( Eddie gets it, really, he does even if it still means he isn't going to get his fucking dick out in public like Richie seems to want. Yet he still fucking gets it. He's been staring at Richie since they got ready back at their house earlier in the evening because there just something so good about seeing his husband-to-be in a suit especially one that fits him well. Honestly, he feels feral and wants to climb Richie like a fucking tree but―

But not in front of their friends! Especially when they're supposed to be here for Bill.

So although it was nice having Richie's hand (his big fucking hand) on his knee and then snaking up his thigh until he's just a breath away from where Eddie really would like his hand. Still he has, at least, some self-control and spends more than his share of time smacking and pinching his boyfriend's hand like a toddler. )

Richie―

( He finally has to grit his teeth by the time they get to dessert, stabbing at his fancy baked apple and glaring at the other man out of the corner of his eye. There's still a proper afterparty and mingling to consider but: )

Oh, yeah? I honestly couldn't tell. I probably have bruises on my fucking legs by now.

( It's all said lightly, quietly just for the two of them and although Eddie's brows are furrowed― he noticeably settles with the kiss press against his lips. )

Our friends are gonna know. Stan will definitely know.