ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (beepbeep) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-01-09 19:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, ₴ inactive: matt murdock, ₴ inactive: richie tozier, → week 028 (schmigadoon) |
schmigadoon - day two
WHO: Richie & Matt
WHAT: Catching up on the 'lust' sin because it's been ages since they did the do and also trying out some mind tricks; additionally, there's an original song entitled I Hate Clowns But That's Okay (a love song by Richie Tozier)
WHERE: Richie's room
WHEN: Day 2, when most of his roomies are at the carnival
WARNINGS: They bang but that's cut out
STATUS: Complete
It wasn’t that Matt had fully dealt with the emotional trauma of killing Stevie as a werewolf. Apart from talking to Stevie and later communicating with Richie and Natasha over the network, yesterday was spent in seclusion so he could brood and wallow in self-pity without interruption. The next morning, he awoke with the same, numb feeling as before, but after listening through everything that was posted during his self imposed exile, he came to the conclusion that he was being selfish and needed to shake himself out of this funk. It wouldn’t be the first time he repressed his emotions, and probably wouldn’t be his last. At home, he needed to pretend he was your simple, ordinary blind lawyer, while tracking down and fighting criminals in a suit of body armor at night… this would be no different. What Richie had said about needing to find closure his own way was right, and the first step Matt would take was to stop hiding himself away and to interact with others again. Naturally, the best place to begin was with Richie, who’d been such a wonderful support. Even after he’d been wiped out from his transformation as a werewolf, he still managed to be an encouragement. In addition to missing him now, he wanted to thank Richie in a way he knew they’d both enjoy. That’s why Matt, after pressing send on the message he dictated to Richie, and putting his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, waited outside the door to Richie’s dorm room with a small, knowing smile of anticipation. Oh my god, it felt like ages since he'd been laid - and Richie didn't care if he spontaneously broke into song when he reached the grand finale (okay, maybe that would be a little embarrassing? Crying during the horizontal mambo was embarrassing, singing seemed worse), but he was going to be with Matt. Because it had been shit for both of them lately, because Richie loved him, because he was hot as fuck, especially because the last time they banged Richie had been a woman - he didn't think he needed any other reasons to want this now. So he opened the door as instructed on his phone (which he put on silent and tossed on his desk), all of his roommates gone - either at the carnival or Quentin was who knew where; he likely knew better than to come back when Richie had Matt over anyway, and also probably had better things to do than awkwardly escape the fuckfest that was about to ensue. "Come here now," he insisted, pulling Matt inside and pulling at his clothes. Shirt pushed up with large hands, Richie pawing at his boyfriend as he kissed him - kissed him hard, kissed him long, like electricity pouring down his throat and lighting up all his nerve endings; he didn't have the super senses in this equation but he could hear Matt's heart in his ears, felt it galloping against him too - maybe it was psychosomatic, or maybe they were just linked that way but it didn't matter, it just was. "And take your fucking clothes off," he insisted breathlessly, a scrape of stubble and teeth, nibbling on Matt’s lower lip and kissing down his chin, over his throat, licking and tasting salt. The most frustrating thing about last week’s fiasco ( besides the obvious trauma of killing Stevie and wounding Mobius so badly that opted to be turned into a vampire instead of dying, as if that wasn’t enough) was being able to see Richie with his own eyes, and him being all fit and muscular due to being a werewolf, but not being able to screw because Richie was too physically and mentally exhausted after his nightly transformations. Yes, they had a lot of cuddle time together, when Matt could admire his boyfriend’s face and body while he rested, committing these images to memory to pull up later when he was blind again, but they couldn’t do much more. Now Matt could only imagine the lustful expression upon Richie’s face as he dragged him into the room. The last time they’d done anything like this? Richie was a couple feet shorter, several pounds lighter, had long hair, and a woman. At that time, it was easy for Matt to slip into a hetero role by being the initiator, but there was something amazing about letting Richie take a sexually aggressive control over him. It was what excited him the most when Derleth placed them in parts of entertainers in the 1950’s, having illicit rendezvous together. When their lips parted so Richie could turn his attention to other parts of Matt’s body, Matt found himself grinning like a madman. Take your fucking clothes off. Normally, Matt wouldn’t have any problem with this whatsoever, but a devious thought came to mind. “No.” The single syllable was spoken slowly and deliberately while still grinning. It was a dare (from the Daredevil) and it excited Matt to see how Richie would react. Oh. Ornery, wasn't he? Richie paused, teeth set on Matt's throat - and his grin was just as wicked when he pulled back a little; that feeling emanated from him and if Richie being aggressive was what Matt wanted, then that was what he would get. Sure, Richie would never actually hurt him but he had a lot of steam to blow off - and imagined they both did. He wanted to try something though - to see if it would work or not. "Then I guess I’m going to have to rip them off you," he insisted, jamming a shovel into psychic dirt, digging a mental connection, widening one between them. When he opened a mind link he was able to pass along feeling and sensations - desire crawling up his skin in prickly shocks of electric pleasure; Matt would feel it too. And Richie laid hands on him, immediately working on his jeans next to unbutton them - his fingers yanked at the waist, backing up toward the bed, his knees hitting the mattress. However he wanted all their clothes off first, and began continuing that in a needy way. Don't sass me, he passed the thought between them, but obviously Matt could sass him. Richie would wreck him regardless. For the most part, Matt led a guarded life, so It was proof that he’d placed his full trust in Richie to have his way with him. Oh, and he was feeling so smug, too, anticipating some sort of physical tussle, which he was pretty confident he could still win if he really wanted. What he did NOT expect was a psychic move. In the back of Matt’s mind, he knew Richie was able to do fantastic things with his mind, but this came totally unexpected. The connection was made, and it knocked the breath out of Matt, whose eyes shot open wide and rolled wildly to and fro in their sockets. Stunned by a flood of sensations that he struggled to process at once, he didn’t realize Richie was moving him to the bed until he fell flat on his back with an Oof. Gaining some sort of clarity from hearing the voice inside his mind, he smiled again. “You little shit,” he said out loud, not knowing how, or if he was even able to communicate telepathically in return, but emotionally he sent Richie the message whatever the fuck you’re doing, keep it up, this is amazing. Staring up at the ceiling, gasping to catch his breath, he toed off his shoes to make it easier for Richie to strip him of his jeans. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome, I’m letting you get away with this.” Message received loud and clear, Mattimus. He kept that link open, open enough to let all those good feelings be shared between them and vibrating like a tuning fork. He was dizzy and pleased, love and devotion doing this fizzing in his heart, in his head, and it must be nice to feel - there were probably some advantages to weird mind powers, because Richie was well aware he wouldn’t actually win a physical power struggle, not unless Matt let him. So he had to cheat. Play dirty. Matt didn’t seem to mind though. “Aw - you think I’m handsome,” he breathed out a laugh, pulling off his own shirt - shoes were kicked off, he practically tore Matt’s jeans away from him, and this disrobing for the both of them was basically like they’d gotten caught in a windstorm. “And what, like you’re gonna stop me from doing this?” he added, grabbing for both of Matt’s wrists as Richie straddled him on the mattress - he pinned those wrists down, holding Matt’s hands there for a moment; again, he was aware it was easily escapable but boyfriend seemed to like the show of dominance. Besides, Richie enjoyed a little bit of wrestling as foreplay himself. (AND THEN) They were both a mess and would need to clean up before the rest of his roommates returned, but the ones at the carnival were young rebels and likely would be out well past midnight, which - fine, whatever. Richie would just have to go apeshit on anything that tried to hurt them, that was all. "Hey," he grinned like a big dope. "I gotta tell you something." Matt had settled comfortably, fingers idly brushing across the hair on Richie’s chest as it rose and fell with each content breath, listening to the rhythm of his heart. For a split second, Matt wanted to be a smartass by asking, You’re pregnant?, but 1) he was too exhausted and 2) the mind link was still between them gave Matt insight of how Richie was feeling, so he could anticipate what he wanted to say - cracking a joke now would be horrible timing. Anyway, Richie was the comedian… Matt would leave the jokes to the professionals. “Yeah, babe?” he asked, tilting his head up slightly. It came over him pretty suddenly - words pouring in, the melody like muscle memory and something he should have always known. And - was that a sweet ballad filtering in from somewhere? Like cuing up the Celine Dion intro chords? Knowing he was about to die, possibly, Richie sang. I hate clowns but that's okay Because it's you I love and with you I'll stay Cracked facepaint Paper boats All of it floating Down a moat But it led me to you and that makes me glad Oh, honey, even when you're stubborn it's still pretty rad All of you is the best Bruises and devil horns Mismatched socks and mac and cheese noodles shaped like unicorns I hate clowns but that's okay Because it's you I love and with you I'll stay You're smart as fuck and it's pretty hot So I'm a sure thing with you, I want it a lot And you And me And our mac and cheese Okay, yeah, he definitely wheezed out an embarrassed laugh and tried to smother himself with a pillow. Was… Richie… singing? Once Matt got over the initial shock, he struggled to keep the laughter in with tight lips that burst at the line cheese noodles shaped like unicorns. Because, seriously? How could anybody expect to keep a straight face with that lyric? Oh, but the message behind the poor composition was what touched Matt’s heart. He raised himself upon his elbow, not just to listen better, but so Richie could see to whom the song was for, a goofy smile stretched across his face. “And ouuuuur mac and cheeeeese!” he echoed at the end, struggling to stay in the same tune. He then wrestled a corner of the pillow away to show Richie how happy he was. “That wasn’t half bad. It was all bad, but I wouldn’t change a note. You’re fucking ridiculous, and I love you so much.” Richie was laughing but he was also bright red, the shade of beetroots and chili peppers. Felt like he had just stuffed a few chili peppers into his mouth because he felt hot as well - that came along with the embarrassment, he guessed, even if he actually had a decent voice. It was baritone deep, probably a lot better than one might expect - but he had a lot of vocal training, and had done plenty of voice acting. “I love you back," he snickered, and he wouldn't ever get tired of telling Matt either. He reached up with one hand, cupping his partner's face and letting his thumb rub along his cheekbone. "Gonna be here for you for anything." He guessed the point of the song (beyond the unicorn mac and cheese which, wow, he hoped that existed in one of the alternate Derleth's??) was to say that he did love all of Matt, every side to him. And didn't expect him to give up one or the other either - Richie adored the whole person. Even if times were tough, when they were put into equally tough situations. Gonna be here for you for anything That sentence caused Matt to pause, taking them into consideration very seriously as his smile shrank into a contemplative expression. “I know,” he muttered. Richie proved this to him time and time again. “I know.” But Derleth didn’t seem to care who it took or when. He placed his hand over Richie’s and vowed, “I promise the same to you.” The smile returned, with eyes misting over with tears of joy. He chuckled a little, and said, “I think you’ve come up with our song.” The thought of Derleth taking Matt away from him - well, it really, really sucked. A kind of emptiness and grief that was its own Void - considering how far Richie had come in terms of dealing with Eddie’s death, and realizing he deserved something better than pining for lost childhood love and innocence, it would just be a knife constantly reopening a wound. But the risk? Worth it all. He took a chance and recognized that all of this could be yanked out from under him - however, he was still doing this. That fear wasn’t enough to close himself off from everything - he wouldn’t let it control his life here, not when so much was already out of his control. And if he disappeared, he’d want Matt to get happiness where he could also. If you loved someone, you didn’t wish for them to be miserable even when you were gone. “Yeah? You liked the song that much?” he grinned, shifting so that he was back to a better position for snuggling, arms going around his cozy bedfellow. Back in prime position for Matt to call him babe anyway; he was into that. “I thought maybe we’d pick an 80s power ballad or something, but that one works too.” “I liked the song because I love you.” Matt returned to his cuddling position. “I’m a bit hazy on what’s considered a power ballad. Does Chicago count? What about Journey? Or are we talking Motley Crue?” Nothing like a little silly after-sex conversation to strengthen their bonds. Speaking of which. “That uh… mental thing you did? A+.” He softly smiled before asking, “You once said you’d try letting me see through your eyes? I’m not asking for right now, but… yeah. It’s done sort of the same way as this link?” “Chicago and Journey both count. Maybe not Mötley Crüe - they’re a little too big hair metal,” Richie decided, although if you asked him to define the criteria for what exactly was a power ballad, he wasn’t sure if he could actually do that. At least not right now, when his bones were sliding out of him and his brain had melted out of his ears. He adjusted his glasses on his face, since they’d gone a little crooked and askew during those sexcapades - that’s when you knew it was really good. When you were a complete fucking incoherent mess afterward. “I think it does work the same way - I can try it real quick if you wanna look at yourself naked?” he quipped since, well, that was what he was seeing now. “It’s a pretty amazing sight though, gotta say.” But alright, more serious time. Lying on his back, he took Matt’s hand in his own and laced their fingers together so their joined hands were within Richie’s line of vision. “Here - just relax.” It was a matter of dangling a lure into the river of thought - not only that, but connecting them. Like casting a net, hopping on the carousel that was someone else’s mind - all of that, Richie could do pretty easily by now if he wanted to. Dan had taught him how, and Richie practiced. So he opened another link between him and Matt, something wide enough - wide as a football field, something that sizzled in the air and was practically tangible. It was wide enough to encircle them both, to lasso them together - interwoven like a cord, double helixes that went on and on. Can you see me? Richie asked, fingers stroking over Matt’s, over his hand that he held in his other one. Linked in a few ways. Matt knew Richie was tired, so he was about the protest that they could do this later, but once he was being told to relax, he sighed in resignation, figuring it was too late to stop him. Not knowing what to expect, Matt felt the energy coming from Richie and was too curious (and maybe a bit concerned, to relax. He kept wondering whether or not that sizzle was something visible and then… HIs heart leapt into his throat, being able to see once again. It was just their intertwined hands, but it was… for lack of any other description… like the lights being turned on in a pitch dark room, except his vision didn’t need to adjust. Realizing he was holding his breath, he exhaled in a loud huff, and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He smiled, though his grip had tightened, perhaps too uncomfortably for Richie. This was something he’d never take for granted… sight. Richie couldn't hold it for very long - keeping a loose mind link during the sexing, to share pleasure, was one thing. But basically passing what he was seeing in real time through that connection, kind of like a live feed? It was a lot to maintain - he would do it for Matt, though. Whenever he could - he knew how important it was. Eventually he had to pull back since his temples throbbed, almost like a bruise. Plus his eyelids were flagging - he was getting sleepy, feeling drowsy, dosed with a heavy sedative. It was probably the hormones and the workout - that would all definitely do it. "Sorry, baby," he apologized, keeping their fingers linked but letting the mind link slip away and fade off. "Once I sleep a little I'll not suck at it." Matt’s vision faded along with the link,, he wasn’t upset. Rather, he was grateful, especially for the effort Richie made to make it happen. From Richie’s tone of voice, heartbeat, and way of breathing, Matt could tell how much he was pushing to accomplish just this little.. “Don’t worry,” he said after a kiss on the lips. “You don’t need to exert yourself, babe. Itt was cool having my sight last week, and seeing this connection through you, but I’m fine without it. Really. I don’;t want you putting yourself under any unnecessary stress, okay?” He squeezed Richie’s hand, trying to convey how sincere he was with his statement. However, he considered about what troubles might be coming ahead. “Although, having that connection could come in handy some time, especially in an emergency.” Another kiss, and then, “Spoon with me.” He knew how much Richie loved to cuddle, and honestly, so did Matt. He’d never been the ‘little spoon’ in any of his previous relationships, but he found himself really feeling cozy and (dare he say) protected. Spoon with me. Well, Richie couldn’t turn that request down - he was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. “In emergencies, you got it,” he promised, leaving his glasses on the bedside table and fulfilling his duty as the big spoon - maybe Matt was more, uh, physically threatening? He kicked a lot of ass and did it well. But sometimes he wanted to just be snuggled and Richie didn’t blame him for that. Plus, he was pretty protective over Matt anyway - even if he’d say it wasn’t necessary. To Richie, it was. So he relaxed, nosing at the back of Matt’s neck and letting his eyes close. Just a little nap, before he actually cleaned up. But a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. You had to take all the ‘few minutes’ you could get around here. |