❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

58. 502 Puddin Pop

by: sevlinripley

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"Hey, Rich..." Eddie says, before pulling his lower lip into his mouth, peeking into Richie's office. The door was finally open after hours. Richie had been diligently recording an audio book in their tiny, but professional at-home recording booth.

At first, Eddie worried over how hot it could get in the small space, kept as quiet as possible - no fans, no windows for a breeze. But Richie had a small and thankfully quiet, refrigerator with cold water, and a light-based timer that would flash at him every half an hour so that he didn't sink into total, timeless oblivion.

Slowly, Eddie had adjusted to the idea of Richie being safe enough, responsible enough. Not to mention the fact that he enjoyed the ritualistic cool shower Richie often pulled him into, after exiting. At least on the days in which Eddie's shop schedule allowed for it.

Drawing his finger up the door frame, Eddie runs his other hand through the hair at the side of his head and pushes forward. "I was wondering..." He watches, as Richie's mouth tugs up in a little half-smirk, even as he continues to mark up the script he has before him, with the director's notes.

The expression makes Eddie feel warm down his neck and his finger pauses along its path. His hand, fallen back to his side, clenches. And he swallows back the flaring ache between his legs.

Not wanting to get his hopes up if this time, unlike the others, Richie says no.

Because he's made it very clear that's an option.

'You're lucky I like your face when you cum so much, Eds... Some day I might wring enough orgasms out of you to not be nearly so desperate to see that pretty little face again. Gotta admit, I'm growing more and more curious by the day, over what your face might look like after a few solid hours of desperation only to realize I've been working you toward nothing, in particular, at all.'

Like Richie's hand might just disappear off of him and not come back. Not the way Eddie'd want, anyway. Possibly, only, to tease his cock hard again hours later, and then leave him begging for it all over again.

"Could you," Eddie starts, but then quickly amends (because Richie could, sure but...), "Would you uh ...come touch me? Please?" He makes his voice sweet. It's not his voice sugar-coated, or anything. He's not making it sound like he expects he'll get something if he acts cute enough. It's just quiet, and high-pitched enough to show that he knows the power lies in Richie's hands. That he's hopeful, but will take Richie's decision for what it is.

That's what he's going for, anyway, because so far Richie has responded to it well. Then again, he hasn't actually known Richie to deny him anything. And somehow that made the threat of Richie one day doing so all the more thrilling.

For now, Eddie's seeing if Richie has a true pattern - if Eddie just sticks to the status quo will Richie ever actually change the way they play? But he's already started toying with ideas of how to push other buttons.

In fact, that's what got Eddie so wound up in the first place.

Sitting back on their bed, freshly showered after a long day of work: giving orders to his (sometimes) hapless employees, correcting mistakes and trying to get on top of projects that were repeatedly pushed to the side. He'd found his brain searching for ways to turn off. To relax and stop running over the numbers in his head, imagery of cars he was sick of seeing popping into his mind.

So he'd tried to shift the images to something he never tired of: Richie. And Richie's hands on him. Of Richie's mouth on his cock, and of Richie pulling off just as Eddie was about to come, and then kissing him and locking himself away for ten more hours while Eddie's cock was slick and hard and desperate. He thought about it until his cock hurt and his hand itched to touch what wasn't his so badly that if he didn't get up and go to Richie right then, he would have.