Stephen King: An Artist, A Bitch

how about 34 for reddie! it sounds really intimate/romantic

This only took 30 years but here it is.  It’s not how I wanted it to be at all but it’s something?  Right?  Yeah??  I hope you like it.  

#34 kiss prompts:  Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

Pairing: Reddie

Rating: Mature

_____

Eddie is sprawled out on the floor of Richie’s bedroom, feet up on the dresser and eyes on the TV set on top, where The Lost Boys is playing, volume low.  The cover for the video is nearby, torn on the edges from overuse and years of being shoved in Richie’s backpack and carried to sleepovers at Bill’s.  They’ve watched this movie hundreds of times, and they’ll watch it hundreds more, because Richie just can’t get enough of it. 

Speaking of- Richie is right beside Eddie, mouthing the lines and tapping his long fingers against his knees, his voice a low, familiar sound that makes Eddie smile.  It’s late, the clock on the desk reflecting a neon green twelve-zero-seven in the dark of the room, but Eddie isn’t sleepy.  He never gets sleepy when he stays over at Richie’s.  Not since the first time when they were ten, and Eddie pulled his first all-nighter, playing video games and reading comics, cracking up over funny expressions on their favorite characters. 

“My own brother, a God damned shit sucking vampire!”  Richie’s brows move up his forehead as he speaks, the light from the screen reflecting off his glasses.  Richie chuckles, bumping Eddie’s shoulder with his.  “This movie sucks so much.”  

Eddie snorts, shoving at Richie’s knee with his foot.  “You love it.”  

“Nah.”  

“Fucking liar.”  

“It’s funny,” Richie says, rolling on his side and facing Eddie.  He narrows his eyes in a dramatic glare.  “Careful, Eds.  I’m a shit sucking vampire.”  

Reaching out, Eddie shoves Richie’s face away, laughing when Richie falls back into their piled blankets and pillows.  “You’re just a shit sucker.”  

Richie gets up and to his feet.  “Jaysus.  You’re after my throat tonight, huh?”  

“You deserve it,” Eddie quips, no longer paying attention to Richie as he heads over to his messy closet.  

Eddie sighs, stretching his toes out as he stares off, not watching the screen anymore.  They start college in a month, and though they’re both headed to Boston– along with Bill, Ben, and Mike– Eddie dreads the end of these easy, wonderful nights.  The end of spending so much time together, of sharing everything in their lives that they can call their own.  Like Richie’s sweaters, that Eddie always ends up wearing when he’s cold.  And Eddie’s softest pillow, that he gives to Richie whenever he sneaks over to Eddie’s in the middle of the night, to squeeze and hold as he falls asleep to nightmares.  

Eddie is startled out of his thoughts by Richie settling down beside him, looking much more comfortable in a tee and shorts.  “What’s that look for?” he asks, leaning down and peering into Eddie’s eyes.  “You’re making your grumpy face.”  

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing his eyes away from Richie’s blue, blue stare.  “Just kinda tired.” 

“Then go to sleep, dumbass.”  

“I could if you’d shut the fuck up.”

Smirking, Richie falls back, dark hair curled over the pillows, the screen light bouncing off his glasses again.  “You’re not tired.  Who is the fucking liar now, huh?”  

Eddie can’t help the smile that curls over his lips, even though he’s trying to force his mouth into a thin line.  “I’m not lying, asshole.”

“Yes you are!” Pushing up on his elbow, Richie pokes Eddie’s side with his free hand.  “Like I don’t know you?  You get all cuddly when you’re about to pass out.  Trying to spoon me.”  

Cuddly.  Something in Eddie’s stomach twists at the way the word leaves Richie’s mouth.  The same thing that always reacts to the unexpected ways Richie shows he pays attention.  “I’m not cuddly,” Eddie says, failing to keep a straight face.  “Shut up and watch your movie.”  

Richie chuckles.  “You’re caught.”  

“Shh.  The movie.”  

“You’re a big time cuddler.”  

“And you’re a big time moron.”  

“So mean,” Richie says, then pokes Eddie’s side again.  “Don’t be a dick.” 

Eddie shoves at Richie’s face again, but Richie catches his hand that time, brings it to his mouth.  Eddie’s chest goes tight at the warm breath brushing over his skin.  Until Richie smirks, cocks one brow, then bites the pad of Eddie’s middle finger. 

“Ow.  What the fuck?”  Eddie pulls his hand away, glaring.  “What’s wrong with you?” 

Richie’s grin is wide, a little crooked, like the angle that his glasses are sitting on his nose.  “I’m a shit sucking vampire.”  

Rolling his eyes, Eddie considers kicking him in the head.  Or the balls.  “Then suck on yourself!”  

Cackling, Richie spreads his legs out in front of him, then bends down toward his lap.  His voice is strained as he bobs his head a few times and says, “Nah.  Can’t do it.  You’ll have to do it for me.”  

Eddie kicks him in the thigh, cheeks hot and ears burning.  “Suck a fat one.”  

“I would, but your mom-” 

Eddie swings the pillow at him, catching Richie right in the face, almost knocking his glasses off.  “Shut up.”  

Richie’s unfazed, falling back into the blankets and laughing hard.  Loud enough to wake his mom and dad.  “You’re so mad!  Why are you mad?”  

“Cause you’re talking about my mom!”  

“I always talk about fucking your mom.  What’s the big deal?” 

Eddie’s not even sure why he’s mad, so he doesn’t bother answering.  Face flushing deep.  Embarrassed.  He just crawls under the thin sheet he stole from Richie’s bed, pulling it up over his head.  Fucking jerk.   

“What are you doing?” Richie says, tugging on the sheet.  “Are you hiding?”  

“Going to sleep.”  

“It’s like, only a little after midnight.”  

“Goodnight, Dick.”  

“Okay, okay.”  Richie reaches out, fingers sneaking under the sheet to take Eddie’s hand in his again.  “I’m sorry.  Forgive me, Eddie my love?”  

Eddie sighs, deflated, and kicks the sheet away.  “It’s fine.  Just.  I’m tired.  Ok?  I’m gonna sleep.”  

Richie is quiet for a moment, eyes big and deep and so blue. “Hmm okay,” he says, but he squints, and Eddie knows he isn’t buying it.  “I don’t think you’re tired at all.”

“Don’t think too hard there, Rich.”  

Richie goes on, ignoring Eddie’s insult.  “You’re embarrassed.”  

This trips Eddie up, makes him stop before he can spit out another comeback.  Yeah, he’s embarrassed, but Richie’s never called him out on it before.  “And why would I be embarrassed?”  

“No idea, but you’re face is all red like you are.” 

Eddie looks away, withering under Richie’s stare.  “I’m not.  I’m mad that you bit me.  Like, who does that?”  

“I’m sorry,” Richie mumbles, then he pulls Eddie’s hand up to his mouth again.  “Okay?” He breathes out, and presses his lips to the soft pad of Eddie’s finger.  

Eddie inhales, just sharp enough for Richie to notice, and it should end there, but Richie pauses instead of moving away.  Long enough for their eyes to meet in the glow from the TV.  It’s one of those weird little moments, where Eddie isn’t sure what’s about to happen, but the air is charged around them, a sudden change.  

Richie goes on, breath hot and damp on Eddie’s palm, warm mouth dragging over Eddie’s dry skin.  And higher, to press a kiss to the inside of Eddie’s wrist.  Slow.  Hesitant.  Eddie’s heart jumps hard in his chest, every spot Richie’s mouth touches on fire.  He should stop this.  He should shove Richie away, call him an idiot.  Something that would bring this back to normal territory.  But he doesn’t.  Eddie doesn’t say a word as Richie kisses up his arm, over the crazy sensitive skin (has it always been this fucking sensitive?) of his inner arm, the inside of his elbow.  Lingering as he gets close to the fold of Eddie’s sleeve.  

Richie pauses, lips hovering over Eddie’s shirt, and their eyes meet again.  A deep swooping runs through Eddie’s stomach, his breath getting shorter as Richie waits.  Just as Eddie’s about to tell Richie to get the fuck off him, Richie’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth, a brief glance that lights heat in his chest and skin.    

Bringing his free hand up, Eddie cups the back of Richie’s neck and pulls him in, lips missing the mark and catching the corner of Richie’s mouth instead.  But Richie adjusts with a sharp gasp, palms suddenly on Eddie’s face, a gentle touch that spills the truth, despite how hard Richie’s kissing him back.  And Eddie’s had so few kisses in his life that he’s not sure what the hell to do, but he follows Richie’s lead, holding on to his best friend with trembling hands.  

Pulling back to breathe, Richie buries his face in Eddie’s shoulder, slipping the neck of the tee down and mouthing a hot trail over the flushed skin there.  A sound chokes Eddie off, one he can’t hold in when Richie’s teeth skim the base of his neck.  

“Richie,” Eddie groans, legs falling open as Richie’s thin hips get so close to him.  So, so close.  “Rich…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie’s eyes come into view again, heavy and lidded as he stares down at Eddie.  “What the hell, Eds?”  His voice is breathless and low.  “We’re kinda making out here.  What’s happening?”  

“I want you.”  The words are out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think twice about admitting it.  “I want to be with you.” 

“Fuck,” Richie groans, dropping his head to rest on Eddie’s chest.  He speaks muffled into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt.  “I’m dreaming.  I gotta be.”  

Frowning down at the mass of dark hair hiding Richie from him, Eddie rubs his palms over Richie’s back, urging him gently to look at him.  “What do you mean?”  

Lifting his head, Richie moves up a bit and settles between Eddie’s legs, warm and perfect and hard against him.  “I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were like, fucking twelve, dude.”

“Really?”  

Nodding, Richie leans in, presses a sweet, slow kiss to Eddie’s lips, a kiss that Eddie deepens, wrapping his arms around Richie’s back, one hand pushing under the hem of his shirt to touch smooth skin, the other getting lost in Richie’s hair.  Gripping the strands hard as Richie’s hips jerk against him.  

The damn movie is still playing, a background to the sharp breaths and gasps, and Eddie can barely hear it.  So caught up in Richie’s mouth and his taste and how good his hair smells, and every little sound he makes as Eddie slides a knee over his hips.  Lifts up to meet the little rolls of Richie’s body.

“Wait.  Wait, fuck.”  Richie pulls back, so flushed and hair a bigger mess than usual from Eddie’s hands.  “Eds.  I can’t.  If you don’t want more than this, I’m gonna have to tap out.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie pulls Richie back to him.  “Asshole.  I do want more.”  

“Yeah?”  

“Yes,” Eddie says, then squeezes his thighs around Richie’s waist.  “Fucking kiss me.  Be my boyfriend, or whatever.”  

Richie smiles wide, whispers, “Okay,” and then they’re kissing again.      

________

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the way the whole “are you married” scenes came up between richie and eddie were so.. richie having to take a shot b4 asking about eddie’s wife and IMMEDIATELY deflecting with jokes. and then when richie was saying he was married too and eddie was like “what?? i didn’t know that??” and he looked genuinely caught off guard until richie revealed it was a joke and eddie went back into his comfort zone. they were both lowkey jealous the other may have moved on, but they were trying to play it cool.

the fact that richie. who has repressed his sexuality and feelings for eddie so fucking much that he doesnt truly them accept until after eddie died, just straight up says “hmm sounds fake” to eddie’s face abt his marriage with the “what, to like a woman” line,, like this is richies lifelong secret, he wouldnt want to touch the topic of sexuality in any conversation at all. but then eddie says he has a wife and richies immediately like “um im pretty sure youre gay dude” lmao i guess his memories of eddie climbing all over him in the hammock were just that powerful