Reddie Oneshots

pet eddie

ive never actually been into the whole pet/master thing but this was HOT
by lil_slug on ao3

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Work Text:
Eddie is kneeling. Nervous anticipation has long started crawling up and down his spine. His heart is racing, he is feeling so exposed. But he doesn't look at the door, knowing he mustn't. Eddie has already broken one rule today, and Richie is gonna be disappointed enough with him.

Disappointed.

The word hammers against Eddie's temples from the inside. Richie gave him a simple task. No, it wasn't even a real task. All day long Eddie was allowed to do anything he wanted. He was just forbidden from two things. But then, in the shower, it just happened. It was the scent of Richie's shampoo, Eddie reckons. He just wanted to get nice and clean for when his Master gets home, but he touched himself. He came. And now he's going to suffer the consequences.

Just for a second he looks over his shoulder, through the doorframe, at the living room couch, where comfortable sweatpants and a shirt are lying neatly folded. Somehow, he wishes he could wear them. But Richie left with clear orders.

Don't put on clothes today, unless the doorbell rings and you have to open. Don't touch yourself.

And so, as not to disobey yet another order, Eddie remains kneeling, legs spread, eyes fixing on an unspecific spot on the hard floor between his bare knees. He sighs. Okay, he can't put on any clothes. Then he should at least be able to make his dick soft. Right now it's achingly hard, pointing up at his lowered head. But no matter what Eddie tries to make himself think about, his mind is reeling, always going back to his imminent punishment.

Footsteps out in the hall. Eddie shivers, whimpering. Is it Richie? Or just old Mrs Gonzalez from next door coming home from her grocery run? It's not the door opposite to Richie's and Eddie's apartment that is opened, though. A heavy keychain rustles against the lock. And the door creaks open.

There he is, Richie, in his checkered button-down, stone-washed, tight jeans, and Converse. Of course, Eddie doesn't see him, as he knows he isn't allowed to look. He just remembers his Master's clothes from earlier today when he left. Back when he told him how he looks just like a young, unconventional radio host should look like.

The door slams shut quickly, and Eddie is grateful for that. Someone from outside could have seen him kneeling naked only a few feet away from the entrance. Richie sighs heavily. But he doesn't talk. Judging by the sounds, he first drops his backpack. Then, his shoes come off.

And suddenly, he is gone. Gone over to the living room without even saying a single word. Only a few seconds after Eddie hears the living room couch creak under Richie's weight, sweet words from a sweet voice ring in ears.

„Eddie..." Richie says softly. „Come over here."

Eddie exhales ones. Richie called him by his name. It's okay. He's allowed to walk upright. But he doesn't sit down, choosing to remain standing in front of the couch. The guilt is killing him. It's making him small, the fact that he is naked and rock hard, while Richie is allowed clothes.

„In my lap." Richie invites him. „It's okay."