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good in me

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As it turns out, Richie kind of enjoys being a househusband. 


Not that he doesn’t work, of course, but these days he’s mostly working from home, flexible hours and all, mostly freelance stuff, and it gives him a lot of time to putter around doing chores and shit, and he kind of likes it. He was never very tidy when he lived alone, but now that he has Eddie and his mental health isn’t totally shit and he stopped filling all his downtime with heavy drinking, he finds he kind of enjoys the steady rhythms of wiping down counters, and sweeping floors, and doing laundry. They’re small, easy things that make him feel more comfortable, make his home more welcoming, and Eddie always appreciates it. 


There are some chores Richie doesn’t like and won’t be caught dead doing of his own free will. He doesn’t like doing dishes, he fucking hates cleaning the bathroom. You’d have to pay him to unclog a drain. But some things he actively enjoys. 


Folding laundry is one of them. Eddie is shit at it, for one thing. Never learned how, Richie thinks. He didn’t watch every single episode of that Marie Kondo show on Netflix, clearly. Richie likes folding laundry. He folds all their laundry, actually. Richie does most of the laundry in general, but even if Eddie’s the one to throw a load into the dryer, it’ll just sit in there or in a laundry basket until Richie folds it and puts it away. But Richie doesn’t mind. It’s a calming little routine, when Eddie is away at Friday night trivia with his coworkers. Richie puts something inane on the TV, sits on the floor with piles of laundry, and folds clothes into neat little stacks until Eddie gets home. It’s repetitive, and mindless, and he likes the textures of the fabrics against his hands. It’s like meditation, almost. 


He’s deep in it—like two loads of laundry deep—when he picks up a pair of Eddie’s boxer briefs and, only half-consciously, notices there’s a few stitches coming loose along the back seam. Unthinkingly, he pokes at it, wiggles his little finger through it. The hole widens, and Richie blinks at it, and then winces. “Oops,” he says, holding them out to survey the damage. They’re not unwearable, honestly, but if Eddie notices he’ll probably throw them out. Richie could mend them, possibly, it would only take a couple stitches and he knows how to sew a button onto his shirts, so this can’t be much harder. 


“Damn, Eds,” Richie says, looking closer at the tear. “Ass so fat you busted a seam.”


The hole really would land right at the roundest part of his ass. Smack dab between the cheeks. Actually, it would be right over— 


Richie blinks. Thinks about it. Smiles. 


“Maybe we’ll take you for one more ride,” he tells the underwear in his hands. 


He folds them carefully so that the hole doesn’t show. When he finishes up for the night, he brings them to their room along with the rest of their clothes, opens Eddie’s underwear drawer, and makes sure to put them right at the top. He smooths them down with his palm and smiles. Maybe Eddie won’t even put them on. Maybe he’ll see the hole and toss them. But maybe not. Maybe not. 


It’s worth a shot. 



Eddie is a terrible morning person. He has to get up before Richie most days, since he has to drive to work and Richie just has to sit down at his laptop in his sweatpants at some point to answer emails. Richie still usually wakes up with him anyway, eats breakfast with him and sends him off to work with a kiss, but on weekends Eddie is sleepy and grumpy and only gets up when he has to pee too bad to stay in bed anymore. Sometimes Richie will wake him up with kisses or a hand down his shorts, or more often Richie will lure him back to bed after he comes out of the bathroom to make out or have sex, but today, on this particular Saturday morning, Richie wakes up and lays in bed, fucking around on his phone until Eddie wakes up on his own. Richie leans over to kiss Eddie with a smile, closed-mouth and indulgent, and Eddie responds sleepily for a minute before he sighs and hauls himself upright. 


“I gotta piss,” he says, and rolls out of bed clumsily. 


“Mhmm,” Richie says, watching him quietly, smiling. 


Eddie starts to say something, yawns too loud to be understood, and pulls open a drawer on his way to the bathroom to pull out a familiar pair of black boxers. He doesn’t even glance at them as he tugs a clean t-shirt from the next drawer over and then heads into the bathroom to shower. 


Richie grins, and rubs his palms together like a scheming villain, and heads for the kitchen. 


Fifteen minutes later, Richie has made them each a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, and Eddie has stumbled out of the hallway, still yawning but now damp and pink and wearing the t-shirt. And the boxers. 


“Morning,” Richie says, grinning.


Eddie hums, sits down in his usual seat. Richie worries that he’ll notice the hole now, that he’ll feel the cold surface of the chair against bare skin, but he doesn’t say anything, just picks up his fork to start eating. 


“Got any plans today?” Richie asks, just in case. 


Eddie shakes his head. “No. One of us needs to clean the bathroom, though, the tub is kind of gross.” 


Richie smiles. “Not me. I scrubbed the microwave on Thursday. Plus I cleaned out the fridge on Tuesday.” 


Eddie grumbles and pretends not to hear him. 


Richie kicks him gently under the table, resting his cheek in his hand to look at Eddie fondly. “This is what you get for not doing any chores during the week. You end up having to do them all on the weekend.”


“It’s too early to talk about tasks,” Eddie mutters grumpily.


“You brought it up first,” Richie sings. 


Eddie scowls like a child and shoves more eggs into his mouth. 


“You’re so cute,” Richie tells him happily. “I love you.” 


“Shut up,” Eddie says, as if on instinct. 


“The cutest little Spaghetti Man,” Richie confirms. 


Eddie yawns again, and looks like he’s about to pass out in his plate. “Why did you even get up? It’s too early. I thought you’d still be in bed.” 


“Wasn’t sleepy,” Richie says brightly. “Had some thoughts on my mind.” 


“Mmm,” Eddie says. “Is there coffee?”


Richie grins his victory. He knows Eddie so well. “Yeah, go grab a cup.” 


Eddie hauls himself upright, shuffles over to the counter to find a mug and set it down by the coffee machine. Richie cranes his neck around to look at his backside, and there it is. The hole in his underwear, plain as day. Stretched out a little, even, where the curve of Eddie’s ass stretches the fabric. The darkness within beckons Richie, calls to him. 


Easy as anything, Richie gets up, sidles up next to him under the pretext of getting himself a glass for water. He pauses next to Eddie, settles his hand at the nape of his neck. Eddie shivers a little—Richie’s hands are cold—but doesn’t react otherwise, moving to pour his coffee. Richie strokes his palm gently down Eddie’s back, over his shirt, down to his waist. He trails his fingertips up over the curve of his ass, moving like he’s going to grope Eddie a little. 


Instead, his fingertip finds the edge of the hole, and with a smile, Richie pushes his finger through, slow and easy, until he's touching warm, delicate skin. 


“Wh—” Eddie says, tensing up instantly, knees locking and hands clutching the edge of the counter. His ears are already bright red when he cranes his neck around to try to look at what Richie’s doing. 


Richie laughs, pressing his fingertip into him. “You’ve got a little peep hole juuuust there,” he says, and pushes his finger in deeper, where Eddie is warm and damp between his cheeks. 


Eddie shivers and flushes, clearing his throat as he turns back to the counter, and doesn’t say anything. 


Richie loves him so goddamn much. “You’re so predictable,” he says with a grin, wiggling his finger further into the hole, until he can feel the hot pucker of Eddie’s rim. 


Eddie’s throat clicks as he swallows, and his breathing comes a little faster, fingers gripping the edge of the counter. “Speak for yourself,” he says, voice rough, “you’re the one fucking fingering me in the kitchen.” 


Richie hums a laugh, and steps a little closer so that he can press his finger between Eddie’s asscheeks better, rubbing rhythmically over his rim. Eddie bites out a soft whine, arching into the pressure, and Richie leans into the counter, turns to face Eddie so that he can press a kiss against his temple before pressing his fingertip into Eddie’s hole, just a little. 


Eddie moans openly, gasping and pressing back into the sensation as he braces himself against the counter, and Richie can see the way his face floods with heat, the way his eyes go glassy, the way his cock twitches where it’s beginning to tent the front of his underwear. “Shit,” he mutters, and Richie loves, loves, loves him. 


“You’re so funny,” Richie murmurs against his temple, rubbing between his cheeks with one finger, just playing with the sensitive skin there. “You’re not a prude. I’ve seen you in the bedroom, Spaghetti Man, many many times, you’re not shy. But the second we’re outside of our room—”


“Shut up,” Eddie hisses, grinding back against the pressure as much as he can, flushed and panting. “Just shut the fuck up.”


“You’re cute,” Richie says with a grin. “Is it that you feel like someone could see you or something? Is that what gets you so hot every time I do something like this anywhere other than our bed?”


“God,” Eddie breathes. “I don’t fucking know, shit, Richie—” 


Richie hums, draws his finger out so that he can press two through the hole, stretching it wider so that he can pet two fingertips over his rim. Eddie whines, eyes closed as he presses up on his toes, desperate for it. He’s already so worked up, mouth hanging open, cock stretching out the front of his boxer briefs, the head weeping enough that Richie can see the faint outline of a wet spot. It turns Richie on so much, seeing Eddie like this, seeing that he can do this to Eddie so easily. They do all sorts of stuff in the bedroom, they have sex all the time, but something about catching Eddie unawares always gets him going like nothing else, like he didn’t know he’s allowed to have sex outside of the confines of his bedroom, his bed. The bathroom is less of a novelty at this point, after so many shower blowjobs, and they’ve had sex on the couch enough times that that doesn’t pack quite as much of a punch anymore. But still, sometimes Richie can get him going like this, if he catches Eddie wandering around the house. A hand down the back of his pants, a thumb over his bottom lip, a knee pressed into his groin. Something about the spontaneity, or the open want, or the shamelessness. It gets Eddie hot, and that gets Richie hot. 


“Richie,” Eddie says urgently, almost shocked, and Richie doubts he knows what he wants to say, but he can make a few guesses. You want me here? You want me right now? Like this? Standing up, against the counter? You saw me and wanted me? You couldn’t wait? 


“Yes,” Richie says, smiling against the side of his head, kissing the corner of his mouth as he presses hard against Eddie’s hole, rubs at it a little roughly. Eddie makes a broken sound, spreading his legs wider and arching his back. Richie rubs tight, pulsing circles around his rim, relishing the heat of the skin there, the way Eddie’s ass clenches around his fingers. He’s not wet, but it hasn’t been that long since the last time Richie fucked him, so he’s loose enough that when Richie pushes against him, one finger sinks in fairly easily, even dry, down to the second knuckle. 


Eddie moans brokenly, squirming and breathing hard. “Come on,” he says, “come on, please, Richie, please.”


“What?” Richie murmurs, his voice going hoarse. His cock throbs at the tight, hot clutch of Eddie around his finger, the way it drags as he pulls back out and rubs around his rim again, still playing with him. 


“Christ, I don’t know, just. Fuck, Rich.” Eddie rocks up on his toes, seeking pressure, head hanging. 


“You want more?” Richie asks, letting his finger plunge into him again, heat pooling in his stomach at the way Eddie moans. 


“Yes, shit, yeah. God, I’m so fucking horny, you bastard.”


Richie laughs, licking his lips. “You like it?” he asks, slipping his finger out again, playing with his rim, dipping both fingertips back into him at the same time. “Am I making you feel good?”


Richie,” Eddie says, voice rising in pitch, and Richie grins, and hooks another finger from his other hand into the hole to rip a couple more stitches loose, until the fabric is gaping open. 


“There we go,” Richie says, and lowers himself gently to his knees behind Eddie, drawing his fingers out of him to survey his work. 


The rip is a good two inches across, now, and if Richie pulls Eddie’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, he can see Eddie’s hole perfectly framed by black fabric, pink and desperate. Richie smiles, and holds him open, and presses his face into Eddie’s ass, tongue probing. 


“Oh, god, shit, Richie,” Eddie half-whines, hole spasming under Richie’s tongue as Richie licks over it. Richie hums, letting saliva pool in his mouth, kissing his rim sloppily before pushing his tongue into him, getting him nice and wet. Eddie makes a sound like he’s dying, as if Richie’s never eaten him out before. And that’s why Richie loves doing it, loves licking as deep into Eddie as he can, sliding his tongue into his hole and tasting him, luxuriating in him. Eddie is so hot and perfect here, and he moans so loud when Richie sucks on his rim, eats him out like he would kiss Eddie’s mouth, plunders him. 


“Richie,” Eddie says, like he’s about to cry. “Richie, Richie, fuck, oh my god.”


“Mm?” Richie says, holding him wide open, curling his tongue inside him, rubbing it against his slick walls. 


“Feels so fucking good,” Eddie says, arching away from him and then pressing back again, like maybe it feels too good. “God, Richie, what the fuck are you doing to me?”


Richie can't answer, doesn't have an answer that justifies pulling away to reply, so he just holds Eddie wide open, makes lewd sounds against his ass as he sucks and slurps into his hole like it's a goddamn feast. He stretches his tongue out as deep as it'll go, until his jaw aches with it, and Eddie's hole spreads to take it. Richie loves the way he can feel Eddie like this, the way he twitches and clenches inside, the way his ass tries to draw him in deeper. It's a front-row ticket to Eddie's desire, and Richie feels overwhelmed with the scent and taste and feel of him, tongue fluttering against his rim, curling against velvety wet skin.


He’s trembling now, as Richie eats him out like his life depends on it, the fabric around his mouth sloppy with how wet he’s trying to make him. He licks into Eddie’s hole until Eddie is wrecked with it, legs shaking and rim loose. God, he’s so fucking hot, and Richie can’t get enough of him. He wants to make Eddie come like this, just on his tongue, knows that he could if he took enough time. But Richie’s cock is aching with how hard it is, and Eddie’s body is begging for him, clenching around his tongue, desperate. 


Richie finally pulls back, tongue sliding out of Eddie completely, and he sucks in a deep breath, looking at what he’s done. He holds Eddie spread open for him, admires the wet fabric around the hole in his underwear, framing his clenching asshole. “God, you’re perfect,” he rasps. 


“Rich,” Eddie groans. “Come on.” 


Richie leans in, kisses him there over his hole. “What do you want?” 


Eddie hisses. “Fuck me.” 


“Yeah? That’s what you want?” 


“Yes, god, fuck, come on. I want your cock in me, Rich, please, I want you to fuck me open.”


Richie moans; Eddie knows exactly what turns him on. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “yeah, Eddie, I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll make you feel incredible, make you come on my cock.” 


He can hear Eddie’s wild grin when he says, “So do it.” 


Eddie doesn’t say anything when Richie pulls a travel bottle of lube from his sweatpants pocket, which is good, because Richie doesn’t want to get into the fine details of his plotting just yet. He’s busy squirting lube over his fingers, pushing it into Eddie’s hole, two fingers right away and then three, getting him wet and slick. Eddie moans and arches and stretches up on his toes, taking it like a champ, expletives falling from his lips like rain. 


Richie wants to keep doing that, keep fingering him, listening to the wet, filthy sounds of it echo off the kitchen walls, watch Eddie try not to hump the counter in his desperation, but god, he’s so, so hard. And he’s so, so horny. And Eddie feels incredible around his fingers, hot and wet, and Richie’s cock is throbbing jealously. 


“Come on,” he says, breathless, hooking his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s underwear again to rip it wider yet. He stumbles upright, tugs on Eddie’s hip. “Come on, sweetheart, come to the table.” 


Eddie finally turns away from the counter to watch Richie sit down in his chair, pushing his sweatpants and boxers just far enough down his hips to free his cock. It’s rock hard and soaking wet at the tip, and Eddie looks at it hungrily, face red and mouth open and wet. 


“C’mere,” Richie says again, reaching out to him, beckoning with one hand while he uses the other to slick himself up. “Come sit on my cock, babe.” 


Eddie nods clumsily, and walks to him on shaky legs. It’s the first time Richie’s seeing him from the front, and he’s gorgeous, a total mess, his hair damp with sweat and his underwear tented obscenely and stained with a huge wet spot. He takes Richie’s outstretched hand, and Richie pulls him down to kiss him for the first time all morning, properly, tongue in his mouth and licking behind his teeth. He never thought Eddie would let him do this after eating him out, but Eddie gives into it instantly, moaning softly, guiding Richie’s hand to his crotch to palm his cock through his underwear. 


“God,” Richie breathes, thumbing over the head, skin dragging over wet cotton. “You’re so hot, Eddie, sometimes you’re so hot I can barely stand it.” 


Eddie makes a vague noise, and kisses him, and clutches at his shoulders. “Hot enough that you’ll fuck me?” 


“Always,” Richie says on a laugh. “Babe, say the word and I’ll do it. I’d fuck you anywhere you want.” 


Eddie groans softly, reaching for Richie’s cock, wrapping his fingers around his girth. Richie’s big, and Eddie’s loved it since the first time they slept together. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, come on. Fuck me.” 


Richie presses one last searing kiss to his mouth, and then pulls away and holds onto Eddie’s hips to turn him around. Eddie goes easily, bracing himself on the edge of the table as Richie gets into position and then starts to guide him slowly down into his lap. He holds the rip in his underwear open with one hand while he tugs Eddie lower with the other, and watches with rapt attention as the fat head of his cock presses against his wet, pink rim. Eddie keens softly, high in his throat, and reaches back to hold Richie’s cock steady as he sinks down into it. 


There’s something about that first moment of penetration that drives Richie wild. He loves the way it looks, loves the way Eddie’s body resists for just a second before his rim spreads around his cock, swallowing him up. He loves the tight, hot squeeze of Eddie’s hole, the way he takes Richie so well, regardless of how big he is. Like he was made for taking him. 


“Shit,” Richie gasps, blinking sweat out of his eyes, watching as Eddie sinks lower and lower. “God, Ed, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Look at you, you love it, you love every fucking inch of it.” 


Eddie groans throatily, knees shaking with the effort of not taking all of him at once. He probably could—he has practice—but Richie knows Eddie loves the slow stretch of it as much as he does. The drag, the buildup, the slight burn. He arches his back and sinks down bit by bit, and Richie throws his head back, overwhelmed by the ever increasing pressure around his cock, the hot squeeze of Eddie around him. It’s so good, it makes him insane how good it is. 


And then he’s fully seated, leaning back against Richie’s chest and panting, and Richie pushes his hands up under Eddie’s shirt and says, “God, babe, like this you still look fully clothed. Like no one would know that you’re stuffed full of my cock.” 


Eddie shivers, mouth hanging open as Richie strokes over his sweaty stomach, rubs his thumb over his nipple. “I feel like the biggest slut in the world,” he says, laughing breathlessly. 


Richie grins. “Do you feel like my filthy rentboy the morning after I had my wicked, wicked way with you?” 


“A little,” Eddie says, head tipped back against his shoulder, clenching around his cock. “God, Rich, something about you makes me feel like a fucking virgin.” 


Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and presses his smile into his neck. “Is it my giant dick?” 


Eddie snorts out an inelegant laugh. “That’s probably part of it.” 


“Stretching you open like you’ve never been stretched before,” Richie hums into his shoulder. “Filling you up.” 


“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?” 


Richie kisses the side of his neck and grinds up into him. Eddie moans reedily, arms flailing for something to hold onto where he’s balanced on Richie’s lap. Richie holds tight to his hips, pulls him down as he presses up into him, feels the sweet squeeze of Eddie’s body as he takes Richie as deep as he can go. 


“Shit, shit, fuck,” Eddie gasps, legs spreading over Richie’s thighs, feet stretching out to brace against the floor. He leans back and twists so that he can hook an arm around Richie’s neck, hold onto him, and it puts him in the perfect position for Richie to lick over his nipple, so he does, pushing his shirt up high enough to get his mouth on skin. Eddie hisses, back arching, and Richie guides him into a slow roll of his hips with his hands before bending his neck to seal his mouth over his nipple. 


Richie,” Eddie all but yelps, thighs shaking. His feet just barely reach the floor like this, but he leans back against Richie’s shoulder and uses the leverage to keep working his hips, pushing himself down onto Richie’s cock, a steady rhythm that drives Richie crazy. 


“God, Eddie, you feel so good,” he says against his chest, mouthing clumsily over his skin. Every squeeze of Eddie’s hole around him makes him feel like he’s one second away from coming. “Come on. Are you close?”


“I always feel close,” Eddie says haltingly, pressing his toes into the floor to lift himself up and then dropping back down with a gasp. 


“God, I know, fuck. You’re so fucking hot, ah, Eddie, I want to fuck you all the fucking time, it’s insane. I feel insane.” Richie holds tight to him, pushes up into every roll of his hips, sucks gently at his nipple, rubs his stubble over his chest. 


Eddie whines, clutching at him, clenching around him. Richie can see the wet spot at the front of his underwear spreading, and he wants to reach into them, wrap his fingers around Eddie’s cock, stroke him to completion, but he can’t get himself to let go of his hips, can’t stop holding onto him. He keeps suckling on Eddie’s nipple, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it as Eddie pushes down onto his cock, chases his pleasure. And it all feels so good, so hot, and Richie wants to come so bad. 


“Come on, Eds, come on, you can come,” he says, grinding up into him, breathing hard. “You can come just like this, can’t you? Just on my cock, just from feeling me inside you, filling you up.”


Eddie shakes his head, moving his hips faster. “I need more, please, Richie—”


“Yeah, come on, I’ll give you whatever you need babe,” Richie says, and leans forward until Eddie gets the idea, the two of them standing up together, bending to brace against the table. Eddie plants his feet wide, arms crossed on the edge of the table, and Richie leans across his back, kisses the sweaty nape of his neck, above the damp collar of his shirt. “Is this what you need?” he asks, and pulls nearly all the way out, until he can feel the clench of Eddie’s rim around the head of his cock, and then pushes back in hard and fast. 


Eddie nearly wails, back bowing. “ Fuck! Yes, fuck, yes, fuck me—”


“God, yeah, you love it,” Richie says, fucking into him with a solid pace, deep and steady. Eddie doesn’t like it rough, doesn’t like it to hurt, but he likes to feel it. He likes to feel all of Richie, every thick inch of his cock, spreading him wide open. And Richie knows just how to give it to him, how deep and how hard and how fast, how to make Eddie keen with it. How to make Eddie come from it. 


And Eddie is clearly getting there, after all that Richie’s been working him over. He moans shamelessly, hole flexing around Richie’s cock, thighs shaking as he takes thrust after thrust. He’s beyond anything but single-syllable words, agreeing with Richie when he asks if he loves it, if he wants to come on Richie’s cock, if Richie’s fucking him just right. He swears, and pleads, and spreads his legs wider, eager to take more. 


“Come on, Eddie,” Richie pants, grinding into him slow and deep. “Come on, you can come, just from this. Come from this, all over your underwear. I know you can.”


“Yes,” Eddie says, and then he does, hips jerking, spine bowing, knees shaking. Richie holds onto him and fucks him through it, pushing his cock into Eddie’s eager body, and the tight, hot clench of his hole is finally enough to send Richie over the edge, too, just as Eddie is starting to whine from overstimulation. 


Richie groans as he comes deep inside him, filling Eddie up with his cum. He gasps, and leans over to press messy kisses to Eddie’s back, and presses his hips tight to Eddie’s ass as he comes down from it. 


Eddie sighs, and then makes a pathetic sound when Richie starts to pull out. Richie shushes him, dropping back down to one knee to get a look at him. 


“Christ, Eddie,” Richie says brokenly, breaths still coming hard, body still tingling all over from his orgasm. “You’re absolutely dripping here.”


“Yeah,” Eddie pants, and Richie watches through the rip in his underwear as his hole clenches and Richie’s cum spills out, sliding down his perineum. 


Quickly, before he can even think about it, Richie dives back in, licks up his cum with one broad stroke of his tongue. Eddie makes a shocked sound that quickly turns into a moan, and he chokes, “Richie,” as he slides his tongue back into him, chasing the rest of his cum before it has a chance to drip out. 


“Oh, fuck, Rich,” Eddie gasps, hole clenching around his tongue. It’s different, now, looser, wetter. Richie loves it. “Richie, fuck, fuck.”


Richie hums out his pleasure, his agreement, and delves deeper into him, where he’s sloppy and soaked in his cum. He pushes it all deeper into Eddie’s hole with his tongue, and then he curls it and licks it back out, sucks it off his rim, sucks it out of him. Eddie makes sharp, high noises, hot and overwhelmed, and Richie licks all of his cum out of him, until his mouth is full with it, his tongue coated in the taste of himself. 


“That’s so fucking filthy,” Eddie gasps as Richie slides his tongue out of him. Richie keeps his mouth shut, smiling at the soaked fabric of his underwear, stretched wide around his gaping hole. It’s hot as fuck, and Richie wants to tell him so, but instead he turns Eddie around by the hips, grins wide, and pulls down the front of his underwear. 


Eddie groans, ostensibly in disgust, as Richie reveals the mess in the front of his boxers, dripping with his cum. Richie hums, and immediately leans in to suck them clean, licking over the wet fabric, his soft cock, his sticky pubic hair. Eddie chokes and holds onto his hair, and then he tugs gently, and Richie goes easily, gladly, and meets Eddie halfway with lips that part for an eager tongue. 


He never, never thought Eddie would ever be into snowballing, but now it just feels right, Eddie plundering his mouth for their cum, licking it off the insides of his cheeks, sucking it off his tongue. Richie laughs into it, lets his jaw drop and pushes the mess in his mouth into Eddie’s, and it’s disgusting, filthy, and he loves it. And he loves that Eddie loves it. 


“God,” Eddie says, pulling back at last, slumping against the table. He’s breathing hard, and his hair is a disaster, and his mouth is red and wet and slick with cum and saliva. His underwear are soaked and pulled down just far enough that his cock hangs out, and his shirt is drenched with sweat. 


“Eddie,” Richie tells him breathlessly, holding him by the hips and just looking at him. “You look like an absolute whore.”


Eddie grins dazedly. “Is that not what I am?”


Richie hums, stepping in to nose at his sweaty temple, reaching around to poke his fingers through the hole again to play with his loose, sticky rim. “My disgusting little whore,” he says sweetly. 


Eddie laughs, trying and failing to clench around his fingertips. “You made me into this, you know. So you can’t talk.”


“I’m not talking,” Richie says. “Just happy. Just so, so happy.”


Eddie continues to try to catch his breath and says, “Don’t get sappy when you just came in my ass and then licked it out of me and pushed it into my mouth. I’ll develop a weird Pavlovian response.”


Richie laughs, and then can’t stop laughing, and hugs Eddie tight around the waist as he snickers into his throat. Eddie chuckles with him, and then lifts his face up to kiss him again, still cum-sticky but sweet now, indulgent. 


“God,” Eddie says, reaching back to tug at the edge of the hole in his underwear. “These are incredibly ruined, huh?”


“Yes,” Richie says, feeling very satisfied. “Though, maybe we could wash them…?”


“They’ll fall apart,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. 


Richie grins. “That’s not a no.”


Eddie just shrugs. “You do all the laundry, anyway.”


“Eddie,” Richie says. “I fucking love you.”