OPEN POST.

OPEN POST

psls ✦ memes/overflow ✦ aus ✦ pic prompt

✦ this is open to everyone, no need to ask first before commenting! feel free to PM if you'd like to discuss anything. please mark NSFW accordingly.
✦ open to both castmates and cross-canon, & shipping with any gender is fine.

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[ Even Reggie doesn't know why he's watching 50 Shades. It just happened to be on whatever channel he flipped to next and seemed enticing enough to keep him from moving on, but fifteen or so minutes later he's still not following the film at all. It's not interesting, it's not hot, it's just... perplexing.

Jughead interrupts him from his semi-trance of just leaning forward staring at the TV, brows furrowed in confusion, and then suddenly they're raising in both alarm and a different sort of confusion as Reggie is graced with the sight of Jughead's half-naked and surprisingly toned, tattooed body. His mouth opens, then closes, eyes wide as if in shock, before Reggie forces them quickly back in the direction of the TV.

What the hell was that? His heart's racing a bit, even after Jughead walks off. Seriously, what the-- ]

Fuck The Sound of Music.

[ Reggie runs a hand slowly through his hair in frustration, switching the channel again and landing on one of the Final Destination films. Sure. Maybe horror is appropriate for a blizzard. He glances uneasily toward the hallway, but then makes a point to keep his eyes forward, even if they're totally unfocused on the movie. ]

[ it doesn't take him long to change. thanks to the heater, he won't need an excess of clothing to keep warm, so a comfortable grey sweater over a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black pants will do. he has opened up his laptop, ready to spend the night writing. there is just one more thing he needs to do before he can really settle in for the evening — a nice hot meal.

making his way back out to the kitchen, he sees reggie has decided to pick another film to watch. final destination, huh? well, it's an improvement from 50 shades, he'll give him that.

now, let's see, what should he make?

he could whip up some pasta. pasta sounds really good right now. glancing behind him, juggie begins to collect the ingredients and utensils he'll need as he tentatively considers asking if reg wants anything. it could be a gesture of good will, he guess, for just going along with his demands (albeit them being perfectly reasonable demands). it could also be a temporary truce since they're stuck indoors until the weather clears up.

what the heck? ] I'm making pasta. Have you eaten yet? [ he sets the skillet on the stove, calling over his shoulder. ] If you haven't, I can make an extra portion.

Uh...

[ After what just happened a few minutes ago, Reggie was entirely prepared to do his best to just ignore Jughead for the rest of the night -- or however long they end up snowed in together -- but now suddenly the dinner offer hangs in the air like an uneasy olive branch, and while Reggie might normally just think fuck it and continue ignoring Jughead anyway, now he isn't sure what he wants to do.

Realizing he's attracted to his friends, or even acquaintances, is one thing, a common thing, where he can almost always just carry on acting the same as usual, but this is a particularly unprecedented situation. Whatever peace their relationship is capable of is only ever precarious at best, always hanging by a thread, and Reggie has no idea what a variable like this could unleash on that dynamic were he not to repress it immediately. Whether that means he should take a neutral approach or an overly antagonistic one to do so, he also has no idea. ]

Sure, I guess. I don't think I've eaten since breakfast.

[ ... Neutral it is, then. At least for now. He still pointedly continues to stare at the TV, avoiding looking over at Jughead as much as he can. ]

[ someone sure is spirited in the morning. how does he have so much energy?

jughead's eyes finally ease open after what seemed like hours. (it was only a few minutes.) he needs to begin that dastardly search for his clothes in ~~his~~ ~~their~~ the bedroom and he's honestly grateful to find that they hadn't been scattered too far apart from one another. ]

Sure. [ he reaches down to snatch up his boxers before he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. pulling them on, he is soon standing up with a languid stretch of his arms. no one should call him a morning person, ever. he is really in need of a shower right now.

maybe he can squeeze one in while the coffee is brewing.

oh, right. before he forgets though...

jug turns back around to the bed, his gaze landing on reggie for the first time since last night. without a word, he kneels his left leg onto the mattress, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the lips. ] Good morning. [ a vague grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he moves back and starts for the kitchen. ] You were very sexy last night. [ and with that, he disappears into the hallway. ]

[ it's all the answer he needs to get started. he isn't going to try to push his luck by attempting to strike up conversation with him right now. it isn't like he would know where to even begin with something like that. as he prepares the meal, jug listens to the movie playing in the backdrop. it isn't exactly the most... ideal film to make food to, so it isn't long before he soon finds his mind drifting off to other things.

the serpents will be meeting up later in the week to finally discuss some internal affairs that keep getting postponed. they're all on different schedules nowadays, so it isn't always the easiest task to get everyone together in the same place.

maybe he should shoot toni a text after dinner just to reconfirm the time and date.

the dish only takes about 20 minutes to get ready and he has been content to let the silence linger between them the entire length of it. he has gone for a classic bacon cheeseburger pasta. quick, simple and delicious. collecting two plates, jug gives them each a heaping portion before he finally speaks up again. ]

It's ready. Want anything to drink? [ don't say booze. ]

[ The answer to that is good ol' healthy living, Jughead. Diet, regular exercise, a feisty personality-- okay, no. Maybe those all could help, but the real answer is just that Reggie is trying to aggressively make light of an awkward situation before the events of last night really start to sink in... or maybe in the hopes they won't.

Nonetheless, his eyes drift to watch Jughead slide out of bed, observing him in silence. The sight of his body alone -- that much of it, exposed -- is enough to start stirring Reggie's memory, so he bites the corner of his lip and lays back, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling to try and further delay processing these events more deeply, but Jughead leaning over to kiss him throws that plan to the wind. ]

Wh--

[ Reggie's face goes a bit red in surprise, more from what Jughead says than what he does; it's not a compliment, at least not a straightforward one, because they just don't do that and Reggie's not sure he's ever even heard Jughead utter the word "sexy" in his life, but however it's intended, Reggie has no response before Jughead's disappeared from the room, leaving him to just put his hand over his still-warm face and then drag it through his hair, frustrated and uncharacteristically flustered.

He has some time to recover from whatever the hell that was now, at least, but he's going to have to retaliate somehow for sure, find a way to tease Jughead just as much once he gets back to the bedroom. "Very sexy," huh? Pfft. ]

( the times when any of them get to be their actual age are few and far between. archie thinks he can count the occasions on his hands but he doubts he actually needs the second one. that is, if he could count. he’s sort of beyond that, here, right now with his head back against the wall and one leg bent at the knee, empty beer bottle in hand. he's sprawled entirely too close to reggie—not crowding him but not giving him much breathing room, either. as if he even has a concept of what someone else's personal space is supposed to look like because he's touchy-feely in general. the usual stuff: hands on shoulders, hugging, yanking someone in playfully in the crook of his elbow, touches on the small of a friend's back.

this isn't that.

their thighs aren't flush together but every time archie moves, they brush. maybe that's not anything in and of itself but accompanied with turning his upper half bodily towards reggie, it's something. the leg that's straightened out ( closest to reggie ) pulls in, both knees pointing closer as he leans towards him. he's not really putting much thought into what it looks like, more focused on what he's after. with the hand that's farthest from reggie, he reaches towards his lap where his hands are. where his beer is. cheeks warm, hair mussed from running his fingers through it, bottom lip a little red from worrying it between his teeth.

if reggie doesn't anchor him with a hand on his chest, shove him away, or stop him in some other manner, then he's pilfering the drink right out of his palms and putting his lips where reggie's had been a moment ago to help himself. )

Thanks. I needed that. ( it's true, regardless of whether he stops archie or lets him go. )

[ Being casually touchy-feely is something the two of them have in common, something that for Reggie can either mean simple, comfortable affection or sometimes a bit more than that, subconscious Intricate Rituals™ to touch certain people in those certain, specific, allowable ways-- for him, right now, it's hard to tell what this would fall under. They're just hanging out, but Reggie doesn't mind the closeness, even when it starts toeing past the line of strictly friendly closeness. That's okay when you're alone, and especially alone and tipsy.

Still, he's a bit too distracted to stop Archie from taking his beer, eyes first dropping to their briefly brushing hands, then raising to Archie's red, parted lips. Reggie breathes in slowly, leaning back so his head hits the wall, but then manages a smirk. ]

Dude, I wasn't done with that.

[ He doesn't grab the bottle back, but rather takes Archie's wrist loosely in his hand to tilt the bottle back toward himself. ]

Last one, but I guess we can share it.

( on some level, he’s aware that he’s in dangerous waters and wading deeper. that maybe there’s a tell in the slow inhale and how reggie repels away. he swears, for a second, that he was looking at his mouth. but then it’s gone, replaced by a smirk, in the easy way that everything slips away with the help of alcohol. almost timeless, fragmented; it’s not like he’s able to stick with any one thing, quickly bouncing onto the next.

and then he objects eventually without any real bite behind it. )

Uh. Yeah, my bad. ( archie mouth curves upward, filled with mirth, a tiny thrill. he doesn’t name it. but there’s a sneaking suspicion that it has as much to do with reggie’s fingers curled around his wrist, guiding the bottle ( and his hand respectively ) back to his mouth. he keeps it tipped, lets him have his fill and doesn't wrench his hand away. curiosity gets the better of him when he lowers the beer to hear reggie speak. ) That's pretty generous, man.

( mocking or serious, does it matter? without skipping a beat, he pulls another sip for himself. a short one, deliberately measured. he's also not complaining if those fingers are still on his bare skin. swallowing unhurriedly, watching him, he idly taps the neck of the bottle with his finger. )

Guess that means you get the rest. ( it's not comfortable, having his wrist turned this way and that. it's what he reasons, anyway, when he turns in place and sets a knee on either side of reggie's ( hovering over him ) to offer him the rest of the beer. he doesn't mean to push the mouthpiece flush to his lips but since he does, archie laughs somewhat breathlessly and weaves a bit. he tries for balance with his other hand, reaching blindly in the air. ) Here. Take it.

Hey, come on. I'm always generous.

[ In his opinion... and when he wants to be, but it's hardly the most outrageous or cocky boast Reggie's ever made, maybe especially because he's still distracted by how much Archie is still lingering over his lap.

This really is dangerous. Reggie has an easy enough time attributing any temptation he's feeling to the beer (even if he knows he would still be tempted regardless), but it's harder for him to tell if Archie's thinking something similar, or-- well, just being Archie. Or maybe it's a bit of both.

Reggie laughs a bit himself when the bottle is pressed flat against his mouth, some beer spilling down his chin in the process when he moves; almost reflexively his hand moves to Archie's waist to steady him, except rather than simply catch his weight against his palm, or perhaps by the belt loop, Reggie's thumb hooks under the waistband of Archie's jeans instead. ]

Um-- [ With his other hand, he takes the beer bottle. ] Smooth move, you giant klutz.

( ““always.”” can he hear the quotation marks in archie’s glance? they’re at blaring volume, proceeded by raising his eyebrows incredulously. he doesn’t mean to. he has less of a filter right now than he does normally ( and the one he walks around with on the daily isn’t anything anything to write home about ). which isn’t to say that archie thinks so little of reggie, more like he accepts the good with the bad. he sees him for who he is.

...for the most part.

at this exact moment, he isn’t seeing much outside the wet patch of beer on reggie’s chin. he knows he should look down, question the hand placement and the finger under denim. what’s going on there? how is that an accident? any number of things, really. his body ignores his brain ( don’t worry, that’s not uncommon ) and he anchors his hand that had been scrambling in the air on his shoulder, steadying himself.

or like, that’s what it’s supposed to be for?

it drifts across the spread of his shoulder, ghosts up his neck, across his jaw. he’s perplexed by his own hand. he should. say something? he counts on reggie’s hands being presently full—too preoccupied to stop him—from setting the pad of his thumb down under the swell of his bottom lip. he’s wiping the spill away. clearly. tracing the bow of his mouth, that's just— well, that's. it's a bad plan. a terrible idea. he sees that now, quite vividly, when he stops staring down and looks up. right, right, right. eyes are up here. mhm. )

Sorry, ( he pushes out quietly, coincidentally without looking remorseful. ) It was my fault. I figured I should clean it up.

[ It would be easy enough to set the beer down, or move his hand from Archie's hip, but Reggie does neither, too fixated on watching Archie's face and tracking the movement of his wandering hand. As someone who's body is similarly prone to ignoring his brain, this is quickly becoming one of those times to just let impulse and instinct take over. Reggie lets his own hand start wandering a little further under Archie's waistband, as he shakes his head. ]

Don't worry about it.

[ And then ducks his head slightly, parting his lips while Archie's finger is still close enough to pull into his mouth and wetly wrap around. Easy enough for Archie to free himself from if he wanted to, but as far as Reggie's concerned, face-touching is pretty much impossible to misinterpret, right?

His legs relax, one stretching out across the floor while the other, still bent at the knee, draws in to press closer to Archie's side. ]

( his breath hitches. it’s damning evidence. he tries to keep some version of a poker face alive, tries and fails. god, it’s a miserable attempt. his thoughts have devolved into oh god and he’s knuckle-deep in my waistband and the part of him that’s tipsy and shameless wants so fricking badly to help that along. know who’s a pro at tearing his own jeans off? archie. duh. that’s where he’s at. tempted but not enough to act on it.

( yet. )

whatever illusion he’s running with, whatever he’s been telling himself, it dies right then and there. one second he’s flirting with danger and the next he’s in too deep. he can feel the wet, hot heat of reggie’s tongue against the pad of his thumb and the slight pull of his mouth. his mind instantly plummets ( as if it had been anywhere close to pristine before ) and he drags reggie’s bottom lip down, retracts his finger languidly with no real intention of going anywhere. if he was curious prior to this, he's now absolutely fascinated. the reluctance, the guilt—things he's certain he ought to be feeling for almost literally dropping this in his lap glide off of him. he's not .. weirded out? he's not freaking out that archie's too close, that he's touching him, that his hand is working on being down his pants. that's basically all he needs to proceed, short of hearing keep going.

completely transfixed ( and not budging from that even slightly with the nudge of reggie's knee at his hip ) he slides his thumb back between his lips. he releases a soft and low: ) Oh.

( mostly because of the implication of the slickness of his mouth on his skin, what else it makes him think about reggie's lips wrapped around and how dirty it is, for them. two guys, friends, that have never broached the subject. they haven't so much as kissed. )

Is this—? Is this okay? ( perhaps, a thing to ask prior to wanting to stuff fingers in his friend's mouth. )

[ Reggie can't be sure at what point he set the beer bottle down, just that suddenly he has one hand down Archie's pants and the other one settled on the small of his back, pulling his body in closer. They've only barely started and this already feels so-- under normal circumstances it may feel wrong, far too complicated to even humor the idea, but actually, it's strangely easy.

It'd be a lie to say Reggie's never thought about it before, even if normally, obviously, it'd be too complicated to act on, but both Archie and the few beers they've drank are giving him as good an excuse as any to go along with it. Sometimes a little fooling around between friends just... happens.

Reggie simply nods in response so he doesn't have to speak awkwardly around Archie's thumb, gliding his tongue along it slowly and gently grazing his teeth against it as he lifts his gaze to meet Archie's again, raising one eyebrow. It's hard not to wonder what Archie's thinking, if they're both thinking the same things, but at the same time he's trying to keep his mind as clear as possible, because this is exactly the sort of thing overthinking can ruin. Better to focus on Archie's fingers, and whatever else of his Reggie can put his mouth on before finally making it to his lips. Maybe that's backwards, but--

Well, kissing is different, somehow. Just enough that he can't tell if it would be too intimate for whatever this is, more difficult to take back later if it came to that, but they'll figure it out if and when they get there. For now, he slides his hand all the way down Archie's pants, fingers groping around to stroke him a bit clumsily over his underwear. ]

( in the same vein, archie doesn’t know if he starts inching forward on his knees before reggie’s hand reels him in or if he goes willingly because of it. it’s awkward, hovering about a foot away from him, looming, when all of this good stuff is directly in front of him. he has to readjust the placement of his knees to the outside of reggie’s thighs, effectively straddling him. pushing at his leg to urge him to straighten it out if he has to. it’s a lot. he lowers himself down for the sake of comfort and the ease of reaching as much of him as he desires. it is, right — a lot? but it makes sense to him, somewhere in his muddled thoughts, to climb closer because reggie’s using his tongue and teeth on him.

and he’s really, really, really into it.

so much so apparently, that he pops the button at the front of his pants, giving reggie the space to cup him through his boxers. he tenses up instinctively, lips apart, suddenly aware that he’s already half-hard under his palm. it’s not for the reasons he might think, it’s just that he worries ( comparatively ) that he’s too invested. too eager. and jesus, he’s not even touching reggie. how is this fair?

he retracts his hand away from the front of his pants and grapples for reggie’s shoulder, holding on, needing purchase. it slips down over his collarbone to his chest and that firmness is so much different than what he’s used to. not different bad, just different. he drags his other hand down, too. mourns the loss of the warmth of his tongue momentarily but everything in due time. he trails his fingers down to reggie's chin, then under it, to tip his face up towards him. he stares for too long. the contemplation of questioning how to do this all too clear on his features — although, he figures it out.

archie leans in, gripping his face harder than strictly necessary, ready to taste him when he stops short. mm, yeah, sorry. that's the hand on his dick. their lips are brushing, at least. clumsy or not— ) That feels good, Reg.

( his words are meant to be encouraging, like how he rocks his hips experimentally, selfishly up against his hand but also down on his lap in an attempt to give some friction back. )

Can I kiss you? ( but the fact that he kind of already is, considering he's speaking into his mouth, defeats the purpose of asking. he's tipsy and needy, and archie continuing to talk will get embarrassing eventually. ) Please?

[ When Archie settles himself down onto his lap Reggie makes a low, satisfied noise from his throat, something between a hum and a groan, and doesn't hesitate to fully cup Archie's growing erection once its been freed slightly more from his jeans. It's hard to keep his breathing steady, every slight escalation making it hitch a bit sharply, especially once Archie withdraws his fingers from Reggie's mouth-- he nearly groans again when Archie leans in close, just barely stopping himself by catching his lower lip with his teeth.

The hand on Archie's back moves down to grip his ass, not yet terribly tightly but enough that Reggie is able to rock his hips upward as Archie rocks his, the motion stirring up a powerful enough bolt of arousal through him that his next breath heaves out of him, harsh and shaky against Archie's lips. He's getting hard too, and he wonders if Archie can feel it. ]

Uh huh. [ It's dorky to ask, but Archie at least can pull off a little dorky; Reggie can't picture himself asking Can I blow you? without just sounding idiotic and embarrassing. Then again, on Archie it might still work. ] What're you waiting for?

( despite being the one to initiate grinding down, he’s not prepared for reggie getting stiff underneath him. archie’s dick is pressed into his palm, closer to his stomach, but he’s nearly sitting on reggie’s. something that’s made less intense, dulled down by the layers between them. he’s using archie’s ass for leverage. it’s a grip that sends an unrelenting spike in heat throughout his body. he shuts his eyes to the overwhelming sensations but he’s surrounded by them. there’s no actual reprieve, no chance to balance out.

he answers with a noise of approval, not quite a moan, when he licks into reggie’s mouth. slow and hot and nowhere close to close-lipped, chaste stuff that’s linked with first kisses. he’s not waiting anymore. he swipes his tongue against reggie’s, finally getting a taste of him, and then he really does groan, deep and strained. he trades his hand on his chest for sliding it back up until he finds the hair at the nape of his neck by touch alone. if the nearby wall scrapes his knuckles until they’re irritated, he won’t care.

made braver by something he’s familiar with, he tries rubbing down on reggie’s lap again with more focus. he breaks the kiss to gasp, ragged and uncertain. archie's watching him to see if it yields another one of those jarring groans. it's deliberate unlike the jerk of his hips forward that comes sporadically, trying to get him to move his hand. now, more, right there. he doesn't trust his voice enough to ask for anything else. )

[ Reggie does groan again, harsh and hoarse, almost as if he were in pain rather than increasingly overwhelmed with need-- the part of him that might still be uncertain, hesitant maybe, is completely drowned out by the impatience of wanting more.

His head moves forward to reclaim Archie's mouth in a rough continuation of their kiss, not ready for it to be over, and especially not ready to watch Archie looking at him like that. Reggie focuses on his tongue in Archie's mouth, his teeth every time they catch lightly on Archie's lower lip, his hand squeezing Archie's ass more firmly so that he can rock it against his own hips in some inelegant approximation of dry humping. It's difficult to move like this, but the harder Reggie gets, the more he can't just sit still.

When the moment comes for Reggie to pull back slightly, his turn to break the kiss, it's because his eyes flick downward to see what he's doing, fingers working to pull Archie's jeans open further so they can fish his dick out, wrap around it so Reggie can stroke him more attentively and attentively. After a few seconds of staring -- after he no longer needs to watch what he's doing, but continues to anyway -- Reggie catches himself, raising his eyes again, though not quite all the way up to Archie's yet. ]

( oh, but he’s a good at that. kissing. all tongue and teeth and every intention of occupying every single thought that pops into archie’s head. he can’t linger on what reggie looks like when he rolls his hips, if all of his other senses are being put into overdrive. he tastes beer, smells something that’s intrinsically reggie, can hear the rustle of denim and the wet slide of their lips, and he can feel him—hard and insistent, pressed up against the seat of his jeans, and it’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. he’s used to being the one with someone in his lap and so he’s out of his comfort zone but god, he’s doing that to reggie. that’s what archie keeps circling back to. he’s the reason he’s hard.

he’s disappointed when their mouths separate, although not for long, not when he realizes their kiss is being traded for something more pleasurable. archie’s fingers curl at the back of reggie’s head, gently scraping with his nails and he holds on a little relentlessly, unable to make a sound for a second or two. it's isn't like he's never had a handjob before but it seems new because it's reggie. that's his hand on archie's dick, his fingers curved around him, pumping him. he wishes he had reggie's mouth to stifle his gasps with. )

Shit. ( he curses without vehemence, airy and unrestrained. archie's gaze falls between their laps as his hand retracts from reggie's neck because he wants to see too; what his dick looks like framed by reggie's hand ( fucking amazing ), where his eyes are lingering ( maybe his chest? ), and more importantly: what part of his shirt archie can bunch up in one palm to run the other up the expanse of his stomach. his hands aren't exactly soft from construction work and plucking at guitar strings but he hopes reggie won't mind. ) I wanna—

( archie can't come to the phone right now. not with his eyes slamming shut and his blunt nails digging into reggie's skin, not quite raking down but threatening to when he grunts. )

I want to touch you, too.

[ It's different, so different, but getting less intimidating by the moment. Archie is heavy, his chest is firm but flat, his hands are rough, but Reggie doesn't mind any of it. He likes it, in fact, even down to the dick in his hand, and it doesn't even matter to him in the moment that he can't come up with some easy, compulsory excuse as to why.

His hand squeezes Archie slightly -- not hard but not overly gently, either -- stroking him with slow but eager motions, trying to remember how he likes to touch himself and apply that knowledge now. Not necessarily foolproof, but it takes a lot of the guesswork out of it, too, unlike how Reggie sometimes feels when he's similarly trying to explore a girl's body. ]

Please-- god, please-- [ Please do, is the point. Reggie nods eagerly, claiming Archie's mouth in another kiss. ] Do it, Archie. It's fine. It's--

[ Reggie swallows, a part of him acknowledging that he's always wanted to touch Archie like this, for Archie to touch him, but he doesn't know if he should say that. They can always pretend this didn't happen later if they need to, they're both in it equally at this point, but something like that can't really be unsaid. ]

Come on.

( archie isn’t complex. reggie’s hand tightens around him and he stirs on his lap, knees digging into his hips. it shines a spotlight on how simple it would be to take and experience without giving anything back. his lips part, this time divided with a grin to showcase his enjoyment. words like always require conviction that archie doesn’t have in this—in them. reggie’s one of his best friends . . .

and his fingers drift lower anyway, beneath his navel. please, god, please fans the fire, engulfing him completely. he navigates by touch alone, fumbling with reggie’s belt ( if he’s wearing one ) and the front of his pants. how hot is that? tasting him on his lips, knowing where this is going, hearing his encouragement.

he has to insert some space between them, scooting down on reggie’s thighs some to make this feasible. he feels his heart jump into his throat ( this is happening, it’s happeningit’shappeningit’s ) and he swallows, too, acting before he can change his mind. archie chews hit bottom lip, eyes downcast, gazing unabashedly as he spreads reggie’s jeans open as wide as he can and promptly cups him through his underwear. he’s firm and warm, and archie sucks in a slow breath, wets his lips, and carefully withdraws reggie’s dick from the confines of his underwear. he can’t look at him, doesn’t want to know if reggie’s waiting expectantly, wondering when he’s going to get into it. so he traces him with his index finger and thumb, hand curved around his dick, while he tries to wrap his mind around how someone else’s erection feels on his skin. he does look up then, during the slow but steady drag of his touch, trying to mirror reggie’s ministrations as much as what he thinks is pleasurable.

he grasps at reggie's shoulder with his other hand, needing grounding of some kind. he wants to say something but nothing comes out, not when his mind's alight with possibilities, things like reggie against him — side by side, on top of him, beneath him. archie's really not fussed. )

[ It feels more like some kind of fever dream than reality, deliriously overwhelming and yet strangely perfect, despite the fumbling and the clumsiness, or maybe even better for that.

Reggie swallows, pushing his hips up slightly off the floor to allow Archie better access and ease to get his jeans open, watching Archie's hand with intoxicated interest-- it gets a sharp shiver up his spine, that touch, that stroking, and he groans almost immediately. ]

God--

[ More sounds tumble out of him almost uncontrollably, some of them words, some of them just strained groans and grunts of pleasure. Reggie exhales heavily, pulling Archie's face close again by his hair for another kiss while he shifts his hips, putting his other hand over Archie's to try and take both of their dicks in his (their) hand(s) and stroke them together. He's painfully hard, sweating and already leaking some precome, but it only makes it easier to keep stroking-- he wants more, but he doesn't even know what that more would be, or could be, or should be. ]

Do you-- [ It's hard to speak, or breath, especially to get the words out. He's not even sure what he intends to ask, what he means by it exactly, but asks anyway: ] Do you want...?

( reggie reels him in and archie doesn’t resist in the slightest. he gravitates to reggie’s mouth with his like its the center of his universe, as if kissing him is better than oxygen. that all gets sidelined when his palm covers archie’s on his dick and he has to readjust, figure out how to posture and get their hands around both of them and his mouth goes slack. he keens into reggie’s mouth, huffs against it, digs his fingers harder into his shoulder for leverage to roll his hips again — up into their hands, sliding his dick against reggie’s. he’s probably going to feel it in his knees later. archie decides it so doesn't matter. )

More? ( he supplies, guessing the end of the sentence. ) You?

( a hasty breath and it hits him like a splash of cold water to the face. yeah. yeah, he wants him. that recognition comes with a bit more clarity than being impulsive. )

Yes, ( he admits weakly, not intimidated by the truth, yet uncertain about what comes next. how they do this. he has a general understanding, at least. it's with a mournful glance that he pulls his hand away from their dicks in order to use both of his to twist at the hem of reggie's shirt. ) But first, I want your clothes the rest of the way off.

( he realizes that means they'll have to slam on the brakes temporarily. and??? the concept of time that should probably push them to hurry ( life, homework, parents ) isn't whispering in archie's ear right now. he pauses halfway up his torso to doublecheck. ) Don't you?

Yeah...

[ It's quiet, more breath than voice, but Reggie nods to reaffirm the point: yes, hell yes, to all of that, to every single thing Archie says. He wants him, too, and with such intensity it's hard for Reggie to remember ever wanting anything else more. Heat of the moment logic, no doubt, but who the hell cares? This wouldn't be happening if not for heat of the moment logic-- right now this is all that matters, and when it's over, reality will reset however it's meant to. ]

Yeah-- [ He almost gasps it this time, heated and frantic. ] How should we--?

[ It almost doesn't matter, because no matter how they do that, clothes are still coming off. Reggie pushes Archie back slightly, just enough so he can pull his shirt off over his head, and then tries to fumble out of his pants without having to move Archie off him completely, easing them down past his hips and then using his feet to pull them off the rest of the way. He wets his lips impatiently, nodding at Archie again. ]

You too. Strip, Andrews. [ Then he smirks a little, correcting himself: ] Archie.

( his first thought is to ask how do you usually? there’s no right or wrong way, and so archie keeps the sassy response restrained. he knows what reggie means anyway. there’s no simple way of maneuvering with archie in his lap even when he scoots back to give him space. he guesses he’s staring, that he’s been gawking, judging by the command he gets.

archie yanks his shirt off in a quick motion and has less luck with his jeans. he’s not going to bother trying to pull off undressing while remaining on top of him because he’s not cool™ like reggie is and he doesn’t want to get stuck trying to shimmy out of his jeans. that sounds ten kinds of humiliating. it’s altogether easier to roll off of him to the side and more or less mirror him, bending to shove them as far down as they’ll go and kicking them the rest of the way off.

but he stops with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers. ) Are we...?

Should I keep these on? ( he doesn't want to be too pushy or too prudent, hence asking. yes, he knows what they were doing a minute ago. he hasn't forgotten. archie's not positive how far this is going and at the risk of making it Too Real and asking too many questions, he wants to be sure he's not jumping the shark. ) Because I want to feel you on my skin but I don't want to make it weird. ( like that? you don't want to make it weird like that? ) I am though, aren't I? Making it weird. ( he exhales. ) It's the beer. It's making me ( spiral, horny, ramble-y? ) say what I wouldn't otherwise.

God, I'm so hard. ( point made. has reggie gotten a word in edgewise? has he fallen asleep? climbed out a window? archie has no idea. he's not whining, per se, but good luck with every inside thought turning into an outside word, reggie. shut him up any time now. )

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OPEN POST.

OPEN POST

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slides in here after sleeping on that other thread but also canonpoint flexible

why hello again 👀

hi there c:

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wow this is a month late. pls don't feel obligated to reply.

you're good 💖

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