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English
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Published:
2024-12-11
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1,261
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1/1
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Mixed Signals

Summary:

Usually, Richie knew what to expect. Mikey gave the signal when he wanted to do coke where Carmy couldn't see. Sugar used it when she wanted to cry where Donna couldn't see. And usually Carm just wanted a smoke and a little fucking quiet. If they talked, they talked, but it was never the point.

The signal had never meant this with Carm and it definitely fucking didn't mean this with his older siblings.

The signal had never fucking meant ‘meet me outside and let me suck your dick where anyone could catch us.’

Notes:

This tag is wildly under-populated. Do I have to do everything myself?

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Every single Berzatto was gonna kick his fucking ass.

Mikey was gonna scream at him ‘til he puked, beat him unconscious, and then never fucking talk to him again.

Donna would do the same without the middle step. Probably with more laughter about how fucking pathetic Richie was.

Unc wasn't gonna say shit but Richie could kiss his balls goodbye. Probably his kneecaps too.

Sug was going to be disappointed in him.

But Carmy… Carmy was on his knees in the gravel beside Donna's house, his curls wild and his eyes catching in the dim streetlights like a husky. His lips were red and puffy like Richie had already fucked his face. Like Richie had fucking done anything besides pitch a goddamn tent in his basketball shorts as he let the kid pull him in close before sliding down the wall.

Now he was fucking looming over the guy in the dark - over his best friend's kid brother, over his kid brother in every way that mattered. It didn't look fucking good. It wasn't fucking good. This was some kind of bad touch, stay away from uncle Jonny shit level of not fucking good.

Carm reached up with both hands and grabbed Richie's hips, fingertips a fraction of an inch under his waistband.

“Please, cousin?”

He didn't drag Carmy out here, Richie reminded himself. He just followed when the kid made eye contact and jerked his head toward the open back door. It was something Mikey did often. Signal ‘hey you're as close to not related to me as I can get in this stifling fucking house, come keep me company.’ Hell, even Sugar did it once or twice, especially in high school when she wanted him to sneak her beer.

Usually, Richie knew what to expect. Mikey wanted to do coke where Carmy couldn't see. Sugar wanted to cry where Donna couldn't see. And usually Carm just wanted a smoke and a little fucking quiet. If they talked, they talked, but it was never the point.

The signal had never meant this with Carm and it definitely fucking didn't mean this with his older siblings.

The signal had never fucking meant ‘let me suck your dick where anyone could catch us.’

One minute they had been smoking against the house, sweating their balls off in the July heat and listening to the bitchy voices of Berzatto briscola night drift outside. They hadn't talked much, Richie too focused on not staring at the little strip of Carmen's stomach that was visible beneath his too short t-shirt, Carmen too focused on watching Richie trying not to stare. It had been a year since they had seen each other. Carmen had taken off the day after graduation and hadn't shown his face at Christmas (that time he got the signal from both remaining Berzatto siblings and it meant ‘we have to fucking talk about Carm but if Donna hears his name she's going to stick her head in the oven.’) Carmy meanwhile, it seems, had bulked out and inked up and it was hard not to notice the difference from the scrawny kid he watched cross that stage 13 months ago. He must have grown a couple inches too. Towering at a solid 5’7 now.

The next they were here. With surprisingly little fanfare in between.

“The fuck is this, Bear?” he breathed.

“I need you,” came his answer, instantly. “I need this, just… this. Something I can fucking control about tonight. Something I can be good at.” He ducked his head. “Something I can get good at.”

Well, shit, when he put it like that it didn't seem so… wait. Fucking wait.

“Get good at? Shit, Carmy, are you?”

“Oh fuck you, cousin. I'm not a fucking virgin. I just… with guys I've never…”

Well, fuck, that was just dodging a bullet and stepping on a landmine, wasn't it? He closed his eyes against the thought. Little Carm had got his dick wet but he still saved a piece for Richie. Fuck.

He opened his eyes to find he had one hand in Carmy’s hair and the other braced against the wall. He was doing such a good job of convincing them both and anyone else who wandered outside looking for them that he wasn't about to stick his dick in the baby-est Berzatto. Carm definitely wasn't convinced and in fact took it as a signal to move closer, to mouth along Richie's clothed dick like he was ready to take it all down his throat, polyester and all.

“Carm, Carmy, this is a bad idea.”

“The fucking worst,” Carmy agreed, not moving away.

“You should find someone you like, someone your age, someone outside the fucking family.”

“Closest I got is you.”

“Fuck, Carm, its a big fucking world.”

“Seen it. No one looks at me like you.”

“I've never fucking looked at you, kid.”

“Tonight,” Carmy clarified, “Nobody looks at me the way you have tonight.”

“Someone you actually want to fuck!”

Carmy pulled back and stared at Richie.

“I've wanted to fuck you for years.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you shut up Richie. I've jacked off thinking about you. I've stuck my fingers in my ass thinking about you.”

“This is not as hot or flattering as you think it is. I don't wanna know that shit, man.”

“You asked.”

Richie sighed. He hadn't, but that wasn't the fucking point was it? He didn't want to think about tiny Carmy, too young Carmy jacking it to him.

Maybe he did want to think about right now Carmy. Adult Carmy. Sober Carmy. Probably stronger than Richie by the look of his arms Carmy.

On his fucking knees and gagging for it Carmy.

He yanked down his shorts and his cock sprang free right into Carmy’s face.

“Fine, you wanna suck my dick so bad, suck it.”

Carmen had swallowed him before he even finished the sentence. He gagged, coughed, and tried again.

“Careful, Bear, they hear you coughing like a little bitch they're gonna come try to welch on the joint they think you're sucking.”

“I'm not sharing,” Carmy said. Or at least that's how Richie interpreted the loose syllables about his dick.

Carm's mouth was tight and hot. Somehow hotter than the summer air. It was sloppy and inexperienced, as promised. But the kid was so, so eager, trying everything he could to get Richie to squirm. Nibbling at the head, licking long stripes up the underside, rolling his balls in one hand.

He found his rhythm somehow. Long deep pulls that Richie followed with the hand in his hair, not pushing or pulling, just along for the ride.

When Carm started sucking the tip after every stroke, Richie lost it. His grip in Carmy’s hair finally tightened and his hips snapped forward, shoving his cock into the wet mouth.

“Shit, sorry. Here, I gotta…”

But Carm wasn't letting up, he grabbed Richie's hips and dove down on his cock again, setting a punishing pace. Richie couldn't take it any more. He pulled Carm's hair and started fucking his face. Carm was moaning and the squelch of the two of them was making a disgusting porn noise. But Richie really didn't care any more. He slapped his hand against the wall and held Carmy in place, coming with his dick down his throat as far as as he could take it.

For one blissful moment, all was right. Carmy got what he wanted and Richie had Carmy.

Then, from behind him,

“What the fuck, Richie!? Get the fuck off him!”

Notes:

Who do we think catches them?