Mike rechecks the schedule for Bill's promotional signing at the local bookstore doubling as a coffeeshop, asking if Richie will come.
"I promised to bring Bill some lunch…" Mike whispers, nuzzling up behind him in the mirror. "Bill mentioned wanting to see you when you got in…" He presses a series of light, benevolent kisses against Richie's throat, listening to the other man hum out.
Mike's hands fall onto Richie's sides, dragging over naked hips and thighs, feeling Richie quiver-tense.
They can both see the multitude of fresh, reddened kissmarks on Richie's body. A star-field of constellations. Usually they wait for Bill to join them in the bedroom, but Mike can hardly resist, all of that pleasure crackling under his skin—Richie, cheeks feverishly hot, wide-eyed, squirming under Mike's touch and weight, Richie's legs spreading open further as Mike slowly, deeply thrusts into his heat.
He's not as small or slight as Bill—Bill, sensitive to Richie's teeth and Mike's fingers gently rubbing his hole, who practically melts.
Richie finishes with his mini tongue-scraper, pulling on sweats. Mike dials for a cab.
They pick up a sack of garden burgers and Bill's favorite orange drink, gaping at the endless line from outside the bookstore.
"Holy fuckdamn," Richie mumbles.
The security guards question for their names, reluctantly letting them in.
Bill's on top of a platform, clipped with a mic and seated behind a fold-out table stacked with his novels. His brilliant, warmhearted smile echoing flutters in Mike's diaphragm. Richie, however, leaps up the platform-steps, heaving his palms down onto Bill's table and getting his attention.
"Oh please, Mister Famous Author~ I wanna see it~!" Richie drawls, using a sly, loud falsetto. He looks up, batting his eyelashes, then winks open-mouthed to Bill. "C'mon~ lemme see your big, manly John Hancock~~"
Mike claps his hand over Richie's lips at the long, exaggerated pronunciation of cock. He grins at Richie's look of betrayal.
"Richie," Bill groans out, flushing.