It's not entirely unlike certain wet dreams Richie has had, which is a little surreal. But it's also very not, since those dreams don't tend to involve arguing about anal sex, or getting a wicked cramp in your thigh because you're not used to kneeling like this. He squints at Carmy, driving the heel of his hand into his leg, the other still holding the bottle of lube.

"What the fuck? No. You need to, like. Do something up there, I'm pretty sure. It's like, I'm pretty sure it's meant to take some work. Haven't you ever watched fucking, uh, Drag Race? Those gays talk about it all the time." Not that Richie is going to stop what he's doing. He pumps lube into his palm, starts to apply it liberally to his dick, which feels good, so he keeps doing it. After few strokes he looks down at his hand, considers it thoughtfully, then sort of wipes it off underneath Carmy's balls, skating his fingers back and up into the warm space between his ass cheeks, rubbing the lube across him.

He grins. Laughs a bit to himself.

"This is so fucking gay, cuz."