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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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( 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. )

[ Archie's babbling is strangely more endearing than off-putting to Reggie, maybe because it makes him seem and feel much more smooth in comparison, or maybe just because it's cute. Whatever the case, they're still making progress, and that's the important thing.

Reggie shifts slightly onto his side after Archie moves off of him, leaning on his arm as his eyes scan over Archie's body slowly in an appreciative, unsubtle way. Then he laughs a little. ]

Yeah. Take them off. [ Reggie leans a little closer, tipping Archie's chin up for another quick kiss. ] Relax, Archie. We're doing this, we're already...

[ Kissing, touching, stripping-- once you've touched dicks it seems a little past the point of no return, might as well just finish what they've started. And honestly, Reggie wants to.

He touches Archie's chest, dragging his fingers slowly up it, up his neck to his chin. ]

All you have to say-- [ Another kiss on the mouth, a bit deeper this time. ] Is how you want it.

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

you're good 💖

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