingers back prodding at his entrance. “Need to get you ready for me. Both of me.”
“Yes. Yessss.” Richie hissed, he could fucking roll over out of happiness, but the urge was quickly suppressed by the sinking feeling of a third finger inside. It was unbelievable, actually, that this was even about to happen at all.
“God, Richie, you’re so fucking gluttonous. Look at you, can you feel how desperately your body wants me?” Eddie murmured, twisting three fingers inside him, haphazardly hitting his prostate with each brush.
“Yeah, I– yeah.” Richie moaned, feeling thoroughly lost under the weight of his humiliating words.
“Just– so fucking greedy. Only I would know how to– fuckin satisfy you. God.” Movement from behind him informed Richie that Eddie was palming his cock whilst his fingers were sunk in Richie’s hole, and that– that was just extraordinary.
Richie knows that Eddie is into him, knows they’ve been having some good fucking sex, but the bar has been raised in this moment. Something about how Eddie is treating him. Something about how pathetic and lost Richie’s feeling, tethered to earth only through pulsing pleasure.
“Please fuck me. Please, Eds.” He moaned, eyes only just open enough to catch the warmth swilling around them in this room. The way the lamplight caught on the skin of his forearm. The love pressed into his hip through Eddie’s fingertips.
“Alright.” Eddie said, and Richie stilled, waiting for the press of Eddie’s dick against him, but it never came.
Instead, Eddie’s hands shoved gently at his hips, knocking Richie’s balance and causing him to sprawl back on his side. Eddie’s face was warm, eyes big and heavy, skin red.
“You need to tell me if something hurts, okay?” He said, and Richie thought he must be meaning about the dildo, turning the rest of the way to lie on his back. But that idea was quickly sidelined to the awful, but alluring, sound of the tape.
“Fuck. Oh god.” Richie groaned, eyes catching on the shine of the black material, the way Eddie tore it, lip pulled between his teeth for a second. Eddie was.. he was…
He was everything.
“Hands out together, Rich.” He asked gently, likely catching the dazed look in Richie’s eye. “You alright? We don’t have to do this if you’re overwhelmed.”
The concept of not being tied up and bound to Eddie’s mercy was the worst thing in the world, at that moment. “No. No please, please I need you to.” He whined, feeling the pull of more tears in his eyes. Eddie’s hand was gentle on Richie’s wrist as he crossed them.
The tape was oddly non sticky, but tacky enough to bind his wrists together snugly. Richie, pliant and docile, watched Eddie extend his arms back, above Richie’s head slowly. The angle was a little awkward, but with a little bit of shifting, Richie found himself, arms extended aloft, tied to the bedframe. It was unusual for him to be this breathless at the barest of touches, but his lungs contracted helplessly, sucking in big gulps of air at this new… vulnerability. At the desire and softness in Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie could fuckin… he could tickle him, in this position, and Richie would be helpless to stop it. He could do anything, and Richie would be helpless to stop it.
He doesn’t want to stop it.
“You have to tell me, Rich. You have to tell me if it gets too much.” He said, quietly but no less serious.
“I will, I will.” Richie nodded seriously, but he was breathless. Something about this was just so… intimate. Trusting. It was addictive.
“Okay, okay. Fuck, Rich, you look so good. All mine.” Eddie murmured, eyes catching on his bound wrists like he can’t help himself.
“Always have been, s’nothing new.” Richie slurred, distantly, hands tugging a little at the tape to feel the resistance.
“Mmm. No. Not like this.” Eddie shook his head, before lying two punishing hands on Richie’s chest, pushing him down just a little more. Richie’s legs shifted at the movement, splaying out further. “I can manipulate you however I want.”
The mental image of Eddie, who already loved to manhandle Richie, being able to twist and command his body into whichever position he desired, with minimal cooperation (or input) from Richie, was fucking explosive. He can truly be just a lazy thing for Eddie to fuck, now.
Even though he was bound, Richie’s never felt more free.
“You ready for my dick, Rich?” Eddie asked, softly. One quick glance down showed Eddie rolling the condom on, hand slick around his erection.
“Please. Ugh.” Richie groaned, head lolling back in blissful agony. He feels kind of pitiful like this, helpless and needy for relief.
Eddie huffed a laugh at Richie’s theatrics, although to him it didn’t seem like an overreaction at all. Richie'd be mad about the insult of his laugh... if he didn't love being insulted.
“Slut.” Eddie said, pressing his dick against Richie’s fluttering hole. Richie would shove himself down on the barest-there pressure, if not for his arms already being fully extended. Fuck, Eddie made sure of that on purpose.
“Don’t tease me, Eds, come on now…” Richie whined, restlessly wiggling side to side (his only range of motion in this position). Eddie, for all the self-satisfied smirking on his face, seemed to be running very low on patience, too.
“Shut the fuck up, Richie.” He said, and Richie choked down a gasped oh, feeling the push of Eddie inside him. Slowly, as if Eddie was concerned he’d hurt him (even though he took his time prepping Richie), he pushed in, in, in. Richie’d even suspected he was being overly cautious on purpose, probably delighting in the way Richie’s eyes squeezed shut out of compulsion, feeling the stretch in every fibre of his being.
It would be nothing, compared to what was to come.
“So tight, still. Don’t know h–how you’ll take two.” Eddie said, breathily.
“No, no, I can. I can.” Richie strangled out around the fullness of Eddie bottoming out inside him, the brush of Eddie’s pubic bones against Richie, the coarseness of his leg hair rasping against Richie’s buttocks. It was a full on sensory experience. Richie can’t get enough.
“Not convinced, uh, you need t–to prove– fuck Rich, can I move?” Eddie spluttered, neck strained with the arch of his head backward. He was getting sidetracked, driven by compulsive twitching of his hips, his body begging him to fuck into the warmth surrounding him.
If there’s one thing Richie loves, it’s watching his composed, controlling Eddie, lose control.
It’s just too bad that Richie is also fucking desperate, or else he’d use this moment to tease the hell out of Eddie for this.
“Yeah, yeah, please move.” He moaned instead, hands abortively trying to come down to grasp Eddie’s shoulders as the other man curled over him, before he remembered his predicament.
If Richie’s honest, it kind of hurts having his arms suspended like this. Hurts in a good way, of course, the ache running a pleasant undercurrent through the pleasure, cobbling in with the sensations of Eddie pushing into him. The skittering of his pulse, throbbing alongside his neglected dick, added a nice sting to it, especially as Eddie began fucking him in earnest, shuddering his own gasps into the air above Richie.
The closeness between them was nothing new, but Richie finds that in between thrusts, there’s nothing more he wants than to reach out and pull the other man’s body into his. The deprivation of his mobility served to emphasise that want, impossibly, so much so that when Eddie stilled, nudging a finger up next to where his dick split Richie open, he was confused as to why.
And then he remembered.
“-God, fucking fuck, Eddie.” Richie moaned as Eddie circled the digit around where his dick stayed, sunk into Richie deliciously.
Eddie was smug. “No? Too much?”
“-oh, fuck you.” When his words got no response (or movement), Richie tried again. “..please, Eds.”
“That’s better. Still a– stupid greedy slut– of course.” Eddie groaned a little, leaning forward to kiss Richie on the forehead tenderly, contradicting his words. “But don’t worry, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you what you need.”
Eddie’s breathlessness was hard to ignore in the quiet, Richie’s own panting taking up space next to the sounds. It was hard for him to focus on that, however, as the stinging feeling of his hole being stretched not only around Eddie’s dick, but also his finger took his primary attention instantly.
“God– godgod fuck me, agh.” A pained little groan weaseled its way out of Richie’s mouth, left agape from the exertion of breathing.
Eddie’s finger seemed to stretch Richie’s rim impossibly wider, wiggling snugly next to where Eddie’s dick was, and coaxing his walls to just give in to the pressure. Richie sucked in a couple of deep breaths, steeling himself.
“I can take it. I can take.. more.” Richie huffed out, eyes drooping in a desperate attempt to give himself over to Eddie, to let him do whatever he wanted to him. He didn’t even need to be looking, actually, his full trust being in Eddie already.
It was so fucking hot though, the wild look in Eddie’s eyes, the dishevelment of his usual calm, high strung attitude. He too was panting, eyes glued to where his finger flexed in Richie, around the presence of his dick.
“..okay, okay.” Eddie whispered, almost to himself, before he looked back up at Richie… back up at Richie’s tied hands. The look on his face was indecipherable, almost critical.
And Richie would ask him what’s going on, but Eddie moved before he could get the words together. The rip of the tape above him and the sudden rush of freedom downed upon Richie’s body before he could comprehend what the fuck Eddie was doing.
“Wha? Eddie, what’s going–”
“Shh. I’m moving you. Be still.” Eddie said slowly, before extracting his finger out of Richie, catching deliciously on his rim in a way that made Richie moan, helplessly. Being treated like a ragdoll… There was something to this that Richie’s never fully thought about, before.
It’s like his mind was shutting down before his eyes, a fuzzy film washing over Richie, numbing any thoughts that weren’t content to just let.
Eddie’s hands nudged at his side just enough to register to Richie as an attempt to roll him over, which he did (clumsily, seeing as his wrists were still tied together if not free from the headboard). Collapsing on his front, Richie’s gaze wobbled on the rumpled pillows, his arms futilely struggling to get out from beneath him due to their bound state.
It was hot, the way Eddie tugged his hips up without regard, yanking his body backward to make space. Even hotter, was the way he bent down to kiss Richie’s lower back, his arms coming forward to help Richie sprawl out towards the headboard.
“Beautiful. So nice and malleable for me.” He murmured, and Richie could cry. He basically already is.
“Yeah… love you.” Richie blubbered, feeling his brain seep out of his ears like goo. He’s never felt like this before, so needy and yet so plussed, the urge to fidget or accelerate things forgotten with Eddie’s firm hands over him.
He’s content to give Eddie everything, give him the reins entirely, a concept so foreign that it shouldn’t slip so seamlessly into Richie’s vacant head like it always belonged, but yet.
There’s only one thing Richie’s concerned with. And that thing presses hot and heavy into the backs of his thighs where Eddie was.
“You okay? Comfy?” Eddie asked, hands caressing Richie like he was something precious.
“Yeah. S’nice.” Richie replied, before twisting his hips a little in a bad attempt to get Eddie’s attention back on his empty, squeezing hole. “You can fuck me now.”
“Oh, can I?” Eddie laughed a little, squeezing the swell of Richie’s ass. “Didn’t know I took orders from you.”
But he didn’t move to fill Richie’s ache, and Richie can feel that wretched restlessness coming back into play. He just needs to convince him more.
“Please, c’mon Eds, I'll make it so good for you.”
“Sure you will. You’re just a dumb fucking… puppy, you don’t know how to do anything else.” Eddie said, cruelly, but the words evoked a strangled, whiny moan out of Richie. He feels like a fuckin puppy, desperate and wanton for anything Eddie could give him.
“Yeah, yesss. I am, I am.” He babbled, and when Eddie’s dick bumped against Richie’s hole again, he could fucking squeal in excitement.
“Such a slut, you’re not even satiated with this. No, you need two don’t you? Just– so fuckin’, uh, greedy.” Eddie said, whilst pushing back inside Richie. The warmth felt oddly like coming home, a missing piece slotting perfectly back where it should be. Richie wants to be full all the time.
“So greedy. Yeah. M’sorry. Just…” Richie agreed, eyes squeezed shut to prevent more tedious tears from leaking out. “Need you.”
“I know.” Eddie said, kindly, before shuffling a little on the bed behind him. “You think you’re ready? It’s gonna be a tight.. fit.”
Eddie’s finger edged in alongside his dick, and Richie has no idea how the fuck Eddie’s not losing it right now. If it were him, Richie can imagine that he’d lose his self control practically instantly, fucking up into the warm heat on impulse.
He’s just better than Richie at this. He’s always been more level headed, if you were to compare the two of them. Richie’s the one who loses the plot at the barest of a wind change.
“Yeah, um, just… try, I guess. I’ll tell you.” He mumbled, suddenly a little shy although it was his idea.
“Okay..” Eddie said, and his voice was so strained. Richie can only imagine the rivulets of sweat, moistening his forehead.
The silicone of the dildo was so foreign against Richie’s skin, that at first he jolted, causing Eddie’s dick to nudge up against his prostate. The moan that weaseled its way out of him was provoked by that, but the cause was lost in translation to Eddie.
“God, you’re such a fucking slut. It’s not even inside you yet.” He muttered, and there was more shuffling behind him. “Be patient, Rich. I bought something for this– just, one second..”
The foreign sound of a click snagged Richie’s attention, and now he really can feel the presence of the dildo behind him, tucked up beneath Eddie’s dick and nudging against him between his legs. The smear of the excess lube from the dildo rubbed on Richie’s skin.
The image came to him in a rush. Of the (supposed) harness that Eddie’d fucking bought for this, so he’d be able to fuck Richie in earnest, truly make Richie drunk out of his mind on his dick– his two dicks.
“Christ, god Eddie. Is that…”
“Yeah, yeah, just– ohgod,” Eddie’s voice broke off into a breathy moan as his fingers quested around Richie’s rim, feeling the pliancy of him. “Fuck, it’s like you’re widening up for me, you don’t even really need another fucking finger.”
The tugging of fingertips on his already stretched out hole was slightly painful, the sparks shooting up Richie’s nerves.
“Please, please just hurry up– god I can’t take much more of this.” The inaction was fraying Richie’s resilience, dousing cloying impatience on his fuzzy, dumbed down glow.
It was like his dick didn’t even exist anymore, the desperation of his erection wholeheartedly forgotten as Eddie’s hand left his skin, reaching down to push the head of the dildo against his puffy rim. The stretch was impossible, and yet…
“Ohmy– fucking GOD,” He squealed, hands scrambling for awkward purchase on the sheets (and failing), ending up stretching out and flailing stupidly around the tape.
Eddie’s voice was thick with disbelief. “What the fuck, Rich– you, you’re fucking.. taking it. How the fuck…”
“‘M made for it, remember?” He groaned, lazily. Richie’s head dropped low, nose and forehead brushing against the blankets as the slow, but steady stretch of the dildo in his ass filled him, alongside Eddie’s dick.
It was heady, it was erotic, it should be impossible. Should be painful, but it wasn't.
“I’m gonna– haah, ruin you for anyone.. anyone else.” Eddie huffed, his breathing picking up with exertion as the dildo sunk fully into Richie’s ass, Eddie’s hand coming back up to rest heavily on his lower back as he sucked in some stabilising breaths. The pressure was intrusive, but Richie forced himself to stay still as he flexed around the two dicks inside him.
It was literally a fucking dream come true. He’s never been harder in his life. Or more out of his mind, his vision growing wavy as if he were drunk.
Is he drunk? It feels like it, with his eyes getting dazed and head emptying out like it always does when he drinks. Richie’s literally drunk on dick, stuffed full and then some. It might be the greatest day of his stupid fucking life.
Eddie’s hips were twitching incessantly, and the distant, dulling pain of his fingers digging into Richie’s hips distracted him from the busy job of lying still and fussing over his current state.
“Eds.” He said, burying his face in the sheets evermore.
“Mm–huh?”
“Please fucking move.” It was humiliating to have to ask, but Richie literally doesn’t care anymore. Nothing could get him to care, the hunger inside him growing too great– and too unstable for him to be conscious about anything but getting fucked.
Richie doesn’t know why he was expecting Eddie to respond, but instead he was met with a guttural groan, the thin tendrils of Eddie’s supposed self control snapping as his hips drew back, dicks rasping as they pulled mostly out, only to snap back in again, recklessly.
“Fucking– god, Rich, so tight.” Eddie moaned and Richie was helpless not to whimper back, feeling thoroughly split in half as Eddie’s pace picked up, fucking the two dicks into him without regard.
The seeming carelessness of Eddie’s demeanour was electrifying, and with each thrust the thought was pushed into Richie more and more. That he’s nothing but a fuck toy for Eddie, made just to accept whatever Eddie decided to fuck him with, as his boyfriend chased his own pleasure.
Obviously, Richie concedes privately, most of that is incorrect or a large over exaggeration of their dynamic– however the degrading thoughts only pushed him higher, charged with the slapping of his own dick against his stomach as Eddie’s hips snapped into him quicker and quicker. Setting a punishing pace that only served to fuck out Richie’s hole even more.
“-Please, please.” Richie begged, unsure what he was actually asking for. It was only when drips of salt hit his bottom lip that Richie realised that he was openly sobbing, feeling rubbed raw and hypersensitive, the climb of his orgasm exhilarating but also daunting– judging off of last time.
“G–god Richie, I love it when you– you get fucking dumb like this.” Eddie groaned, his tone adoring before slipping into laboured breath. And Richie– Richie can’t take it anymore.
Eddie’s dick angled up, just enough to give the dildo a joltingly different angle, but incidentally drove right into Richie’s prostate, hitting it bang on. The gasp that Richie choked out was garbled, muddled with tears.
“Holy fuck– Eddie. The eel- fuck.” He blubbered inanely, feeling a molten pool of ecstasy gather like honey in his gut. His dick practically had a mind of its own, now, what with how it jerked to life untouched as Eddie assaulted Richie’s prostate.
“Wha– the eel?”
“The eel. Aghh.” Richie nodded seriously, before his voice dropped off in a bottomless whine.
Richie’s a fucking genius. Now that he’s got it– a wild, bucking Eddie fucking him into the next dimension, he doesn’t know how the fuck he’s lived so many years deprived of it. Deprived of him.
He could almost feel sorry for using that beer guy as a pawn in his game, except for how fucking worth it it was to receive this.
“I’m– ‘m gonna cum, fuck Eds–” He eked out, the crashing waves of pleasure pooling in his gut, crashing down upon his head like waves, filling his nostrils with the sweetest sting of sea water, before–
Eddie’s palm, wrapped around Richie’s swinging erection, his pace faltering as he jacked Richie once, twice, then:
“Do it– fuck, Richie, cum for me.” And the relief, the sweet, sweet relief erupted out of him like an explosion.
Richie slumped forward, wet cheeks digging into the bed sheets as he screamed, his hips jerking erratically, pushing back on Eddie and the dildo as his dick pulsed, the coil of orgasm snapping harshly across the bedsheets as Richie’s vision drowned in white.
And it wasn’t long until Eddie himself, with one drawn out, lovely moan, came. He bucked abortively into Richie through it, hand stilling on Richie’s dick from its strokes, emptying his load inside Richie– well, inside the condom, but still.
“Fuck.” Eddie groaned, and his hand pulled away to steady Richie’s hips, of which already felt weak, threatening to collapse onto the bed before Eddie could pull out.
Not that Richie cared, no, he was in bliss– he was in fuckin heaven, for all he knows. Mind floating on some kind of soft cloud, carried down a lazy river with a sated smile on his face. The desperation, the calamity, inside his mind practically dropped off, and Richie let himself sink to the bottom of the pool.
“You– you okay?” Eddie puffed out, before whining a little. “I need to pull out, Rich.”
“‘Kay,” Richie said, muffled by the sheets. “I’m… i’m…”
“Fucked out.” Eddie finished for him, gingerly edging both his dick and the dildo out of Richie’s ass, squeezing the dildo out first as he unclasped the harness.
“..Beyond fucked out. Obliterated.” Richie said, yawning. “Tired, too.”
“You always do this.” Eddie said, and his annoyed tone would’ve worked if he could stave off the fondness in it. The loss of the fullness inside Richie was jarring as Eddie pulled out, but he could feel the remnants of it, reminders thick in the gape of his hole.
He could hear Eddie’s groan as he looked at Richie, undoubtedly seeing the redness of his rim, before he shifted, chucking something (the condom?) in the bin by their bed before collapsing alongside Richie.
“Do you– oh shit, I forgot about your hands.” Eddie said, gaze catching on Richie’s still-bound wrists, stretched out above him.
“oh, yeah, feels a little sore now.” Richie realised, distantly. He too had forgotten about the tape, so lost in the afterglow that he couldn’t spare one single thought to the aching in his wrists.
Eddie shuffled upwards, before cutting the tape free, peeling it off of his wrists tenderly. He took each arm in hand, inspecting the joint before rubbing it a little with such kind attentiveness that Richie could throw up. In a good way.
“Should’ve said something. They look a little red. I have a cream–” Eddie said, a tenure of stress creeping into his voice before Richie interrupted.
“No, no, later I promise. Wanna sleep now, please?”
“You’re all sweaty though. And sore. I’ll cuddle you soon, promise.” Eddie said, twisting around to their bedside and pulling open a drawer. Richie turned his head, observing blearily the tube that Eddie squeezed between his fingers.
“Did I… was it good?” He asked, sleepily.
“Yeah, oh my god Richie. Yes. You did so well. So lovely for me.” Eddie rushed to say, pulling one of Richie’s wrists up to kiss it before gently rubbing in lotion. “I love you so much. Jesus. Don’t know how you put up with me.”
“Mmm, love you too.” He murmured, eyes cracking open just enough to see the dopey smile on Eddie’s face, softened by the atmosphere around them. “Best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Me or the sex?”
“You, spagheds. Who else would give me such a mind-numbing fucking?” Richie asked, humour slipping into his voice.
“Probably not the guy at the bar.” Eddie replied, a private smile, one just for Richie, curving his mouth up like he couldn’t help it. Richie loves him.
“Definitely not the guy at the bar.”