It was a good joke. A laugh bubbled out of Richie even if he wasn't really paying it a whole lot of mind, considering he was more focused on the kissing. And the prospect of sex which was like, yeah, excellent. Good thing he wasn't dead anymore; this was a much better kind of stiff.
"Shit," he said, dazed, even as he flipped back the cap of the lube, and it spurted a little like a precursor to later. Rich didn't need to be any kind of fortune teller to see that in his future. "Then we take turns," he said, not really planning for today but in general because they had time. Because they were both alive. He didn't go both ways (although he'd tried, he really had) but he was flexible. "So anyway, I'd love it if you plowed me."
Richie was, of course, a romantic at heart. But not at mouth level.