so into you
it is, you think, the bane of your fucking existence to not have a car.
you hate it, really, because it means you have to rely on your friends for transportation essentially wherever you go. not that that means much in derry, since the town is so small you could walk the entire length of it in a couple of hours, but still. the principle of it sucks.
by some twist of fate, it ends up being that the only loser among you with a car is stan. bill’s parents don’t care enough, and mike and eddie’s parents just don’t want them driving, and bev and ben’s parents can’t afford it. then there’s richie, whose parents just don’t trust him with a car. which is fair, truly, but it means that when the eight of you go somewhere, you all have to squish into stan’s tiny minivan.
you huff to yourself now, your arms folded over your chest just outside of stan’s car. you’re all on your way to a party and you have to get creative with seating. eddie and bev have already squirmed their way into the front seat, leaving you to fend for yourself with the boys in the back.
“there’s no way we’re all going to fit,” you growl, annoyed. four boys, all broad-shouldered and big? no way.
stan rolls his eyes at you, twirling his keys on his fingers. “i can’t just magically make the car bigger, (y/n). suck it up.”
“you could lay across our laps?” ben offers, giving you a sweet smile.
it sounds like a good idea, but you shake your head, biting your lip. “i’ll never fit. thank you, though.”
bev pops her head out of the passenger window, smirking at you. you can already tell you’re going to hate whatever it is she has to say. “i’m sure one of the boys would be honored to have you sit in their laps,” she grins, winking at you.
you glare at her, trying to convey your fury with just your eyes. first she abandons you for the front seat, and now she has this awful plan? when she knowsyour feelings for richie?
stan climbs into the driver’s seat, throwing you a shrug. he’s not even sympathetic to your plight. “pick an option and let’s go. i want to get drunk.”
you glance at richie, finding him already looking back at you with a gleam in his eyes. he’s sitting on the edge of the backseat, one long leg thrown out of the car, knees spread as wide as they can go in the tight confines between him and bill. he raises an eyebrow at you, patting his thigh with a leer that’s almost too convincing.
“well, toots?” he simpers, sticking his tongue between his teeth. it’s unfairly cute. “your seat is waiting.”
you’re torn between annoyance and happiness. you can’t really believe this is your life so you take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and say, “beep beep, asshole,” as you clamber into the tiny space.
it’s even more cramped than you were expecting, you and richie shoved right up against the door. the passenger seat is moved up as much as it really can be and it’s still uncomfortably close to you. you’re dreading this ten minute drive more and more as you carefully perch yourself on richie’s knees. you’re terrified of crushing him or him thinking you’re too heavy, planting your feet in between his to try and take some of your weight even if it makes your thighs burn after only a few seconds.
richie huffs a soft laugh behind you, his arm snaking around your waist. “relax, doll,” he murmurs, his voice almost lost in the chaos of the other losers around you. “it’s just me.”
before you can stop him, he drags you back into his chest, seating you firmly on his lap. you squeak, digging your nails into the passenger headrest. he laughs again, his chest shifting against your back, and the sound of it is warm in your ear.
you’re hyper-aware of everywhere you and richie touch as the car speeds along. you and richie have always been touchy, but this… this is something else entirely. his chest is a long line of heat down your spine, his hands anchored on your hips. he’s so close you can smell his cologne and the hint of smoke on his clothes; it is, as always, a surprisingly pleasant scent. his breath brushes the back of your neck, spreading goose flesh down your arms and legs. everywhere he touches feels like it’s on fire.
you hold your breath, hoping he won’t notice the heat pooling in your gut and the pounding of your heartbeat.
just as you’re beginning to relax, sinking back into the protective curve of his body, stan drives over a pothole. the jerk of the car shoves your ass back into the cradle of his pelvis, grinding richie’s hips into you.
he’s already hard.
you freeze, your breath stuttering out of you. behind you, richie goes still. his hands tighten around your hips, a muffled whine spilling against your ear. he gasps an apology, shifting his hips away from you as much as he can, but your hand flashes down to thread through his.
your mind is racing, cycling over every time richie has ever flirted with you. you’d always dismissed it, never trying to let yourself get your hopes up, but here’s some very obvious proof. now it’s your turn.
you squeeze his hand. tentatively, he squeezes yours back.
you let yourself relax back into his chest, pressing your shoulders back against his collarbone. his chin scrapes against your neck, the faint stubble there making you shiver. you can feel his mouth opening, probably to ask if you’re alright, but you cut him off when you give a very pointed grind down.
he gives a strangled groan, louder than he meant to, and he poorly covers it up with a cough. mike and ben glance at him, their eyebrows furrowed, but they shrug and look away when richie offers them a weak smile.
you smirk to yourself and shift your hips, dragging them over richie’s dick in a way that spreads fire through your own veins. his hands spasm on your hips, his forehead pressing into your shoulder, and you are the only one to hear the whimper he lets out.
“(y/n),” he breathes, his voice shaky, and your gut clenches in reaction.
the rest of the car ride is spent like that, you moving your hips and richie doing his best not to fall apart. neither of you have the time to really get things going, because stan’s pulling up to the party and throwing the car in park not a minute later.
richie stiffens. you can almost hear his brain turning, because if you get up it will be extremely obvious he has a boner, and even if the losers have a teasing relationship this isn’t something he wants to be teased for. lucky for him, you have no intention of really getting up.
you catch bev’s eyes as she climbs out and flash her a wink.
“hey stan?” you call, pitching your voice as small and innocent as you can.
stan twists in the driver’s seat to look at you, arching an eyebrow. “what is it, (y/n)?”
you pull your acting chops out, swallowing as nervously as you can and playing with your fingers. “is it okay if i stay here for just a couple of minutes? i uh, i just need a breather before i come into the party.”
stan nods, giving you a smile. “yeah of course, i’ll give you my keys so you can lock it afterwards.”
you reach forward, grinding your ass down on richie as you grab for stan’s keys. “thank you, stan. i’ll take good care of it.”
you don’t think you’re imagining the way richie’s breath stutters when you say that. you grin to yourself. you’re going to make him fall apart for you.
“do you need somebody to stay with you?” bev asks, poorly disguising the smirk on her face. you glance at her, putting on a show of biting your lip and shrugging. so far, no one has questioned why you’re still on richie’s lap.
“i’d hate to inconvenience anyone,” you say, shrugging your shoulders again.
richie’s chest presses harder into your back, his chin digging into your shoulder. “i’ll stay with you,” he breathes, loud enough for the losers to hear but quiet enough that they cannot tell the way his voice shakes. “if that’s okay with you.”
you’re both laying it on a little thick and you can see the way bill looks suspicious, so you just melt into richie’s lap and hope you don’t look as keyed up as you feel. “thanks, rich. we’ll be in in a little bit, don’t worry about us.”
bev grins at you, giving you a subtle thumbs up that you copy before the rest of the losers pile out of the car and into the house. you wait until the door slams shut behind stan before you twist in richie’s lap, straddling him.
“you’re playing with fire, doll,” he murmurs, pulling you in so your clothed core grinds directly over the bulge in his jeans.
you grin, threading your fingers into his hair and leaning close enough that your lips brush his. distantly, you are in awe of yourself for being this composed in the face of this happening with your long-time crush. “i can stop if you want.”
richie growls, one hand slipping to cup your ass. he squeezes, hard, drawing a whimper from your lips. “i never said that.”
he kisses you before you can respond, deep and searching from the very beginning. his hands pull you tighter against him until you aren’t certain where you end and he begins. his hips roll up into you, his grip on your ass tugging you down to meet his thrusts, and the coil in your stomach winds tighter.
“can i touch you?” you gasp against his mouth, your nails catching against his scalp. “please rich, wanna touch you.”
“fuck yeah you can, baby,” he groans, nudging you up on your knees so he can unbuckle his belt and shove his jeans and underwear down his thighs.
and you meant to get right into it, truly you did, but holy fuck. his cock is huge. you reach to trail your fingertips up the side, in awe when it twitches against his belly. you nearly whimper when you can barely close your hand all the way around it. you’ve never considered yourself a size queen before but goddamn if he isn’t going to turn you into one.
he hisses through his teeth when you drag your fist down to the very base of his cock and then back up, his head falling back against the seat. you let go and bring your hand up to your mouth, spitting crudely before you grip his dick again. this time, the slide is wetter and dirtier and his moan is high-pitched.
you jack him again, slower, kissing at his throat. it’s an awkward angle, you perched over his thighs as you are, but you aren’t about to move, your wrist be damned.
“i’m not gonna last long,” he rasps, his breath hitching when you swipe your thumb over his head. “your little stunt in the car nearly made me blow my load already.”
you roll your eyes even as your skin prickles with the knowledge that youmade him like this. “didn’t see you complaining, dick.”
he grins, his cheek dimpling before he moans again. your hand twists, your wrist flicking a little on your stroke back up, and his hips jerk up into the feeling. his hands slide down to dig into your thighs, his teeth catching on his bottom lip.
you want to tease him. you want to draw this out and maybe get him between your thighs for real, but as it stands you don’t have much time before someone is going to come looking for you. so you tighten your grip, let your hand pump hard and fast, and watch this beautiful boy fall apart under your touch.
his cheeks go red, his wild hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. he sounds like sin, his deep voice breaking in little moans and whimpers. you feel absolutely fucking powerfulto have this boy at your mercy like this when normally he walks like he’s a god.
“fuck,” he whines, his back arching off of the seat behind him. “fuck, can’t believe this is happening, holy shit. been wanting to do this for forever.”
your cheeks pink at the confession, a different kind of warmth building in your chest. you can’t help but kiss him, quick and a little dirty, your fist flying in between you.
he keeps babbling when you pull away. “you feel so fucking good (y/n), fuck. i wanna kiss you all over, wanna spread you out and take my time with you. god, i wanna fuck you so bad, baby, next time i’m gonna make you scream.”
you feel a little breathless, your gut clenching at how wrecked he sounds. you want everything he wants but still, you try to keep your voice as cocky as you can when you say, “good to know you don’t stop talking even during sex.”
his smirk is shaky at best, his mouth opening to retort. you cut him off with another flick of your wrist, a gasp falling from his pretty lips and his eyes rolling back in his head. his moans get more and more broken the closer he gets, his shoulders going tense and his thighs shaking underneath you.
”come for me, baby,” you whisper, tightening your grip even more. he chokes. “let me see how good i make you feel.” with your free hand, you reach down to carefully cup his balls.
he fractures. his hips jerk into your grip and his cock pulses into your palm, a long drawn out moan trailing into a whine when you draw him in to kiss it out of his mouth. his chest is heaving, the red flush on his cheeks trailing down his neck to his collarbone. the windows and his glasses are fogged.
you’re silent as you let him calm down, kissing his cheek and the bridge of his nose and his jaw. when his breathing is back under control, he grins at you, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh.
“that was fucking spectacular,” he tells you, goofily, his grin broadening when it makes you giggle.
you hit at his shoulder, stretching over to where stan keeps napkins and hand sanitizer in the center console. you squeak when richie’s hands slide around to grip your ass, glaring at him as you clean your hand off.
his face is open and happy when you turn to him next, his eyes gleaming. “this mean you’re finally gonna be my girl?”
you narrow your eyes at him. “the hell do you mean finally, tozier?”
he rolls his eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest to kiss you. “i’ve only been flirting with you for yearsnow, doll.”
“you flirt with everyone!” you argue, poking at his stomach. he laughs, making you poke him again. “you flirt with fucking stan, asshole!”
he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curling up. “what can i say, stan’s a cutie.” he kisses your nose. “not as cute as you, though.”
that same warmth as before floods your veins, your annoyance melting into happiness. you duck your head into his shoulder, feeling him press a kiss to your temple.
“we should probably get in there,” you mumble into his shirt, reluctantly pulling away from him. “they’re going to come looking for us soon.”
“shame, really,” he says, tugging his pants back up and buckling his belt. “wanted to return the favor.”
your gut clenches when he winks, leaning forward to kiss you again. you smile at him, opening the door and sliding off of him into the chilly evening air. he climbs out after you, sliding an arm around your waist and tugging you into his side to press his lips to yours again, one two three times. you giggle and push him away to turn and lock stan’s car.
once inside, you make a beeline for the losers, richie’s arm around your shoulder. you feel electric, high on the kiss of the boy next to you, and even bev’s knowing smirk isn’t enough to dampen your spirits. richie surprisingly doesn’t make any jokes about what happened, just kisses your cheek and your temple over and over, keeping an arm around you the entire time. you’re pretty certain you’ve gotten away with it, until bill’s eyes narrow down at your shirt.
“is th-that f-f-fucking j-jizz?”
