Chapter Text
Who would have thought that Kevin, that impertinent, flirty assistant, had been the primary instigator behind all this...?
Eddie's salary as a Senior Buyer at Macy's wasn't bad at all, and Richie was doing quite well for himself at the Museum of Fine Arts too, but of course, one could ask any professional if they'd appreciate an extra income, and what do you think they would say? Yes, obviously, it would always be more than welcome. Now, imagine that extra money coming in simply for doing something you truly love. You love wine? Imagine getting paid to drink wine everyday of your life. Sounds great to be a sommelier, right?
Well, it was something of the sort... except for the fact that Richie and Eddie were stacking numbers just for fucking.
After Kevin handed in his resignation on a Friday morning, claiming he'd found a 'better job opportunity', Eddie felt nothing but an intense relief. That annoying kid had brought nothing but discomfort to his coworkers and Eddie himself with his excessive flirting and after-hours impertinent calls, just to have an excuse to get to him outside of the work enviroment.
But two weeks later, when Eddie's phone vibrated with an unknown number while he and Richie were having sex on the dining room table, he could have never imagined that Kevin was coming back for more, this time, explicitly demanding to listen. Much less did he imagine how much it would turn them both on to have Kevin listening.
It was sick, he thought later, once the post-orgasmic euphoria had ebbed away: that bastard asking Richie how it felt to be inside him, if he was tight, if he was well-lubed up, while demanding Eddie to describe exactly how Richie was stretching him to his very limit. That little pervert was jerking off while listening to his ex-boss getting wrecked by his husband. It was repulsive, but at the same time, it made Eddie feel filthily powerful.
After years of being a shy, repressed boy, he was now in his prime, confident in his job, secure in his relationship, and happy with his physical appearance. He knew he was desired, and he fucking loved it.
Wherever he and Richie went together, he knew they didn't go unnoticed. The contrast between the tall, lanky academic, with that nerdy-like look of someone who barely saw the light of day, and his own compact, yet athletic and tan build, turned the heads of curious men and women who most likely wondered how those two could possibly be together, or just how wealthy or funny that four-eyed guy had be to have snagged such a sweet treat for himself. What they didn't know, Eddie thought with smug satisfaction, was their history of over ten years together, the sheer depth of their love, and above all, they knew nothing about the weapon of mass destruction Richie Tozier packed between his legs. Good Lord. It was the one and only cock Eddie had ever known in his life, and he didn't have the slightest interest in knowing if others even existed. After so many years together, his body was already molded to Richie's size and rhythm to perfection. He didn't want it any other way.
It all unfolded gradually but consistently. Over the last six months, they had managed to balance their weekday day jobs with their weekend night performances. Their first 'spectator' (as they liked to call them) was the owner of a famous fast-food chain, who came to them by pure chance while they were sharing a drink at a hotel bar where they were staying.
The conditions were simple: watch, but don't touch. Richie always carried a small handgun with him, kept out of sight but within easy reach in case anyone tried to cross the line with Eddie; fortunately, he'd never had to pull it out. The regulars of these types of performances knew the protocol all too well, though it never hurt to refresh their memory, just in case they were feeling brave or stupid.
To compensate for this symbolic glass barrier, the spectator had the right to ask Richie whatever they wanted him to do to Eddie, and the restrictions were based on just how generous they were feeling. Most of them preferred to avoid cash, opting instead for items like watches, jewelry, designer clothes, or luxury goods, some even five-star hotel stays or trips.
That physical contrast between them was exactly what made them so attractive to those who paid to watch. They wanted to see that scrawny nerd humiliating and wrecking the guy who looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover. Though they avoided using their real names, Richie was commonly referred to as 'Glasses', and the reputation of his size had spread through word of mouth... no pun intended.
As for Eddie, they usually referred to him with epithets that were as objectifying as they were stimulating for him: sweet treat, eye candy, little slut. He didn't really care what those strangers called him, because he knew the only one who truly got to enjoy and get his hands on that little slut was his husband. Eddie was aware of the risks, but he also knew Richie looked out for him. Richie was the one in charge of logistics: both before and during the encounter, making sure, first, that the spectator had the means to afford the performance, and second, that it wasn't someone they knew from work. It wasn't out of fear of being outed or fired, but a matter of mere privacy and avoiding awkward moments at their respective workplaces. If they kept up the pace, they could easily get to retire before they turned forty, so work itself was no longer a serious concern for them.
Weeks went by, and the word began to spread among the regular circles in Boston. Some of these men contacted them directly via the secondary cellphone line they'd set up to safeguard their identities; others approached them in person at the spots they now frequented, boarding them like someone with every intention of talking business, and in a way, that's exactly what it was. But what was 'business' for those strangers was, for them, the exacerbation of a passion they had cultivated for a decade, a passion so vast and irrepressible that the very idea of showcasing it to other people in the front row turned them on to the max. Better yet, they were being handsomely rewarded for it.
That night, Eddie was sitting at the bar of the Mandarin Oriental, appearing casually distracted as he stirred his Old Fashioned. He looked exquisite in a fine black satin shirt, with the top two buttons undone to reveal a delicate gold chain resting against his collarbones, paired with tailored trousers that hugged his hips in a way so flattering that was impossible to ignore.
Less than twenty feet away, Richie watched him closely while sipping a gin and tonic from a nearby table. He looked every bit a library nerd, with a black blazer over a crisp white shirt, and of course, his signature rimmed glasses. His eyes never wavered from Eddie, who was purposely playing the role of the perfect bait. That night, they wanted to leave things to fate.
It didn't take long before a man who appeared to be roughly thirty-five, approached him with the stealth of a predator who had just spotted its prey grazing by a lagoon. Richie held his breath as he watched the whole scene unfold.
"If you keep stirring that drink, it'll lose all its charm. Dunno 'bout you, but I like my Old Fashioned ice cold".
Eddie looked at the man with a condescending smile. The guy was wearing a suit that Eddie immediately recognized as a Tom Ford, and his smile widened just a tad more. Tilting his head slightly to expose the line of his throat, he purred.
"Variety is the spice of life, or so they say. Personally, I like to warm it up a bit before I take it, so it doesn't hurt my throat".
Even from a distance, Richie could see the exact moment the man's energy shifted. The tentative initial approach had turned into an active hunt. The poor idiot, he thought to himself, he actually thinks he stands a chance with him. The way that stranger looked at his husband, as if he were a prime piece of meat while Eddie played with his expectations, made Richie's cock snap erect and throb violently under the table.
Eddie stretched up the flirting a bit longer, noticing how the guy, whose name was Jonathan, was clearly starting to grow impatient.
"Tell you what, how about I invite you up to my suite and fix you a proper Old Fashioned, just for you...? I can teach you how to take it the right way so it doesn't... hurt your throat".
Eddie made a face, scrunching his nose in a way that made the guy's heart skip a beat.
"You know, Jonathan, that sounds great, but I don't think my husband would be happy about it".
Without another word, Eddie nodded toward the table where Richie was sitting, holding his glass with the last dregs of his drink. The guy turned around and looked where Eddie was pointing, and Richie immediately raised his glass in a mocking toast before taking the final sip.
After quickly scanning Richie from head to toe, the guy lowered his voice and spat out with a sneer.
"That guy over there is your husband...? Seriously...?"
His expression suddenly changed.
"Wait. Wait a damn second. I... I think I know who you two are... It's you, isn't it? 'Glasses' and the 'sweet treat'...?"
In less than a second, Richie was standing right beside them. He reached between them to set his empty glass on the bar counter, then slid a delicate yet possessive hand onto his husband's waist, looking at Jonathan with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"Glasses, in the flesh. It's a pleasure to meet you".
The guy shifted in his seat, torn between surprise, a hint of embarrassment, and a violent surge of curiosity.
"Goddammit, it is you. You are a fucking legend around here. I've heard... quite a few things about you two".
"Good things, I hope", Richie laughed, squeezing Eddie's waist and making him sigh as if his mere touch turned him into ice melting under a blazing sun, a puddle of sheer submissiveness.
"The best, actually - Jonathan murmured, licking his lips almost by instinct - They say you're packing a cannon in those pants. And that your little sweet treat takes it in every possible way, right to the hilt, until he can't take any more".
Richie acted as if he were reflecting on that for a moment, while Eddie watched him, his eyes flashing with feverish desire.
"It could be, my friend. It could be. People talk a lot, you know...? In any case, my husband and I were heading to bed now. It's been a great pleasure to meet-"
"Wait".
Jonathan's eyes were also sparking with a dark hunger. He held a trembling hand in the air while the other fumbled inside the inner pocket of his suit. After a brief search, he pulled out a watch that likely cost twice as much as their first married apartment. Eddie's eyes went wide for a second as he gave Richie's arm a discreet, urgent squeeze.
"I want to see if the rumors are true - Jonathan said, holding the watch up for them to see - It's a Patek. Worth over sixty grand. Tell me what that gets me".
Richie cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure at the staggering value of the object.
"The rules are simple, my friend. Watch, but don't touch. But you can tell me what to do to my husband - his hand slid up to the nape of Eddie's neck, tilting his head back slightly, a gesture Eddie answered to with a soft giggle - We have a few limits, we don't do certain things but we can talk them over and reach an agreement that satisfies us both".
Jonathan laughed, licking his lips again.
"I'm a pretty simple guy, honestly. I think we'll reach a very good agreement".
"Good. Excellent - Richie approved, after one last silent look of confirmation from Eddie - It's a deal. Come with us".