[Eddie had this way of leaving him breathless without even trying. After so long, decades, that still stayed true. Richie was completely at his mercy and awed by how far they'd come and how far they'd gotten.
He still wanted to fuck Eddie properly, just the two of them without something to move things along. First, it was the requirement, then it was a cult. After that, sleepwalking boner juice that could bring down Big Pharma itself. Now Eddie was drunk and that didn't feel right either. He had a needling urge to do it right, without anything urging them along and every time he came close it all slipped away or became obstructed by some new thing.]
Good. I hope us fucking is her IMAX, 360, surround sound brand torture in the afterlife. I really would've loved to bake her a cake that said "I'm fucking your son," on mother's day or something, but my imagination's just gonna have to do.
[They both could do a lot worse than each other, had done a lot worse than each other. Richie had been at the bottom of the bottle and the barrel. He'd cheated death a million times before IT came back to sink his teeth in him.
Richie settles pliantly under each little swivel and sway of Eddie's hips with no trace of impatience. The bath and being with Eddie like this wasn't how he planned to spend his night, but it was warm and calming in the way only being with Eddie could be.]
Well, yeah, but also just - us. You know?
[It's a non-committal way of putting it, a small way to guard his heart. Eddie had been it, from the tender age of thirteen onward and any sense of emotion he may have felt for anyone overtime was dwarfed by what he felt for Eddie.]
no subject
He still wanted to fuck Eddie properly, just the two of them without something to move things along. First, it was the requirement, then it was a cult. After that, sleepwalking boner juice that could bring down Big Pharma itself. Now Eddie was drunk and that didn't feel right either. He had a needling urge to do it right, without anything urging them along and every time he came close it all slipped away or became obstructed by some new thing.]
Good. I hope us fucking is her IMAX, 360, surround sound brand torture in the afterlife. I really would've loved to bake her a cake that said "I'm fucking your son," on mother's day or something, but my imagination's just gonna have to do.
[They both could do a lot worse than each other, had done a lot worse than each other. Richie had been at the bottom of the bottle and the barrel. He'd cheated death a million times before IT came back to sink his teeth in him.
Richie settles pliantly under each little swivel and sway of Eddie's hips with no trace of impatience. The bath and being with Eddie like this wasn't how he planned to spend his night, but it was warm and calming in the way only being with Eddie could be.]
Well, yeah, but also just - us. You know?
[It's a non-committal way of putting it, a small way to guard his heart. Eddie had been it, from the tender age of thirteen onward and any sense of emotion he may have felt for anyone overtime was dwarfed by what he felt for Eddie.]