Confident

Killing Me Softly

Song: Killing Me Softly With His Song by Roberta Flack

October 21, 1993

Eddie stays at Richie's house much more than his own. He's yet to say why to Richie, which makes the other so very curious. Still, he doesn't say a word. He refuses to pry.

Richie is smoking, which most days he does. Eddie lays by his side, eyes focused on the smoke swirling high above them. Though it's quiet, both are comfortable. Richie's not used to having someone around, so it's a nice change. He still hasn't explained his family problems either, and Eddie can respect that.

The bed shakes suddenly, pulling Richie out of his thoughts. He snaps his head to the right and watches Eddie fumble around his bag. Richie notices the boy's position and gulps. He wants to look away, but his eyes won't seem to move.

When Eddie looks back over his shoulder, he notices the stares. His cheeks flush, but an overwhelming amount of confidence reaches him. He pulls one leg over Richie, straddling him. Eddie studies the boy from his position and Richie does the same.

"You're kind of beautiful."

Richie laughs below him. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Eddie grins, holding up his camera.

Richie's smiling. It's a small smile, but a sincere one. He has a joint in hand and smoke flutters all around him. His hair is a curly mess, and his glasses are still larger than life. Eddie snaps a picture.

Richie tosses the camera to the side afterwards. His hands are on Eddie's hips and the other's hands are entangled in his hair. They've kissed, sure, but never quite like this. Eddie's glad no one's home to hear the pitiful noises escaping his lips.

Eddie's shirt is off in no time, revealing his warm, sun kissed chest. Richie traces his fingers gently up and down Eddie's spine. He wonders how anyone could be so beautiful. Then Richie stops momentarily to pull off his own shirt.

The two move together, skin touching skin. Richie doesn't remember when they started grinding against one another, but the moan that escapes him sends him back into the reality of this all. He doesn't stop, though. The image of Eddie shirtless with his head thrown back is a sign to keep going with whatever is happening.

Richie's hands travel further than they ever have. He reaches down, tugging at Eddie's waistline. The smaller boy's eyes flutter open to stare. Richie's hand then travels a little lower, palming the outside of Eddie's pink shorts, which barely cover him at all.

Eddie's unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. It almost as if he's in a trance of some sort. It feels too good to be real. He never thought he'd be doing this. Grinding against some boy he's barely known for a month. Eddie can't help that Richie is magnetic. He can't keep away, the boy is his drug. He wants to breathe him in as much as possible.

Once they've slowed down a bit, Richie reaches out for the camera. He eyes Eddie, who still has his head thrown back and his eyes closed shut. The boy is panting heavily, sweat forms at his temple. Richie smiles, snapping a picture. Eddie's gaze falls back down to meet with Richie's.

The boy climbs off of the other and lays next to him instead. He takes the camera from Richie and extends it out. Richie laughs, taking it from him once again. "Let me. Your arms are too short."

"Fuck off." Eddie smiles, unable to hide is true emotions.

The camera is in position, as are the two boys. Their lips are locked, shirts gone. Both are completely wrapped in each other. Richie snaps the picture.