Carmy rides it out so well, and Richie thinks he's doing a good enough job, that it feels like they've done it a hundred times before, like it's always supposed to be this easy, even when it's hot and sweaty and gross. And in the walk in. Carmy's heartbeat is a running horse in his chest, rapid hoofbeats against his palm; Richie puts his head between Carmy's shoulders, against the damp fabric of his shirt, and closes his eyes and fucks him as hard and fast as he can.

He goes like that for a little while, then he has to pull back and straighten up a bit and fucks him that way as well, hands on him, one fingertip dug under the panties on Carmy's hip. Gets to look down at where his cock is going in and out of Carmy's ass and marvels at it. Rattles the shelves a little.

Then Carmy starts talking again, tensing up, and Richie tenses up with him.

"Oh Jesus, oh sweet God," he croaks out, feeling Carmy starting to come, flexing and shuddering, the knowledge that he's making him orgasm rocketing through him like white lightning all the way from his heart to his balls to the soles of his feet. He jackrabbits into him, quick sharp thrusts. "I'm gonna come too, I'm doing it, I'm fucking -- fuck --" And he spills out into him, keening under his breath and folding down over him, pawing at his chest to bring him up close as he shudders and half-collapses them forward into the shelves hard enough to rock the cans and boxes.