It was one of those brain-meltingly hot summers that drove everyone a little crazy. The entire Main Street seemed to vibrate with heat from the asphalt, and the Kenduskeag had dried to a muddy stream, the thick stench of it wafting through the air like some noxious miasma.
Patrick stood under the sunshade of Hollings' grocery store and rolled a can of soda against his neck, the condensation on the cool aluminum mixing with his sweat. He popped the tab and looked up when he heard the familiar rumble of Belch’s Trans Am coming his way from the Up-Mile Hill.
It rolled past him in a slow crawl and Bowers stuck his arm out of the window to lift his middle finger at Patrick, the shiner he'd received in their brawl a few days ago still an impressive shade of purple.
Both Vic and Belch glared at Patrick in a show of solidarity even though it had been Bowers who took the first swing. The guy had a short fuse at the best of times and the heatwave had burned right through it.
Patrick didn’t mind flying solo. And he knew Henry would invite him back to his flock before the Canal Day festival, because Patrick was the only one with a fake ID that actually worked.
He pushed his aviators down from his forehead and stepped back to the boiling street. A shithole like Derry didn't offer much entertainment in the summer and even the handful of tourists they got left the moment they'd refueled their cars and taken a picture with Paul Bunyan in Bassey Park.
Patrick's father had pestered him about needing his help at the hardware store all summer, but inhaling paint fumes in 95 degree weather for minimum wage wasn’t exactly Patrick's idea of a fun afternoon.
He sipped his soda as he wandered down the street, and he knew he’d found his entertainment for the day when Richie Tozier and his wheezy little friend zoomed past him on their bikes.
Richie glared at Patrick over his shoulder, and Wheezy sped up his pedaling like he was doing Tour de France, his nose covered with a thick stripe of sunscreen.
Patrick watched them cross the Main Street bridge, and judging by the towels slung around their shoulders, the losers were headed for a refreshing swim in the old quarry.
Patrick's mouth stretched into a grin around his soda can as he began to follow them at a leisurely pace. He'd shaken the dust of Derry High from his boots over a year ago, but he had to admit he'd missed the look of terror the little shits got in their eyes whenever their paths had crossed in the school hallways.
His soda was nothing but lukewarm sugar water by the time he'd reached the quarry, and he tossed the can into a bush of poison ivy, his eyes lingering on the two haphazardly parked bikes on the side of the road. He followed the sound of splashing and laughter to a small clearing and found two piles of clothes, one of them neatly folded and the other like a rat's nest.
Richie had left his coke-bottle glasses next to Wheezy's fanny pack and Patrick picked them up, unfolding the thick arms. He pushed his shades to his forehead and set Richie's glasses on his nose, cringing as his eyes seemed to roll a full 360 degrees in their sockets.
The kid's eyes had to be really messed up if the bizarre kaleidoscope of shapes looked normal to him.
Patrick tossed the glasses over his shoulder and peered down into the green pond below the cliff. The losers were in the middle of what looked like something between wrestling and awkward groping, blissfully unaware of their uninvited audience.
Patrick reached into his pocket for a cigarette and listened to Wheezy scream bloody murder when Richie attempted to dunk his head underwater. He blew out a plume of smoke, his eyes shifting around as he wondered what to do with the little shits. Hiding their clothes was a given, and there were some proper lip busters in the gravel at his feet. Or he could collect some of the poison ivy he'd seen by the road, chase them down and spank their asses with it.
He was weighing his options when the scene in the water took such a drastic turn that Patrick almost swallowed his cigarette.
The splashing had ceased and Richie Tozier was swapping spit with Derry’s resident hypochondriac.
Patrick crushed his cigarette under his boot and moved closer to the ledge, his eyes straining in their sweat-soaked sockets as he watched Richie suck on Eddie's lips like a leech.
There’d always been rumors about both of them, especially delicate little Eddie Kaspbrak, but Patrick had never suspected that the two of them would be doing this gay shit with each other .
A town like Derry wasn't kind to little queers, which meant Patrick had hit the mother of all jackpots.
He pulled away from the ledge and followed the winding path down to the shore, careful to keep out of sight as he settled behind some convenient shrubbery.
Richie led Eddie out of the water and their tighty-whities left nothing to the imagination, the wet fabric clinging to their boners.
Eddie grabbed one of the towels they'd left on the shore and reached up to pat Richie's face with it. "You look like a wet poodle," he giggled, letting out a loud yelp when Richie shook his curly head and sent a shower of droplets flying all over the place.
Patrick hadn't seen Richie without his glasses since he'd yanked them off his nose and tossed them on top of his locker back in elementary school, and he had to admit that the kid didn't look half as weird when his eyes didn't take up eighty percent of his face.
He was awkwardly gangly, the complete opposite of Eddie who was soft and small, the lingering roll of baby fat on his hips almost like a curve. No wonder Bowers still called him Girlyboy.
They laid down on their towels, the wet sound of their kissing resuming a moment later as Richie rutted against Eddie in the cradle of his thighs. Patrick watched them from the bushes, still a little stunned by the whole scene, because how the fuck did a scrawny four-eye like Richie Tozier score a pretty little peach like Eddie?
"Richie… I think I'm close," Eddie sighed, crossing his ankles around Richie's hips to tug him closer.
Patrick could tell the show would be over in about ten seconds, which meant it was time to make his grand entrance.
"Well, what do we have here?” he drawled as he strolled out of the bushes, pine cones and brittle branches snapping under his boots. “You fags enjoying a little afternoon delight there?”
Eddie squealed like a pig and yanked Richie down by his shoulders, like he was a skinny blanket he could hide under.
Richie blinked at Patrick, squinting his unfocused eyes. “Who the hell--”
“It’s Patrick Hockstetter,” Eddie hissed in Richie’s ear, his voice shrill.
Richie's mouth closed with a sharp click . He scrambled up to his feet and yanked Eddie up from the towels, pushing him behind his back to shield him from Patrick’s unabashed leering.
“What the hell are you doing here, you fucking pervert?”
Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets and took a couple of lazy steps closer, his mouth curling up in an amused grin. “Hey I’m not the one getting my rocks off with another guy,” he said, giving the tent in Richie's wet underwear a pointed look.
Richie slapped his palm over his crotch, his cheeks like two red apples.
“A-are you gonna tell someone?” Eddie asked, peeking at Patrick over Richie's shoulder.
Patrick cracked his knuckles and eyed the little flamers over the rim of his aviators. “Well, I guess that depends…”
“On what?” Richie demanded, reaching behind his back to settle a protective hand over Eddie’s hip.
Patrick licked his lips and let his eyes rake down their half-naked bodies. “On how good the show you’re going to give me ends up being.”
“We’re not gonna give you any show, Hockstetter, you fucking creep!” Richie snarled, bearing his bucked teeth like a rabid dog.
"Oh yeah?" Patrick slipped his fingers into his boot and wrapped them around his butterfly knife. He pulled it out with a casual ease, arching his brow at Richie as he flicked the blade out. "You sure about that?"
“Richie! You're gonna make him mad...” Eddie stared at Patrick's knife, his fingers curled around Richie's wrist like he was clinging to his Mommy's skirt.
“You should listen to your boyfriend, Tozier. Unless you want me to share your secret with everyone in Derry High?" Patrick gave his knife a twirl and tapped his nail against the blade. "I might even give you something permanent to let people know what a pair of little queers you are...”
The handle of his knife clicked and rattled as he gave it a series of fast spins, and his gut rolled with heat at the terror the sound seemed to instill in his audience.
Richie looked like he'd been punched in the solar plexus. His shoulders slumped in defeat, the fear of being outed taking the fight out of him. He dug his toes into the sandy gravel and glanced at Eddie over his shoulder. “What the hell do you want us to do, then?”
Patrick flicked the blade of his knife into its sheath and pushed it back into his boot. He sat down on one of the sun-bleached rocks that lined the shore and pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead. Both of the little losers had lost their boners, but Patrick didn't mind going back to square one. He pulled out his pack of smokes, enjoying the way Eddie flinched at the sound of his zippo spitting out a skinny flame under his cigarette.
“Take a seat, fellas," Patrick said, pointing at the towels.
Richie blinked like a blind owl and Eddie sucked in a panicked breath, but they sat down nose to nose, cross-legged and visibly nervous.
Patrick inhaled a lungful of smoke and rested his elbows against his knees, fixing his gaze on Richie. “Give Wheezy a little kiss,” he said, more like a suggestion than an order, but the look in his eyes left no room for argument.
Richie wrung his hands for a moment and it was obvious he wanted to tell Patrick to fuck off, but he did eventually lean in to press his lips against Eddie’s rose red mouth.
“You call that a kiss?" Patrick scoffed, because it was nothing like the lewd face-sucking they’d been doing in the water. "I bet Kaspbrak gets more tongue when his crazy mother kisses him goodnight.”
“Fuck you, Hockstetter,” Eddie grumbled, but he clutched his fingers around Richie's shoulders and pulled him in for a Kiss with capital K.
Patrick's eyebrows shot up in surprise, because holy shit, the little fucker could kiss.
Richie stared ahead with stunned eyes, his hands clutching at Eddie’s hips as his half pint of a boyfriend kissed him like a whore, the slip of his tongue red and slick like a cherry jawbreaker.
“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Patrick snorted, nodding his approval as he took another drag from his cigarette. “You suck face like a pro, Kaspbrak.”
Eddie glowered at Patrick from the corner of his eye, but he continued to kiss Richie almost like he really was trying to put on a proper show, and even Richie was starting to get over his initial shock, sliding his hands up the tan planes of Eddie’s back.
Belch had some bootleg porn his cousin with cable tv had taped for him, and he'd put it on sometimes when they got drunk in his basement, but Patrick had to admit that the live show happening right in front of his eyes was already better than anything taped from the Spice network.
He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the water and reached down to unbuckle his belt. The sound of it brought the show to an instant halt as both Richie and Eddie turned to stare at him with startled eyes.
“What? I didn’t tell you to stop,” Patrick said, pulling his belt out of its buckle. “In fact, I think you should proceed to second base.”
Richie glared at him through his wet curls, but Eddie settled down on his back and parted his legs like a good boy.
Patrick’s mouth curled up when he noticed the bulge in his underwear. “I think your boyfriend likes having an audience."
Richie's eyes darted between Patrick and Eddie, and it was obvious that he couldn’t actually see what Patrick was talking about, but the angry groove between his eyebrows grew even deeper as he brushed his fingers against Eddie’s crotch.
“I’m sorry, Richie,” Eddie whined. He tried to close his legs, his freckled cheeks red with shame. “I can’t help it...”
Richie leaned down to murmur something in Eddie’s ear, combing his wet hair off his forehead with gentle fingers. Patrick didn’t really care what they were whispering about and he popped the button on his jeans open, shoving his hand inside. “Second. Base," he ordered. "Come on, Tozier, feel him up or you'll be scrubbing slurs off your locker until you graduate."
“Okay, okay,” Richie snapped. His spine was as stiff as a rod as he lowered his lips to Eddie's clavicles, the trail of kisses he left there way too soft and way too fucking gentle.
“What is this PG shit? Come on, give those little tits a squeeze,” Patrick said, his voice clipped and impatient.
Richie raised his middle finger in Patrick's general direction, but he pressed his palm against Eddie’s right pec and gave it a squeeze, the small mound of it protruding between his long fingers.
“Yeah, that’s good.” Patrick gave himself a couple of lazy strokes. "Don't forget the other one."
Richie rested his weight on his elbows and cupped Eddie's left pec in his palm, his face as red as an over-ripe tomato as he kneaded his boyfriend's tits like small rolls of dough.
Eddie let out a muffled groan at the fondling, his hips lifting from the towel, and Richie hurried to press his belly against Eddie’s crotch in an attempt to hide that his boyfriend really was a little exhibitionist.
Patrick's groin ached at the humiliated flush on Eddie's cheeks. There was nothing better than a slut that tried to deny its nature, and there was definitely a little slut inside Eddie Kaspbrak.
"Suck those tits into your mouth, Tozier, give them a kiss.”
Eddie dug his knuckles into his lips as Richie lowered his mouth to his right nipple, and the rush Patrick felt at the obedience was almost as good as taking a hit from a good joint.
He stroked his cock, his eyes fixed on the string of saliva that clung to the stiff peak of Eddie's nipple as Richie flicked his tongue against it. And it was obvious that Eddie was still grinding against Richie’s belly, his hips undulating up and down as Richie sealed his mouth around his nipple.
What a little deviant.
Neither of them noticed Patrick pull his cock out of his jeans, but the wet slap of his hand finally caught Richie’s attention and he didn’t need his glasses to know what Patrick was doing.
“You really are a creep, Hockstetter,” Richie grumbled.
“Hey, you should take this as a compliment, you flamers are pretty entertaining,” Patrick grinned, parting his legs a little wider.
Eddie’s eyes doubled in size as they flicked between Patrick’s thighs, his expression caught between disgust and poorly concealed fascination.
Patrick eyed the bottle of Hawaiian Tropic on the towel and wondered if the little queers had made it to third base yet. It was hard to picture Richie Tozier fucking anything but his own left hand, but maybe his slut of a boyfriend had talked him into popping his cherry during one of their late night makeout sessions.
He tossed the sunscreen to Richie whose half-blind eyes didn’t see it coming until the bottle had smacked him square in the head.
“Ow, you fucker!” Richie groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this? A sexy massage?”
Eddie eyed the bottle of lotion in Richie’s hands and there was a glint of understanding in his brown peepers that his obtuse boyfriend seemed to lack. He threw Patrick a nervous look, gesturing wildly with his hands. “We’ve only done it twice and- and we don’t have a condom and sunscreen isn’t a proper lubricant, it’s sticky and it might burn and-”
Patrick snapped his fingers to stop Eddie's wheezy rant. “Look, kid, I don’t fucking give a shit, okay? You can do it dry if you like, but you’re gonna take it up your ass if you want me to keep your secret.”
Eddie swallowed the rest of his protests and both he and Richie stared at Patrick with a mix of disgust and fear.
“I’m not even fucking hard, okay?” Richie rose to his knees, the outline of his soft dick visible through the wet cotton of his underwear.
“Maybe your boyfriend can help you with that?” Patrick arched his brow and gave his own cock a nice, long stroke. “Unless you want me to take over?”
Eddie's face drained of color at Patrick’s words and he bolted up like a jack-in-the-box. “It’s- it's okay, I’ll help you, Rich.” He brought his hand up to his mouth and looked like he was about to hurl as he drooled a thick loogie onto his dry palm.
Richie’s eyes were apologetic and even Patrick was aware of Eddie Kaspbrak's obsession with germs, because the kid had been ranting about all the potential diseases the human body was capable of catching since they were all in elementary school.
Eddie continued to gag as he spread his spit over his fingers and shoved his hand into Richie’s underwear. “Just focus on me, okay? Pretend he's not here," Eddie whispered, scrunching his nose at the spit-wet sound of his hand.
Patrick snorted at Eddie’s cooing, but he narrowed his eyes, observing the way Richie reached up to pet the hair on Eddie's nape. Were they actually together or was their private trip to the quarry just part of some hormonal experimenting between two small town queers with no other options? There was definitely a practiced ease in Eddie’s touch, but it was the intimate way he stared up at Richie that caught Patrick's eye. You'd think the little geek was his whole world or something.
“I think he’s hard enough...” Eddie said after a couple of more strokes, looking at Patrick like he was expecting a gold star for giving his boyfriend a successful handjob.
“Not bad,” Patrick nodded, regarding the tent Richie had pitched in his tighty-whities. “You could give the whores at Koala inn a run for their money, Kaspbrak.”
Eddie blushed at the insult and wiped his spit-slick palm against the towel.
“Now what?” Richie asked, glowering at Patrick through his frizzy curls.
“Now you fuck your boyfriend, Tozier,” Patrick snorted. “You think you can manage that without my help?”
Richie glared at Patrick like he'd challenged him to pistols at dawn. "Fuck you, Hockstetter."
Eddie gave Richie's arm a tug, his eyes resigned. “Come on, let’s just get this over with..." He folded his briefs like a little housewife and settled on his hands and knees on the faded Mickey Mouse towel.
Richie kicked his own underwear down his legs and squirted a blob of sunscreen onto his palm, the light breeze carrying the coconut smell of it to Patrick’s nose.
He watched as Richie parted the round peach of Eddie's ass and squirted another gob of lotion straight onto his hole, and Patrick had to admit that Richie Tozier was one lucky son of a bitch. Even most of the jocks at Derry High weren’t getting that kind of ass.
“Let me know if it hurts, okay?” Richie murmured, working his greasy finger into Eddie's hole.
There was a nervous pinch between Eddie's thick brows, but his dick was a hard little rod under his belly. "It’s fine, Richie, really, just- just keep going."
Richie was careful, his touch a little fumbling, and Eddie probably hadn't been kidding when he'd revealed that they were still new to fucking. Patrick stroked his cock as he wondered what their first time had been like. Had they done it in Richie's room with the lights off, cheeks red with shame as they panted into each other's mouths in the concealing darkness? They were obviously in the closet like every queer in Derry who didn't want to end up in a missing person poster, plastered on telephone poles and milk cartons.
But maybe a little exhibitionist like Eddie had wanted to do it somewhere public. Maybe he'd dropped his shorts and climbed into Richie's lap in the back row at the Aladdin, ready to blow his load over the worn velvet of the seat at the knowledge that someone might see.
Well, Patrick was definitely watching. He stood up for a better view and loomed over Richie's shoulder as he grabbed Eddie's ass and pulled his cheeks apart. The rim of his hole was white with lotion, spread open around Richie's knuckles and ready for cock. “That cunt is starting to look pretty loose to me." Patrick dragged his fingers over the bumps of Richie's spine and dug his thumb into the dip of his tailbone as he gave his ass a little slap. "You ready to slip your boyfriend the hot beef injection?"
Richie's sunburned skin prickled with goosebumps at the uninvited touch. He ignored Patrick's question and stroked his palm over Eddie's flank. "Do you think you're ready, Eds?"
"Uh-huh," Eddie nodded, clutching his hands around Mickey's ears.
Richie took himself in his hand, the air sweet with a tang of coconut as he squirted a line of Hawaiian Tropic on his cock. He pressed the head to Eddie’s hole, but it slipped and dragged against the pink seam of his taint, not just once, but four fucking times.
It was like watching a train wreck.
“You sure you’ve done this before?” Patrick sneered, arching a skeptical brow at Richie. “Come on, are you gonna fuck that cunt or not?”
“Shut up! You’re distracting me, you asshole!” Richie cried out, getting all flustered under Patrick's expectant gaze.
Eddie reached behind his back to hold himself open and gave Richie a wan smile. “It’s okay, Richie, just- just relax.”
Richie glanced at his crotch and threw Eddie a helpless look. “Fuck… I think I’m gonna go soft.”
Patrick rolled his eyes and blew out a dramatic sigh. "You really can't manage this without my help, huh?" He spat in his hand and shoved it between Richie’s thighs.
"H-hey!" Richie clawed at Patrick's forearm, his fingers slippery with lotion. "What the hell are you--"
Patrick gave Richie's cock a series of brutally fast strokes that had the kid howling with shock or pleasure, didn’t really matter, because it took less than ten seconds to have him straining against Patrick's palm.
“Your boyfriend is gonna fuck you now,” Patrick announced as he held Eddie’s ass open and guided Richie’s cock to his hole. It slid in with a wet pop and Patrick fed the rest of it in by shoving his palm against Richie’s lower back. “You think you can take it from here or do you also need me to set the pace for you?”
Richie shook his head, his thighs trembling as he gave a couple of shaky thrusts.
"There you go," Patrick grinned, giving Richie a slow applause. "In and out."
Richie clutched at Eddie's hips and screwed his eyes shut, the blotchy flush on his cheeks growing even deeper as he let out a quiet wail. "Fu-uck…"
Patrick shook his head, his mouth pulling into a stunned sneer. “Holy shit, kid, did you just blow your fucking load after two thrusts? That's gotta be some kind of record.”
“Shut up, Hockstetter,” Eddie snapped, scowling at Patrick over his shoulder.
“It’s your fault,” Richie whined, a wet trail of lotion and come spilling onto the towel as his cock slipped out of Eddie's ass. “Your stupid stroking brought me too close to the edge!”
"Sure," Patrick snorted, giving his own cock a lazy stroke. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to fuck.” He eyed the wet mess Richie had left all over Eddie's hole and arched his brow. “Want me to show you how it’s done?”
“What? No fucking way!” Richie wound his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulled him against his chest, his hold possessive.
“Come on, Kaspbrak, I could take really good care of you,” Patrick drawled, slapping his cock against his palm. “Bet you don’t even know how it feels to be fucked by someone who doesn’t blow their load the moment they get a taste of your juicy ass.”
“Shut up...” Eddie tried to cover himself, but Patrick could tell he was still as hard as a bullet. “I'm- I'm not letting you touch me.” His argument didn't pack as much heat as Richie's, but it was obvious they’d be stuck at a stalemate unless Patrick went back to blackmail.
“You little queers do remember what’s at stake here, right? You wanna start your senior year with everyone in your class knowing you spent your summer touching dicks in the quarry? And I bet that freakshow you have for a mother would just love to know her precious little boy is a dirty fag, huh, Eds?”
“Okay, okay!” Eddie cried out, a couple of angry tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’ll fucking let you do it, just, shut the fuck up already.”
Richie stretched his neck to stare at Eddie over his shoulder, the look in his eyes horrified. “Eddie… Are you serious?”
“It’s not like we’ve got a choice....” Eddie said, his voice small and defeated.
Shit. Patrick really had the mother of all blackmail cards on his hands.
Richie clutched at his hair, a low growl rolling up his throat. “Fuck… This is so messed up," he groaned, but Patrick could tell there was no fight left in his eyes.
Victory had rarely tasted as sweet as it did when Eddie settled in the cradle between Richie’s legs, his head resting against Richie’s chest. He stared at Patrick's cock, his button nose scrunching up with disgust, but there must have been some repressed nook in his hypochondriac mind that got off on the idea of getting fucked bare, because his dick was almost as red as his cheeks.
“Hold him open for me,” Patrick said to Richie, enjoying the humiliated scowl on his face as he wound his arms under Eddie’s thighs and exposed him to Patrick's eyes.
And what a fucking sight it was, a loose hole caked with white traces of lotion and the sloppy remains of Richie’s prematurely spilled load.
Patrick pushed his hair off his face and shoved his jeans down his thighs as he knelt down between Eddie’s parted legs. He rubbed his cock over the slick mess and fixed Richie with an unblinking stare as he sank into his boyfriend's ass.
Eddie let out a gasp, like all the air in his lungs had been punched out, and both he and Richie squeezed their eyes shut at the wet squelch of come and sun lotion spilling out around the girth of Patrick's cock.
"Richie… it's so thick," Eddie panted, pressing his cheek against Richie’s chest as Patrick fucked himself deeper.
“If you hurt him, I swear I’m gonna fucking kill you, Hockstetter,” Richie growled, and something in his tone gave Patrick the feeling that the kid might actually mean it.
Eddie brushed his fingers against his nipples, quick and subtle, but Patrick noticed the way his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. “It’s okay, Richie, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, I bet he loves this,” Patrick gave another good thrust, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he watched Eddie's pink cock push out fat beads of slick. “He’s obviously a slut in the making.”
“Don’t call him that,” Richie snarled, clearly unaware of the heavy-lidded gaze in Eddie's eyes or the way his mouth fell open around soft little gasps as Patrick fucked his sloppy cunt.
“You should have worn your glasses, Tozier,” Patrick grunted, sliding his hand up and down the soft length of Eddie's inner thigh. “Your boyfriend looks fucking drunk on my dick.”
Eddie blinked his eyes open and shook his head, pawing at Richie’s arm. “I don’t! I swear I don’t!”
Richie dropped a kiss to Eddie’s hairline, his face scrunching up like he had swallowed something sour. “It’s okay, Eddie...”
“Yeah, Eddie, we know you can’t help it," Patrick jeered.
Eddie’s face turned crimson at the taunt, but his cock blurted out another pearly drop of pre-come. Patrick's mouth salivated for a taste and he reached out to swipe it up with his thumb, but Eddie slapped his hand away.
The little bitch had a temper.
Patrick withdrew his hand and pressed his smarting fingers against his lips.
"I want Richie to touch me.” Eddie tilted his head and gave Richie the kind of bedroom eyes you rarely saw outside of the centerfold of a Playboy.
Richie’s mouth curved up in a smile for the first time since Patrick had ambushed them during their secret makeout session. "Yeah, I'll touch you, Eds." He wrapped his fingers around Eddie's cock, and if Patrick hadn’t been balls deep in the kid’s ass, he probably wouldn’t have even been a blip on their radar. "I'll make you come."
Patrick jostled Eddie against Richie's chest with the force of his thrusts. "Let me know if you need some help with that too."
Eddie scowled at Patrick from the shadow of his heavy brows, but Richie didn't even meet his eyes, nuzzling his nose into Eddie's damp hair.
The display of affection made Patrick's stomach twist with something angry and he snapped his hips, fucking Eddie with a brutal pace. Eddie's lashes fluttered against his cheeks, his face slack and blissed-out from his first proper fuck as Patrick forced the slut in him to the surface. He was gonna ruin this kid and the next time his four-eyed boyfriend tried to fuck him, Eddie would still be sore and thinking of Patrick.
“Richie… I’m gonna come,” Eddie panted, his hips stuttering like he was torn between pushing into Richie’s hand and fucking himself on Patrick’s cock.
“Yeah, come on, Eddie, it’s almost over,” Richie murmured, jerking his hand like he was trying to reach an invisible finish line.
Eddie clutched his own knees and let out a hiccuping little mewl as he ground down on Patrick's cock and spurted a sticky mess on his belly.
Patrick could have gone for another five minutes, but the way Eddie’s ass milked his cock sped things up. He grabbed the kid by his ankles and shoved his knees against his shoulders. “Is your little cunt ready to be creamed again?"
Eddie blinked at him like he was in a daze. “W-what?"
"Hey you can’t come in him!” Richie protested, but Patrick was already coating Eddie's insides with come.
Eddie let out a startled squeak, the dick-drunk haze lifting from his eyes as he smacked his palms against Patrick's chest and pushed him away. Patrick laughed at the disgusted scrunch of his freckled nose and jerked the final drops of his load over Eddie's taut little balls.
"You asshole," Richie spat, wrapping a protective arm over Eddie's belly.
Patrick pulled his jeans up, his eyes glued to the creamy mix of come and sunscreen that began to leak from Eddie's hole. "Fuck, you're sloppy… It's like it's coming from a tap or something," he laughed.
"Oh Jesus that's so gross," Eddie wheezed.
Richie flinched when Patrick grabbed him by his hand and forced it between Eddie’s thighs. He pressed his lips to Richie's ear as he made him slide his fingers through the fat glob of come that clung to Eddie's hole. “Take notes, Tozier. This is what a well-fucked cunt should feel like." He slipped Richie's fingers past the loose rim and turned to watch as Eddie's ass spilled out another sloppy trail of come against Richie's knuckles. "I bet he'll be leaking my load for days."
“Fuck you, Hockstetter!” Richie spat, trying to wrench his hand free, but Patrick tightened his grip around his skinny wrist. Richie's lips curled up in a disgusted snarl as Patrick slipped his fingers into his mouth and licked at the salty-sweet mix of jizz and coconut.
"Maybe next time I'll fuck you instead of Wheezy," Patrick grinned, flicking his tongue against Richie's bony knuckles.
"There won't be a next time!" Richie fumed, finally yanking his hand free from Patrick’s grip. "We're fucking done with your bullshit."
Eddie lay between them, his expression closed off and cheeks red with shame. He pressed his thighs together and wound his arms around his chest, his bambi eyes wet with unshed tears. “I wanna go home…”
Richie pulled his wet briefs back on and wrapped one of the towels around Eddie’s shoulders as he helped him up to his feet. Eddie pressed his face against Richie's shoulder, and judging by the quiet sniffling and the tremble in his shoulders, the kid was crying.
“We’re going now,” Richie announced, wrapping a protective arm around Eddie. "And you'd better keep your word, Hockstetter."
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." Patrick set his aviators back on his nose and lit another cigarette, his lips pulling into a smile around the filter. "For now."