The compliment -- Richie chooses to take it as a compliment, even if it wasn't meant as one, he needs it right now -- earns a grin that Carmy can't see. Richie pushes up the hem of Carmy's t-shirt where it's threatening to slide down his back, palms idly at the muscles there made out of hours at the pass, hours in front of the stove, hours of manic bullshit energy all wound and knotted up. Rocks up into him, grinds his way into figuring out the right angles, the correct line of approach to fucking his cousin.

"Yeah? I thought I wasn't allowed to rattle the fucking shelves." He's getting sweet on it now, still pleased at getting called a lot, a little affection sliding into his tone now he's got his hard dick somewhere hot and tight. Richie adjusts his stance slightly, leans in to sling his arm back around Carmy's chest and haul him up a bit. Smacks a kiss against his neck.

"Okay, hold on, baby."

He puts his other hand on Carmy's hip to keep him still and starts fucking him like that, all spit friction and almost-but-not-quite the right angle, like he's just a doll and he just wants to close his eyes and get off as fast as possible.

"Jerk off, man, while I -- while I do it. Fuck. Wanna feel you come, cuz. Fuck. Fuck."