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The thing is, Richie’s never been fucked before.
It’s not that he hasn’t thought about it — he definitely has, extensively, in detail, late at night with one hand over his mouth and his other hand two-to-three-fingers deep, wrist aching and cock dripping a sticky puddle against his quivering stomach.
He’s done the fucking, many times. Apparently people like the tall and gangly thing in college. He’s had it moaned in his ear on numerous occasions, panting so fucking bigs, partners gripping at his hair and raking their nails down his back and desperately gripping at his ass while he does his best to fuck them through the mattress, or the wall, or the floor on several memorable occasions.
He’s had people shaking around his cock and rocking back into his thrusts and begging him for more loud enough that neighbors bang on the wall, which definitely helped his ego.
He’s had Eddie Kaspbrak on top of him, flushed and panting, riding his cock and whining at the stretch of it, falling apart in his arms with the sweetest noises he’s ever heard. And he’s enjoyed it, Richie loves fucking his partners, he loves making them feel good, he loves being the one to ruin them the way that they want to be ruined.
He just — wouldn’t mind being ruined himself, every once in a while.
And then Eddie curls up to his chest after giving him a spiritual fucking experience sucking his cock, and whispers want me to fuck you, Rich? with this low little growl in his voice, and Richie can’t stop thinking about it.
It’s been a few weeks since The Best Night of His Life, as Richie’s taken to affectionately calling it (capitalization very necessary, thank you very much), and things have been good. Like, insanely good. Holy-shit-what-the-fuck kind of good.
He’d half-expected it to be all fumbled handjobs in the back of his car and frantic grinding on Eddie’s bed while Stan was out of their dorm, and that’s definitely happened, don’t get him wrong, but there’s also, like. Hand holding, and stuff. Stolen kisses between classes and petnames that Eddie only scrunches his nose at a little bit, late-night phone calls that end in sleepy I love yous and coffee dates where Eddie tries to hide his smile when Richie remembers how he takes his coffee (black, only a little bit of sugar, he always pulls a face at how tooth-achingly sweet Richie likes his own coffee but still leans across the table to take a sip every time, and it’s kind of gross just how fucking goopy it makes Richie’s heart feel). Because they’re dating, Eddie Kaspbrak is his boyfriend, it makes him feel all kinds of giddy just to think about.
They haven’t seen each other much the past few days, though, and Richie kind of hates just how much he’s missed him, but there’s not much they’ve been able to do about it because it’s finals week.
Richie doesn’t think he’s ever been this fucking stressed in his life. He’s living off ramen noodles at 2am and chain-smoking next to the window in his dorm to stop the shaking of his hands, he’s snappy and his jokes are shittier than they’ve ever been, and it's all because he can’t stop fucking thinking about what it would be like to feel Eddie press him into his mattress and fuck him until he sobs.
See, Eddie has a nice dick. It’s not, like, a monster cock or whatever, but it’s thick and flushes the prettiest shade of red and seriously, he fucking drips when he’s turned on. Richie always ends up desperately licking up Eddie’s cum, which helps with clean up, even if Eddie does go extra red in the face and call him gross for it.
Every time Richie licks over the dripping slit of his cock, or runs his thumb over the underside of his head, or sucks him down until his throat aches, all he can picture is what it would be like if Eddie were to finger him open and press him into the bed, hold him down with a bruising grip on his hips, slide that pretty cock inside him and fucking destroy him.
So Richie wants it, he really fucking wants it, like if he still believed in a mystical man in red he would have put it right up the top of his christmas wishlist, followed by several other increasingly filthy things that he very much wants Eddie Kaspbrak to do to him.
Richie’s just never been very good about asking for what he wants. The more that he wants something, the more terrifying it seems, out of reach and impossible to talk about.
They finally have enough time alone to do more than frantically jerk off together, Eddie’s pressing a trail of sweet-for-now kisses down the length of his neck and it feels good, it does, but Richie’s having a hard time thinking about anything other than the way that he wants his boyfriend to just fuck him already.
Eddie seems to sense this, leaning back where he’s perched all pretty on Richie’s lap. They’re on Eddie’s bed, backed up against the headboard, because Stan is out pulling a late-nighter with Bill and Ben at the library, and Stan had agreed to spend the night in the Tozier-Denbrough dorm so long as Richie and Eddie didn’t tag along to the library. Richie specifically was very firmly not invited, because he always ended up distracting them and none of them get any work done.
“It’s f-fuh-fine for you,” Bill had said, only vaguely apologetic. “You’ve n-never failed a class in your life, I’m pretty sure you’re, like, incapable of f-f-f- fuck -” and then Ben had chimed in, “We just think it’s better if it’s the three of us.” before Riche could get off a joke about being very proficient in fucking, thank you very much. He’d grinned and leered at them and made a joke about a threesome that made Ben turn bright red while Stan dryly beep-beep ’d him and Eddie slapped at his arm.
“Okay,” Eddie frowns down at him, ever so slightly taller than Richie himself from where he’s raised up on his knees. “What’s wrong? Usually you have a hand down my pants by this point.”
Richie cringes a little because, well, he’s not wrong. They’re both already shirtless, and Eddie’s been lazily grinding against him for the better part of ten minutes, and Richie would usually be marking up his shoulders and frantically tugging at the hem of his little pajama shorts, yellow with white polka-dots because Eddie Kaspbrak is the cutest person who’s ever existed, ever.
Instead he’s got his hands at ten-and-two on Eddie’s hips like they’re at a strictly chaperoned middle school dance while Eddie sucks a mark behind his ear.
“It’s nothing,” Richie grins, raising one of his hands to adjust his glasses where they’ve started sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Guess I’m just distracted.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. He’s always been the most observant, other than Stan. He’s always been the best at reading Richie, period. “Distracted by what?”
“Nothing!” Eddie leans away from the kiss that Richie tries to land on his cheek.
“Richie.” Eddie tugs at the curls at the base of his neck scoldingly. “Can you talk to me, please?”
Fuck, he hates when Eddie uses That Voice, like he has all of the world’s problems on his shoulders and only Richie can get rid of them. Richie goes to adjust his glasses again. Eddie rolls his eyes and knocks Richie’s hand out of the way as he takes the glasses off and sets them aside neatly. Richie blinks hard for a few moments. He’s always felt particularly vulnerable without his glasses, things get blurrier the further away they are, but he sees the smile at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and feels those hands settle against either side of his jaw, and he doesn’t mind being vulnerable so long as he’s with Eddie.
It’s that thought that makes him say, “It’s just. D’you think you could, like. Top tonight, or whatever.”
Eddie blinks. He sweeps a soothing thumb over the curve of his jaw. “Rich, yeah, of course. Is that what you’ve been worrying about?”
“‘Course not, spaghetti man! My biggest worry is, and always will be, thinking of how to break the news to your mother that I’m not in love with her anymore. That and, y’know. The fact that I’ve been fucking her son.”
Eddie heaves a put-upon sigh. “Why do I like you?”
“It’s my dashing good looks.”
“No, that can’t be it.”
“Hey, fuck you!”
Eddie laughs into the kiss that he presses to Richie mouth, and Richie grins right back, and it takes several moments for them to stop smiling enough to be able to actually kiss. Eddie hums as he sweetly licks at his lip. Richie makes a hurt little sound when Eddie leans back before he can get his tongue in his mouth.
“Stop complaining!” Eddie laughs, poking at his nose and laughing again when Richie goes cross-eyed to look at it. “God, you’re so cute, what the fuck. Stop it. I’m gonna break up with you.”
“For being too cute?”
“Yeah. There’s only room for one cute person in this relationship and it’s me, motherfucker.”
Richie grins. “There’s only room for one mother fucker in this relationship and it’s me, cutie.”
Eddie drops his head to press his laughter to Richie’s shoulder. “God, you’re the worst, I love you so much.”
“Aw, I love you too, Eds.” Richie smacks a kiss to his temple.
“Okay,” Eddie says, but it sounds more like he’s talking to himself. “Okay.” he repeats as he lifts his head, “So. You want me to fuck you?”
Richie goes hot all over. Eddie’s got this serious look in his eyes. He’s very shirtless and he has a very nice, like, everything. Years of high school track and his recent weekend kickboxing has done wonders for what was once a scrawny kid, hidden muscles in the lean length of his arms and the thickness of his thighs. Eddie’s been vocal about the way that his stomach is a little too soft for his own taste, the slope of his waist a little too curvy, his disdain for the layer of soft skin around his hips that never seems to go away no matter how many hours he spends in the gym, but Richie loves nothing more than pressing bruises into the sensitive skin there and hearing the way that Eddie groans his name.
Eddie just might be the hottest person Richie’s ever seen and he definitely wants to be fucked by him. “Yeah, that’d be. Pretty cool. Or whatever.”
“If you’re going to describe my dick as pretty cool or whatever then you’re definitely not getting fucked.” Eddie raises an eyebrow.
Richie raises his hands in surrender. “Okay! Yes, please fuck me, thank you.”
“That’s more like it.” Eddie nods, grabbing Richie’s hands to settle them back on his waist. Richie beams, squeezing at the soft skin there. There’s a faded hickey peeking out from the waistband of Eddie’s cute little shorts. Richie gave it to him only the week before, because he gets bitey when he sucks his boyfriend off and Eddie likes the way that it feels when Richie sinks his teeth into his hips, or his shoulders, or his neck, or anywhere.
Neither of them are really hard anymore, not the way they were before, but Eddie rocks his half-hard cock against Richie’s and they both know that there won’t be any problem getting there again.
Eddie pants in his ear, ah ah ah as he squirms on his lap. Richie thumbs over his nipples and grins at the moan he gets for it, drags his hands over trembling thighs, gets his hands down the back of his shorts and gropes at his ass. Eddie hums, a pleased mm Rich as he rakes his fingers through Richie’s hair, holds his head close to his chest and gives a choked-off groan when Richie gets his mouth on one of his nipples. Eddie’s chest is flushed pink and he jerks into Richie’s touch. He gives a delighted sound as Richie laps at him. Richie knows that by this point that it just feels good for Eddie, he doesn’t get oversensitive and twitchy the way that Richie does when his nipples are so much as touched.
Eddie arches into him, panting, “Just like that, fuck, your fucking mouth.” and Richie grins, grazing his teeth against him while Eddie makes more of those sweet noises high in his throat.
Eddie moves with him as Richie tugs his shorts down, lifts his knees to help and scoldingly nips at his lip when Richie flings it towards Stan’s side of the room. Eddie’s cock leaves a wet smear where it presses into Richie’s stomach and he shivers at the feel of it.
“Get your stupid boxers off.” Eddie mumbles against his mouth.
Richie huffs back, “Dinosaurs are cool, you dick.” as he shucks them off, wriggling until Eddie rolls his eyes and shuffles off his lap. Richie misses the warm weight of him immediately but Eddie ducks out of reach when Richie tries to pull him back in.
“I wanna fuck you.” Eddie says matter-of-factly. He sweeps a hand through his hair, pushing back stray locks that have fallen into his eyes. He looks so fucking good what the fuck, all hard angles and soft lines, faded bruises and hickeys all over, cock flushed and dripping and so pretty, god Richie wants to get his mouth on him. Eddie clearly sees this and narrows his eyes, snapping his fingers in Richie’s face. “Hey, you’re either sucking me off or getting fucked, there’s no way I’ll be able to go twice.”
“Just don’t come?”
Eddie looks at him like he’s being ridiculous. “Have you seen you? There’s no way it won’t be over in, like, five seconds if you blow me.”
Richie tries not to preen but, well. Good to know that Eddie likes his mouth as much as he likes his cock.
“How do you want me?”
Eddie taps his chin. “On your stomach? It’ll probably be easier like that.”
“Aye aye.” Richie grabs one of Eddie’s pillows and slides past him to place it at the foot of his bed, flopping face-down onto it.
Eddie laughs and reaches out to tug at his arm, saying, “No, like this.”
Richie lets Eddie move him easily, settles on his stomach with his arms folded under his chin and his legs stretched out. Eddie gives an appreciative hum at the sight of him and Richie grins, wiggling his hips teasingly until Eddie laughs and tells him to stop moving.
“Sir yes sir.” Richie stills. He’s not scared, he’s not, but there’s still a low throb of something a little like anxiety in his gut as he hears Eddie click the cap of the lube. Eddie seems to sense this, leaning in closer and gentling his voice.
“Hey, if it’s uncomfortable or you don’t like it or you just don’t want to do this, let me know, okay?”
“Yeah, Eds, I know that.” And he does, he trusts Eddie more than anyone in his life. He knows without a doubt that Eddie would stop if either of them felt anything other than completely ready to do this. It’s with this thought that Richie settles back down, wiggling his hips again with a cheerful. “Do your worst, stud.” that has Eddie wheezing a disbelieving laugh.
“I don’t know why I like you so much.” Eddie sighs. Before Richie can shoot off a retort, Eddie spreads Richie open with a gentle press to one of his cheeks, making a low sound of delight. Richie’s face blazes at the thought that Eddie can see, like, everything. He wants to shrink into the bedsheets almost as much as he wants to arch his back and make the sight as pleasing as he can. “You look good like this,” Eddie murmurs, shifting closer.
Richie tenses, expecting the cold touch of lube he’s begun to expect when it comes to fingering himself, but instead he gets the warm slick press of Eddie’s finger around his hole, gentle and sweeping. Because Eddie is a sweetheart, and of course he warmed up the lube beforehand.
Richie is a go-getter through and through, he doesn’t do slow, he drizzles lube over his fingers and gets them in his own ass like it’s a timed event. Eddie isn’t like that.
Every movement is gentle, brushing over him. He keeps Richie steadied with his free hand, pinning him to the bed as he finally sinks a finger in. Richie’s spine tingles with it, the new feeling of being opened up by something other than his own fingers.
Eddie fucks him like this for a while, slow and easy. There’s a wet squelch with every slow push that makes his face prickle with heat. Richie hums and nods when he feels another finger brush against him. The stretch is easy, not quite aching, he’s sharply aware of every inch of his own body as Eddie presses his fingers in deep.
The slick slide of Eddie’s fingers inside him is good, but it’s nothing mind-blowing or life-changing.
Richie feels warm all over, in a not-quite-uncomfortable way that makes his skin feel too tight. And then Eddie presses a sweet kiss to his shoulder as he crooks his fingers, and Richie doesn’t feel much of anything other than holy fucking shit because Eddie’s fingers aren’t quite as long or as thick as his own but he knows how to fucking use them. Richie dazedly realizes that he’s never reached his own prostate before and fuck he’s been missing out.
Richie garbles something into the pillow that might have once been Eddie’s name. He feels an amused little laugh just above his shoulder blade. Eddie sucks a mark there, harsh and biting and achingly good, as he fucks him open with those gorgeous goddamn fingers of his. The noises Richie’s making are embarrassing, high-pitched and almost whiny, muffled against the cotton pillow. His hips are trembling and his thighs shaking and he frantically scrabbles for purchase against hypoallergenic sheets when Eddie makes a soothing little noise and adds another finger.
The stretch doesn’t hurt, it’s so fucking good, he wants Eddie to spend forever gently fingering him and whispering sweet words against the expanse of his back that make him feel like he’s going to fall apart.
“Good boy, Rich. Take it so well for me.” Eddie murmurs, crooking his fingers, and then again when he gets a whiny little Eds for his efforts. Every gentle press gets him another one of those noises. “ Fuck , sound so fucking good.”
Richie’s face burns where it’s hidden by the pillow. He can’t get his knees under himself like this and settles for desperately lifting his hips into each press.
“You ready, or do you want me to finger you some more?” Eddie’s voice is lower than he’s heard it before. It makes his head spin.
“I’m good, I’m ready, get your dick inside me. Please and thank you.”
Eddie snorts a laugh. “How romantic.” There’s another wet sound as he slides his fingers out, and Richie makes a displeased little noise at how achingly empty he suddenly feels. “Okay,” Eddie pats at his sweaty side. “How do you want it, baby?”
Richie’s hips jerk, just a little, and his brain fizzes out for a second because baby . It takes several moment before he can wheeze out, “Just like this, just fuckin’ — go to town, Eds.”
Eddie laughs, reaching over him for the packet of condoms. Something uncomfortable settles in the base of Richie’s spine at the sound of the tearing packet, and before he can stop himself, he blurts,
“Do we — I mean. We don’t need a condom, right? You’re clean, and I know I am, so. We could just. Not.”
Several beats of silence follow. Richie squirms, pressing his face further into the pillow like he could suffocate himself in lavender-scented cotton. Right as he hunches his shoulders up around his ears and opens his mouth to apologize, he feels Eddie press in close, surprisingly strong chest pressed to his sweat-slick back. Eddie noses behind his ear sweetly, voice a low murmur. “You want me to fuck you bare, baby?”
Another one of those shameful little noises escape Richie, and he desperately grinds against the soft sheets.
“Oh, you do.” Eddie sounds delighted. “You want me to come inside you, fill you up like the good boy you are? Jesus, Rich, that’s filthy.”
Holy shit, Richie loves him so fucking much. He says as much, turns his head and pants a shaky little, “Yeah, want it, fuckin’ love you, please.” that Eddie makes a cooing little aw sound at.
Eddie reaches for the lube instead, and Richie’s entire body tingles as he hears the wet sound of Eddie fisting at his own cock. A moment later he feels the blunt pressure of that cock against his hole, and a whine catches in his throat as Eddie guides himself forward. The stretch isn’t overwhelming, it’s a low ache that feels a thousand times better than any amount of fingers he’s ever had inside himself. He feels every inch, every vein, every subtle rock of Eddie’s hips as he sinks in until his hips meet Richie’s ass.
Eddie shushes him almost soothingly as Richie sobs, but he doesn’t need to be soothed, he needs to be fucked until he can’t think, thank you very much. He tries to express this by arching back onto his cock, rolling his hips, mumbling Eddie’s name desperately. And Eddie, bless his heart, presses a steadying hand to his lower back as he pulls back slowly. Richie just about falls apart under the feeling of him, slick and wet and fucking perfect moving inside of him, and then Eddie slams back in and Richie’s shout comes out as a wet sob, back arching and toes curling and fingers frantically scrabbling for purchase against those bedsheets.
“There we go.” Eddie sounds pleased, drawing back just as slow as before. His next thrust punches the breath out of Richie’s chest and he fucking loves it. They fall into an easy rhythm, Eddie picking up the pace until he’s railing Richie into the mattress like it’s his job and he’s aiming for employee of the fucking forever.
Richie doesn’t have enough space to gather his knees under himself to rock back into the thrusts, settles for pressing into them as much as he can with Eddie pinning him to the bed.
“Fuck,” Eddie rasps in his ear, “You’re so fucking tight, Rich, feel so good. Doing so well, taking it like a good boy.”
Richie outright whines at that, low and a little broken in his chest. Eddie groans right back and goes from a punishing pace to something slower, dirtier, a filthy grind in deep that has Richie whining ah ah ah high in his throat as he desperately arches his back.
“You like that, baby? You like being good for me?”
Richie nods frantically. Each slow roll of Eddie’s hips has him trembling, full-bodied, panting open-mouthed against the pillow. It’s sticky under his cheek he’s been drooling a little, it should be gross but it’s fucking hot the way that Eddie is making a mess of him. He wants Eddie to wreck him.
“‘Course you do. My good boy.” Eddie says breathlessly. And Richie isn’t going to be the person who cries during sex, he’s not , the wetness in the corners of his eyes are just a purely physical reaction and not because he knows that Eddie genuinely thinks that he’s good, that he’s doing well for him, that he deserves to be praised and loved the way that Eddie is loving him.
If his next sob comes out a little wetter, a little more broken around the edges, no one needs to know but him.
Eddie’s tight grip is bound to leave bruises on his hips and Richie can’t fucking wait to see them afterwards. He loves Eddie so fucking much, loves the way he’s fucking him, loves the endless litany of muttered praises pouring from his mouth.
“Hold on,” Eddie presses a kiss to the back of his neck before pulling back, enough that Richie’s skin prickles with the sudden lack of Eddie pressed along his back. An upset little sound leaves him unbidden when Eddie shuffles back and Richie is suddenly achingly empty. Eddie huffs a laugh and nudges at one of his thighs. “Lift up.”
Richie’s face prickles with heat when he realizes what Eddie is asking of him. He shifts and raises his left leg, hitched up by his side while the other is still stretched out. Eddie slides back into him, wet and easy in a way that makes his ears burn.
Oh, he thinks dazedly, because Eddie gets in fucking deep like this.
They don’t talk for a while after that, Eddie takes him apart with each slow roll of his hips. Richie can feel it in his chest, the way that Eddie is fucking him so good, it makes him gasp for air through the blinding ache of good that sits in his ribcage. His fingers are tingling, his thighs shaking, chest heaving.
Eddie runs a hand through the hair at the base of his neck and Richie becomes painfully aware of the sweaty curls gathered there. And then Eddie is sharply tugging on them, and for a brief moment Richie isn’t aware of anything but the sting in his scalp and the way it makes pleasure swoop low in his gut.
“Eddie. ” Richie croaks out, his voice wrecked. Eddie makes a pleased little mm at the sound of it, tugging again, a little harder this time. Richie knows that he’s making a fucking mess of Eddie’s nice sheets, his cock is dripping at this point, he knows that there’ll be a puddle of cum there by the end of this and he knows that Eddie will inevitably complain about it, but for now he delights in the feeling of Eddie fucking him into a slow grind against the sticky sheets.
“Lift your hips for me, baby.” Eddie sweeps a hand over his back. Richie obeys easily, even as his thighs shake and Eddie has to grip his hips to stop him from collapsing until he can get his own legs under control again. “Fuck, there we go.” The awe in Eddie’s voice makes Richie turn to press his face into the pillow, cheeks flaming. “Look so good for me, what the fuck. How the fuck are you this hot?”
Richie grins, his reply coming out muffled. “Au naturel, sweetcheeks.”
“I’m looking at a pair of sweet cheeks.” Eddie drags his nails up Richie’s thighs, cupping his ass almost affectionately. Richie barks a delighted laugh, shoulders shaking as he turns his head to peer over his shoulder.
“Kaspbrak gets off a good one!”
Eddie’s beaming, flushed right down to his chest like always. His usually neat hair is swept back, untidy strands curling around his temples and the base of his neck. Richie’s heart hurts, for a moment, with how good Eddie looks, how much he loves him. He desperately wishes for his glasses to be able to see the shine in his eyes, the little dimples that show up when he really smiles, the freckles that stand out when Eddie blushes. It’s a nice sight, regardless.
“If you'd stop running your fucking trashmouth,” Eddie teases. “I’d actually be able to get off a good one, you asshole.”
Richie lifts a hand in a lazy salute as he settles back against the pillow. “Oh, aye aye captain, my mistake, I thought that you liked trashing my mouth.”
Eddie shakes with laughter behind him, even as he gets back to fucking him, slow barely-there rocks of his hips. Richie sighs, pleased, at the slick slide of it, a little deeper with every movement, until he feels sharp hipbones pressing into his ass.
“There we go.” Richie arches his back a little more, shivering at the way that it gets Eddie just that little bit deeper into him. “God, fuck, I’m never topping again.”
Eddie laughs, bright and surprised. “Oh, fuck you, just say that you’re a switch and go.”
“Fuck you!”
“That’s literally what I’m trying to do. ” Eddie settles back into his fast pace from the start, punching little ahs out of Richie with each thrust. It’s easy to lose himself to the feeling of it, the way that Eddie is fucking taking him apart. And then Eddie reaches around to grab his cock, and Richie makes an embarrassing noise. It only takes a few strokes, Eddie twisting his wrist at the head and rubbing his thumb over him just the way that he likes, for Richie to know that he’s not going to last.
Eddie licks over the bite on his spine from earlier, presses a kiss to the tender skin there, and that’s what does it; Eddie can fuck him hard and dirty as much as they both want it, but nothing makes him come harder than when Eddie treats him gently, like he’s something precious.
“Eds, Eddie, fuck.” Richie tenses and shakes apart. He spills over Eddie’s hand with a broken whine. He’s pretty sure that he fucking blacks out for a second, his vision goes fuzzy around the edges and his ears ring with it.
“There we go, Rich, so good for me.” Eddie grunts. Richie shakes with every thrust, it’s not quite painful but it’s a lot, being fucked without the pleasure of coming behind it. It aches. Richie doesn’t think that he minds.
“C’mon,” Richie gasps out, “fuckin’ use me, Eds.”
Eddie makes a punched-out little groan, fucks in rougher than before, takes him apart with the slick slide of his cock and the scrape of blunt nails down his sides. Richie doesn’t get it, not really, he doesn’t get why it makes Eddie fuck into him hard and fast and suck marks across his shoulders and make those desperate little noises, like the very thought of it is making his fucking brain explode. Richie doesn’t really get it, but he fucking loves the end result, so he rolls his hips back into each thrust and slurs, “Be good for you, let you use me, whatever you want, just for you.”
“Fucking filthy, Rich.” Eddie hisses, hips stuttering as he presses in deep, lays himself out along Richie’s back. Richie grins dazedly. Fuck yeah, he is.
“Hey,” Richie reaches back to grasp at one of Eddie’s fucking perfect thighs. “Eds, baby, want you to come in me.”
“Fuck .” Eddie stifles his moan in Richie’s shoulder, sinking his teeth in deep. Richie shudders at the feeling of Eddie slowly rolling his hips against his ass, the sudden flood of warmth that he moans at. “There we go, baby.” Eddie whispers, forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. “God, you took it so fucking well for me.”
Richie gives a shaky laugh. Every part of him is shaky, his fingers are trembling and his eyelashes fluttering and his thighs wobbling where he desperately tries to hold up his own weight. Eddie leans forward to press a series of kisses to the side of his face, and Richie grins at the simple affection behind it. They both groan a little as Eddie pulls away. Richie lets himself collapse, legs finally giving out.
Richie’s never felt so fucked-out in his life. His limbs feel like fucking jello, he’s a sentient pile of goop, he’s completely goddamn boneless, he never wants to move from this spot on the bed again unless it’s to get fucked by Eddie Kasbprak.
“Rich,” Eddie murmurs from behind him. Richie preens a little, at the awe in his voice.
He feels gentle fingers brush over the back of his leg. He twitches as they sweep over the back of his knee, gasps a little at the feeling of them trailing up his thigh. “Eds,” he starts to say, interrupts himself on a sharp inhale at the feeling of two fingers sinking back into him. The slide is impossibly smooth, the sound of it has his face burning , because Eddie is fingering his own come back into Richie’s ass. It’s hotter than it has any right to be, he rocks into the mattress desperately and back against his fingers.
Eddie makes an apologetic little noise, brushing his free hand over Richie’s lower back as he withdraws his fingers. “Sorry. It was just….hot.”
“Holy shit.” Richie’s voice comes out muffled from where his face is buried in his own arms. “Holy shit. What the fuck.”
“Did I break you?”
“I think so.” Richie huffs. “Do that again, holy shit.”
Eddie doesn’t move for a few seconds, and Richie’s face prickles with heat, ready to take it back, laugh it off. And the those fingers are sliding back into him, slow and deep, until Richie’s panting and whining because his whole body aches and he feels like a fucking livewire, every inch of his skin prickling, it’s too much, it’s fucking perfect.
“Okay,” he gasps out. “Okay, that’s, that’s enough, fuck.”
Eddie laughs a little, gently sliding his fingers back out again. “God, you’re so gross.”
“You literally started it, you absolute gremlin.”
“I don’t see your point.” Eddie settles by Richie’s side, curled up around him. There’s a lot of sweaty skin pressing together and it’s a little uncomfortable but Richie doesn’t mind, he presses into the kiss that Eddie leans forward to give him. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste, especially compared to what they just did, but it still makes adoration burn bright in his chest. He loves this boy so much he can’t stand it sometimes.
“C’mon,” Eddie says after a few minutes, pushing himself away with a final kiss to the corner of Richie’s mouth. “I feel fucking gross, we need a shower.”
“I can’t feel my legs!” Richie protests. Eddie slaps at his side lightly.
“Then I’ll help you walk, you baby, get up.”
Richie ends up being able to stand himself. He sticks his tongue out at Eddie as he passes him, and Eddie sticks his tongue out right back.
Stan and Eddie share a nicer dorm than the Tozier-Denbrough’s, they have a tiny little bathroom with a tiny little shower that Richie and Eddie both squeeze into. Richie ducks his head to let Eddie lather vanilla-scented shampoo into his hair, and Eddie hums with a pleased smile while Richie rubs him over with the grossly expensive sugar scrub that he always buys. Afterwards Eddie shimmies into a pair of dark blue pajama pants that are too long for him and drag along the floor when he walks. A part of Richie mourns the loss of those thighs, but Eddie looks impossibly cute with his too-long pants, rummaging around through the drawers under his bed to find something for Richie to wear.
Eddie finally draws a pair of shorts out and Richie yelps when they hit him in the face. He pulls them away to look them over. Tiny athletic shorts, black with white trim. It’s only when he turns them around to step into them that he sees the ENEMY OF GOD in very loud print over the ass.
“Eddie,” he says excitedly, tugging them up around his hips and turning to strike a pose for his boyfriend. “Eds, these are the best shorts I’ve ever seen and I’m keeping them forever.”
Eddie laughs, tugging a plain white shirt over his head. “They look good on you, Rich.”
Richie beams. Eddie picks up the glasses that have sat undisturbed on his nightstand, and Richie steps into his space and ducks his head so that Eddie can slide them onto his face.
“Perfect.” Eddie rises onto his toes to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. Richie cups his face and draws him in for a proper kiss. They both taste a little like Eddie’s extra-strength toothpaste and smell a lot like Eddie’s favorite body wash and the lavender detergent that he uses for all of his laundry. Richie vaguely thinks that this is what it would be like if they lived together, sharing toiletries and clothes and all of the various objects that they own together, sleeping in the same bed every night, arguing over who has to cook each night and who has to do the dishes and whose turn it is to take the trash out. Richie wants it, he wants all of it, he wants Eddie Kaspbrak more than anything.
Eddie draws away to nips at his chin. “Wanna order chinese while I strip the bed?”
“Only if we can watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine while we eat.”
“What kind of bargain is that?” Eddie laughs. “Fucking obviously, Rich.”
Richie grins, drawing Eddie in for another kiss.