"Fuck yeah," Eddie mutters breathlessly, nodding rapidly just in case there's a lack of tone in those two airy words. When Richie's hand moves faster, Eddie's jaw drops open and a choked sound tumbles from his lips, his eyelids fluttering against the urge to close so that he can focus on the sensation alone. He wants to look at Richie too much to let them win.

The wet warmth of Richie's tongue running up the underside of his length and over the head has Eddie shuddering and white-knuckling the chair. "Oh my God, Richie," he gasps. "Shit, fuck, oh God..." he stammers, his free hand moving to clutch tightly at one of Richie's shoulders.

He can feel a heat coiling deep within himself, tight and fast, the way it always does right before he blows his fucking load when he's jacking it into the shower drain all alone. "Richie, I'm gonna—" he gasps and there's some disappointment hiding behind the needy whimper because Richie's barely even done anything yet. He certainly hasn't gotten to the sucking part and if Eddie can't get his shit together, he's going to fall apart before Richie ever can.