Italian sausage hitches Carmy's chest in a horrified splutter of laugher. "Don't fucking, why the fuck would you say that," Carmy objects, and he can't even get a good argument going against Italian fucking sausage because Richie is blowing him, Richie has his dick in his mouth. Carmy has to cover his eyes so he can have a private come to jesus with himself for a sec.

It's not huge, his good fat dick, which he only ever really appreciates when someone else has their mouth around it, because he's - okay, he has sucked exactly one dick, ever, but it was annoying to have to use his hand on half of it or risk the head gagging him. Like petting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time, trying to concentrate on two disparate things. Richie isn't gonna have that problem unless he decides to get esoteric with it. Or slips him a couple of fingers.

Carmy shifts his stance a little wider at that thought. Just to steady himself, make sure his knees are locked in.

"You're such a dickhead," he murmurs, and he sounds annoyed but his hand is so gentle as it rubs circles over Richie's crown, and he follows it with a low noise as he rocks on his heels. Flustered and thrumming. He drops his hand to his mouth, curling it into a fist to bite down on, something to try and shut himself up even though the low vibrations of noise in his chest as he's sucked off are unmuffleable.