❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

95. heat soak

by: showmeahero

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Eddie's preferred cool-down exercise at the gym is stretching before walking his way back home. The gym isn't all that far away, and he runs his way there, so it makes sense to walk back. It comes, too, with the added bonus of not having to shower at the gym. Richie knows the last thing Eddie wants would be to get in his car all drenched in sweat, and he'll fuck knows he would probably rather die before using one of the communal showers, so. A walk home is a win-win, according to Eddie.

It also means that Richie spends several lustful minutes every morning trying to get Eddie to make out with him before he gets in the shower. Every morning, though, Eddie successfully evades him. Richie knows they'll both be late for work otherwise, and if he's the one chasing after Eddie and being playful, then one of them's gotta be the responsible one.

Well. On workdays, one of them needs to be the responsible one.

On Saturdays, it's anyone's game.

When Richie gets up, Eddie's nowhere to be found, but it's already seven o'clock, which means Eddie's presumably on his walk home already. He'd left the curtains and blinds wide open and the windows open halfway before leaving, and a warm breeze drifts through the room as Richie stretches and yawns.

He's only just stumbled into the kitchen when he hears their front door lock clicking open. He yawns again, humming absently to himself as he hears the doorknob click open and the door swing wide with a creak.

"Welcome home, Eds," Richie calls over his shoulder, spooning coffee grounds into the filter. He can hear Eddie's bag hit the ground with a soft whump. "How was your workout? I'm only just starting the pot here but I can give you the first cup if you—"

Richie's cut off by Eddie's hands sliding hot over his waist, because he gasps and jolts under his touch, shocked to find him already so close. Eddie huffs a laugh as Richie turns his grip to swat at him.

He's surprised to find Eddie with his socks and sneakers already off, still drenched in sweat as he leans up to press a searing kiss to Richie's jaw, then up to his lips, biting into the pink flush of them. Richie groans, letting the coffee maker grind to life behind him as he pulls Eddie closer by the hips.

Eddie's skin is still hot and slick from his workout as Richie skims his hands down his sides, over the still-damp tank top still clinging to his abdomen. He drags down to the scrunched elastic waist of Eddie's jogging shorts, then down to their hem, bunching up the fabric tight in his grip, nails digging in. He slips his hands underneath, after a moment, to run over the flushed-red skin of Eddie's thighs.

Richie's cold hands feel like melting ice as they slide up, then out, tugging at the elastic waistband again. Eddie smiles, so Richie grins; he feels Eddie intentionally deepen the kiss to get the smile off his face. Richie tips his head, licks lazily into his mouth, then starts to pull away. He knows this is where Eddie usually laughs him off, brushing away his hands so he can go and take a shower.

It comes as a surprise, then, this time, when Eddie instead slips his hand down to Richie's wrist and wraps his fingers there before tugging on him.

"What're you thinking?" Richie asks. Eddie smiles at him; Richie would do anything to get that smile on Eddie's face, and has done a number of stupid things to see it in the course of his lifetime.

"C'mon," Eddie says, tugging at him again. Richie lets himself be pulled, this time. Eddie guides him right to their bedroom. For a moment, he just stands there, appraising their bed, and so Richie takes the time to appraise him. He's got sweat dripping off of him, his hair glistening-wet and his curls loose. He's all tight muscle and shining tan skin, freckled and sun-kissed. In that moment, all Richie cares about is the stretch of Eddie's thick muscles, of his compact, short, tight little body as he turns to beckon Richie forwards.