Ok stay with me for some walls of text
Eugene is mortified at how much the idea intrigues him. He spends weeks trying to establish boundaries and signals and signs that mean “not tonight”, wanting to make everything go smoothly. Richard tells him he doesn’t want a heads-up, he wants it to be a surprise—and he doesn’t ever mention that he’s doing the asshole thing again and using Eugene as a testing ground for facing his “demons” without his knowledge.
Eugene picks a date without telling Richard, planning to wake up in the middle of the night to initiate. But when the day comes, he’s too anxious to fall asleep. So he just lays in bed, heart pounding, overthinking, trying to decide if this is a good idea or not (but it must be, Richard wanted—asked for—it, and if he’s changed his mind since they last discussed it he’ll forgive Eugene because he hadn’t told him he’d changed his mind, right? Eugene would stop immediately, of course, he’d even leave his own apartment for the night so Richard didn’t have to walk home after, he’d do anything to make it right—) until it’s 2am and he just thinks “it’s now or never.”
Richard is sleeping heavier than normal, the stress of the day combined with a bad flareup leaving him exhausted. He doesn’t wake up until Eugene’s been busy for a good while. He panics for a second, remembering the garage, the motel, the other motel… before recognizing where he really is. Eugene’s arm is wrapped around him, solid, almost protective. And he’s talking—whispering, really, but it’s enough that Richard can almost make out some of it through the haze of tiredness.
Eugene isn’t one to use dirty talk, too worried to mess things up (and following a script, he’s realized, is not very sexy to most people). But in the dark, alone, the only person awake… he starts to spill; things he’s only thought and things he didn’t realize he was capable of thinking. Possessive, claiming thoughts. Self-deprecation, awe at how amazing Richard is, how much this trust means, how grateful he is that Richard keeps coming back to someone like him even though he could have his pick of suitors. He almost says something he can’t take back, something that’s too intimate, too much, too honest. It’s not even the first time he almost says it, but this time feels more real because no one can hear him. So he thinks.
Richard pretends to be asleep until Eugene reaches around. He can’t keep quiet anymore, but instead of simply enjoying the moment he starts to tease Eugene. He has to, has to make it a joke, that’s what he always does. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll have to face the horrific truths of tonight: he’s getting off on it, he nearly panicked and he’s still getting off on it… and Eugene feels safe enough that he didn’t panic after all. Those things he whispered, muffled and muddled as he woke up, were too raw. Too real. So he jokes.
Eugene is flustered, defending himself against the accusations of being perverted (“you said, you SAID—“), but he doesn’t—can’t—stop. Richard doesn’t tell him to.
Neither of them talk about what Eugene said. Some things are easier to say in the dark, and sometimes it’s easier to keep them there.
