ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (beepbeep) wrote in noexits, @ 2021-09-06 17:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, ₴ inactive: matt murdock, ₴ inactive: richie tozier, → week 020 (leave it to derleth) |
WHO: Richie Tozier & Matt Murdock
WHAT: Having a scandalous 1950s affair and it's totally normal
WHERE: Backstage at the theater, then to Richie's house that he shares with his imaginary wife
WHEN: Leave it to Derleth Plot - Day 3, somewhere's around there
WARNINGS: They get a little handsy but nothing explicit
STATUS: Complete
There was little Richie loved more than the high brought about by a really damn good show. Well - maybe a few things, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It had been an amazing show tonight, hadn’t it? Every performer could indulge in a little bit of razzle dazzle, enjoying it, taking it all in - he was familiar with the thrill of electricity skittering up his spine, the feel under the hot lights; that was why he - and he assumed other performers - did what they did. Not to mention the appreciation of the applause. Applause, applause, applause - one of his favorite sounds. The theater in town was kind of an art deco sort of fashion, leftover from a decade prior - a dramatic neon-lit tower and sign, a tiered ceiling, older architecture. It seemed to be one of the few buildings remaining where live performances happened - though don’t get him wrong, Richie loved going to the movies too. The boxy halls were alright and all, but the place where he tended to do his act was a true treasure. A real gem in the small town of Dunwich. He’d just finished up, and was still wearing the striped suit and bowtie - he hadn’t stolen a second to change yet, since everything tended to happen so quickly when you were on a roll. But first - but first - he had to find his partner-in-crime. Show business partner, really, completely professional. There was never a more professional actor-and-pianist duo than them which was why, when Richie found Matt Murdock backstage, he had a very important message for him. “Gonna need you in the dressing room for a second. Business proposition.” Yes. Very much that. *** Matt was found standing with the stage manager and one of the stage hands, not an active part of their discussion, but listening to them talk about the logistics of next week’s show, how to get the piano on quickly in between acts. He considered himself really lucky to have this job - for somebody who was blind since childhood, there weren't a whole lot of career opportunities available to him, but his talent as a musician got him hired at the theater as the pianist. He was nowhere near as famous as Richie Tozier, but between this and the side gigs he had at local bars around town, he made enough to get by, doing something he enjoyed. Matt was known as a good guy, but fiercely independent, reluctant to ask for help even if he needed it, financial or otherwise. He fought to succeed, despite his disability. Hearing Richie’s voice caused himt to tilt his head in that direction, and the stage manager confirmed with a pat on his shoulder, “He’s talking to you, Matty. Go on, we’ll get this straightened out and let you know what’s up, tomorrow.” “Thanks,” Matt said with a smile. Richie wasn’t one of those headliners that were jackasses to work with, but everybody knew if he wasn’t somebody you kept waiting. Show business was one of those professions that had a reputation for spreading rumors, so if there were any Matt was sure he would have heard something by now. The way the stage manager spoke, there wasn’t a hint of suspicion or innuendo in his tone of voice, so Matt felt he had nothing to worry about. Cane in hand, he knew how to navigate backstage without any difficulty at all, and counted the exact steps to Richie’s dressing room. He rapped his knuckles on the door first. “Mr Tozier? It’s Matt,” he said, before letting himself in. With the door closed behind him, he loosened his necktie and undid the top button of his dress shirt. “You wanted to see me?” he asked, allowing himself to smile, slyly. *** This suit made him look like a candy cane, Richie was convinced of it - the reds and whites allowed him to stand out but, of course, that was the point. He’d just gotten the bow tie and blazer off when he heard the knock, and Matt subsequently coming into the room. “I did want to see you,” he agreed, chuckling, the sound fond as it rolled around in his scruffy throat. He didn’t try for any seductive looks or anything - didn’t need those, not really. Besides, Richie wasn’t great at the smoldering thing. The door was shut and so it just saved him time to nudge Matt up against the back of it - and then basically maul him. Or, well, not mauling exactly - but Richie definitely held the guy’s face in his hands and kissed him so hard he swore their teeth knocked together, and he saw a shower of color behind his eyelids. Like the world stopped and started with his mouth and - minty. Matts (he hated being called Matty, didn’t he?) tasted minty. “Dental checkup,” he added, very seriously once he stopped to take a breath. “You’ll be glad to know that your gums are very healthy.” *** The kiss came unexpectedly sooner than Matt anticipated - he thought Richie would come back with something witty, giving him at least a little time to remove his sunglasses. It was unexpected, but eagerly welcomed and reciprocated. Matt threaded his fingers through the hair on the back of Richie’s head while his other hand pulled him up close around the waist. It was a struggle to keep from groaning out of pleasure, aware there were people on the other side of the door who might hear them… but then again, that made it all the more exciting. Matt’s smile broke into a chuckle at the diagnosis. That was what he loved most about Richie - he could make him laugh. It had been the first thing that attracted him to the comedian… not his money, not his fame, certainly his looks wasn’t an issue, or his outrageous fashion, but his sense of humor. “Peppermint candy,” he muttered, realizing that’s what Richie had tasted. “They’re in my trouser pocket, if you want one.” *** “I want something in your trousers,” Richie growled, the sound scalded with smoke (because he puffed on those semi-regularly, definitely before shows to calm his nerves which often jumped like wildfire beneath his skin). “Maybe hard candy too.” It wasn’t right, exactly (mostly because he was married but he honestly couldn’t be less interested in his lovely satin-dress wearing wife if he tried, though getting married was just a thing he was ‘supposed’ to do) but the heart wanted what it wanted. His own heart wasn’t particularly neat or tidy either - all Richie knew was that he loved him. Didn’t wake up in a panic wondering what he was doing with his life. Loved him like it was all relief and oxygen and washing up on a sunny shoreline. So maybe it was right, and forget anything else. “You busy later?” he asked, fingers traversing the shape of Matt’s cheekbones and up to help out by lifting those sunglasses off, thigh pressing right in between his legs. *** Matt’s heart pounded while his working senses - taste, touch, smell, hearing - responded to the flood of sensations he experienced with Richie pressed against him. He never thought that another man could make him desire this much, he’d only been with women before. Now, he didn’t want anybody else. If Richie had decided to take him right then and there, Matt would not have protested - in fact, that was what he’d hoped for. But, for practical purposes, it was the wiser decision to take their affair to someplace more private. More comfortable. Blank eyes looked in no particular direction, unable to focus upon anything, all the while Matt slowly rocked his hips against Richie’s thigh. He moistened his dry lips with the tip of his tongue and asked (because it needed to be asked), “What about your wife?” *** He’d give those sunglasses back, sure, but first? Richie plunked them atop his own head - because he liked being able to look Matt in the face during moments of physical and emotional intimacy and all of that stuff. The color of his eyes were pretty too, deep and rich like a good coffee. “She’s gone for a few days - visiting family,” he replied and at least, he was relatively sure it was that. She’d mentioned it? Probably? Sometimes it was hard to remember but, point was, the house - the steep-roofed Tudor revival home - would be empty and Richie could do some entertaining. Which was a lot better than being alone. His touch drifted over Matt’s jawline, tracing a path carefully down his throat, over his collar, down his shirt. The act of touching was one of Richie’s favorite things - touching and being touched, and maybe Matt couldn’t see but his fingers worked just fine. On the piano and otherwise. “Long enough time for me to cook your eggs how you like them tomorrow,” he added, shifting a little so he could press his hand between Matt’s legs instead, maintaining pressure there while he nibbled at his neck. He was a tease, but anticipation - so fun, wasn’t it? *** Oh, God. He was going to Hell, wasn’t he? He was pretty sure this one of the Ten Commandments. Something about thou shalt not commit adultery? Or did this fall under the category of coveting thy neighbor's wife? Either way, his Catholic training condemned him, filling his mind with guilt. But that all melted away with a shiver down his spine. The forbidden fruit was sweeter, the danger of doing wrong and the possibility of being caught made it so much more thrilling. The only thing he could think about was where Richie’s hand was groping. His eyes rolled upwards, then closed them while enjoying every blessed (damned) moment, imagining how much better it was going to be in private. “Give me five minutes to get ready, then I’m all yours.” *** “Five minutes,” Richie agreed, voice a bit muffled and his breath hitched - because it was difficult to draw himself away from this very tempting scenario of just saying to hell with it (they were probably both going there, if such a place existed - he was more on the fence about it than Matt was) and dragging his illicit lover to the dressing room sofa so they could be horizontal when they fucked like illicit lovers do. Though he’d do it vertically too. Richie really wasn’t picky. But right, maybe true privacy was better - because what they were doing was really tricky, and if anyone found out it would spell D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. Not just for Richie’s marriage (which was as fake as a cubic zirconia posing as a sparkling diamond - wifey would not even be surprised he was stepping out on her; she probably was doing it to him too because did she even have a sister?) but for their careers. Worth the risk, however - because he’d seen Matt naked and. Hello. “Here - “ He plunked sunglasses back onto that handsome face. “I’ll meet you out by the backstage door. Gotta get out of this suit first too.” *** Once his sunglasses were returned, Matt readjusted them comfortably, then quickly buttoned his shirt and tightened his tie. “If you’re late, I get to choose the position.” This was not the first time this wager had been made, and the last time they played, he was the one behind schedule and Richie had won. Not that there were any losers in this wager - as far as Matt was concerned, everybody was a winner. He took a deep breath to collect himself, then asked, “How do I look?” Matt wasn’t fishing for compliments - it was a question he regularly asked, especially before going onstage. He couldn’t see himself in the mirror to know if his tie was straight or his shirt wasn’t tucked in properly. This particular performance Matt didn’t want anybody to tell that he’d just been locking lips with Richie Tozier. *** Richie laughed at the ‘terms’ of that wager, as he adjusted Matt’s lapels - they didn’t need to be adjusted, technically, but any excuse to touch him was just fine by this actor-comedian. “Might let you choose it anyway,” he said, threatening the other man with a good time - and, oh, a good time would be had. He wished he didn’t have to actually take the minutes to make himself presentable but he wasn’t a fan of staying in a suit like this longer than necessary - it was an eyesore, part of his act, but that didn’t mean he had to strut around in the thing. “Never seen anything prettier than you,” he told Matt honestly. “You look good.” Of course he would tell him if his fly was down or he missed a button on his shirt or something - that definitely wasn’t the case now. So Richie kissed him and then scooted him out the door - super productive business meeting, that. And once he was back in more casual clothes - wool slacks and a knit shirt that was loud (teal was the shade, and he could probably stop traffic with how bright it was) he jangled his keys and went out to the right meeting spot. From here, no one would see them getting into the same car (his was a Roadmaster, a high-end convertible because Richie sure did appreciate a nice set of wheels). Probably. *** All his life, growing up, people told Matt he was handsome, but something about the way Richie said it made it believable. He offered a smile and returned the kiss and scooted out the door. Matt wasn’t a big enough headliner to have his very own dressing room - he had to share with a number of others, but by the time he got there, it was practically empty. From where she was sitting, he guessed it was Laurie, who put on a dog act… she usually straggled behind. Matt wasn’t going to change - he performed in an ordinary suit and not a costume like some of the others - all he was going to do was grab his keys from the drawer and some sheet music, and then go. “Is the rumor true?” Laurie’s distinctive, high pitched voice asked. Matt froze. Were Richie and him not as sneaky as they thought they were? Had their affair been discovered? He swallowed a lump in his throat and managed to say, “What rumor?” Maybe he could talk his way out of it? “You know. The rumor! Everybody’s talking ‘bout it! Tozier’s taking his act to New York to be on television! We figured since he wanted to talk to ‘bout a business opportunity, he was gonna ask you to come with him. If you can’t say anything yet, I understand. It’ll just be sad to see him go.” “Er… yeah.” How did everybody hear about this rumor, and not him? He struggled to speak, then instead he smiled nervously, apologetically. “See you tomorrow, yeah?” Laurie brightly told Matt goodbye as he left, caught up in his thoughts. It couldn’t be true, surely Richie would’ve told him. Or… maybe not? Was he really going to leave? Matt’s good mood was spoiled with worry and insecurity. He’d lost track of the time, Matt wasn’t sure if he was over five minutes or not when he left through the back exit and stood out in the alley. *** He was definitely over the five minutes and Richie was there - but honestly, he figured Matt had gotten caught up with one of the more talkative theater folks (like Laurie? Laurie had flipped her lid awhile ago, it was a fact) so he wouldn’t blame him. Mostly he was just relieved to get to spend the night together - immediately, Richie sidled up to him. “Gotcha,” he purred, hooking his arm around Matt’s. “Guess I gotta bring you home with me now. Come on, car’s this way.” Also he wouldn’t point out that those five minutes were up - and Matt had been late, just by a hair. Maybe Richie would call it a draw and let him pick the position anyway. There was no wrong position - maybe some that definitely made Richie walk like he’d been fucked by a train, but anyway. Still wasn’t wrong. *** Matt’s mood had completely changed from the last time Richie saw him. He held on to the other man’s arm and nodded, then walked without saying a word. There was no way he wasn’t going to ask about this rumor - he’d become too emotionally and physically invested not to. The parking lot was empty, except for three or four vehicles, Richie’s being one of them. Matt got into the front passenger seat and remained silent until they’d pulled out of the lot and had been on the road for a few minutes. When Matt finally spoke, he did so in a flat tone of voice. “I just heard something before I left. A rumor. Not what you’re thinking, it’s not about us. Laurie told me you have a television deal out in New York, you’re going to be moving out there?” *** Whaaaaaat? Richie couldn’t help it, he slammed on the brakes. And blinked owlishly, bluebird eyes behind his glasses all wide and innocent - sure, he’d noticed that Matt seemed quiet when they got into the car, but he had no idea that something about New York, and Laurie’s flapping gums, rubbed him the wrong way. Well. At least he brought it up - communication, or whatever? Supposedly it was a good thing for relationships. Even one as dark and secretive as theirs. “I’m not moving without you,” he replied immediately then flushed pink, backing up a little; his hands gripped the steering wheel, going a bit white-knuckled. “What I mean is - I wanted to wait until everything was solidified before I brought it up, and it wasn’t just...a possibility and we got all anxious over nothing. But either way if I go then we go together. If you don’t want to go then - I don’t go.” He meant that. You were stuck with him, Murdock. Get used to it. *** The sudden stop took Matt off guard, and he instinctively reached out to brace himself against the dashboard. For a moment, he thought Richie had avoided an accident and expected… well, he didn’t know what to expect. He wasn’t expecting Richie’s confession, that was for certain. “The rumor’s true?” he said, which after what Richie said should’ve been obvious. Matt couldn’t see Richie’s face, but he could hear the emotion and sincerity in every word. It made Matt feel guilty for ever doubting him. Down low, so nobody looking from the outside through the car window could see, Matt held out his hand, palm up, for Richie to take. Once his hand was held, he said, “I know you were waiting until the deal was more concrete, but next time? Give me a bit of head’s up on this sort of thing?” His lips were dry, and he licked them, anxiously. “For a minute or so I… was… worried I might lose you.” *** “You’re not going to lose me,” Richie promised. He took Matt’s hand, lacing their fingers together and resting there on the center glovebox - and he was capable of driving with only one hand on the steering wheel (it was probably frowned upon in driving school, oops) so that’s what he did, continuing the trip to his house. While holding hands. Like he was a goddamn sap. Which he was - but that was beside the point. “Sorry, I just - wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. But I swear I wasn’t trying to keep it from you and I’ll give you a heads up next time there’s a possibility of a move where we make it big,” his mouth stretched into a grin, just a little. “Couldn’t do my act without a stellar piano player anyway.” This town was the size of a postage stamp (which was part of the reason Richie wanted out - he had sparkling dreams of jubilance after the end of the war, a jazz mecca, Times Square chock full to the brim with movie theaters, glittering marquee lights boasting their names) so the drive to his place wasn’t long. He pulled the car beneath its overhang and, now that they were definitely shadowed, leaned in and grabbed Matt by the front of his shirt. Richie kissed him, thoroughly. “Come inside and I’ll show you how important you are to me. Even though you lost big time I’ll still let you pick the position.” *** “New York City…” Matt whispered these words with reverence. He had only known Dunwich, but for some reason he’d been drawn to the big city. “I’ve always wanted to go there.” What he’d heard about it was amazing, and being there with Richie made it all the more exciting. What about Richie’s wife? To Hell with the details, Matt wanted it to happen and convinced himself that it would. Maybe it had been better not to have been told, because now his imagination was running wild, causing him to grin, uncontrollably. He squeezed Richie’s hand and told him with conviction, “The deal will come through, I know it will. They’d be morons not to sign you on.” This excitement continued to grow inside Matt, so by the time they arrived at the house, he was ready, willing, and able. He passionately returned the kiss, and laughed delightfully afterward. In private, Matt felt free to express himself, and with Richie he was comfortable doing so. “You had your turn, now it’s mine,” he said, accepting the offer. “Let’s get inside before I bend you over and screw you to this car of yours.” |