( he had a fleeting thought about how tense things might get around that time of the month for them when eddie first moved in, but pushed it out of his head as quickly as the worry had rooted itself in there. richie is forty fucking years old — he's had that long to learn how to control his ruts, and the last time it was a real issue for him he was still facing the embarrassment of premature ejaculation, so. it's been a long time. foolishly, he figures he'll be able to manage it.
his rut was simply not ready for the sexual reawakening that is eddie kaspbrak. the first time eddie wears a pair of fucking shorts in the house it triggers his moon early, and he has to fuck his hand in the shower about three times before his knot chills the fuck out, and he can finally think straight again. he's learning to live with being horny basically 24/7, because beyond just love, he wants eddie in this primal, animalistic way — in a way that makes him feel fucking feral when, three days out of the month, eddie locks himself in his room and richie is left sniffing the scent of his heat from outside his door, seeping into the walls.
it's like that now. eddie's whole scent is suffocating in the house, but richie doesn't vent a window — because honestly, he fucking likes it in a torture kind of way, and he's not about to risk some other horny asshole smelling eddie from outside. the only horny asshole who gets him is richie, but they haven't done much else but some heavy making out in an attempt at going slow for eddie's sake. richie is happy to wait for as long as it takes, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he's going crazy, trapped as he is in a house with the stinkiest heat he's ever caught a waft of.
luckily it's day two of heat, which means eddie isn't going to leave his room at all today, which means richie has free reign of the place. he feels maybe a molecule of shame as he picks through eddie's dirty hamper in the laundry room ( it's easier to just wash all his heat clothes together in one go ), grabbing a pair of underwear and already feeling himself get lightheaded as he saunters into the living room, pulls down his pants, and just goes right to town on his swollen cock. it doesn't take a long time before he's splattering a pearly mess on his stomach, cock enflamed and fucking famished to swell in eddie, but the relief at least makes it manageable to get some sleep and he knocks out right there on the sofa.
he only wakes up when he hears eddie start to fumble with his door, and a flash of panic races through him — he's got the underwear and the jizz on himself to deal with, but he doesn't have time for both. in a split second decision, he throws the underwear under the sofa, choosing to remain laying there in his own spunk, hastily pulling his sweatpants back up. )
Eds — you're up.
( maybe eddie will have mercy on this poor, horny soul. yeah right. )
( the problem is mostly because eddie doesn't think it's a particularly good idea to escalate things for the first time during a heat, but when he's off he just keeps stuttering, faltering, second guessing and stopping before they get anywhere at all. richie's more patient than he thought any knothead had the ability to be, but it's not like eddie doesn't know what richie does right after eddie separates them.
richie's not the only one who can smell it. there's been more than one occasion where richie has holed up in the shower for entirely too long, and eddie has been in his room just next door. pressed up face first against the wood of his door with three fingers shoved inside of him and his fist in his mouth to keep anyone ( richie ) from hearing.
it's been a tough couple of months, in short.
eddie always keeps his door locked during heats – for both of them, he insists – but this time he's spent almost the entirety of the first day just gazing lustily at the door handle and playing out scenarios about what might happen if he just unlocked it. he hears richie out there a couple of times, and he thinks very seriously about flinging it open there and then. by the second morning it's all he can think about, and the thought has become all-consuming.
by the time eddie cracks and opens the door, it's like he can't think about anything other than richie, richie, richie echoing in a feedback loop that thrums through his entire body. why has he been denying this for so long? they're in love, soulmates, mates in every way except physical. why is that, it's not right. it's not fair for either of them. eddie finds richie on the couch to explain exactly this, in a very logical and rational and not at all slurred and excitable fashion he's sure, but the sight dries his mouth up immediately. )
Holy shit.
( eddie feels his stomach drop and it's a miracle of self control that he doesn't jump him there and then. the room is so thick with the scents from the pair of them he almost chokes on it, and instead he grabs at the door frame next to him for support. now that he's looking at richie, practically spread out like a meal just for him, eddie's pretty sure he's going to snap any second. )
I needed...water, fucking hell, is this what you do all week?
( even with his sweatpants pulled up eddie has a pretty good view of richie's dick, and he can't look away. might as well be talking directly to it, honestly, because he can't even move his eyes back to richie's face long enough to direct his comments there instead. )
( arousal hits him second to panic, and it hits him hard enough that he has to wonder why he was ever panicked in the first place. he doesn't think he's ever gotten so hard so fast before, practically ready to nut just off the scent of him, the sight of him — messy, unmade hair, long legs, swollen lips. it looks like richie has already been fucking him, and the thought makes his nostrils flare, suddenly unimaginably angry at any and every toy eddie has in his room. simulated knots are not as good as the real thing, he knows this for fact.
what kind of a mate is he? he hasn't helped eddie through his heat once, when he has the solution tenting his pants right now, making his eyes go dark with blown out, unparalleled desire swelling his pupils. )
Yeah. Have you smelled yourself, Eddie? What else am I supposed to fuckin' do?
( no sense in lying. like he's performing some kind of show, he reaches a hand down and palms the length of his cock, pinching his fingers around the base to show off the size of it to eddie. he lets out something close to growl as he does it, taking in a sharp breath through his nose before he stands up, dropping the hold he has on himself and walking over to eddie, towering over him. demanding, intimidating. )
You don't need water. I know what you need.
( he leans in, sniffs around his neck, partly furious that he smells like eddie and not like him. he'll be changing that soon, thank you, but for now he just leans in and starved, crashes their lips together, needy hands pawing down his body before he grabs two holds under his sweaty, wet thighs, picking him effortlessly up.
we are going right back into your room to take care of this, thank you. )
( any lingering doubts or questions just disappear the moment richie starts stroking himself, showing off for eddie. he'd known that richie was pretty hung, more or less, in the way that you can only more or less know these things when all you've had is sneaking glances through loose boxers and pants and the physical press of it up against your hips during a particularly intense makeout session.
seeing richie display himself like that, through his goddamn sweatpants no less, it's ridiculous and it makes eddie's knees buckle just a little. he has to hold onto the doorway tighter for support, and there's a sweaty flush high on his cheeks that only gets worse as richie starts to approach. )
I can't smell me – I can smell you camped out there, like you want me to know what I'm missing out on.
( through no fault of richie's of course, but no one should be expecting logic from eddie right now. least of all when richie's so close that eddie can feel the body heat radiating off of him, and the moments before they make contact are just spent panting into the air between them.
god, he doesn't think he's ever been this desperate. even in the worst of his other heats, there's always been some level of control, but he licks his way into richie's mouth and digs two hands into his hair and knows with absolute certainty that there is only one thing that matters right now.
by the time richie is hauling him down to the room, eddie's already doing what he can to grind his cock up against richie's stomach, legs anchored tight above his hips and arms around his neck for support. there's more than one moment where they clumsily stumble, alpha or not they're too old for this kind of behaviour, and eddie's definitely going to have a bruise on his ass from where they awkwardly slam into it before he can wiggle a hand down to yank it open, but he really couldn't care less.
he doesn't even care about the mess of the room, littered with the evidence of the days activities. half empty bottle of lube on the table, at least two toys still visible over the sheets nested up on the bed, the whole room reeking of sex and eddie. )
Tell me what I need. Come on Richie, what is it? I want to hear you say it.
( tomorrow he might remember to feel somewhat guilty about the progression of things, but at the same time — it won't be a hard sell to convince him otherwise. as far as he understands, heats fucking suck, and he's never going to want eddie to live in any amount of pain, so.
the scent of the room hits him with a fresh wave of arousal, and he has to drop eddie back on his bed before his legs wobble, hands with a tremor from horniness. it's a cute revelation to find that eddie nests, comfy looking pillows and blankets all surrounding the plush center that richie lays him down on, pouring over him like warm honey. a toy gets batted to the side — thank you, but your services are no longer required. )
You need — ( one hand cups under his chin, somewhat roughly maneuvering him to expose the length of his long neck. richie buries his nose in the dip of skin under his jaw, voice haggard and rough. ) to be shown who you belong to, Spaghetti.
( really, it's usually the other way around, but if they're going to lean into their more animal urges, then — when in rome. there's a scent gland on eddie's neck that remains untouched by any alpha, so pure and strong is eddie's scent that richie growls all over again, wanting more than anything the burning relief of ownership. this part he will feel bad about later — he definitely should ask, because it changes a few things, but eddie just seems like he's in so much discomfort. what he really needs, which even richie knows he shouldn't voice, is to be taken care of.
so richie sinks sharp teeth into the meat of his neck, into the gland, leaving a notably bitemark that will purple by tomorrow. immediately, it takes over eddie's scent with his own, and richie moves to almost obsessively sniff at him, calmed by some measure to have left his mark on eddie. )
You know what else you need? ( his voice is a little more normal now, more of his usual teasing tilt, even if still effected by the overwhelming burn of eddie's heat in the air. his lips twist into a smirk. ) You need my cock in you, knotting you, making you full. Don't you think so, Eds? Look at yourself, sweetheart, you're so needy.
( eddie wants– a lot, actually. he's spread out onto the bed and he wants richie on him again immediately. richie lays out over him and eddie wants him to touch. richie speaks right against the stretch of his neck, and christ, eddie wants richie's teeth to sink down into him more than he's ever wanted anything.
he's already got a hand cupped on the back of richie's head when richie's growl vibrates against his skin and he moans in response, wanton and breathless and writhing under richie in increasing desperation. everything feels too hot, too much, but he still inahles deeply and arches his back further, spreads his legs wider. he's so exposed, it still isn't enough.
richie bites and eddie whines in response, clutches his hair and grinds up into the hard length of his cock. it's like something breaks though, and even though eddie still feels like he might burn up if richie doesn't touch him, at least now he can breathe. something settles over him, a comfort that comes with their mingled scents, and he presses his fingers to the base of the deep teeth marks. )
Fucking hell. ( there's a part of him not entirely overwhelmed by his heat that wants to argue for the sake of it, snap that he's wrong and make some sort of biting joke, but richie's hips are spreading eddie's thighs and his fingers keep brushing the grooves left over his scent gland, and eddie's pretty sure he's never been this wet in his life.
maybe he's right. eddie certainly feels like he needs richie right now, even with that intense desperation breaking slightly it's still very much thrumming away under the surface. so much so that eddie tugs until he can find richie's lips again, licking over his closed mouth in a gesture that ends up oddly sweet for the situation. ) You're right. You're fucking right, I think about you every time. Right outside my door, wanting me so bad. Christ, Richie, do you know how hard it is for me not to open that door and beg you to fuck me every month?
( physically, he's just incapable of parting from eddie — even if it'd benefit him, even if it'd help to get where they want to go. he can't stop touching him, obsessed with the electricity in his fingertips as they skid against eddie's lean, sweaty thighs, firms hands gripping on his asscheeks, tight enough so he can grind his painful erection into him. when he pulls back, his sweat pants are soaked.
god. the fucking scent of him. he's never met anyone that smells so strong, so perfect — he's not sure if that's a byproduct of being soulmates, of eddie being unclaimed and unfucked by any alpha before him, or if it's just that eddie's that irre-fucking-sistible — maybe made that way from years of repressants his mother made him take, and then his ex-wife, like he's built up a lifetime of heats that hit him doubly hard every damn month. have pity on richie who apparently has the patience of a saint, letting eddie be hot and bothered and so delectably close every heat, and not acting on it.
or, well. didn't act on it. he can't say much for himself right now, pawing the oversized shirt up eddie's chest that definitely doesn't belong to him, forcing it over his bony shoulders in between rough, hungry kisses. he doesn't bother figuring out the shorts — alpha mode is currently initiated which means he has better strength, which means those shorts are ripped to shreds in a matter of moments, all so richie can lay a hot, firm hand over his cock. he'll buy him new shorts. he'll buy him a hundred new shorts — it's all worth it, to feel him hard and frustrated in his palm. )
Fuck, Eddie. You're such a moron. ( he still can't help but laugh against his mouth, because the eddieness of eddie is absolutely delicious. ) I'd fuck you anytime, you don't have to beg. I'll fucking beg, I don't care. You have no idea what you do to me. No idea — ( his hand slides down, between his legs, mapping out the source of his heat, the slick on his fingers. richie fucking growls into his mouth, fingers eagerly sliding into him. ) how bad I want you, Eds. All the time, not just heats. I'm always exactly this fucking horny for you, fucking, please, Eds, I'm all yours and I want you so bad. Please, god, let's — let's get a knot in you. Let's try.
( because richie's kind of a big boy, and eddie is a — well virgin isn't the right word from the look of the sizable toys littering the nearby vicinity, but. not prepared for what richie is packing, at least. )
( any other time eddie would have several things to say about the torn shorts, each more irritable and grumpy than the last, but right now he honestly couldn't care less. eddie just scrabbles to help rid himself of the ruined material as quickly as possible, shoving blindly with one hand and keeping the other latched into richie's hair.
honestly eddie had thought he'd reached his peak already – it's why he ended up opening the door, right? – but now that he has richie in his hands, between his thighs, eddie's rapidly losing clarity. his mind was already consumed pretty much exclusively by richie, but as soon as richie gets his fingers in him, eddie realises he hadn't even come close to the peak of this heat. )
Holy fuck, Richie. Richie. ( eddie knocks richie's glasses crooked in his efforts to catch hold of his face, grabbing on and manhandling him until he can press his mouth right up against richie's ear. he's already bucking his hips forward, there hasn't even been enough time for richie to properly thrust his fingers but eddie doesn't have the patience to wait for it. he digs his heels into richie's back, rocks his hips back hard, as hard as he can manage with the weight of richie's body on top of him. )
You're fucking– I don't– I don't know why I waited so long, you're so fucking...good at this– ( he's got one hand loosely wrapped around his throat and he touches his thumb to the hollow between his collarbones, like he's considering pressing down. ) Fuck trying, I'm not– I'm ready Rich, I'm so fucking ready I swear, I can do this just– come on.
( the free hand has been worming its way between them, and it's a tight fit but he slides his palm into richie's sweatpants and down along the length of his cock. if the babbling wasn't evident enough that eddie's ready for this, then the fact that he shamelessly whines as he gets his fingers wrapped around him. )
( most of it is just his animal side running the show, as it is — non heat sex would probably house a lot more awkward fumbles, a lot more hilarious and poorly timed jokes, and a lot more references to 80s movies that no one has thought about in at least a decade. there's no real time for it just now, though, and richie hasn't had his wits about him for at least a day, so he's pretty much just running on autopilot while his hands take care of business, following the ebb and flow that eddie sets.
instinctively, richie shows off his neck as eddie cups it, a pretty apparent sign of submission in this, his least submissive act, but richie's never been one of those macho, macho masculine kind of guys. it's not easy to pretend to be that way anyway, when he basically spends all his time following at eddie's heels like a lost puppy, pawing softly at his door every heat to be let in. )
I — love the enthusiasm, Eds, but, ( another heady rumble falls out of his throat as eddie touches his cock, eyes screwed shut. ) I'm not sure it'll fit, babe. It hasn't fit before.
( he's sizable in eddie's palm, following the odd taper at the head of his cock, to the thick belly of it that eddie can't completely wrap his hand around. it feels a mile long before he gets to the root, where the budding swell of his knot sits, nearing the size of a baseball right now — but it'll get bigger, and it's kind of a big ask.
but if eddie wants to try then that's good with him. he has absolutely no frame of mind right now to tell him no to anything, and so his fingers plunge into his wet ass, three and then four welcomed as easy as anything as they flare out inside him, stretching him wider and wider. )
( richie bares his neck, and eddie thinks he could get high off of the rush he feels in response. he's already out of it, but this is an entirely different beast, something big and possessive that swells in his chest and makes him want nothing more than to sink his teeth deep into richie's neck until there's a deep, permanent sight for the rest of the world to see.
but they should probably talk about that first, so eddie digs his teeth into his lip and pushes his thumb lightly into the soft hollow of richie's throat instead. not much pressure, exactly, more just making himself known. as if richie could ever forget. )
What the fuck do you mean, hasn't before– ( unreasonable, he knows. rationally he is aware that richie hasn't just sat around in virginal purity, waiting for the stars to align and richie and eddie to become richieandeddie again. that's reasonable, that's fine –– hell, eddie was married –– but right now the mere thought is unacceptable to eddie.
he pushes richie's torso back, just enough that eddie can look him in the eyes as he keeps a hand fast around the base of his throat. the whole effect is somewhat lessened by the way eddie's jaw goes slack along with richie's fourth finger twisting inside of him, but he makes up for it with a torturously slow pump along richie's cock, feeling up the full length of him like he's mapping it out. he's still rocking his hips up in tight little circles, riding the fingers stretching him further open, but the look he fixes richie with is intense all the same. ) You're made for me, Richie, of course it wasn't going to work with someone else. It's going to fucking fit, I can take it.
( as if to prove his point, eddie wraps his fingers around richie's knot as best as he can and squeezes, not rough but very insistent. )
( it kind of gives the illusion of fucking him, eddie grinding down on the fingers inside him, richie tossing his hips forward and sliding through his palm — but it isn't really relief in any sense of the word. it just makes richie feel more crazy, feeling the slide of another thick wave of arousal from eddie as it spills out onto his hand, dripping from his palm to his wrist, caking him in a scent that won't just wash off with a shower. mentioning other partners, he admits, was definitely a mistake — but eddie says you were made for me and richie whimpers, because he really, really was, fuck.
all he can do is listen and watch for when a lot becomes too much, he figures. eddie's going to be sore tomorrow regardless, but then he probably wasn't going to do much walking around anyway. )
Fuck. Fuckfuck shit, okay. ( it takes a good bit of effort, but he pulls his hand away, laying his dripping hand over eddie's cock to soothe it. ) You're right — fuck am I talking about? Like you've ever backed down from a challenge. Stupid.
( he snorts, lifting his clean hand up to — really just to fluff up the surrounding area, moving a plush comforter around to outline eddie's form, wriggling a soft pillow under his ass to give him some lift, bringing his nest in closer to keep eddie comfy through all the discomfort about to go on. once he's sufficiently braced and coddled by soft things, richie puts a pillow in his arms to hold onto while he divides himself further, sinking down to press a kiss on the length of one, milky thigh. it's just another he'll have to apologize for later when he takes a good bite of his inner thigh meat, nose helplessly sniffing around his cock and hole before a wet tongue darts out to taste him, directly from the source.
he knows it's kind of a time sensitive thing, that the sooner he gets on with it the better, but — it's the first time he's really seeing eddie naked, the first time he gets to indulge in all these carnal, hungry things. he wants him in a primal way, but he also just wants him, wants everything with him, is a little grateful for the heat right now, because otherwise he'd simply be lost in all the small corners and curves of eddie to worship. )
Fuck, you're wet, Eds. You taste good — I knew you would, but, fuck.
( it should raise his hackles the way that richie starts adjusting the blankets and pillows around him. it's not exactly a secret that the nesting phenomenon is highly personal, territorial even, and yet even the fact that richie is in eddie's bed at all is an acceptance in and of itself. and the fact that eddie just wraps his arms around the pillow, digging his fingers into the soft pillow slip without protest, says more about eddie's feelings than he's ever managed to with words.
he wants to be better with that. he knows richie knows how he feels, probably. he's managed a few fervent, stuttered confessions and a handful of moments entirely too sincere for either of them to truly cope, but richie's something else entirely. it's like richie has just been waiting for someone to pour all this love into, and now that eddie's here with him he's getting it all in spades. richie touches him all the time. he tells eddie he loves him all the time.
but eddie's not good with words, so he lets richie mess with his nest and thinks more about leaving a mark on richie's throat, and when richie's teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh eddie twists and gasps and thinks about getting one of his own. )
God, come on Rich, come on. ( an insistent heel digging into richie's back doesn't seem to speed him up all that much. by the time richie's tongue laps against him eddie is seriously considering begging again, or beating richie with the pillow maybe, but instead he sinks back into the blankets gathered around him and writhes in an attempt to get more contact. )
Richie. I've never had an alpha, never. Never been knotted. Do you know how much that hurts? ( he switches up his angle, not quite pleading but certainly close, hugging the pillow tighter and digging his heel painfully in near richie's spine to pull him closer. ) I thought you said you knew what I needed, this isn't it. I need this, come on. You said we could try.
( he's absolutely trying to goad richie into speeding things along, hips still grinding loosely at the air without any kind of contact, and he's more or less just waving his ass near richie's face now. )
( it's all fun and games until eddie mentions hurt, and if richie had wolf ears on the top of his head they'd swivel in attention to the word, and then pull back down as if berated. yeah — he's being greedy, getting distracted, not a very effective alpha. it's not about whatever fantasies richie's had circling around in his head for however long — it's about taking care of someone you love, it's about eddie letting him ease the pain.
he has his priorities straightened pretty immediately, at that. pulling himself away, he splatters messy kisses up the length of his torso, one hand notably not pawing at him as he uses eddie's slick to wet his cock, using it as a makeshift lube. it wouldn't be a terrible idea to go get some of the real stuff, but he thinks it'd take some extra strength goo gone to get him off eddie now — and that's not even to mention how likely eddie is to murder him if he stretches it out any longer. pulling up, richie arches over the pillow to lay a warm, somewhat apologetic kiss across his mouth, hips rocking to get in position. )
I'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Just trust me.
( it nearly fucking burns his cockhead when richie brushes it against eddie's hole, his entire body shaking in need as the tapered head falls inside of him effortlessly, catching on the rim. he goes slow, careful, sweat beading on his forehead with the restraint it takes not to just toss his hips forward and fuck eddie within an inch of his fucking life. anyone else he's ever been with, he hasn't especially cared about comfort or safety — but he's immeasurably soft with eddie, careful as each prodding inch fills him to the brim, and then fills him more, pushing him to his very limits.
when it feels like there couldn't possibly be more, richie stops himself, dotting kisses against eddie's forehead, his cheeks, his everything. )
Eddie — fuck, you're perfect. You feel perfect. You okay? ( he gives a little toss of his hips, testing the motion. it's fucking tight. ) Halfway there.
( there is something immeasurably hot about the way richie slicks himself up like that, eddie thinks he's going to lose his damn mind just thinking about it. the room is absolutely thick with their scents at this point, mixed and mingled in a way that means they can't really be individually identified any more, it's just a scent that's them now.
exactly how he's always wanted it, honestly.
the pillow between them is quickly abandoned, the need to feel richie's weight on him far more important than whatever purpose the pillow served before. he hikes one thigh high up around richie's waist, spreads the other wide to the side. )
I do, okay, I trust you so fucking much.
( in a rare show of restraint, eddie manages not to urge richie forward as he feels the stretch of richie's cock pushing into him. his head slumps back, mouth open, and his hand paws clumsily across richie's face as he tries to gently rock his hips with richie's slow, slow movements.
it's torture. eddie wants more than anything to just dig his heels in and force richie further into him, but he's already so full it's just about knocking the air out of him. far be it for eddie to admit defeat, but maybe richie was onto something about taking it slow. )
I'm good, I'm good. ...Halfway? ( he half-whispers, tries to angle richie's face to kiss him properly but ends up just sort of mumbling right into richie's mouth. he groans, high and punched out as richie experiments with that tiny thrust, and he wheezes out a hysterical little laugh.
halfway. eddie reaches down to confirm as much, feels carefully around the base of richie's cock and up his length to the point where his rim stretches around him. there's still so much left, eddie's honestly not sure if he's going to laugh again or cry. ) I'm fine, okay? I'll tell you to stop. I want all of it.
( they're benefitted from the fact that eddie has been fucking himself on toys all day to ease the heat — fake knots that help simulate mating, though the emotional connection is what really helps the pain. they are not really benefitted from richie's size pretty much blowing all his toys out of the water — he's not one to brag, and really it's more of a curse than a blessing, but it is a little impressive. hearing eddie's strained laugh makes richie laugh too, ducking his head to press fluttering kisses on the imprints of his teeth at his neck.
he pulls his hips back, and the slide in is easier. allows for more as eddie's greedy hole eats him up almost to the knot, knocking the wind right out of richie's sails as he pulls up to kiss him messily on the mouth, moving his hand from his side to his stomach to skate over the bump in the low part of his stomach, where richie's almost in his guts. he groans against him, squeezing his cockhead. )
God, you're really gonna do it, huh. Take my whole knot.
( he's still careful about it, slow because anyone would find that kind of pain overwhelming — even brave boy eddie, and his knack for biting off more than he can chew. richie sets them into a rock, loosely fucking him, spreading his rim wide and wider as the budding thick of his knot slips further inside. )
Sometimes I want you so bad, I can't even fucking think. Christ — you're the most gorgeous thing, Eddie. I love you so much, want you so much. You're fucking incredible.
( eddie grins up at him, proud, and smooths a hand over richie's sweaty forehead. presses a kiss there too for good measure, mumbles something about how good richie's doing right against his flushed skin.
this is the hard part though – as if any of it has been easy. eddie knew richie was hung but this is honestly ridiculous, he'll be feeling this for a week. but eddie feels the knot catch on his rim and whimpers in time with the rock of richie's hips. it's so much, but that doesn't stop eddie from digging his heel into richie's lower back and encouraging him into a harder thrust, using the leverage to push his hips back harder.
at one point he thinks it feels a whole lot like richie's whole knot slide into him, but then he'd thought they were almost done back when his dick was only halfway so it's kind of hard to tell. still, even the thought is enough for a gush of slick to accompany eddie's punched out moans, and he does his best to keep fucking down onto richie's cock as his head slumps back against the pillow again. )
I love you. I fucking love you, Richie, I love you so much, loved you since we were kids. You're– fuck, you're so fucking good to me, all the time, you're perfect. Perfect for me.
( it's a pretty fucking fantastic feeling, buried so deep in eddie he's practically fucking his throat, feeling the rush of his greasy slick right as it empties from the source. it makes perfect sense — like eddie said, they were made for each other — but that doesn't stop it from feeling like a religious experience, burying down to the hilt into eddie, feeling his hole stretch to its absolute limits at the thick base of his cock. eddie's gonna be damn sore tomorrow, but it'll just serve as a good excuse to dote on him more than usual, especially now that he's been welcomed into his room, into his nest.
a little feral, richie flashes his teeth against eddie's neck, although it's more in the makings of a smile, something like a bewildered laugh leaving his chest. he shakes against him, brought to his fucking hands and knees at how good eddie makes him feel. )
Gonna breed you, baby.
( pulling back, his knot is already too thick to fall all the way out, but he goes as much as his cock will let him before he slams back into eddie with a snap of his hips, groaning out unabashedly. )
( eddie sobs as the whole knot finally slides into him, clawing for purchase at richie's hair and holding him in place against his neck. right where he wants him. it's a lot, verging just on the edge of too much, but there isn't a moment where eddie thinks of asking richie to stop. even as richie gets his first real thrust in and eddie's entire body locks up around him, all eddie wants is richie closer, deeper, more. )
It's always been you, always, I want you–
( it's not the first time that eddie thinks they should have talked about this before it got this far, before eddie's heat hit and took the last of his inhibitions with it. because it's not like eddie didn't want this in a clear, rational state of mind, he just couldn't figure out how to ask for it. they should have talked about things like knotting, mating, marking, because now that richie's balls deep is a really poor time to bring it up.
but eddie's going to do it anyway, because he feels the catch of richie's teeth against his skin, and thinks about the way he'd bitten him before, and the heady, light feeling that comes with richie thrusting as deep into him as he can go just makes eddie certain that it's not enough. )
Richie. Richie, fucking– listen, you stupid knothead. ( so he hasn't completely lost his mind then. that's still very much eddie there, slapping his hand on the back of richie's shoulder to get his attention even as he rocks his hips back against the knot and garbles a few of the words into a moan. ) I want– listen, I want you to bite me. Mark me, properly, want everyone to see it. Want to mate you, Rich.
( it was a pretty funny joke, at first, to act like richie could be fucking cool around eddie after everything that happened a year ago — like they could just try to be friends, or at least civil with each other, and richie could stay his fucking distance from him. their friends are all dating, they reason. they have to be able to be in the same room together.
that's not the issue, though. richie had gotten over him and his stupid fucking band, or at least he thought he had, until the lead singer of the runners came running back into his life, screaming at him that he was a stalker, and the whole thing felt a lot more gutting than it had any right to. they fought about that, too, back and forth for a few weeks, before coming to an understanding. trying to be friends meant trying to forgive, meant not bringing up what a fucking asshole richie is every two seconds. not talking about a year ago. weirdly enough, once they argue that tension out of the air and come to an agreement, it starts feeling like old times — like that one week in a million weeks, when richie was the king of the world, and eddie wanted to fuck him.
obviously it isn't like that anymore. and it's where the real issue stems from — richie doesn't know how not to like eddie. if there was a for dummies on how not to fall in love with his fingers every time he wraps them around the neck of a beer, or how not to pine after him like a lovesick puppy every time he glances in his direction, or how not to daydream about his mouth every time it comes perilously close to kissing the metal of a microphone — he would've read it cover to cover, until the spine started falling apart. as it stands, he's on his own with this, and there's no self-help book that ever met eddie kaspbrak, or they'd probably tell richie he's shit out of luck, too. some people in the world are just irresistible 10s, and us 2s are stuck looking in their shadows.
it's halloween trivia night, unfortunately, which means richie is stuck working the bar in a god awful mrs. doubtfire costume, which is pretty much just little paper fires plastered over his tits. it's a pretty quiet night before the game, and he's chatting it up with a patron who is definitely flirting with him — which is pretty fucking nice, to be honest, he's handsome and painfully reminiscent of a certain guitarist that richie can just squint his eyes and pretend — but then eddie and bev walk in in matching, thotty baseball uniforms, and there's suddenly no one else in the entire world but eddie and his stupid long legs, so. sorry, jimbo, we are forever stuck in pining limbo. )
Well, if it isn't Eddie Spaghetti. ( richie flashes him a grin, aiming for calm and collected and not being obvious as he checks him out. richie starts mindlessly cleaning the bar, fingers feeling itchy. ) Let me guess, you're ... one of my wet dreams?
( of course the costumes are bev's idea. this sort of thing is right up her fucking alley, and eddie doesn't have the strength of character to argue with her when she's got a bee in her bonnet like this one. also she's got way too much dirt on him, but she didn't have to bust out any blackmail this time. truth be told, all it took was a vague illusion to the fact that richie was going to be there, and eddie was already looking up size conversion charts and asking careful questions about the people in attendance. he wasn't going to do something insane like hook up with someone right in front of richie just to get a reaction out of him.
but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it.
the problem is they're in a pretty good place now. it's been all ups and downs, too much of a rollercoaster for eddie's shrivelled little heart (and journal) to handle, but now it's finally starting to settle and they're finding a new rhythm. they're friends, and it's so much better and worse than eddie could have hoped for. of course it hasn't done anything to diminish the burning desire that threatens to consume him every. fucking. time he looks at richie – if anything it's much, much worse. but the trade off is that he gets to see him again, be in his life again, and richie doesn't look at eddie like he hates him any more so. it's better.
it still hurts when he walks in and sees richie yucking it up with some other guy, but bev catches his elbow before he has a chance to spin on his heel and walk right out of the bar, and all at once he's so unbelievably grateful for her and filled with an absolute hatred. it's complicated.
it works, though. he walks up to the bar head held high, full of a confidence that eddie knows he doesn't have. and then richie speaks, and it's all knocked out of him. sometimes, in this new delicate balance they have found, richie will just say shit like this, and it always leaves eddie winded. does it mean– but that's ridiculous.
they're friends. )
And you're one of my nightmares. ( he grins, tilts his head and squints at richie's costume, drops his phone onto the top of the bar. there really isn't room for pockets in a costume like this, so he's had to resort to scattering most of his belongings across the rest of the band. he's pretty sure mike has his wallet. his keys are in bev's tits. it's not ideal, but maybe it's a little worth if for the way he definitely spots richie's gaze wandering. ) What's a guy got to do to get a drink around here?
( grinning brightly, richie cups his hands under the paper fires on his chest like he's holding a huge rack, swooping them in half circles. bev is right next to eddie, so he turns the movement towards her, using a pointed gesture between his chest and hers followed by an ok sign, all to say nice tits to her. which would definitely be derogatory, except they're just Like That, and she probably knows for a fact that he'd rather be staring at eddie's jugs — so she just says a cheery thanks before finding patty and stan across the bar, and running to them. purposely, richie thinks, leaving him to fend for himself with sexy little eddie in sexy little shorts warming his bar.
it is shockingly hard to pull his gaze back up to meet his eyes. he's seen eddie shirtless before? on stage? it doesn't make any fucking sense. )
I am thinking of a baseball themed drink, I am thinking ... Highball? Baseball has a ball. And it works, because if you bend over, I think baseball might have two more. Three balls, by my count.
( he sets to making it, not waiting for eddie to approve or deny, because it's obviously on the house and if it's on the house, you don't get to be picky. it doesn't take too much energy to make, anyway, which means he can focus his attention on talking with eddie while his hands are otherwise occupied, so he doesn't stare too obviously.
he prays to god one of their shitty friends is taking a picture of him bending just a little over the bar. he knows they aren't, knows that's probably a good idea considering, but fuck them so much in this very moment. )
Anyway, you might give me a good run for winning the costume contest. ( jesus christ talk about anything other than his fucking outfit ) Although Bill already called me 'Firetits', so who's the real winner? Me, that's who. I'm keeping the nickname.
( obviously eddie wants the attention. no one goes out in shorts that barely cover the curve of their ass if they don't want people to look. but richie looks, and then he looks away, and it's not enough. eddie wants richie's eyes on him longer, for him to not be able to look away at all, maybe. he wants–
he wants a goddamn drink. jesus christ, it's been too long for eddie to still be this hung up on a guy who has barely showed any interest. who gave him a 'new phone, who dis?' and just about crumbled every bit of eddie's heart left surviving. who eddie is trying really fucking hard to be friends with, actually, because as it turns out he really fucking likes spending time with him, and he really doesn't want to fucking ruin that with all this unwanted baggage.
it's just...hard sometimes, still. that's all. )
Don't talk about my balls, they're not on show at all.
( as if to make the point – or again, just because he wants richie to look at him all the time – he makes a point to step back a little so that he can bend more in order to lean into the bar. what exactly he's achieving or proving by standing around with his ass jutted out to the rest of the people there is anyone's guess, but eddie feels vindicated all the same.
his phone pings, but he already knows it's bev so he just flicks the buzzer on the side to silent, flips it over screen down. )
Are you done yet? I'm going to get you an award, world's slowest bartender. ( he's already holding his hand out, and he'd feel bad about being a bit of a demanding bitch except it's richie. who already knows he's a demanding bitch, and still seems to want to hang out with him anyway. ) If any of us are going to win it'll be Bev, I don't have the boobs for this. If anyone's Firetits it should be her, really.
You know, I'll only be able to confirm or deny the balls theory once you turn around.
( he's not exactly telling eddie to give him a twirl, but he is definitely saying he'll be watching whenever eddie walks back to the group. obviously, right? where the fuck else is he going to look.
even though he can't really appreciate the full vision of eddie's ass in the shorts ( and if he could draw his gaze up from him, he might see their friends all unapologetically checking him out ), the angle gives him a little bit more thigh to subtly peek at over the top of the bar. he winds up focusing more on his leg than on the drink, and gets ginger ale all over his hand as the drink overflows.
that's why it takes so long, he's cleaning up soda from the sides of eddie's cups before handing it over, leaning on to the bar with an arched brow, while he waits for eddie to take a sip. )
Don't be so humble, Edward darling. To me, your tits are perfect.
( he was just telling stan and bill last night how over eddie he is, so when his phone purrs in his pocket he's pretty sure he knows what it's about. he ignores it. he's busy talking to eddie. )
Are you playing trivia tonight? I'm not. ( a vague handwave. ) So the teams are uneven. So you should keep me company.
( the group will probably not be happy about losing their best players, but they can shove it. have they seen what eddie is wearing? )
( he says, like he didn't seriously consider spinning on the spot and using the old "oh no, i dropped something" excuse to bend right over at the hip. ridiculous. sometimes eddie's own mind astounds him, and he's only thankful that there's some shred of impulse control left in him.
he had turned down the offered bottle of wine at bev's, despite her insistent protests that it was 'ungentlemanly' to let her drink alone, and he's glad for that now. without a clearer head, eddie might be making all sorts of terrible decisions tonight. as it stands one drink feels safe though, and he sips it mostly for something to do with his mouth, so that he doesn't do something stupid like ask richie what else he thinks is perfect. )
I was going to. ( but now that he's got a better offer, a reasonable excuse to step out, he's thinking better of it. the teams are going to be uneven with him there. it just makes sense, right?
perfectly logical. there's no reason not to flip his phone back over, ignore the four unread messages and shoot a quick text to the group chat: i'm out for tonight, make sure you win anyway we need the bragging rights before turning it over again. that way no one can try and argue about his decisions, and he can keep hovering across from richie like some stupid, horny, lovesick little bar ghost. appropriate time of year for it, pathetic either way. eddie thought he was over this, he really did.
he shrugs, sips again. finger walks his hand to the centre of the bartop, and slaps it down flat. they're friends. they can hang out for a while. maybe later eddie will duck into another bar and see if there's some tall, dark haired mophead that will take him home for a night, but right now he just wants to spend some time with richie. ) They can deal with it. Can you teach me how to make a cocktail? Something fancy, I want to impress Bev.
( the way eddie's leaning on the bar makes their hands dangerously close together, in a way that richie might have instinctively pulled away from before, because wounds are still fresh and he sometimes still flinches when he shows eddie affection, waiting to be chewed out for ruining something again, but — he doesn't. they really have gotten closer, and it really does feel like the week that they were together. he wonders if that serves as some proof, to eddie. that richie never faked it with him — he never lied. well, no he did lie, but now about his feelings towards eddie, not with an ulterior motive. just because he's a dumbass stupid idiot who likes him so, so much.
he wonders what might've happened if he didn't lie. figures eddie probably would've lost interest right away, and they wouldn't be here right now, richie's eyes on eddie's thighs, hands almost touching. it's a pretty specific torture to be so close to the only person you want to cross that boundary with, but — at the same time, richie really wouldn't trade it for anything. he still likes eddie. he fucking loves him.
and now he has eddie all to himself, so. later, losers. he tosses eddie a lazy grin, feeling spoiled, before turning back to his collection of alcohols behind the bar, coming up with something. )
Fancy isn't really my forte, but I'll show you — eh, something cute.
( he could really take this opportunity to get eddie fucking wasted, and then maybe have the chance to carry him back home, but. he thinks their friends would call that taken advantage, and probably frown at him later. so, in the same family of the highball he's drinking now ( and knowing that bev is a whiskey girl ), richie pulls out the ingredients to make a whiskey sour, laying them on the bar top for eddie to observe. once he has, richie takes a bit of time to show him how to fill the shaker, adding in all the ingredients to it one by one, as if eddie's ever going to do it at home.
and then he gives it a shake, maybe purposely trying to flex his arms in eddie's direction. the only reason he has any muscle here at all is because bill won't let him quit this fucking job, but he's knows it's basically the only thing he has going for him, so. work with what you've got.
straining it, he sets the drink out in front of him. )
Viola! Whiskey sour. ( eddie likes cherries, so richie gives him three in the glass, looking proud of himself. ) You're gonna get sloshed if you drink that. How is a rockstar such a lightweight, again?
( even as eddie asks he knows that he's not going to retain this information. why would he? beverly can make her own damn drinks. but it's a great excuse to park up and watch richie for a while without being too obvious, so he does just that. he settles his elbow on the bar, chin cupped in his hand, and watches.
richie looks nice when he knows what he's doing. he's obviously worked here long enough for the drinks to become second nature, and even slowing down the process to explain the steps to eddie doesn't seem to affect the cool confidence that surrounds richie's movements.
it's actually kind of insanely hot, and eddie slams back a good half of the drink in one large gulp the moment it's handed to him, just to try and cope with that little thought process. )
Oh wow, yeah that's good. ( if he's a little breathless, it's only because eddie just smashed half the drink with no pause. it's definitely nothing to do with richie's arms and the way a corner of his mouth quirks into a grin every single time richie is about to take a dig at eddie. ) Fuck you, I'm not a lightweight. And if I was that'd just be great, because I'd be a cheap drunk. But I'm not a lightweight.
( it doesn't prove his point in the slightest, but eddie has another mouthful anyway. and then scoops a cherry out, because richie was right and he does in fact really like them. they're full of sugar and should be absolutely disgusting, but maybe that's the appeal. )
Besides, it's Halloween. Isn't the whole point to get drunk and act a fool?
( maybe if he gets eddie drunk enough, eddie won't notice the longing in his gaze as richie watches his throat bob around a mouthful of alcohol, wishing with dizzying clarity to be a whiskey sour, right now. or maybe he's jealous of the glass, eddie's mouth around the rim while he braces himself for another swallow — or maybe he's jealous of those fucking shorts, and how tightly they're pinching into eddie's perfect fucking thighs, or.
he should probably be grateful for bill's interruption, clapping eddie's shoulder in greeting, but he isn't. he was having a good time oogling eddie, thanks. huffing, he looks at eddie. )
Hold that thought.
( and, with much less care than he'd provided eddie's drink, he whips up a round of vegas bombs for everyone in attendance, because eddie's absolutely right. getting drunk is the only game plan anyone has for tonight, except for probably bill who is definitely going to get laid after trivia, but he's an outlier who shouldn't be counted. once the drinks are all mixed up, richie has them on a tray that he hands off the bill, which is honestly great, because it means there's another cocktail sliding its way in eddie's direction as bill drunkenly bumps his hip, and this one was not richie's fault, so no one can blame him. )
Anyway — yeah, rub it in my face, you turd. Working on Halloween is a fucking crime, it's the only good holiday. ( if it wasn't already his favorite, it absolutely will be, after tonight. ) What're you doing after this? If you don't take me out trick-or-treating, Eds, I'm just gonna get sad drunk in some shitty bar that's open until 3am, where I can slam jam some shots until closing.
( one might see the daily robotics class that richie goes to as a bit of a redundant effort — eddie is a fully functioning android and more than capable of taking care of himself, and even if he weren't there are certainly places and people better equipped to handle any issues he might be having. but. richie thinks of it as a romantic effort, a way of understanding eddie a little bit better, and thus throws himself into it headstrong and without a glance back. after the first few classes he finds that he actually really enjoys the learning experience and figuring out the way that things work. and it makes sense, in their new society and strives towards equality between human and androids — everyone knows they know how the human body works better than most humans do. they can afford to pay it forward, a little.
he tries to keep his attendance scarce from eddie for awhile, not that he thinks about lying to him, but just that he's a little embarrassed to admit his keen interest in the inner workings of eddie's body, like he hasn't said a thousand things more embarrassing than that every day of their fucking lives. still, he finds out eventually — it's pretty obvious looking back on it, how richie disappears from home every day for an hour or so and comes back with a backpack full of briskly hidden notes that he reads over when eddie is otherwise occupied. turns out that eddie figuring out about the classes actually does wonders for his grade in it, because he finally learns not to rush himself when it comes to the whole process. so, it's kind of nice. richie will study at night, nose buried deeply in a holographic book, and eddie will make him tea up until he decides it's bedtime. it's a pretty sweet deal.
despite that, richie is still not fucking good at this class. he does put his best foot forward, but it's almost impossible to conceptualize any inner mechanics of things, without having a reference point. it's by sheer coincidence that they're currently studying the most modern engine in android technology, the very same that's buried away in eddie's chest like a secret treasure. richie implores him, )
Pleeeease help me with my homework, Eds. I'm gonna flunk out!
( and that's how they wind up on the bed, richie sitting between eddie's legs with a digital book laid out on eddie's stomach. richie used to find the sterile white of a plastic coating beneath eddie's skin off putting, but he kind of likes it now, finding it as beautiful as he finds all the little hidden nuts and bolts that keep him held together. his fingers draw across the plastic to find his chest cavity, pressing it open. inside are the exposed wires you'd expect, all neatly tucked in an orderly way to give richie a pretty good model to work on.
in the center, there's this thrumming reactor, the very power of eddie's being — all the energy in his body supplied by this little thing rushing thirium through him. when he sees it, richie smiles, more affected by the sentiment than he thought he would be. )
Aw, it's like a little heart. ( instinctively, he reaches in to touch it — before something like a very small lightning bolt arches off the engine and onto richie's finger. he pulls it back immediately. ) Ow, fuck!
( sucking his finger, he looks over his notes instead, eyebrows knotted as he sets to work. he can't really kill eddie, which is good, but he can do some pretty messed up stuff, so it still requires his full attention. )
So ... supposedly there are five major wires connecting your limbs to your engine, and then your power source to your AI program. ( like a line connecting his brain to his heart. richie clucks his tongue before glancing at eddie's open chest, eyebrows lifting. ) Oh, I see. Okay. So — I should be able to detach them and shut off parts of your body, makes sense. There should be a bit of a delay, but.
( he goes for it, reaching forward and feeling the much tamer pulses of electrical licks across his fingers as he latches onto one wire, taking a breath before pulling it loose. it should be his right arm, however. )
Wait! Fuck! That was the wrong one — shit.
( instead, he pulls of that heart to brain connection, essentially leaving eddie in the few seconds before a complete shutdown takes hold. richie snaps the wire back into place like his fucking hand is on fire, worry apparent on his expression as he leans over eddie, looking for evidence of — well, of life. )
( the very idea of richie taking robotics classes is something so unbelievably romantic that eddie can't bring himself to admit that he figured it out pretty quickly. in fact he only intervened at all because richie was studying late at night, keeping worse hours than usual and waking up with deep bags hanging under his eyes every morning. so eddie "figures it out" one afternoon, in a way that he can make seem organic, and once it's no longer a secret he doesn't have to do all that homework in the wee hours of the morning.
eddie can even help, which is what led to this situation in the first place.
truth be told eddie is still a little uncomfortable at deactivating his skin. richie barely reacts anymore, but eddie can still clearly recall the first time he'd peeled the skin back from his palm. richie hadn't even been particularly mean about it, but there had been a series of incredibly minute microexpressions that all added up to some kind of distaste.
it doesn't happen anymore. eddie can see the adoration pouring out of richie every time the man so much as catches a glimpse of him, but there's still a moment where eddie exposes the white plastic of his chest and he goes through a gesture similar to holding his breath as he waits.
there's none of that, only a reverence. the chest plate hisses open and richie is getting all sappy, and eddie loves him so much. sometimes he thinks it's all he knows how to do now. he's not going to say as much because richie sometimes gets shifty when eddie expresses his feelings so plainly and they can't afford that with his wiring exposed, but he watches the furrow of richie's brow with a soft, fond smile. )
It's a– ohhh. ( his voice glitches right as richie catches the spark on his finger, and something sure happens, but he doesn't know how to explain it so eddie keeps quiet. no need to stress richie out unnecessarily, he already looks so focused. better to let him keep going.
but it's weird. it's an entirely new sensation that plugs away somewhere deep within him, and when richie gets his fingers around the wire more solidly eddie is about to say as much, except he pulls, and–
chaos. timers flashing, dialogue boxes popping up everywhere, objectives glitching out all across his field of vision and he can't do anything other than clench up his hands pressed into the sheets. it only lasts a few seconds, but when the wire snaps back into place there's this roaring rush of something. his systems all blow into overdrive and eddie's panting and tense under richie, staring up at his worried face with a largely slack expression. )
Holy shit. ( his voice still has a slight electronic fry to it, and he blinks a few times as if that'll fix it. ) That...was the wrong wire.
( relieved, richie instinctively leans his head down to rest on eddie's stomach in some fruitless attempt at an embrace that doesn't quite work, thanks to the giant hole in eddie's chest. logically, he knows eddie would've been put into shut down and not actually have died, not without a memory wipe and some truly devastating destruction of internal hardware, but he can't exactly tell his thundering heart to be logical right now. jesus christ is absolutely right. he did a big whoa-oh.
it only takes a second for him to catch his breath against the ledge of eddie's chest, realizing pretty quickly his focus should be on eddie, to make sure he didn't fuck anything up. it takes a surprising bit of focus to not go thumbing through his homework for the answer to a problem he doesn't even know is there yet. )
Shit, so, maybe I just learned an important lesson about starting small and working my way —
( but when he leans back to assess the damage, he realizes — the look on eddie's face isn't really one of pain. it's not even discomfort, the more his stares, head tilted as if searching for something on him that he never quite finds. it isn't anger, isn't upset. his cheeks are a little blue, which makes sense if the movement of thirium was paused for a micro second, but.
he really doesn't look unhappy at all. )
Wait. Eds.
( darting a hand forward, he cups his cheek, the beginning bubble of what looks like unadulterated delight starting to shine through on his expression. )
( it's taking eddie a minute to catch up with what is going on here. richie has his little relief wash over not having killed eddie, but eddie's still got pinpricks running through his limbs and a thudding insistence that something needs to happen next. a taskbar stuck on 12%. )
I think–
( he doesn't know what he thinks. the places where richie's bare hand had touched exposed parts and wires burn within him but there's no rational way for him to say that he kind of wants richie to shove his whole fist in there and really go wild. he's not an idiot, he knows what all the signs point to, but given his model and purpose eddie never needed to be programmed with arousal receptors.
apparently life, uh, finds a way? )
I think you should do it again. ( he settles on finally, tipping his head to rest more comfortably in the curve of richie's palm and looking up at him very seriously. interesting choice for an android with pupils blown so wide he might as well be a college kid on MDMA for the first time.
that at least makes sense. there's just a lot happening in his field of vision right now, all sorts of messages that he's dismissing as quickly as they appear, prompts to preconstruct the dangers of richie pulling another wire, but eddie doesn't want to punch him in the windpipe so he shuts the whole preconstruction program down to be safe. better. ) A different wire this time. I don't think that's happened before.
( he could write out an honest to god list of every word he thinks might come out of eddie's mouth next, and probably never write out an insistence to do it again. the dawning enjoyment on behalf of what he excepts will be eddie's embarrassment just switches gears to a bit of confusion as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye, almost positive he hears the whirring of an overrun computer complaining beneath him.
the warble to eddie's voice was cute, he thinks very belatedly. on someone else, he'd say it sounded — horny. although who's to say it's not horny on eddie, just because they haven't gone there before? )
Oh. Okay.
( his smile is a little shyer, as it settles on him just what he's doing. it really is like stroking at his heart, richie drawing his hand away to more carefully thumb around the exposed electrical wiring, the smooth pads of his fingers gliding up a line of silvery, flashing blue wires, all coiling back to the mechanical purr of his core. richie glances between his chest and eddie himself again, waiting for a change of heart (haha), before he squeezes his fingers around a different wire, one that controls one of his legs. )
You want me to pull it?
( it surprises him, how breathless his voice is. he's so immediately invested in the theoretical concept of eddie's pleasure, he thinks he'd do anything to hear his voice go all distorted again, like something really wrecked him.
anyway, it's only a teasing question. after a breath, richie pulls the wire all the same, another shock zapping him as he pulls it away, teasing around the general magnetism of his electricity that's instinctively trying to put the wire back in place. flirting, getting the wire close and pulling it away, close and away, before he eventually lets it fall back into its proper slot. )
( now that he's expecting it, the feeling of richie's fingers smoothing along the whirring parts inside his chest have eddie practically trembling underneath him. just a system error in response to abnormal stimuli present inside his system, internal mechanisms trying to chase out the source of the intrusion, but the overall effect is far less clinical and far more...well. horny. particularly when it includes eddie's eyes fluttering briefly closed and open again.
for an android literally void of any kind of sexual programming, a lot of his natural system responses sure do model after human pleasure signs. a question for cyberlife maybe, but not right now.
right now eddie's just resisting the urge to grab hold of richie's wrist and shove his whole hand violently into a neat little cluster of wires sitting a little below his thirium pump. he doesn't do it, even though his fingers twitch as he thinks about it, and anyway it's not long to wait before richie hooks his fingers around another main wiring component. left leg, eddie knows because it jerks right as richie slides the wire out of place. his hips push up with the movement, and eddie stops breathing entirely as it hovers just short of falling back into the slot. )
I don't...think this is supposed to happen.
( eddie might sound confused, if his voice wasn't strained through a mild distortion that throws the pitch off and glitches through the vowel sounds. and by the time the wire clicks into the slot his eyes roll back and there's a crackling that sounds almost like static filtering through. )
Richie. ( it practically sounds like a GPS recitation of his name, tinny and hardly eddie at all, but the hand that comes up and presses flat against richie's chest is all eddie. ) Keep going. I'll tell you if anything breaks.
( richie isn't going to pretend he's some saint of a man who's never been turned on by eddie before — intentional or not, eddie might be a walking google search bar with the ability to look up every single kink in the dictionary, but it's not like there's a line of code for every preference that richie has, or some database he can dip into to see if his breathing the wrong way is going to give richie a boner. maybe he's making a list, and maybe it'll never be complete, but there's only so many computer functions he can run to see richie's gaze lingering on his hands while he pulls socks up his feet, or so many assumptions an android can make about why richie will just watch him silently, fluttering about whatever room he's in with one of richie's shirts sitting too big on his perfect shoulders.
he can't say eddie is ignorant about anything, is the thing, but if he knew how often richie was horny off the sight of him, he'd probably search webmd for symptoms of some slutty virus. he can't possibly know that richie froths at the mouth when eddie presses his hands through his hair — and he doesn't need to. richie has always been happy with their relationship, the soft and wholesome thing that it is. he's never wanted for more. and he's also never known that this was sitting just underneath the surface.
it's a weird conflict, that he faces. there's a need to reassure eddie that weird android sex isn't important to make richie happy, that eddie is what makes richie happy, but on the other hand — he's fucking asking for it. not asking, demanding. )
Will you tell me if it hurts? ( he doesn't feel pain, richie remembers belatedly, letting out a loose chuckle. ) Or, well. You know what I mean. Just keep talking to me.
( richie hardly knows what he means. but he knows eddie's voice only sounds like that when something gets dislodged in him, like after a fight — maybe in androids it's not the actual feeling of getting hit that bothers them, but the implied danger of it. maybe? richie's brain hurts from thinking about it. there are thinner, more delicate wires on the opposite wall of his chest, and it takes some maneuvering around his motor but eventually richie finds an angle that works for him, gliding his fingers against them like strumming guitar strings. he pinches them, before pulling his hand out and licking his thumb, going right back into it and feeling the electricity interact with the moisture, making his hand feel fuzzy between each small strike.
elbow deep inside him, richie halves over, pressing a kiss on eddie's belly, on the cool plastic coating. they don't kiss often — it's an entirely human instinct that androids don't have, but the fact that richie does it is proof that he's affected. by eddie, by whatever the fuck is going on. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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from here
That's not what is happening here don't make this weird.( hahaha.....unless.... )
Next you're going to say it's hot when I ask you to roll down the window. Or tape the news.
thank god
[like it's a joke but it's SOOOO not a joke]
ooooooh babe dont shut me down and then keep dirty talking thats just cruel
awoooo, nsfw incoming
his rut was simply not ready for the sexual reawakening that is eddie kaspbrak. the first time eddie wears a pair of fucking shorts in the house it triggers his moon early, and he has to fuck his hand in the shower about three times before his knot chills the fuck out, and he can finally think straight again. he's learning to live with being horny basically 24/7, because beyond just love, he wants eddie in this primal, animalistic way — in a way that makes him feel fucking feral when, three days out of the month, eddie locks himself in his room and richie is left sniffing the scent of his heat from outside his door, seeping into the walls.
it's like that now. eddie's whole scent is suffocating in the house, but richie doesn't vent a window — because honestly, he fucking likes it in a torture kind of way, and he's not about to risk some other horny asshole smelling eddie from outside. the only horny asshole who gets him is richie, but they haven't done much else but some heavy making out in an attempt at going slow for eddie's sake. richie is happy to wait for as long as it takes, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he's going crazy, trapped as he is in a house with the stinkiest heat he's ever caught a waft of.
luckily it's day two of heat, which means eddie isn't going to leave his room at all today, which means richie has free reign of the place. he feels maybe a molecule of shame as he picks through eddie's dirty hamper in the laundry room ( it's easier to just wash all his heat clothes together in one go ), grabbing a pair of underwear and already feeling himself get lightheaded as he saunters into the living room, pulls down his pants, and just goes right to town on his swollen cock. it doesn't take a long time before he's splattering a pearly mess on his stomach, cock enflamed and fucking famished to swell in eddie, but the relief at least makes it manageable to get some sleep and he knocks out right there on the sofa.
he only wakes up when he hears eddie start to fumble with his door, and a flash of panic races through him — he's got the underwear and the jizz on himself to deal with, but he doesn't have time for both. in a split second decision, he throws the underwear under the sofa, choosing to remain laying there in his own spunk, hastily pulling his sweatpants back up. )
Eds — you're up.
( maybe eddie will have mercy on this poor, horny soul. yeah right. )
woof woof
richie's not the only one who can smell it. there's been more than one occasion where richie has holed up in the shower for entirely too long, and eddie has been in his room just next door. pressed up face first against the wood of his door with three fingers shoved inside of him and his fist in his mouth to keep anyone ( richie ) from hearing.
it's been a tough couple of months, in short.
eddie always keeps his door locked during heats – for both of them, he insists – but this time he's spent almost the entirety of the first day just gazing lustily at the door handle and playing out scenarios about what might happen if he just unlocked it. he hears richie out there a couple of times, and he thinks very seriously about flinging it open there and then. by the second morning it's all he can think about, and the thought has become all-consuming.
by the time eddie cracks and opens the door, it's like he can't think about anything other than richie, richie, richie echoing in a feedback loop that thrums through his entire body. why has he been denying this for so long? they're in love, soulmates, mates in every way except physical. why is that, it's not right. it's not fair for either of them. eddie finds richie on the couch to explain exactly this, in a very logical and rational and not at all slurred and excitable fashion he's sure, but the sight dries his mouth up immediately. )
Holy shit.
( eddie feels his stomach drop and it's a miracle of self control that he doesn't jump him there and then. the room is so thick with the scents from the pair of them he almost chokes on it, and instead he grabs at the door frame next to him for support. now that he's looking at richie, practically spread out like a meal just for him, eddie's pretty sure he's going to snap any second. )
I needed...water, fucking hell, is this what you do all week?
( even with his sweatpants pulled up eddie has a pretty good view of richie's dick, and he can't look away. might as well be talking directly to it, honestly, because he can't even move his eyes back to richie's face long enough to direct his comments there instead. )
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what kind of a mate is he? he hasn't helped eddie through his heat once, when he has the solution tenting his pants right now, making his eyes go dark with blown out, unparalleled desire swelling his pupils. )
Yeah. Have you smelled yourself, Eddie? What else am I supposed to fuckin' do?
( no sense in lying. like he's performing some kind of show, he reaches a hand down and palms the length of his cock, pinching his fingers around the base to show off the size of it to eddie. he lets out something close to growl as he does it, taking in a sharp breath through his nose before he stands up, dropping the hold he has on himself and walking over to eddie, towering over him. demanding, intimidating. )
You don't need water. I know what you need.
( he leans in, sniffs around his neck, partly furious that he smells like eddie and not like him. he'll be changing that soon, thank you, but for now he just leans in and starved, crashes their lips together, needy hands pawing down his body before he grabs two holds under his sweaty, wet thighs, picking him effortlessly up.
we are going right back into your room to take care of this, thank you. )
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seeing richie display himself like that, through his goddamn sweatpants no less, it's ridiculous and it makes eddie's knees buckle just a little. he has to hold onto the doorway tighter for support, and there's a sweaty flush high on his cheeks that only gets worse as richie starts to approach. )
I can't smell me – I can smell you camped out there, like you want me to know what I'm missing out on.
( through no fault of richie's of course, but no one should be expecting logic from eddie right now. least of all when richie's so close that eddie can feel the body heat radiating off of him, and the moments before they make contact are just spent panting into the air between them.
god, he doesn't think he's ever been this desperate. even in the worst of his other heats, there's always been some level of control, but he licks his way into richie's mouth and digs two hands into his hair and knows with absolute certainty that there is only one thing that matters right now.
by the time richie is hauling him down to the room, eddie's already doing what he can to grind his cock up against richie's stomach, legs anchored tight above his hips and arms around his neck for support. there's more than one moment where they clumsily stumble, alpha or not they're too old for this kind of behaviour, and eddie's definitely going to have a bruise on his ass from where they awkwardly slam into it before he can wiggle a hand down to yank it open, but he really couldn't care less.
he doesn't even care about the mess of the room, littered with the evidence of the days activities. half empty bottle of lube on the table, at least two toys still visible over the sheets nested up on the bed, the whole room reeking of sex and eddie. )
Tell me what I need. Come on Richie, what is it? I want to hear you say it.
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the scent of the room hits him with a fresh wave of arousal, and he has to drop eddie back on his bed before his legs wobble, hands with a tremor from horniness. it's a cute revelation to find that eddie nests, comfy looking pillows and blankets all surrounding the plush center that richie lays him down on, pouring over him like warm honey. a toy gets batted to the side — thank you, but your services are no longer required. )
You need — ( one hand cups under his chin, somewhat roughly maneuvering him to expose the length of his long neck. richie buries his nose in the dip of skin under his jaw, voice haggard and rough. ) to be shown who you belong to, Spaghetti.
( really, it's usually the other way around, but if they're going to lean into their more animal urges, then — when in rome. there's a scent gland on eddie's neck that remains untouched by any alpha, so pure and strong is eddie's scent that richie growls all over again, wanting more than anything the burning relief of ownership. this part he will feel bad about later — he definitely should ask, because it changes a few things, but eddie just seems like he's in so much discomfort. what he really needs, which even richie knows he shouldn't voice, is to be taken care of.
so richie sinks sharp teeth into the meat of his neck, into the gland, leaving a notably bitemark that will purple by tomorrow. immediately, it takes over eddie's scent with his own, and richie moves to almost obsessively sniff at him, calmed by some measure to have left his mark on eddie. )
You know what else you need? ( his voice is a little more normal now, more of his usual teasing tilt, even if still effected by the overwhelming burn of eddie's heat in the air. his lips twist into a smirk. ) You need my cock in you, knotting you, making you full. Don't you think so, Eds? Look at yourself, sweetheart, you're so needy.
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he's already got a hand cupped on the back of richie's head when richie's growl vibrates against his skin and he moans in response, wanton and breathless and writhing under richie in increasing desperation. everything feels too hot, too much, but he still inahles deeply and arches his back further, spreads his legs wider. he's so exposed, it still isn't enough.
richie bites and eddie whines in response, clutches his hair and grinds up into the hard length of his cock. it's like something breaks though, and even though eddie still feels like he might burn up if richie doesn't touch him, at least now he can breathe. something settles over him, a comfort that comes with their mingled scents, and he presses his fingers to the base of the deep teeth marks. )
Fucking hell. ( there's a part of him not entirely overwhelmed by his heat that wants to argue for the sake of it, snap that he's wrong and make some sort of biting joke, but richie's hips are spreading eddie's thighs and his fingers keep brushing the grooves left over his scent gland, and eddie's pretty sure he's never been this wet in his life.
maybe he's right. eddie certainly feels like he needs richie right now, even with that intense desperation breaking slightly it's still very much thrumming away under the surface. so much so that eddie tugs until he can find richie's lips again, licking over his closed mouth in a gesture that ends up oddly sweet for the situation. ) You're right. You're fucking right, I think about you every time. Right outside my door, wanting me so bad. Christ, Richie, do you know how hard it is for me not to open that door and beg you to fuck me every month?
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god. the fucking scent of him. he's never met anyone that smells so strong, so perfect — he's not sure if that's a byproduct of being soulmates, of eddie being unclaimed and unfucked by any alpha before him, or if it's just that eddie's that irre-fucking-sistible — maybe made that way from years of repressants his mother made him take, and then his ex-wife, like he's built up a lifetime of heats that hit him doubly hard every damn month. have pity on richie who apparently has the patience of a saint, letting eddie be hot and bothered and so delectably close every heat, and not acting on it.
or, well. didn't act on it. he can't say much for himself right now, pawing the oversized shirt up eddie's chest that definitely doesn't belong to him, forcing it over his bony shoulders in between rough, hungry kisses. he doesn't bother figuring out the shorts — alpha mode is currently initiated which means he has better strength, which means those shorts are ripped to shreds in a matter of moments, all so richie can lay a hot, firm hand over his cock. he'll buy him new shorts. he'll buy him a hundred new shorts — it's all worth it, to feel him hard and frustrated in his palm. )
Fuck, Eddie. You're such a moron. ( he still can't help but laugh against his mouth, because the eddieness of eddie is absolutely delicious. ) I'd fuck you anytime, you don't have to beg. I'll fucking beg, I don't care. You have no idea what you do to me. No idea — ( his hand slides down, between his legs, mapping out the source of his heat, the slick on his fingers. richie fucking growls into his mouth, fingers eagerly sliding into him. ) how bad I want you, Eds. All the time, not just heats. I'm always exactly this fucking horny for you, fucking, please, Eds, I'm all yours and I want you so bad. Please, god, let's — let's get a knot in you. Let's try.
( because richie's kind of a big boy, and eddie is a — well virgin isn't the right word from the look of the sizable toys littering the nearby vicinity, but. not prepared for what richie is packing, at least. )
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honestly eddie had thought he'd reached his peak already – it's why he ended up opening the door, right? – but now that he has richie in his hands, between his thighs, eddie's rapidly losing clarity. his mind was already consumed pretty much exclusively by richie, but as soon as richie gets his fingers in him, eddie realises he hadn't even come close to the peak of this heat. )
Holy fuck, Richie. Richie. ( eddie knocks richie's glasses crooked in his efforts to catch hold of his face, grabbing on and manhandling him until he can press his mouth right up against richie's ear. he's already bucking his hips forward, there hasn't even been enough time for richie to properly thrust his fingers but eddie doesn't have the patience to wait for it. he digs his heels into richie's back, rocks his hips back hard, as hard as he can manage with the weight of richie's body on top of him. )
You're fucking– I don't– I don't know why I waited so long, you're so fucking...good at this– ( he's got one hand loosely wrapped around his throat and he touches his thumb to the hollow between his collarbones, like he's considering pressing down. ) Fuck trying, I'm not– I'm ready Rich, I'm so fucking ready I swear, I can do this just– come on.
( the free hand has been worming its way between them, and it's a tight fit but he slides his palm into richie's sweatpants and down along the length of his cock. if the babbling wasn't evident enough that eddie's ready for this, then the fact that he shamelessly whines as he gets his fingers wrapped around him. )
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instinctively, richie shows off his neck as eddie cups it, a pretty apparent sign of submission in this, his least submissive act, but richie's never been one of those macho, macho masculine kind of guys. it's not easy to pretend to be that way anyway, when he basically spends all his time following at eddie's heels like a lost puppy, pawing softly at his door every heat to be let in. )
I — love the enthusiasm, Eds, but, ( another heady rumble falls out of his throat as eddie touches his cock, eyes screwed shut. ) I'm not sure it'll fit, babe. It hasn't fit before.
( he's sizable in eddie's palm, following the odd taper at the head of his cock, to the thick belly of it that eddie can't completely wrap his hand around. it feels a mile long before he gets to the root, where the budding swell of his knot sits, nearing the size of a baseball right now — but it'll get bigger, and it's kind of a big ask.
but if eddie wants to try then that's good with him. he has absolutely no frame of mind right now to tell him no to anything, and so his fingers plunge into his wet ass, three and then four welcomed as easy as anything as they flare out inside him, stretching him wider and wider. )
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but they should probably talk about that first, so eddie digs his teeth into his lip and pushes his thumb lightly into the soft hollow of richie's throat instead. not much pressure, exactly, more just making himself known. as if richie could ever forget. )
What the fuck do you mean, hasn't before– ( unreasonable, he knows. rationally he is aware that richie hasn't just sat around in virginal purity, waiting for the stars to align and richie and eddie to become richieandeddie again. that's reasonable, that's fine –– hell, eddie was married –– but right now the mere thought is unacceptable to eddie.
he pushes richie's torso back, just enough that eddie can look him in the eyes as he keeps a hand fast around the base of his throat. the whole effect is somewhat lessened by the way eddie's jaw goes slack along with richie's fourth finger twisting inside of him, but he makes up for it with a torturously slow pump along richie's cock, feeling up the full length of him like he's mapping it out. he's still rocking his hips up in tight little circles, riding the fingers stretching him further open, but the look he fixes richie with is intense all the same. ) You're made for me, Richie, of course it wasn't going to work with someone else. It's going to fucking fit, I can take it.
( as if to prove his point, eddie wraps his fingers around richie's knot as best as he can and squeezes, not rough but very insistent. )
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all he can do is listen and watch for when a lot becomes too much, he figures. eddie's going to be sore tomorrow regardless, but then he probably wasn't going to do much walking around anyway. )
Fuck. Fuckfuck shit, okay. ( it takes a good bit of effort, but he pulls his hand away, laying his dripping hand over eddie's cock to soothe it. ) You're right — fuck am I talking about? Like you've ever backed down from a challenge. Stupid.
( he snorts, lifting his clean hand up to — really just to fluff up the surrounding area, moving a plush comforter around to outline eddie's form, wriggling a soft pillow under his ass to give him some lift, bringing his nest in closer to keep eddie comfy through all the discomfort about to go on. once he's sufficiently braced and coddled by soft things, richie puts a pillow in his arms to hold onto while he divides himself further, sinking down to press a kiss on the length of one, milky thigh. it's just another he'll have to apologize for later when he takes a good bite of his inner thigh meat, nose helplessly sniffing around his cock and hole before a wet tongue darts out to taste him, directly from the source.
he knows it's kind of a time sensitive thing, that the sooner he gets on with it the better, but — it's the first time he's really seeing eddie naked, the first time he gets to indulge in all these carnal, hungry things. he wants him in a primal way, but he also just wants him, wants everything with him, is a little grateful for the heat right now, because otherwise he'd simply be lost in all the small corners and curves of eddie to worship. )
Fuck, you're wet, Eds. You taste good — I knew you would, but, fuck.
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he wants to be better with that. he knows richie knows how he feels, probably. he's managed a few fervent, stuttered confessions and a handful of moments entirely too sincere for either of them to truly cope, but richie's something else entirely. it's like richie has just been waiting for someone to pour all this love into, and now that eddie's here with him he's getting it all in spades. richie touches him all the time. he tells eddie he loves him all the time.
but eddie's not good with words, so he lets richie mess with his nest and thinks more about leaving a mark on richie's throat, and when richie's teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh eddie twists and gasps and thinks about getting one of his own. )
God, come on Rich, come on. ( an insistent heel digging into richie's back doesn't seem to speed him up all that much. by the time richie's tongue laps against him eddie is seriously considering begging again, or beating richie with the pillow maybe, but instead he sinks back into the blankets gathered around him and writhes in an attempt to get more contact. )
Richie. I've never had an alpha, never. Never been knotted. Do you know how much that hurts? ( he switches up his angle, not quite pleading but certainly close, hugging the pillow tighter and digging his heel painfully in near richie's spine to pull him closer. ) I thought you said you knew what I needed, this isn't it. I need this, come on. You said we could try.
( he's absolutely trying to goad richie into speeding things along, hips still grinding loosely at the air without any kind of contact, and he's more or less just waving his ass near richie's face now. )
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he has his priorities straightened pretty immediately, at that. pulling himself away, he splatters messy kisses up the length of his torso, one hand notably not pawing at him as he uses eddie's slick to wet his cock, using it as a makeshift lube. it wouldn't be a terrible idea to go get some of the real stuff, but he thinks it'd take some extra strength goo gone to get him off eddie now — and that's not even to mention how likely eddie is to murder him if he stretches it out any longer. pulling up, richie arches over the pillow to lay a warm, somewhat apologetic kiss across his mouth, hips rocking to get in position. )
I'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Just trust me.
( it nearly fucking burns his cockhead when richie brushes it against eddie's hole, his entire body shaking in need as the tapered head falls inside of him effortlessly, catching on the rim. he goes slow, careful, sweat beading on his forehead with the restraint it takes not to just toss his hips forward and fuck eddie within an inch of his fucking life. anyone else he's ever been with, he hasn't especially cared about comfort or safety — but he's immeasurably soft with eddie, careful as each prodding inch fills him to the brim, and then fills him more, pushing him to his very limits.
when it feels like there couldn't possibly be more, richie stops himself, dotting kisses against eddie's forehead, his cheeks, his everything. )
Eddie — fuck, you're perfect. You feel perfect. You okay? ( he gives a little toss of his hips, testing the motion. it's fucking tight. ) Halfway there.
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exactly how he's always wanted it, honestly.
the pillow between them is quickly abandoned, the need to feel richie's weight on him far more important than whatever purpose the pillow served before. he hikes one thigh high up around richie's waist, spreads the other wide to the side. )
I do, okay, I trust you so fucking much.
( in a rare show of restraint, eddie manages not to urge richie forward as he feels the stretch of richie's cock pushing into him. his head slumps back, mouth open, and his hand paws clumsily across richie's face as he tries to gently rock his hips with richie's slow, slow movements.
it's torture. eddie wants more than anything to just dig his heels in and force richie further into him, but he's already so full it's just about knocking the air out of him. far be it for eddie to admit defeat, but maybe richie was onto something about taking it slow. )
I'm good, I'm good. ...Halfway? ( he half-whispers, tries to angle richie's face to kiss him properly but ends up just sort of mumbling right into richie's mouth. he groans, high and punched out as richie experiments with that tiny thrust, and he wheezes out a hysterical little laugh.
halfway. eddie reaches down to confirm as much, feels carefully around the base of richie's cock and up his length to the point where his rim stretches around him. there's still so much left, eddie's honestly not sure if he's going to laugh again or cry. ) I'm fine, okay? I'll tell you to stop. I want all of it.
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he pulls his hips back, and the slide in is easier. allows for more as eddie's greedy hole eats him up almost to the knot, knocking the wind right out of richie's sails as he pulls up to kiss him messily on the mouth, moving his hand from his side to his stomach to skate over the bump in the low part of his stomach, where richie's almost in his guts. he groans against him, squeezing his cockhead. )
God, you're really gonna do it, huh. Take my whole knot.
( he's still careful about it, slow because anyone would find that kind of pain overwhelming — even brave boy eddie, and his knack for biting off more than he can chew. richie sets them into a rock, loosely fucking him, spreading his rim wide and wider as the budding thick of his knot slips further inside. )
Sometimes I want you so bad, I can't even fucking think. Christ — you're the most gorgeous thing, Eddie. I love you so much, want you so much. You're fucking incredible.
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( eddie grins up at him, proud, and smooths a hand over richie's sweaty forehead. presses a kiss there too for good measure, mumbles something about how good richie's doing right against his flushed skin.
this is the hard part though – as if any of it has been easy. eddie knew richie was hung but this is honestly ridiculous, he'll be feeling this for a week. but eddie feels the knot catch on his rim and whimpers in time with the rock of richie's hips. it's so much, but that doesn't stop eddie from digging his heel into richie's lower back and encouraging him into a harder thrust, using the leverage to push his hips back harder.
at one point he thinks it feels a whole lot like richie's whole knot slide into him, but then he'd thought they were almost done back when his dick was only halfway so it's kind of hard to tell. still, even the thought is enough for a gush of slick to accompany eddie's punched out moans, and he does his best to keep fucking down onto richie's cock as his head slumps back against the pillow again. )
I love you. I fucking love you, Richie, I love you so much, loved you since we were kids. You're– fuck, you're so fucking good to me, all the time, you're perfect. Perfect for me.
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a little feral, richie flashes his teeth against eddie's neck, although it's more in the makings of a smile, something like a bewildered laugh leaving his chest. he shakes against him, brought to his fucking hands and knees at how good eddie makes him feel. )
Gonna breed you, baby.
( pulling back, his knot is already too thick to fall all the way out, but he goes as much as his cock will let him before he slams back into eddie with a snap of his hips, groaning out unabashedly. )
You're mine. My babe, my Eds.
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It's always been you, always, I want you–
( it's not the first time that eddie thinks they should have talked about this before it got this far, before eddie's heat hit and took the last of his inhibitions with it. because it's not like eddie didn't want this in a clear, rational state of mind, he just couldn't figure out how to ask for it. they should have talked about things like knotting, mating, marking, because now that richie's balls deep is a really poor time to bring it up.
but eddie's going to do it anyway, because he feels the catch of richie's teeth against his skin, and thinks about the way he'd bitten him before, and the heady, light feeling that comes with richie thrusting as deep into him as he can go just makes eddie certain that it's not enough. )
Richie. Richie, fucking– listen, you stupid knothead. ( so he hasn't completely lost his mind then. that's still very much eddie there, slapping his hand on the back of richie's shoulder to get his attention even as he rocks his hips back against the knot and garbles a few of the words into a moan. ) I want– listen, I want you to bite me. Mark me, properly, want everyone to see it. Want to mate you, Rich.
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that's not the issue, though. richie had gotten over him and his stupid fucking band, or at least he thought he had, until the lead singer of the runners came running back into his life, screaming at him that he was a stalker, and the whole thing felt a lot more gutting than it had any right to. they fought about that, too, back and forth for a few weeks, before coming to an understanding. trying to be friends meant trying to forgive, meant not bringing up what a fucking asshole richie is every two seconds. not talking about a year ago. weirdly enough, once they argue that tension out of the air and come to an agreement, it starts feeling like old times — like that one week in a million weeks, when richie was the king of the world, and eddie wanted to fuck him.
obviously it isn't like that anymore. and it's where the real issue stems from — richie doesn't know how not to like eddie. if there was a for dummies on how not to fall in love with his fingers every time he wraps them around the neck of a beer, or how not to pine after him like a lovesick puppy every time he glances in his direction, or how not to daydream about his mouth every time it comes perilously close to kissing the metal of a microphone — he would've read it cover to cover, until the spine started falling apart. as it stands, he's on his own with this, and there's no self-help book that ever met eddie kaspbrak, or they'd probably tell richie he's shit out of luck, too. some people in the world are just irresistible 10s, and us 2s are stuck looking in their shadows.
it's halloween trivia night, unfortunately, which means richie is stuck working the bar in a god awful mrs. doubtfire costume, which is pretty much just little paper fires plastered over his tits. it's a pretty quiet night before the game, and he's chatting it up with a patron who is definitely flirting with him — which is pretty fucking nice, to be honest, he's handsome and painfully reminiscent of a certain guitarist that richie can just squint his eyes and pretend — but then eddie and bev walk in in matching, thotty baseball uniforms, and there's suddenly no one else in the entire world but eddie and his stupid long legs, so. sorry, jimbo, we are forever stuck in pining limbo. )
Well, if it isn't Eddie Spaghetti. ( richie flashes him a grin, aiming for calm and collected and not being obvious as he checks him out. richie starts mindlessly cleaning the bar, fingers feeling itchy. ) Let me guess, you're ... one of my wet dreams?
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but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it.
the problem is they're in a pretty good place now. it's been all ups and downs, too much of a rollercoaster for eddie's shrivelled little heart (and journal) to handle, but now it's finally starting to settle and they're finding a new rhythm. they're friends, and it's so much better and worse than eddie could have hoped for. of course it hasn't done anything to diminish the burning desire that threatens to consume him every. fucking. time he looks at richie – if anything it's much, much worse. but the trade off is that he gets to see him again, be in his life again, and richie doesn't look at eddie like he hates him any more so. it's better.
it still hurts when he walks in and sees richie yucking it up with some other guy, but bev catches his elbow before he has a chance to spin on his heel and walk right out of the bar, and all at once he's so unbelievably grateful for her and filled with an absolute hatred. it's complicated.
it works, though. he walks up to the bar head held high, full of a confidence that eddie knows he doesn't have. and then richie speaks, and it's all knocked out of him. sometimes, in this new delicate balance they have found, richie will just say shit like this, and it always leaves eddie winded. does it mean– but that's ridiculous.
they're friends. )
And you're one of my nightmares. ( he grins, tilts his head and squints at richie's costume, drops his phone onto the top of the bar. there really isn't room for pockets in a costume like this, so he's had to resort to scattering most of his belongings across the rest of the band. he's pretty sure mike has his wallet. his keys are in bev's tits. it's not ideal, but maybe it's a little worth if for the way he definitely spots richie's gaze wandering. ) What's a guy got to do to get a drink around here?
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it is shockingly hard to pull his gaze back up to meet his eyes. he's seen eddie shirtless before? on stage? it doesn't make any fucking sense. )
I am thinking of a baseball themed drink, I am thinking ... Highball? Baseball has a ball. And it works, because if you bend over, I think baseball might have two more. Three balls, by my count.
( he sets to making it, not waiting for eddie to approve or deny, because it's obviously on the house and if it's on the house, you don't get to be picky. it doesn't take too much energy to make, anyway, which means he can focus his attention on talking with eddie while his hands are otherwise occupied, so he doesn't stare too obviously.
he prays to god one of their shitty friends is taking a picture of him bending just a little over the bar. he knows they aren't, knows that's probably a good idea considering, but fuck them so much in this very moment. )
Anyway, you might give me a good run for winning the costume contest. ( jesus christ talk about anything other than his fucking outfit ) Although Bill already called me 'Firetits', so who's the real winner? Me, that's who. I'm keeping the nickname.
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he wants a goddamn drink. jesus christ, it's been too long for eddie to still be this hung up on a guy who has barely showed any interest. who gave him a 'new phone, who dis?' and just about crumbled every bit of eddie's heart left surviving. who eddie is trying really fucking hard to be friends with, actually, because as it turns out he really fucking likes spending time with him, and he really doesn't want to fucking ruin that with all this unwanted baggage.
it's just...hard sometimes, still. that's all. )
Don't talk about my balls, they're not on show at all.
( as if to make the point – or again, just because he wants richie to look at him all the time – he makes a point to step back a little so that he can bend more in order to lean into the bar. what exactly he's achieving or proving by standing around with his ass jutted out to the rest of the people there is anyone's guess, but eddie feels vindicated all the same.
his phone pings, but he already knows it's bev so he just flicks the buzzer on the side to silent, flips it over screen down. )
Are you done yet? I'm going to get you an award, world's slowest bartender. ( he's already holding his hand out, and he'd feel bad about being a bit of a demanding bitch except it's richie. who already knows he's a demanding bitch, and still seems to want to hang out with him anyway. ) If any of us are going to win it'll be Bev, I don't have the boobs for this. If anyone's Firetits it should be her, really.
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( he's not exactly telling eddie to give him a twirl, but he is definitely saying he'll be watching whenever eddie walks back to the group. obviously, right? where the fuck else is he going to look.
even though he can't really appreciate the full vision of eddie's ass in the shorts ( and if he could draw his gaze up from him, he might see their friends all unapologetically checking him out ), the angle gives him a little bit more thigh to subtly peek at over the top of the bar. he winds up focusing more on his leg than on the drink, and gets ginger ale all over his hand as the drink overflows.
that's why it takes so long, he's cleaning up soda from the sides of eddie's cups before handing it over, leaning on to the bar with an arched brow, while he waits for eddie to take a sip. )
Don't be so humble, Edward darling. To me, your tits are perfect.
( he was just telling stan and bill last night how over eddie he is, so when his phone purrs in his pocket he's pretty sure he knows what it's about. he ignores it. he's busy talking to eddie. )
Are you playing trivia tonight? I'm not. ( a vague handwave. ) So the teams are uneven. So you should keep me company.
( the group will probably not be happy about losing their best players, but they can shove it. have they seen what eddie is wearing? )
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( he says, like he didn't seriously consider spinning on the spot and using the old "oh no, i dropped something" excuse to bend right over at the hip. ridiculous. sometimes eddie's own mind astounds him, and he's only thankful that there's some shred of impulse control left in him.
he had turned down the offered bottle of wine at bev's, despite her insistent protests that it was 'ungentlemanly' to let her drink alone, and he's glad for that now. without a clearer head, eddie might be making all sorts of terrible decisions tonight. as it stands one drink feels safe though, and he sips it mostly for something to do with his mouth, so that he doesn't do something stupid like ask richie what else he thinks is perfect. )
I was going to. ( but now that he's got a better offer, a reasonable excuse to step out, he's thinking better of it. the teams are going to be uneven with him there. it just makes sense, right?
perfectly logical. there's no reason not to flip his phone back over, ignore the four unread messages and shoot a quick text to the group chat: i'm out for tonight, make sure you win anyway we need the bragging rights before turning it over again. that way no one can try and argue about his decisions, and he can keep hovering across from richie like some stupid, horny, lovesick little bar ghost. appropriate time of year for it, pathetic either way. eddie thought he was over this, he really did.
he shrugs, sips again. finger walks his hand to the centre of the bartop, and slaps it down flat. they're friends. they can hang out for a while. maybe later eddie will duck into another bar and see if there's some tall, dark haired mophead that will take him home for a night, but right now he just wants to spend some time with richie. ) They can deal with it. Can you teach me how to make a cocktail? Something fancy, I want to impress Bev.
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( the way eddie's leaning on the bar makes their hands dangerously close together, in a way that richie might have instinctively pulled away from before, because wounds are still fresh and he sometimes still flinches when he shows eddie affection, waiting to be chewed out for ruining something again, but — he doesn't. they really have gotten closer, and it really does feel like the week that they were together. he wonders if that serves as some proof, to eddie. that richie never faked it with him — he never lied. well, no he did lie, but now about his feelings towards eddie, not with an ulterior motive. just because he's a dumbass stupid idiot who likes him so, so much.
he wonders what might've happened if he didn't lie. figures eddie probably would've lost interest right away, and they wouldn't be here right now, richie's eyes on eddie's thighs, hands almost touching. it's a pretty specific torture to be so close to the only person you want to cross that boundary with, but — at the same time, richie really wouldn't trade it for anything. he still likes eddie. he fucking loves him.
and now he has eddie all to himself, so. later, losers. he tosses eddie a lazy grin, feeling spoiled, before turning back to his collection of alcohols behind the bar, coming up with something. )
Fancy isn't really my forte, but I'll show you — eh, something cute.
( he could really take this opportunity to get eddie fucking wasted, and then maybe have the chance to carry him back home, but. he thinks their friends would call that taken advantage, and probably frown at him later. so, in the same family of the highball he's drinking now ( and knowing that bev is a whiskey girl ), richie pulls out the ingredients to make a whiskey sour, laying them on the bar top for eddie to observe. once he has, richie takes a bit of time to show him how to fill the shaker, adding in all the ingredients to it one by one, as if eddie's ever going to do it at home.
and then he gives it a shake, maybe purposely trying to flex his arms in eddie's direction. the only reason he has any muscle here at all is because bill won't let him quit this fucking job, but he's knows it's basically the only thing he has going for him, so. work with what you've got.
straining it, he sets the drink out in front of him. )
Viola! Whiskey sour. ( eddie likes cherries, so richie gives him three in the glass, looking proud of himself. ) You're gonna get sloshed if you drink that. How is a rockstar such a lightweight, again?
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richie looks nice when he knows what he's doing. he's obviously worked here long enough for the drinks to become second nature, and even slowing down the process to explain the steps to eddie doesn't seem to affect the cool confidence that surrounds richie's movements.
it's actually kind of insanely hot, and eddie slams back a good half of the drink in one large gulp the moment it's handed to him, just to try and cope with that little thought process. )
Oh wow, yeah that's good. ( if he's a little breathless, it's only because eddie just smashed half the drink with no pause. it's definitely nothing to do with richie's arms and the way a corner of his mouth quirks into a grin every single time richie is about to take a dig at eddie. ) Fuck you, I'm not a lightweight. And if I was that'd just be great, because I'd be a cheap drunk. But I'm not a lightweight.
( it doesn't prove his point in the slightest, but eddie has another mouthful anyway. and then scoops a cherry out, because richie was right and he does in fact really like them. they're full of sugar and should be absolutely disgusting, but maybe that's the appeal. )
Besides, it's Halloween. Isn't the whole point to get drunk and act a fool?
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he should probably be grateful for bill's interruption, clapping eddie's shoulder in greeting, but he isn't. he was having a good time oogling eddie, thanks. huffing, he looks at eddie. )
Hold that thought.
( and, with much less care than he'd provided eddie's drink, he whips up a round of vegas bombs for everyone in attendance, because eddie's absolutely right. getting drunk is the only game plan anyone has for tonight, except for probably bill who is definitely going to get laid after trivia, but he's an outlier who shouldn't be counted. once the drinks are all mixed up, richie has them on a tray that he hands off the bill, which is honestly great, because it means there's another cocktail sliding its way in eddie's direction as bill drunkenly bumps his hip, and this one was not richie's fault, so no one can blame him. )
Anyway — yeah, rub it in my face, you turd. Working on Halloween is a fucking crime, it's the only good holiday. ( if it wasn't already his favorite, it absolutely will be, after tonight. ) What're you doing after this? If you don't take me out trick-or-treating, Eds, I'm just gonna get sad drunk in some shitty bar that's open until 3am, where I can slam jam some shots until closing.
thotty eddie au o wait thats canon
he tries to keep his attendance scarce from eddie for awhile, not that he thinks about lying to him, but just that he's a little embarrassed to admit his keen interest in the inner workings of eddie's body, like he hasn't said a thousand things more embarrassing than that every day of their fucking lives. still, he finds out eventually — it's pretty obvious looking back on it, how richie disappears from home every day for an hour or so and comes back with a backpack full of briskly hidden notes that he reads over when eddie is otherwise occupied. turns out that eddie figuring out about the classes actually does wonders for his grade in it, because he finally learns not to rush himself when it comes to the whole process. so, it's kind of nice. richie will study at night, nose buried deeply in a holographic book, and eddie will make him tea up until he decides it's bedtime. it's a pretty sweet deal.
despite that, richie is still not fucking good at this class. he does put his best foot forward, but it's almost impossible to conceptualize any inner mechanics of things, without having a reference point. it's by sheer coincidence that they're currently studying the most modern engine in android technology, the very same that's buried away in eddie's chest like a secret treasure. richie implores him, )
Pleeeease help me with my homework, Eds. I'm gonna flunk out!
( and that's how they wind up on the bed, richie sitting between eddie's legs with a digital book laid out on eddie's stomach. richie used to find the sterile white of a plastic coating beneath eddie's skin off putting, but he kind of likes it now, finding it as beautiful as he finds all the little hidden nuts and bolts that keep him held together. his fingers draw across the plastic to find his chest cavity, pressing it open. inside are the exposed wires you'd expect, all neatly tucked in an orderly way to give richie a pretty good model to work on.
in the center, there's this thrumming reactor, the very power of eddie's being — all the energy in his body supplied by this little thing rushing thirium through him. when he sees it, richie smiles, more affected by the sentiment than he thought he would be. )
Aw, it's like a little heart. ( instinctively, he reaches in to touch it — before something like a very small lightning bolt arches off the engine and onto richie's finger. he pulls it back immediately. ) Ow, fuck!
( sucking his finger, he looks over his notes instead, eyebrows knotted as he sets to work. he can't really kill eddie, which is good, but he can do some pretty messed up stuff, so it still requires his full attention. )
So ... supposedly there are five major wires connecting your limbs to your engine, and then your power source to your AI program. ( like a line connecting his brain to his heart. richie clucks his tongue before glancing at eddie's open chest, eyebrows lifting. ) Oh, I see. Okay. So — I should be able to detach them and shut off parts of your body, makes sense. There should be a bit of a delay, but.
( he goes for it, reaching forward and feeling the much tamer pulses of electrical licks across his fingers as he latches onto one wire, taking a breath before pulling it loose. it should be his right arm, however. )
Wait! Fuck! That was the wrong one — shit.
( instead, he pulls of that heart to brain connection, essentially leaving eddie in the few seconds before a complete shutdown takes hold. richie snaps the wire back into place like his fucking hand is on fire, worry apparent on his expression as he leans over eddie, looking for evidence of — well, of life. )
Shit, Eddie? Eds, c'mon.
canon eddie's ultimate dream is android stamina
eddie can even help, which is what led to this situation in the first place.
truth be told eddie is still a little uncomfortable at deactivating his skin. richie barely reacts anymore, but eddie can still clearly recall the first time he'd peeled the skin back from his palm. richie hadn't even been particularly mean about it, but there had been a series of incredibly minute microexpressions that all added up to some kind of distaste.
it doesn't happen anymore. eddie can see the adoration pouring out of richie every time the man so much as catches a glimpse of him, but there's still a moment where eddie exposes the white plastic of his chest and he goes through a gesture similar to holding his breath as he waits.
there's none of that, only a reverence. the chest plate hisses open and richie is getting all sappy, and eddie loves him so much. sometimes he thinks it's all he knows how to do now. he's not going to say as much because richie sometimes gets shifty when eddie expresses his feelings so plainly and they can't afford that with his wiring exposed, but he watches the furrow of richie's brow with a soft, fond smile. )
It's a– ohhh. ( his voice glitches right as richie catches the spark on his finger, and something sure happens, but he doesn't know how to explain it so eddie keeps quiet. no need to stress richie out unnecessarily, he already looks so focused. better to let him keep going.
but it's weird. it's an entirely new sensation that plugs away somewhere deep within him, and when richie gets his fingers around the wire more solidly eddie is about to say as much, except he pulls, and–
chaos. timers flashing, dialogue boxes popping up everywhere, objectives glitching out all across his field of vision and he can't do anything other than clench up his hands pressed into the sheets. it only lasts a few seconds, but when the wire snaps back into place there's this roaring rush of something. his systems all blow into overdrive and eddie's panting and tense under richie, staring up at his worried face with a largely slack expression. )
Holy shit. ( his voice still has a slight electronic fry to it, and he blinks a few times as if that'll fix it. ) That...was the wrong wire.
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( relieved, richie instinctively leans his head down to rest on eddie's stomach in some fruitless attempt at an embrace that doesn't quite work, thanks to the giant hole in eddie's chest. logically, he knows eddie would've been put into shut down and not actually have died, not without a memory wipe and some truly devastating destruction of internal hardware, but he can't exactly tell his thundering heart to be logical right now. jesus christ is absolutely right. he did a big whoa-oh.
it only takes a second for him to catch his breath against the ledge of eddie's chest, realizing pretty quickly his focus should be on eddie, to make sure he didn't fuck anything up. it takes a surprising bit of focus to not go thumbing through his homework for the answer to a problem he doesn't even know is there yet. )
Shit, so, maybe I just learned an important lesson about starting small and working my way —
( but when he leans back to assess the damage, he realizes — the look on eddie's face isn't really one of pain. it's not even discomfort, the more his stares, head tilted as if searching for something on him that he never quite finds. it isn't anger, isn't upset. his cheeks are a little blue, which makes sense if the movement of thirium was paused for a micro second, but.
he really doesn't look unhappy at all. )
Wait. Eds.
( darting a hand forward, he cups his cheek, the beginning bubble of what looks like unadulterated delight starting to shine through on his expression. )
Eds. Did you like that?
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I think–
( he doesn't know what he thinks. the places where richie's bare hand had touched exposed parts and wires burn within him but there's no rational way for him to say that he kind of wants richie to shove his whole fist in there and really go wild. he's not an idiot, he knows what all the signs point to, but given his model and purpose eddie never needed to be programmed with arousal receptors.
apparently life, uh, finds a way? )
I think you should do it again. ( he settles on finally, tipping his head to rest more comfortably in the curve of richie's palm and looking up at him very seriously. interesting choice for an android with pupils blown so wide he might as well be a college kid on MDMA for the first time.
that at least makes sense. there's just a lot happening in his field of vision right now, all sorts of messages that he's dismissing as quickly as they appear, prompts to preconstruct the dangers of richie pulling another wire, but eddie doesn't want to punch him in the windpipe so he shuts the whole preconstruction program down to be safe. better. ) A different wire this time. I don't think that's happened before.
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the warble to eddie's voice was cute, he thinks very belatedly. on someone else, he'd say it sounded — horny. although who's to say it's not horny on eddie, just because they haven't gone there before? )
Oh. Okay.
( his smile is a little shyer, as it settles on him just what he's doing. it really is like stroking at his heart, richie drawing his hand away to more carefully thumb around the exposed electrical wiring, the smooth pads of his fingers gliding up a line of silvery, flashing blue wires, all coiling back to the mechanical purr of his core. richie glances between his chest and eddie himself again, waiting for a change of heart (haha), before he squeezes his fingers around a different wire, one that controls one of his legs. )
You want me to pull it?
( it surprises him, how breathless his voice is. he's so immediately invested in the theoretical concept of eddie's pleasure, he thinks he'd do anything to hear his voice go all distorted again, like something really wrecked him.
anyway, it's only a teasing question. after a breath, richie pulls the wire all the same, another shock zapping him as he pulls it away, teasing around the general magnetism of his electricity that's instinctively trying to put the wire back in place. flirting, getting the wire close and pulling it away, close and away, before he eventually lets it fall back into its proper slot. )
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for an android literally void of any kind of sexual programming, a lot of his natural system responses sure do model after human pleasure signs. a question for cyberlife maybe, but not right now.
right now eddie's just resisting the urge to grab hold of richie's wrist and shove his whole hand violently into a neat little cluster of wires sitting a little below his thirium pump. he doesn't do it, even though his fingers twitch as he thinks about it, and anyway it's not long to wait before richie hooks his fingers around another main wiring component. left leg, eddie knows because it jerks right as richie slides the wire out of place. his hips push up with the movement, and eddie stops breathing entirely as it hovers just short of falling back into the slot. )
I don't...think this is supposed to happen.
( eddie might sound confused, if his voice wasn't strained through a mild distortion that throws the pitch off and glitches through the vowel sounds. and by the time the wire clicks into the slot his eyes roll back and there's a crackling that sounds almost like static filtering through. )
Richie. ( it practically sounds like a GPS recitation of his name, tinny and hardly eddie at all, but the hand that comes up and presses flat against richie's chest is all eddie. ) Keep going. I'll tell you if anything breaks.
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he can't say eddie is ignorant about anything, is the thing, but if he knew how often richie was horny off the sight of him, he'd probably search webmd for symptoms of some slutty virus. he can't possibly know that richie froths at the mouth when eddie presses his hands through his hair — and he doesn't need to. richie has always been happy with their relationship, the soft and wholesome thing that it is. he's never wanted for more. and he's also never known that this was sitting just underneath the surface.
it's a weird conflict, that he faces. there's a need to reassure eddie that weird android sex isn't important to make richie happy, that eddie is what makes richie happy, but on the other hand — he's fucking asking for it. not asking, demanding. )
Will you tell me if it hurts? ( he doesn't feel pain, richie remembers belatedly, letting out a loose chuckle. ) Or, well. You know what I mean. Just keep talking to me.
( richie hardly knows what he means. but he knows eddie's voice only sounds like that when something gets dislodged in him, like after a fight — maybe in androids it's not the actual feeling of getting hit that bothers them, but the implied danger of it. maybe? richie's brain hurts from thinking about it. there are thinner, more delicate wires on the opposite wall of his chest, and it takes some maneuvering around his motor but eventually richie finds an angle that works for him, gliding his fingers against them like strumming guitar strings. he pinches them, before pulling his hand out and licking his thumb, going right back into it and feeling the electricity interact with the moisture, making his hand feel fuzzy between each small strike.
elbow deep inside him, richie halves over, pressing a kiss on eddie's belly, on the cool plastic coating. they don't kiss often — it's an entirely human instinct that androids don't have, but the fact that richie does it is proof that he's affected. by eddie, by whatever the fuck is going on. )