❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

5. other things, best done at home

by iamleavingthisfandom 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454126?view_adult=true

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They ended up being late to the restaurant, but it only earned them a curious look from Bev and a very pointed chuckle from Stan. Okay, maybe they were kind of obvious. Maybe one of the marks showing up on Eddie's neck was just peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Well, it wasn't like they needed to hide anything, especially from the Losers.

As expected, the dinner went swimmingly. There was plenty of food (the nice kind, the kind that you got just enough of to eat it all in the restaurant and not have any leftovers), some drinks, and a lot of conversation. Everyone had a lot to tell and hear. There was the matter of everyone's jobs (that went way too well to assume there was no supernatural intervention), which thankfully did not crash and burn after they defeated It. There was, of course, the underlying twinge of guilt everyone felt over Mike staying in Derry so that all of them could go off and actually live their lives. There were a couple of attempts to mention that to Mike, but he would just brush it off and say things like "I chose that" and "I'm happy with my life," and at one point "Well, I'm pursuing my dreams now." The topic was quickly changed, but there was a silent agreement between the rest of the Losers that they were going to do something pretty great for Mike Hanlon. It wasn't clear what yet, but they would think of something.

By the end of the night, everyone was happy and a bit giddy, and at the same time kind of sad to leave. After many, many reassurances that they'd stay in touch, group chat, phone and Skype calls, meet-ups and all, the group parted ways.

Instead of going back to the hotel room, Richie and Eddie decided to go to Eddie's place. With it being closer and not a nasty hotel room that probably had unwashed sheets — you know how dirty the rooms are? You shine a UV light in one and you got a fucking Pollock painting, Rich (Richie thought hotel rooms were fine, but whatever), they figured, it would be easier to talk at Eddie's. He had recently moved into a new flat he rented for an entirely unreasonable amount of money, but luckily (read: most likely with supernatural intervention, even if Richie didn't want to assume things he knew fuck-all about), he could afford it.

The ride to Eddie's (we are not taking the subway, do you have a death wish? They found unidentified bacteria. In New York subway. The bacteria evolved into a new fucking species — stop fucking laughing, asshole! God help him, that was the man Richie chose to love) was full of banter and laughter. Nothing crazy, nothing that would make the cab driver uncomfortable. Richie's hand did rest on Eddie's thigh for the entirety of the ride, yes, but there was a perfectly innocent explanation for that. He had just forgotten what the explanation was.

And if, while Eddie was paying for the ride, Richie's hand crept a bit higher and hovered in the general proximity of his crotch? That was... Alright, so he didn't really have an explanation for that. All he knew was that it made Eddie look at him darkly and practically pull him out of the cab and to the elevator with a death grip on his arm. He even allowed a kiss in the elevator — something Richie wouldn't have thought possible, but here they were.

He fully expected for them to sit down and have a healthy discussion of how they could make this work first thing, and then maybe call it a night. Or possibly exchange blowjobs or handjobs and then call it a night.

What he wasn't expecting was to be tugged into a deep and dirty kiss by his tie as soon as the door was closed. Not that he was against it, he was definitely on board with that, as on board as he could possibly be, and sure, his hands were already bunching up the fabric of Eddie's shirt under his jacket.