"No," Richie answers automatically, breathless, looking down at Carmy's hands on his body, stone cold sober and thrumming with energy. His gaze travels further down to Carmy's own body, to what he can see of his crotch and the tented fabric of his sweatpants. It's a dizzying view, an incredible compliment, like touching a girl for the first time and finding out she's already wet.

"No. Yes." He looks up again to meet Carmy's eyes. His mouth is abraded from Richie's stubble, pink and puffy. Richie wants to kiss him again so bad it makes his stomach hurt. He settles for tugging meaningfully at the hem of Carmy's shirt, wanting to pay him back in kind.

"Why'd we wait so fucking long to do this, cuz? What changed? You? Me?"