Reddie Oneshots

touch starved richie🥺

oh my lord this one is so cute an fluffy 💕💕💕💕
tumblr by edsbev

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The funny thing is, Eddie doesn't know a single about dating.

When should hand-holding turn to kissing? When should kissing turn to kissing? The kind with tongue and roaming hands? How many dates should you even go on before you are actually dating? You know, before you can go around telling people that you're in a relationship? That you have a boyfriend? That you are someone's boyfriend?

Answer: Eddie doesn't know.

But here he is, in the stillness of his bedroom, guiding Richie's arms around him, like this...dating and touching and romantic affection...like those things are hard-wired so far into him they're second nature.

"You can touch me, Richie," he whispers. Feels the warmth of Richie's hands on his hips as Eddie guides them there. "You know that, right? I want you to touch me."

And Eddie can see the hesitance in Richie's expression, as those wide, warm eyes drop to where his hands now grip Eddie's waist. He can see the way a muscle jumps in Richie's jaw as it tightens, the way Richie's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows roughly. And he bleeds a kind of nervous energy that buzzes at a high frequency, but beneath it all there's something much deeper. His fingertips sink into Eddie's back, eyes darken, unwavering. And Eddie knows there's a want, a low hum of desire, existing there too.
Eddie breathes, "do you want me to touch you?"

And Richie nods. Quiet and timid and not like himself. Because phsyical contact is something of which he's been starved, and something of which he's become scared.
Eddie knows that Richie is a naturally affectionate person. That when Richie was a child, he would cling to father's legs and smack wet kisses onto his mother's arms. And he knows that Richie's parents' would scold him for doing so.
"Don't hug me, Richie, you're all dirty," his mother would say, dusting herself off. "I don't like it when you kiss me. Kiss your toys instead."

"Not now, Richie," his father would say, pushing Richie away. "You know you're supposed to leave me alone while I'm working. Go and play outside, I need some quiet."
They were distant and cold. And not at all made for Richie.

Because Richie was open and warm, and would sling his arm around Bill's shoulders while they walked, and punch Mike's arm while they joked, and squeeze Bev's arm while they talked. But his friends were not as likely to return the affection in kind, and would, more often than not, playfully push him away - "you're like a fucking leech, sometimes," Stan had laughed once, shoving Richie's chin off his shoulder, "always stuck to something."

Not because they didn't like him, but because they were different to him - not quite so touchy, or physically affectionate. Because they were friends, and friends joked around like that. Because they didn't understand that Richie touched them because he was deprived of it.

(And you can't blame them, but Eddie still feels guilty whenever he thinks of all those times he had shrugged Richie off, swatted his hands away, deprived him even further).
Now, though. Now that Eddie understands, now that he and Richie are dating, he's going to make it up to him. He's going to feed into this craving until Richie can no longer remember what it feels like to be starved.

But he has to get Richie over his fear of rejection first.

The thing is, is takes more than just a night in your bedroom, slipping your hands under your boyfriend's shirt, and telling him that it's okay for him to touch you back, for your boyfriend to suddenly drop all those years of being told get off me, don't touch me, go away, and become someone who can touch you without the constant worry that you'll say all those things too. (Especially since, at once point, you have said all those things).
So Richie is still hesitant.
They're out with the Losers, on a windy day at the Barrens, and Richie's gaze lands on him, darts away, and finds its way back. Skittish, nervous. Wanting something. And so Eddie steps closer, until their sides are pressed together, feels Richie stiffen and then, slowly, relax.
They're at the cinema, waiting in a line that almost goes out the door, and Richie sways, brow furrowed, as though deciding something. And then he's placing his hand on the small of Eddie's back. Fingertips first, touch so light Eddie almost doesn't feel it. Then the flat of his palm, warm and steady.
It's always little touches. Eddie loops his arms through Richie's while they walk. Richie brushes a strand of hair from Eddie's face after they kiss. And Eddie gets it, he does. But he wants more. And he thinks Richie wants more too.