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Rarest of Luxuries

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It was the middle of summer in Maine, on a surprisingly cool day thanks to a cold front that had been sweeping through the region, allowing the entire state to take a breath of fresh air and relax. It left even Derry surprisingly calm and peaceful, a rare occurrence. Usually, that meant that the losers would meet up at the Barrens, or get high out in the clubhouse. Now that they were all adults they’d also found it easier to sneak alcohol down, though it had lost its charm without the thrill of trouble of being underage partiers. If drinking and laughing over dumb jokes in a glorified bunker was partying. But today Eddie had explained that he already had a prior commitment, and that commitment was Richie coming over for the day. They had been planning it for a while, ever since Eddie had been told that his mother was going to be traveling out of town for the night to go and check in on her sisters up near Bangor.

It wasn’t often that Eddie could ever sneak his best friend in- given that Mrs. Kasbrak absolutely loathed Richie Tozier with all her being, and if she caught even a whiff of the idea that he was coming over, she’d make up some sort of excuse or bug that Eddie could catch that meant he would be shut in his room for the night. If she had known she no doubt would have insisted Eddie come along with her for the trip. As it stood, Eddie had managed to convince her that he was going to stay home and clean the house, getting some rest to ensure he didn’t catch anything from the sudden change of weather. Eddie was pretty sure he had added some sort of concern about the stress of traveling. After eighteen years of practical imprisonment, Eddie had perfected the art of finding the perfect buzzwords to throw his mother off his scent, but that was beside the point. The point was this was a rare chance and neither of the boys wanted to waste it.

Eddie was hosting, which meant that Richie was going to have to be in charge of snacks. Given that Eddie had known Richie almost his entire life, Eddie also knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell of Richie really arriving on time. Without a doubt he would get ready to the point where he’d almost be on time and then would remember he was supposed to get snacks, where he would then have to go and buy the snacks first, resulting in him being on average 37 minutes and 41 seconds late. Not that Eddie kept track or anything.

All this was to say- Eddie had about 37 minutes and 41 seconds (28 minutes and 53 seconds if he was being careful, and conservative) to deal with the increasingly active problem in his shorts.

Eddie had allowed himself the second rarest of luxuries, another delicacy that he couldn’t partake in when his mother was around. And that luxury was sleeping in. Eddie never got to sleep in, and he would always tell everyone that he preferred to wake up early. It was partially true- Eddie liked the idea of waking up early and all that it provided, namely health benefits and promising productivity- but he did not actually like mornings. He loved the feeling of soft floating that he got when he had overslept, and the warm sun had beamed in, making everything fuzzy and heavy. He loved feeling that safe, that calm before he had to deal with the horrifying reality of the planet Earth.

So Eddie slept in. This was problem number one. Sleeping in was great, but it left him with far less time to actually prepare for Richie coming over. So Eddie was running out of time.

The larger and more prominent issue was that Eddie had woken up hard. It was happening more and more often now that he had finally hit his second large growth spurt, which had started oh so subtly a few weeks before he turned eighteen as if his genetics had noticed they were about to legally be an adult, and now wanted to go to the party. Eddie would wake up hard, sometimes remembering the imagined feeling of skin on skin, hot breath against his lips, and an aching voice in his ear. Sometimes he wouldn’t remember anything, and would only have the sensation of his erection pushing the front of his briefs. In either situation, it was torturous, deliciously so. Eddie loved the feeling that he could wring out of himself, the sensation of having and reclaiming control over his body in such a direct way. Eddie loved the feeling so much that he couldn’t stand to ignore it if he had an ounce of privacy.

As such, Eddie knew two things- He had roughly 28 minutes and 53 seconds to masturbate before he’d need to get cleaned up, dressed, and ready for Richie to come in with snacks. That was good, because Eddie had had one fantasy subject return over and over to his dreams and his waking moments, and that subject was Richie. Eddie loved touching himself thinking about Richie. It was perfect, being with Richie was always perfect in the most infuriating of ways, so why would anything as spectacular as sex be any less so? The problem was Eddie wasn’t actually with Richie, nor had he ever once even entertained the idea of telling the other boy either. It was a mortifying truth, something that he had resigned himself to, but didn’t ever settle comfortably enough into to delude himself into thinking it was a possibility.

So the problem was dealt with simply by only indulging when he was in privacy. Like right now.

Eddie started slow, rucking his shirt up and fingering at his chest, dragging one hand up and down his pectorals and across his nipples, pushing at the skin with just enough pressure to create a drag of fingers against his flesh, the first step of bliss. The second hand dragged further down, palming at the front of his briefs, causing a soft moan to fall from his bite pinkened lips. He’d imagine they were Richie's hands, long-fingered musicians hands that had delightful callouses on the fingertips, and were amazing against his skin. Eddie had felt it when Richie got excited and grabbed his hand to pull him along to look at some stupid window display at the local toy store, even though they were literally adults now thank you very much. He remembered the press of it against his skin, warm and rough to the touch, but not unpleasantly so.

Eddie imagined those fingers, and while his own well-manicured and moisturized hands were far too soft to do the sensation true justice, it was enough to get him along to the next step. The other hand dipped finally, finally under his briefs, tugging his cock and balls above the elastic, smoothing the slick bead of fluid at the head down for just a little less drag. There at least he was sensitive enough that even his soft hands were rough enough to feel close to what Eddie had ingrained in himself. He’d imagined sitting with Richie in his lap, grinding down against Eddie and murmuring soft noises of pleasure, since one of Richie’s endearing qualities- to Eddie at least- was that he never shut up. Eddie would encourage Richie, and in turn, Richie would make the most deliciously sweet moans. Eddie was sure of it, he’d be so fucking good at it.

Oftentimes that fantasy would be enough to get him to completion, and he wouldn’t even need to think about what would happen after that. Richie’s hands would be that good, and Eddie just let it settle in as he came down.

But sometimes he wanted more. Sometimes he’d go even further, and he would imagine what it would be like to have Richie bent over on his hands and knees, getting fucked on Eddie's cock so he could wring out even more delicious noises. Eddie would get a pillow- one he had hidden away so his mother wouldn’t swipe it for laundry before Eddie could do his own. He would take that pillow and fold it over, using a generous amount of vaseline to coat his dick before fucking into the soft channel he had created. He knew it wouldn’t even be close to the feeling of actually having Richie, but fuck was it good anyway, and he’d chase that high any way he could. Eddie would bend over the pillow, rocking his hips in a smooth and steady rhythm at first.

“Richie...” Eddie moaned, already dick deep in the fantasy back in real-time as he shook himself from his thoughts. “Fuck Rich, so fucking good.” He’d add. Eddie knew Richie liked the attention. He thrived in it, growing bigger and brighter and filling up even more space. Eddie loved the idea of fucking into him, making love to him with his body and his attention. “Fuck Richie you’re so good... So good for me. You’re so pretty for me, all b-bent over and... shit.” He trailed off, head bowing closer to his chest as he got more worked up, eyes shut tight as he envisioned the soft pale skin that would be spread out beneath him in stark contrast to the hair on both Richie’s head and arms. He’d be bent over, legs spread wide to accommodate Eddie between them, with his arms bracketed under his cheek to cushion himself. “Oh Fuck Richie... You look so hot. You look so good, you’re being so good for me Richie. So good.” He crooned out loud, working himself up fast. Eddie wasn’t even worried about finishing on time. At this rate, he was going to almost have time to do this shit twice, if he were stupid.

Eddie would readjust then, bracing the pillow between one hand and using the other to crawl up his shirt again, pinching and squeezing at his sensitive and already peaked nipples. “Fuck Rich, baby. Richie. Oh god, Richie.” He moaned out louder, encouraged by his own bravery and volume. Richie would deserve that- to hear how amazing he was and how he was wrecking Eddie. “ Taking me so well. Taking my whole... Fuck. Richie... Richie.” He cried out, hiking a hand up even further, dragging his nails down over the sensitive buds until he was feeling what he was sure was minor electrocution. It had to be with how fast it trailed through his entire nervous system. “Richie... Richie, Richie!” He cracked, feeling it. He was so close, so fucking close to an orgasm. Close to coming hard in the already slick fold. Eddie let go of his nipple when the attention became too much, and he grabbed the pillow with both hands, fucking into it like a goddamn engine, pistoning his hips. “Oh fuck Rich- Fuck I’m going to fucking come. I’m gonna come Richie, fuck fuck fuck!” He gasped before he was arching his back, crying out with a broken noise as he felt his dick pulsing and making the fabric damp. He held it there, gasping in the aftershocks, eyes still closed.

It was in that moment of glorious blind bliss that Eddie suddenly heard a creak of the floorboard- the one right on the inside of Eddie's doorframe that he always had to avoid when he was sneaking out. Eddie had never snapped out of an orgasm so fast, and he whipped his head around to see the wide-eyed face of none other than Richie Fucking Tozier himself.

Eddie was sure he was either going to throw up or die on the spot. With his luck, possibly both, in whatever order would be most humiliating.

“What are you-”
“I thought I heard-”

They spoke at the same time, both of them shutting their mouths at the same time. Eddie pulled a sheet over his body at the same time that Richie took another step closer.

They both tried again.

“You weren’t supposed to be-”
“I got snacks yesterday so I-”

It was painting them both into a corner, one of which seemed infinitely more incriminating to Eddie. Richie hovered there in his room, just a few steps- maybe less than three steps away.

“I- You weren’t supposed to be here. You’re never on time.” Eddie said, holding out his hand to make sure Richie knew he was talking. As if his words mattered, or made him any less incriminated.

“You always complain about me being late, so I was trying to get shit ahead of time to surprise you.” Richie said lamely, face red as a tomato as he tried to figure out an appropriate place to look without actually looking away.

“You-you should have knocked before you came in.” Eddie replied reluctantly, his voice losing strength with each sentence it seemed.

“I did. But you- I don't think you heard me? And then I-” Richie’s face goes darker, and he licked his lips subconsciously. “I heard um... I heard my name. And I thought you- you were calling me in so I came in but...”

“But I was... “ Eddie trails off.

“... Fucking your pillow.” Richie finishes.
“... Fucking my pillow.” Eddie echoes.

“And crying out my name.” Richie adds, a lot more breathy.
“And crying out your name.” Eddie repeats again, this time much more broken.

“I-I’m... so sorry Richie. “ Eddie whispered, feeling like he was going to be sick still. “ I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t... I thought I would... But you shouldn’t have had to ever worry about that no matter what. I totally- I get if you hate me.” He sniffled, tucking deeper into his sheets.

“Did you mean it?” Richie asks instead.

“What?” Eddie asks, terribly thrown off. Of all the ways to be angry at Eddie, whether or not Eddie meant it seemed all in all a rather irrelevant piece of information in regards to figuring out Eddie’s punishment.

“Did you mean it? When you... Saying my name and stuff.” Richie clarifies, eyes darting away as he bites his bottom lips with his slightly bucked teeth. “Were you really... Ya know... Thinking about... me?” He asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eddie is sure he actually is dying since he’s clearly hallucinating the way that Richie's voice sounds almost hopeful.

“You wanna know if... If I was thinking about you? Does that really matter? Isn’t... Isn’t it obvious?” Eddie balks out, voice trailing into that manic laugh that he got when he was terrified.

“It does matter. It- It matters a lot. Please, Eddie? Please just... tell me if you were imagining me. Please. I wanna know. I gotta know.” Richie pleaded, finally stepping to the end of the bed and placing one of his massive hands over Eddie's where it sits clutched in the sheets.

“I...” Eddie is at a loss for words, feeling his brain short-circuiting as it tries to decide if it’s more important to be mortified by having been caught, or thrilled at having Richie’s pretty and rough hands on top of his. “I-I was ... I was imagining you. “ Eddie confirms.

Richie’s breath inhales with a sharp gasp, something Eddie hears rather than sees given that his own line of sight is glued onto where his hand is connecting with Richies. But before Richie can say anything, Eddie barrels on.

“I was imagining you. I almost always imagine you, and even if I try not to, it always comes back to you. I’m so sorry Richie. I know you must hate me but I never- I didn’t mean for this to happen, you just make it so easy, you’re so handsome and funny, and charming that you make it so easy to love you and I-”

“Love?” Richie squeaks out, sounding far more attached to that topic now rather than worry about what makes Eddie’s dick wet.

“Fuck I- I’m so sorry shit just don’t fucking hurt me I’m so sorry I’ll stay away, I swear to god I’m-”

“-Eddie please let me kiss you because I need to know that this isn’t a dream and that you are really saying all of this.” Richie interrupts, not wanting to hear another word of Eddie’s sadness, or miss another second that he could save doing what he really wanted.

“Kiss me?” Eddie parrots, back to his old bad habit from less than 3 minutes before.

“Please. Please let me.” Richie begs, voice sounding desperate and raw, like kissing Eddie had been Richie's one and only wish for Christmas every single year, and this was finally there under the tree.

“I... Yes. You can- Y-You can kiss me.” Eddie stumbled out, unsure how this could possibly be real.

But it had to be because seconds later he was feeling the crash of Richie's lips against his own, and the slight bite of his hard plastic glasses digging into his face where they met, causing his nose to ache. It had to be real because as perfect as it was even in its mess, it never hurt in Eddie’s dreams.

“Holy fuck, Richie Tozier is actually kissing me.” Eddie croaked out, raising a hand to thread through those soft precious black curls that Eddie thought about far too often.

“I should be saying that about you. “ Richie laughed back, sounding teary-eyed. “Fuck... Eddie I- Even if you didn’t mean it, I love you so much. You don't... You don’t know how much I love you and how even in my dreams this would be too good to be true.”

“You love me?” Eddie asked him softly, fingers curling into the sheet on his other hand, biting his lip slightly.

“ Eddie Kasbrak I love you so goddamn much, you have no fucking clue. I’ve literally loved you since before we were 13.” Richie laughed, and now Eddie noticed that he definitely was crying, so that teary sound had been real and not his imagination,

“Oh... fuck.” Eddie whispered. “We love each other.”

“Uh-huh.” Richie nodded, giving a wobbly smile.

“We love each other and we... Can we be boyfriends?” Eddie blurts, his excitement quickly pushing down his embarrassment from moments before. There was too much good happening.

“Fuck... Please. I really- I would really fucking love to be your boyfriend.” Richie begs again, squeezing Eddie’s hand on the bed tightly.

“Holy fuck I have a boyfriend. Richie Tozier is my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s right Eddie Spaghetti. I’m your boyfriend.” Richie says with a wider, toothier grin, regaining his footing in the conversation.

“Ugh no, don’t call me that, you can’t call me that now that we’re dating.” Eddie grimaced, weakly swatting at Richie's arm, causing his sheet to fall a bit in his lap.

“Baby I am never giving up Spaghetti, ever. But while I’m denying your request, I’d love to make one of my own.” He said, trailing off, gaze flicking somewhere else.

“Why would I say yes to your request if you’re saying no to mine?” Eddie huffed, a bit petulant.

“I mean ideally you’ll really like this request too. I was uh... I was really hoping maybe we could um... Sometime... Do that thing you were um... Imagining.” Richie finally gets out, face going redder as he shifted his legs, the uncomfortable hardness returning after resting for a bit during the emotion.

“I- I need a moment to get it up.” Eddie admitted.

“Not right now!” Richie said with a frantic shake of his head. “N-Not right now. I’m... I’m not ready for that yet. But um... But maybe soon. “ He trailed off.

“Oh.” Eddie murmured softly, considering it. It was odd, seeing Richie suddenly bashful about anything. He was never shy, or cautious with his words. He wasn’t called Trashmouth because he was thoughtful about his choice in words. Yet here he was making an effort, which to Eddie meant he was making a colossal effort indeed. So he had to be serious. “Yeah.” He answers finally.

“Yeah?” Richie asks with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah. We can wait. As long as you want. Even if it’s never. Whatever you want Rich, always.” Eddie said genuinely, taking up Richie’s palm and kissing his knuckles. “Always.”

“What if I just want to cuddle with you for a bit?” Richie asked hopefully.

“Yeah. We can do that.” Eddie laughed gently, smiling wide. He scooted over moving and readjusting the bedding, taking the dirty pillow from under the sheets, using the edge to clean himself off.

“Okay but one condition, I don’t want to have to use Richie Jr. over there as my pillow, because if I’m going to have genuine Eddie Kasprak spunk on my face, I want it straight from the tap.” Richie declared with an atrociously dramatic old time radio voice, reaching over to tap the top of the pillow where he knew there were no various fluids gathering. Not that he was worried about getting dirty, but he wanted to limit the amount of reasons Eddie would have for pushing him away.

“Oh fuck off, I hate you so much.” Eddie groaned, tossing the pillow to the floor near the hamper, ignoring the twitching sensation in his stomach as he felt the urge to go take care of it right now. He’d have to wash it anyway, so it could wait.

“No, you don’t Eddie Spaghetti. You looooove me.” Richie grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

Eddie sighed, shaking his head, All the same, he reached over and tugged Richie close to his chest, pressing a kiss to his neck as he made himself the big spoon, despite never catching remotely close to Richie’s height. “I do. I really do Richie.” He agreed softly, holding Richie close to his heart as he fell asleep, their heartbeats thumping in perfect time.