Reddie Oneshots

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"okay, but like... you actually have abs, dude. maybe not ben-level abs, but like... better than me, and you talked me into taking my shirt off. c'mon. let me see that hot bod." richie coaxes, fingertips slipping under the shirt eddie won't take off, feeling out the muscle, and the way it twitches when his touch is too light, tickling. it's not like they aren't on the same page, eddie had come out of his follow-up appointment crowing that he was cleared for sex, they've been making out.
He'd been self-conscious himself, when Eddie had urged him to start stripping, but he'd had Eddie straddling his lap on the couch and distracting him with kisses, and whispering in his ear about how sexy he found him, trailing touches over his arms and shoulders and chest, grinding down against him, laughing gently and reminding him he wasn't expecting an adonis, he didn't care if he was a little soft around the middle, a little pale, he wanted him... so the shirt came off. "It's different." Eddie curls in against him, to be able to rest his forehead on Richie's shoulder. "The closest thing to a big gross scar you have is from– what is this, gallbladder? I'm– It's... gnarly." His thumb strokes over Richie's scar, neat, tiny, faded to a pale lavender over the years, a barely-raised line. A far cry from the mass of scar tissue Eddie's injury would have left him with, Richie knows, but if Eddie doesn't care about his pastiness and love handles, well...

"Eddie... babe." He sighs, cupping his face. "I know, okay? I know it's... hard, I get it, and I'm not asking you to just be cool with, like... everything. I know every morning you look in the mirror and you're different from how you were and it was... it was horrible and violent and painful and– and I'm not asking you to love your scars. But you're alive, and I'm so fucking glad you're alive, and I will love you with your scars. And, like... I really wanna see that bod, not gonna lie."

Eddie tears up a little, shakes his head, but he can't form an argument– Richie kisses the scar on his cheek every morning, has never been deterred by the scarring on the inside of his cheek, either, while making out. Has only ever touched him with a sort of awed reverence. Teases him sometimes about how rugged and sexy it makes him, in fact. After a few soft kisses, he sits up straight and pulls his shirt off– and Richie rewards him immediately with lips moving over his skin.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Richie groans against him, careful where he brushes lips and fingertips alike over the mass of scar tissue. "Like... I know I joke about how hot Ben got, but you are... way sexier, honestly, like... holy shit, I just wanna go to town on you. You're like... you're... It's like– We–" He stumbles over his words, emotion choking him up. It's like Eddie was made to fit his hands, that's what it's like. When he slides them up his ribcage, it's like they were made to fit.

"Richie..." Eddie sinks his hands into Richie's hair, holds himself up so that Richie can reach him more easily, can kiss across his torso with just a bit of craning. He doesn't want to look down at himself, but he can't deny Richie isn't put off, the way he talks and the way he touches, the way his tongue traces the border of the scarring and he hums against him and holds him, his hands sure even as they start to tremble together. "Bed– take me..."

Richie lifts him, grinning, and Eddie lets out a half-hysterical little laugh, wraps his arms and legs around Richie tight so that Richie can carry him down the hall. He drops him on the bed, Eddie laughing again as he bounces, as Richie gently pushes him down and climbs on top of him. He kisses him, soft and gentle and then punctuated by playful nips, he touches him everywhere and revels in the way Eddie touches back, in the way he laughs softly into playful kisses, the way he relaxes.

That's what he really wants, for Eddie to just relax, and to have fun. To be the guy who helps him relax, who makes him smile and laugh and loosen up and have fun. He scrambles off him briefly so that he can ditch his pants, and get Eddie's out of the way as well, and then his hands are everywhere again, his lips everywhere again, until Eddie is loose and relaxed beneath him and canting his hips to silently beg for more, straining at the front of his dark red boxer briefs.

"I've got you, baby. I've got you." Richie promises, stripping those away. And it's not that he hasn't seen Eddie naked– early on, when he was still fully bandaged and weak as a kitten, Richie had seen most of him, but it hadn't been sexy. He'd been helping him bathe, in the brief time between his release from hospital and full self-reliance, stuff like that. He's never seen him like this, flushed, breathless, hard. Never been free to wrap his hand around him to feel him hot and firm...

"In me..." Eddie gasps, and Richie's brain short circuits. He thinks he's been dreaming about this since he knew what sex could be, he thinks he knew he'd want it well before he was ever ready for the reality of it. Eddie, his body warm and welcoming, tight around him, Eddie taking pleasure from it, wanting him... Eddie, coming on his cock, maybe from that alone. "Rich, I need you in me, I want it so bad. Oh, fuuuck, is that you? Yeah, I– Right now, I need that in me right now."

Okay, Eddie's reaction to Richie ditching his own underwear more than makes up for any self-consciousness he'd felt about putting his love handles on display. He grins, sitting back on his heels and giving himself a couple loose strokes just to show off, watching the hungry way Eddie's eyes follow. A little shifting and he's between Eddie's legs instead of straddling them, a little reaching and he has the lube and condoms.

"Oh, you like that, beautiful?" He asks, his attention fully on Eddie now. He kisses his scarred chest as he opens him up, humming softly against him, finding a sort of satisfaction in just this, in the kisses, in the feel of Eddie's body reacting to his touch. In the tight heat around his fingers, and the way Eddie relaxes to take him almost right away. Richie knows about how much prep takes, he's tried fingering himself. It hadn't done much for him, not like touching Eddie.Touching Eddie does everything for him, making Eddie feel good, making him moan. He fingers him a little longer after he's ready and begging for more, just to get to do it, and then they're joined and they're one and it's everything he ever dreamed, it's right. Nothing in his life has ever been right the way that he and Eddie are right, as he rolls his hips and kisses over Eddie's chest, and feels Eddie's hands gripping at his shoulder and tangling in his hair, keeping him close.

After, after they've cleaned up and gotten their breath back, Eddie lies against Richie's chest, in no rush to put his shirt back on, and Richie's fingertips trace over the entry wound scar on his back– and Eddie doesn't flinch once. He only sighs, boneless against him, warm... content. It makes Richie feel like he's done something right. He knows it's not over, he knows every morning Eddie is going to face the same battle... but it will be easier next time, too. And he can help.