one-line.

[sloppybitch]

**** contd.

[It's a lot to take in, first the soft comfort of his bed against his back which is a goddamn blessing right now because he had been so tense before. Ian's choice to be a complete and total emotional terrorist definitely got his mind away from the shit that was constantly eating at him.

Richie briefly exhales, a small laugh escaping him, something exasperated. Now he gets it, but retaliation is a matter of pride, and in the middle of the laughing he grabs Ian forward with aggression, hand-knotted into his shirt with purpose. Lips mean lips, more like slam into them, payback is a sport.]

Comments

[wittingly]

[ To be fair, his brand of emotional terrorism is probably the kindest emotional terrorism on the market. Nobody expects Morphin' Time since the Power Rangers stopped being a thing.

Don't expect him to complain about being abruptly kissed, though. It's not exactly fighting fire with fire to give him exactly what he wants. Rich slams, but Ian coaxes. Nudges with his nose to right their angle, adjusts until things get softer, and settles one hand palm-flat on Richie's stomach. His fingers splay out wide in every direction, maximizing surface area and softly stroking with his thumb.

Oh no, you sure showed him alright... ]

[sloppybitch]

[It's not about winning, it's about the overflowing pool of emotion Rich has had to constantly deal with for so long. Crashing into Ian doesn't feel bad, it feels welcoming, it feels right, and slowing him down only helps him to appreciate it, lips meeting lips, advances returned with kind - this time sober, for all of it. Open to all of it.

The hand on his stomach, despite his own desire to seem grounded, rocks through him like a freight train and without meaning to Rich's chest and hips respond to that touch with an eager lift into the touch he was like fucking silly putty. Completely at Ian's whims, and he didn't even care about it. Each dance of their lips is more emotional than the last, and without so much as realizing it, he's found himself in an embrace, nothing rigid but well met - encapsulated in his arms the fabric of his shirt in his hands.]

[wittingly]

[ Things move in reverse, in a way - slowing down the longer they go rather than speeding up. Creeping to a careful and deliberate crawl, wherein each nudge and movement of his lips is slow-motion. It's a thoughtful, nervous sort of kiss that pools heat in his stomach and an expanding, sweet-painful feeling in his chest beneath his ribs.

He's on his side, mostly, and the hand on Rich's stomach slowly winds around his back, tugging him gently forward so their stomachs are flush. It's I really like you in a kiss, it's the potential for something deeper. It's very clearly not so much about sex this time, but gentler and more reassuring. ]

[sloppybitch]

[Since he was very young Rich had always had issues with impulse control, later in life that lent itself to the alcoholism and an abundance of regrets. Right now, with Ian, none of that seemed to matter there was no need for urgency now just the careful graduation of their kiss mapping stars in Ian's mouth with his tongue. Simple but satisfying in a way he never would have thought he'd have the patience for.

The message is loud and clear, and a hard hand grips the curve of Ian's jaw, rough and rigid in stark contrast to the softness of his lips.]

[wittingly]

[ It's a spark in his chest, an ember in his heart, the slow pull of candy floss that's sticky sweet and painfully good. He nudges into Richie's hand without breaking their lips apart, the soft tilt of his jaw.

It's the kind of slow and all-consuming kiss that makes the world go quiet, reduces his perception of time and space to only right here in the moment. No aliens, no apocalypse, no cabin, no woods, just the bow of a lip and the touch to his cheek and the feeling in his heart.

He's kind of a sap, as it turns out.

When he pulls away, it's breathlessly and only a couple of inches, with eyes flickering open to get a look at Richie's face.

Just to check in.

You okay? This okay? ]

[sloppybitch]

[Of course it's okay and as generous as it is to ask him it only leaves Rich feeling more vulnerable than before, an indignant sort of look crossing his features before he moves to pull Ian back into a kiss.

Everything he'd ever forbidden himself comes crashing back into him like a coarse swell of emotion, subtle at first but met with the overwhelming force of recognition.]

[wittingly]

[ That indignant look earns a huff of a laugh, a soft fond sort of chuckle. Only he could pull a face look like that midway through a kiss like this.

His hand moves up, fingers card gently through Richie's hair, fingertips passing over his scalp and knuckles combing through the curls. ]

[sloppybitch]

[There's something so natural about falling into Ian's arms, chasing his lips through his small bout of laughter and the continual exploration of his body. It's easy to get lost in this, Ian's fingertips in his hair and the shiver it churns out of him. Rich reciprocates by nosing down toward his neck, placing soft bites along the road to his chest.]