Reddie Oneshots

Home Sweet Home

on ao3 by camerasparring

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It didn't start as a challenge. But Eddie and Richie are nothing if not competitive, at least with each other. Hell, they got together almost as a long game of gay-chicken, and it wasn't until they were standing at the courthouse, marriage license in hand, that Richie off-handedly mumbled, "Okay, I guess you win, this is pretty great."

Eddie had smiled, up on his tiptoes to kiss his man, but he also felt a smug, satisfied sense of victory. For more than one reason.

This contest was a little different in that they weren't competing, so to speak, but rather attempting to achieve something together. If Eddie were a sentimental man, he might feel some sense of unity at that, especially following their quick-and-mostly-just-legal nuptials.

"How else are we supposed to break in the new place?" Richie had said at the closing of the house, throwing Eddie a saucy look and prompting their realtor to immediately flee.

"You scared Nancy."

"Nancy is way too easily spooked," Richie said, and he wasn't wrong. Eddie crossed his arms across his chest. He was intrigued. Sex in every room of their first house together, the first place they've officially lived together, not one of theirs first, but always theirs, did seem like a fitting tribute to all their time lost.

Alas, he accepted Richie's dare as a win-win for both their dicks, their sanity and honestly, because it sounded fun.

He had lived 27 years without much fun. Pure joy as a motivator felt rebellious, a hard lick of danger catching him in the abdomen and making his blood run hot. So after two days of nothing but unpacking, bickering and heavy lifting, Eddie's ready to go with his instincts.

That's how they ended up here: Eddie half-bouncing on Richie's cock, smack dab in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Richie groans when Eddie twists his hips in a neat circle, blinking the gathering sweat from his eyes.

"I really didn't, guh, think the kitchen would be first," he says, and Eddie breathes something like a laugh.

"It's your fault," Eddie answers. Richie's hands trail up his chest, and Eddie bites back a moan.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmmm. Making breakfast in your boxers. You know I can't resist you shirtless."

"You're an easy lay, Eds, but I aim to please." Eddie clenches around him in defiance and Richie flinches hard. "Oh god, do that again, do it again."

"Bossy," he chides, but does it anyway, and is rewarded with that look Richie gets when he's close to losing it. His eyes practically roll back into his head, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed. A warm bloom of affection rushes through Eddie. He loves this position because he can watch every expression on Richie's face - with the added bonus of control.

When he leans down to kiss Richie, the change in angle sends a shock up his spine.

"Shit."

"Yeah? Right there?"

Eddie nods. He can't do much else but breathe into Richie's mouth and try not to fall apart. But Richie is there, enveloping him in his arms, giving him enough space to fuck down harder against him.

It's deep and so good, hitting his prostate every time. It gets sharper and sharper and Eddie slams his hands into the linoleum on either side of Richie's face for more traction. The leverage helps a little, but he's already far gone, and then Richie scrapes his teeth across his throat and Eddie comes on the spot.