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If there was anything Billy was good at dealing with, it was change. He’s moved seven times in his short eighteen years, flitting from a myriad of failed relationships with his dad. But he had to admit, going up and down the coast of California was very different to going all the way to fucking Indiana.
But he would adjust. He always had, always would. It’s not like he had a choice.
His mom made sure of that.
But it doesn’t matter. If he has to live in Hawkins, Indiana than he was going to live in fucking Hawkins, Indiana. It probably would have been a little easier without the new bitch stepmom and dipshit sister, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Point is, he’s here now. Might as well make the most of it. Just because it was a different state didn’t mean his usual shit wouldn't work. When you got right down to it, surviving high school was easy. It’s all in the process. You find the top dog in the school, get a little chummy, find a way to make him look like a pussy, and take his place.
Simple as that, and Billy was just as confident with it here than he was anywhere. He was good with people, up to a certain point. Usually that point was getting whatever the fuck he wanted from them and throwing them away, but what more do you really need?
So when he walks into the halls of Hawkins High, he is more than a little confident that he was going to own this bitch in a matter of days. It was a shithole full of dumbass hicks, how hard would that demographic be to figure out?
Though Billy had to admit, the hierarchy in this place was a little out of the ordinary. It’s not like it was uncommon to have a line up of popular guys, but usually there was always one that was slightly ahead of the pack. Someone who was actually worth noticing. But Hawkins didn’t really have that. Everyone was mediocre, frankly. All he’d needed to do to reach top dog status was beat a keg stand record and get into a few hot chicks pants. It was laughably easy. Almost boring with how easy it was.
Though…there was one guy who was kind of interesting. Kind of…off. He hears his name here and there, Steve Harrington this, Steve Harrington that.
Did you hear that Steve convinced Nancy to have a three-way with Heather Holloway? I’m serious! Her best friend told me.
Steve got into another fight. You didn’t know? It wasn’t on school grounds, he never does it on school grounds, he’s good at not getting caught.
Steve Harrington was definitely the reason we got to state last year. The guy’s fucking great at basketball. Have you met him yet?
It gets kind of weird, how much he hears about him without ever talking to the guy. He’s seen him around, they got a few classes together. But he’s the only one who hasn’t introduced himself who wasn’t a total fucking loser. Everyone else was already vying for his attention, but Steve? He acted like he didn’t even exist.
It shouldn’t have pissed him off as much as it did. Steve shouldn’t matter to him. He doesn’t matter to him. But it’s hard not to take offense when he gets a look at his circle of friends. What, he’d rather hang out with some prissy bitch, a nigger, and a couple of queers instead of him?
There’s one queer in particular that really starts to get under Billy’s skin. Eddie fucking Munson. Steve’s best friend. He was a complete fucking weirdo, with his faggy clothes and even gayer mannerisms. He knew he was a drug dealer, but even that didn’t make up for the bullshit vibes he gave off.
What the fuck was Steve doing with someone like that? But at least he’s not alone in thinking it’s bizarre. He meets a guy, Tommy Hagan, who agrees just as much as him that it makes no sense. What did Steve see in that fucking guy? Because he was the normal hot jock type that Billy had come to know like the back of his hand. Athletic, handsome, rich, not the type to willingly associate with freaks.
It bothers him enough that he goes after him a little, Eddie that is. Just to try and figure out what was so great about him. He picks a day when Steve’s not around, no need to risk getting jumped. And it didn’t look like the rest of the loser brigade would be a problem. The black one is an easy enough target to start with, they always are. Not many people came running to their defense when Billy started tearing into them. But his usual rant of slurs had barely started before Eddie Munson was in his face, more than ready to fight.
They would have, if the other two hadn’t held him back. He respected that on some level, that he was so rearing to go. Maybe even made him get what Steve saw in the guy, just a bit. But it wasn’t enough to sate his discontent. As much as it pains him, he tries a little harder. Small shit, stupid shit. A nod in the hallways, being the first one ready in case he needs a pencil, and…Jesus, even going as far as to flirt with the high school counselor so they have more classes together.
But nothing. Not a damn reaction. Like he doesn’t fucking exist. He doesn’t pay him a lick of attention, no matter what he does. And it’s fucking with him. In more ways than one.
It’s happened before, the thoughts. Wayward things that he can snap out of his head the second he realizes that they’re happening. Steve wasn’t the first guy whose presence made his mind wander to nasty shit. It’s just…something that guys had to deal with every so often. It’s not something you talked about, but being a fag was something people choose to be. It was a temptation that had to be fought against, and people who were weak gave in.
But Billy wasn’t like that. Anytime his mind wandered to his stupid fucking hair, or his smile, or the graceful way he moved on the court, he was able to shove it right the fuck back down.
But Steve…was different. In a horrible, terrible way. Dreams of fag shit were more rare, and much harder to control, let alone for someone he’d only known of for two weeks. But Steve…he was fucking haunting them. No, that was wrong. Not his dreams, his nightmares.
When he wakes up, the memories are vague. Just flashes of skin and wild hair, a deep voice moaning high. But he knows. Of course he fucking knows. It twists his interest, his frustration morphing into a deep loathing. All for a boy that he’d barely spoken more than two words.
It comes out sane enough, just taking out a bit of frustration on the prick. Because Billy Hargrove doesn’t grovel for attention. He doesn’t need to, never has. But that’s what it feels like he’s doing when he sets his sights on Steve during gym.
He kicks his ass in basketball, of course he does, he’s better. Probably speaks the most he ever had to him too, right before knocking him back down to the floor. He has every intention of doing it again, sometime soon. Maybe a day where he doesn’t have that slight limp, just so no one can contest that he is better than fucking Steve Harrington.
But he still ignores him. Despite it all. He doesn’t even get angry, he just walks away into the showers, like that would make him disappear. He follows him in there, him and Tommy, both of them happy to crowd uncomfortably close around him.
But Steve just averts his eyes, more focused on washing himself than anything else. Fuck it. If Billy has to speak first to get this fucking statue to react then he will.
“So I heard you were pretty hot shit around here,” Billy said eventually. All faux casual, like he isn’t intimately aware that Steve was trying his damndest to ignore his existence, “A real lady killer. Is that true?”
“Was I?" Steve asked, completely disinterested in a way that made Billy’s blood boil even more, "Guess I haven’t been paying close enough attention.”
Tommy laughed, low and mean, “Course you haven't been. If he’s not up Eddie Munson’s ass then he’s up Wheeler’s. But maybe not so much anymore huh? You don’t keep the best tabs on her.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve asked, brow furrowed, “I know where my girlfriend is, asshole.”
“Oh do you?” Tommy taunted, “Johnathan and the princess skipped yesterday and she still hasn’t shown. But that must just be a coincidence, right?”
Billy grinned, he hadn’t known about that, but the news was enough to make that calm face melt into something heartbroken. It was a good look on him, but some tears would probably have made it better. Hell, if Wheeler was so easy, maybe Billy should get in there, just so he could be the one to break his heart, even through proxy.
“Don’t take it too hard man,” Billy added with a smirk, loving the way it made Steve’s eye twitch. Any reaction was better than none, “Pretty boy like you has got nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea. I’ll be sure to leave you some.”
Feels like he accomplished something. At least until he goes to sleep that night.
Maybe actually talking to him had been a horrible idea of after all, especially in the fucking shower. Because now that voice in his dreams is clearer, the skin flashes replaced with full blown images of a naked wet Steve moaning and crying out his name.
It’s enough to make him wake up in a cold sweat, disgusting phantom touches still dancing across his skin. He remembers too much, a sickening amount. Safe to say it’s a bad fucking morning. A bad morning that turns into a bad evening, when he finds out his bitch sister ran off to god knows where.
His dad freaks the fuck out, like somehow she matters more than his own fucking blood. And his usual insults especially sting thanks to Steve fucking Harrington. He does some digging, ends up at the Beyer’s place, trying to track the little shit down. He pounds on the door, frowning at all of the boarded up windows.
Not that it was shocking that the house of Zombie Boy was populated by freaks, but still. But Steve answering the door sure as hell is.
Steve opened the door a crack, dramatically groaning like a bitch at the sight of him, “Oh Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing here?”
What the fuck is he doing here? Billy stares at him, feeling off guard in a way that’s starting to make him pissed, “Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?”
The guy has the balls to roll his fucking eyes at him, “Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants. Now what the fuck do you want?”
“Where’s my sister?” Billy asked, already seething at this fuckers audacity.
He notices a flash of red out of the corner of his eyes, turning his head just in time to see Max duck back below the window, while Steve blatantly lies to him, “She’s not here.”
“She’s looking at me through the damn window!” Billy growled, “Get out of my way.”
He pushed past him, knocking him back hard rough for him to stumble. His eyes widen at what he sees, or specifically who he sees. It’s fucking Sinclair. The negro he had already warned to stay away from his family time and time again. And if words weren’t going to work on the fuck, maybe his fists will.
But before he gets a chance to grab the brat, Steve is stepping in front of him throwing a punch that lands. It makes Billy stagger back for a second, but it doesn’t take long before he’s on him. It takes a minute to actually get the asshole to the ground, but after that he has free range to fuck him up as much as he wants to. And that was fine by Billy. He'd been looking for a reason to fuck up that pretty face.
It feels good, so good to hit him. Like the more he hurts the guy the further those sinister dreams will go from his mind. Maybe he’ll even kill him, he doesn't fucking care anymore. He’s just pissed, angry enough that he wished he had a weapon to hurry this shit up. But the feeling of his fists hitting that freckled skin makes the more time consuming method worth it.
Maybe if he just stops breathing then Billy would never have to think of this piece of shit again. But then the next thing he knows, a blinding pain is searing through his left cheek. It makes him cry out, the sound barely out of his mouth before he’s getting grappled to the ground. He has no time to react, no time to throw whoever the hell is on him off before they’re bracing an arm against his neck and pressing down, hard.
Billy stares up at them, wide eyed when he realizes it’s fucking Eddie Munson of all people. Who is staring at him like a rabid dog, screaming in his face, “What did you do to him?!”
But Billy couldn’t answer, how could he? The psycho was trying to collapse his fucking windpipe with his weight. But that didn’t stop Eddie from screaming the question at him again. He was struggling against his hold, but the guy wasn't moving an inch. Before he knew what was happening he was lifting that knife back up, slamming the butt of it into his nose.
It fucking hurts. Bad enough for him to want to scream, but he can’t even do that. He can feel the edges of his consciousness fading, black slowly crowding his entire field of vision. His face was bleeding all over the place, including his nose now, which he is pretty fucking sure is broke. And the disgusting coppery smell was making him feel like he was going to puke, something that would end in him choking on his own vomit in this scenario.
For a horrifying second Billy is positive this is how he’s going to die. But then Max is kneeling next to him, sticking a needle into his neck while the other kids tackle Eddie off of him. The second the weight is gone Billy gasps for air, a hand flying to his throat.
He can breathe again, but he still feels like he’s going to pass out. Max was hovering above him, screaming at him to leave her and her friends alone, all while holding a bat with fucking nails hammered into it. She freaks him out enough to agree before his eyes shut against his will.
And then he doesn’t think of anything at all.
He wakes up in his bed with absolutely no memory of how he got there. There’s a splitting pain in his cheek, his nose was throbbing, and it hurt to swallow, all proof that all that shit from last night was real. He stumbled out of bed, immediately going for a mirror.
He looked horrible. The cut in his cheek had needed stitches, but it was too late for that now, ensuring that it would scar. His throat was near black from the bruising, just like his nose. He looked like what he was, a guy who had almost been killed by a fucking psychopath. Rage fills him instantly, the only thing that feels stronger than the pain. He goes to leave the room, intent on finding Max to force an explanation out of her, but he stops when he makes it to his door.
There’s a note on it, scrawled with thick black letters.
Try anything and next time, we’ll let him kill you.
Billy plucked the note off the door with shaking hands, feeling ill all over again. He can feel this stupid threat working on him. Because he had never seen someone look like Eddie had when he was attacking him. Not even his own Dad during his worst episodes. The guy had barely looked human, his face twisted by so much fury that it looked sickening.
It’s just not worth the effort to deal with freaks like that, the type that deserved to be fucking locked up. As much as it pains him, Billy is going to have to let this go, for the sake of his own well being. Who knew what a guy like that was capable of? And if Max wanted to waste her life on those losers then so be it. She’d get hers eventually.
Though he is real tempted to reignite everything when he finds his fucked up car. But he doesn’t. It’s not worth the trouble. He steers clear of the whole freak group for the rest of the school year. Even Max, he tries to be as far away from her as possible, avoiding even speaking to her more than half the time. As for Steve and Eddie…he doesn’t even look at either of them if he can help it.
His interest had always been ridiculous anyway. Steve was so far below him it wasn’t even funny. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. But the truth is…he’s fucking scared.
That’s not even right. He’s terrified, of Eddie fucking Munson of all people. A feeling he thought would be confined to his father. And he loathes him for it. But anytime they caught eyes, Eddie would give him this glare, all too similar to that inhuman look from that night. And it made him fucking shake.
He hates it. There was nothing Billy despised more than fear. Nothing in the world was worse. But now every time he looks in the mirror that revolting feeling comes full force, just from one look at his ugly scar. It was deep, deep enough for him to actually get away with the lie of being attacked by a rabid dog. It wasn’t that far off from the truth anyway.
The feeling eats away at him, no matter how much he tries to ignore it. Because at the end of the day, Eddie Munson made him look like a little bitch. And Billy couldn’t stand for it, no matter how scared he was. Didn’t mean he couldn't do anything. Fear was something to be overcomed, and hell, maybe if he could give Eddie what was coming to him, he’d grow the balls to do the same thing to his dad.
He’s going to get him back for that shit. It just takes him a while to figure out how. Hurting Steve some more was always an option. Eddie was obviously obsessed with the guy. And even if Billy didn’t have proof yet, he knew that the creep wanted in Steve’s pants. The idea of him being a fag before used to make him laugh, but now it just adds to his own humiliation.
It’s fair to say the more Steve was hurt, the more Eddie would feel it. But as good as the idea was, it didn’t feel…balanced. Billy wanted revenge but he also wanted to be even with the fuck. So he comes up with a plan. If Eddie could sneak up on him to fuck him up, then so could he.
He waited for a night where he knew that Eddie would be back late and his uncle would be working. Some shit about a gay Dungeons and dragons club became the perfect thing to plan around. He waited until the evening, and walked all the way to the trailer park. Dark colors, backstreets, anything to not be seen.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do tonight, but he intended on getting away with it.
The Munson trailer is laughably easy to break in too, especially Eddie’s room. It had a shitty sliding window with no screen, and no lock. Billy was surprised that he hasn’t heard about others coming in here, at least for the guy’s drug stash.
Unsurprisingly, it was a shit hole. Smelled like shitty weed with clothes strewn all over the place, crappy drawings littering every wall. Billy snorted when he saw the half filled lube bottle on the side table, out in plain sight. It wasn’t exactly a shock for jerking off to be a loser’s favorite pastime.
He poked through everything a bit more, just for curiosity’s sake. It didn’t take long for him to realize that a lot of this shit in this room wasn’t even his. There was Steve’s basketball uniform, balled up in the corner, Steve’s notebooks strewn across the, his handwriting noticeably neater than Eddie’s. What could only be Steve’s hair care shit sitting on the dresser.
It shouldn't have been surprising, but it still made Billy feel irrationally pissed. Why the fuck was he here so often?
Not that it mattered, he had more important things to worry about than that loser. He slipped into the closet, shutting it tight behind him. Just because Eddie had gotten the best of him once, doesn’t mean it would happen again. Billy just needed a bit of an edge is all, the element of surprise, which was only fair considering how last time went. He clutched his knife in his gloved hand, wondering not for the first time if he was going too far.
Billy wasn’t deluded enough to not know that this was extreme. But that was him. What was the point of living if it wasn’t extreme? But now he wasn’t quite sure just who was going to be walking through the door with all that shit in there. It didn’t really matter if it was Eddie or Steve, it’d work either way. Hell, maybe Steve would be even better. Give the pretty boy an ugly scar to match his.
Maybe he’d even cry. Billy was calmer than he was the last time, clearer. He’d be able to fuck with him more, have a little fun. If he came walking in alone then it wouldn’t be hard to gag him, make him completely helpless while Eddie was none the wiser, playing with his pack of nerds. Then he could just do whatever he wanted.
And if it was Eddie…he’d make it quick. No reason to draw it out when the guy was so fucking unstable. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do or how extreme he was going to go. But the leather gloves weren't just for show, he had no intention of leaving any prints here.
Whoever came first, that’s who was going to get it. Billy settled in the closet, more than ready to wait. He had a pretty clear view of the room from the angle of the closet slates, but they were still poised to hide him well.
Luckily he didn’t have to wait long. Half an hour later he could hear the sound of his shitty van pulling up to the trailer. Billy’s heart started to speed up, a bit of that fear creeping in. But he didn’t care, he going to get this fucker one way or another.
He just hadn’t expected for them both to come crashing into the room. Billy’s eyes widened as he tried to process what he was seeing. Steve was fucking wrapped around him, legs locked around Eddie’s waist, arms around his neck, his damn tongue down his throat.
He fucking knew it. He knew that they were fags. Or at least he knew Eddie was, but it wasn’t like the revelation of Steve being a queer was shocking.
He just wished it didn’t make him shiver.
Billy watched as Eddie shut the door with his foot, mouth never leaving Steve’s as he carried him further inside the room. For the first time he noticed that Eddie’s hands were on his ass, squeezing hard enough to make Steve gasp.
They tumbled onto the bed, Eddie spinning around so he’d be the one to land on his back. They didn’t stop kissing, loud and sloppy wet sounds filling the room.
This…is not what Billy had signed up for. He didn’t want to see this shit, let alone hear it.
Steve was grinding down into Eddie’s lap, moaning like a slut all the while. It sounded different than it did in Billy’s dreams, lower, but sweeter somehow. Long and pretty-
Billy stopped the thought in it’s tracks. He tossed off one of his gloves, purely so he could dug his nails into his arm, hard as a punishment for letting himself think of that shit. Though…in his defense, this gay shit was happening right in front of him. It wasn’t his fault his mind was wandering, or if his body was reacting. It wasn’t.
He shook the thoughts away, forcing his brain to start working again. He needed a plan here instead of sitting and watching Eddie strip Steve’s clothes off. He watched, staring at Steve’s bareback as they went right back to kissing.
He could jump them both right now, probably manage to get a few slashes into that pretty skin. That would at least be something. But he doesn’t know if he can take them both at the same time. He didn’t know how long this shit was gonna last, but maybe if he could just wait until they were asleep he could fucking do something. But that meant he’d have to sit through the whole fucking show.
“Wait a second!”
The sound of Steve’s giggling voice snapped Billy out of his thoughts. He didn’t know how Eddie worked so fast, but he had managed to already strip him down to his underwear.
He was leaning back on Eddie’s thighs, staring down at him like he wanted to eat him alive, hands rubbing up and down his bare chest, “I got something for you, remember?”
“Can’t it wait?” Eddie whined, hands busy trying to pull Steve’s boxers off. But Steve gently slapped them away, ignoring Eddie’s complaints as he got off his lap.
He crossed the room, and for a terrifying moment Billy was sure he was about to open the closet. But by the grace of god, he didn’t. Instead he kneeled down, digging around in the back pockets of some discarded jeans.
Billy furrowed his brow when Steve pulled the thing out, spinning it on his finger while walking back to Eddie. It looked like a ring? A big one, at least a few inches wide, made of soft and plastic and obviously not for a finger. Then it hit him. It was a damn cock ring. Something he'd only seen in dirty magazines.
Eddie groaned at the sight of it, his hands instantly going back to clutch at Steve’s hips when he crawled back over him, “You didn’t.”
“I did,” Steve grinned, “Remember when I took Nancy to Fort Wayne for that journalism thing? Well guess what kind of store was just a few blocks away from the paper?”
“Oh my god,” Eddie laughed, “Why am I surprised?”
“I really don’t know,” Steve sighed happily, hands wandering down to start working on Eddie’s belt, “But if it’s too much we can use it another time. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Billy narrowed his eyes, confused on why he said it like that. He had used that line before, many, many times. But you didn’t say it like that. You were supposed to sound disappointed, guilt them a little. Make them feel bad that they weren’t doing something for someone so understanding.
But Steve didn’t say it with a hint of disappointment. He sounded just as excited as he was before, merrily taking out Eddie’s cock.
“We can also put it on me,” Steve suggested as he started to stroke him up and down, giggling at the way it made Eddie groan, “What sounds better? Me crying and begging to come while I’m taking your cock? I’d probably get pretty bitchy pretty quick, maybe you could even try and put me in my place for once, huh? Or you getting all needy and desperate while I ride your dick? It will feel so good, but then it will just keep going and going and going until you lose your mind.”
How the fuck could he say shit like that with a straight face? His dad had always said that fags were perverted degenerates, and they were really living up to that expectation. He pointedly ignored the pulse between his legs at the words, happy to pretend like his soft dick wasn’t quickly filling with blood.
“You can’t just say shit like that,” Eddie panted, hips bucking up into Steve’s warm hand, “Are you trying to fucking kill me?”
“I love you too much to kill you,” Steve purred. He was still kissing at his neck, taking the time to lick over his Adam’s apple, "We can also just toss it to the side and have fun the old fashion way.”
Eddie mumbled something that was too quiet for Billy to hear. He had finally succeeded in getting Steve’s boxers off and he was groping his ass again, fingers slightly dipping between his cheeks.
Steve arched into the touch, humming down at him, "What was that sweetheart?"
“I want it on me,” Eddie said louder, voice a bit shaky, “Please angel?”
Steve beamed down at him, kissing him quick and easy on the lips before sighing, “I had a feeling you would.”
He spun around on Eddie’s thighs, completely shameless with his bare ass in Munson’s face. He used the new angle to tug the rest of Eddie’s clothes off, giving Billy a full view of both of their cocks. Billy bit his lip as he watched, hating the fact Eddie was bigger than him, like life wasn’t already unfair enough.
It wasn’t helping that Steve looks fucking enamored with it. He was stroking it up and down, gathering all the wetness on the tip to coat that weird ring in his hands. Then he started to actually slip it down Eddie’s dick, stopping when it lightly snapped around the base.
And then Steve just…spit down on it. Just like that, giggling at the way it made Eddie moan like a little bitch. And then he was sucking his cock into his mouth, deep throating him in a way that no girl ever had to Billy.
It shouldn’t have been shocking. The guy had a slut’s mouth, made sense that he was so good at sucking cock. He just hadn’t expected him to look so good doing it. Billy stared, a mix of sickness and arousal brewing in his stomach as Steve mewled around Eddie’s dick, licking around it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
Eddie blindly reached for the bedside table, grabbing the half filled bottle of lube with lightning fast speed. And then to Billy’s fucking horror, he started licking between his ass cheeks. Wet, sloppy and loud, kissing at Steve’s hole like it wasn’t vile.
So why was Billy so hard?
His little problem wasn’t helped from the way Steve was loving it, moaning even louder when Eddie slid a finger in alongside his tongue. He was doing something that Billy couldn’t quite see, but whatever it was had Steve choking on his cock, pulling off with a wet pop. There was spit dripping down his chin and he looked like a fucking whore, especially with how he was shaking at Munson’s touch.
“Eddie slow down-fuck,” Steve panted, weakly trying to pull away from his hands and mouth, “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop."
But Eddie wouldn’t let him move away. If anything it just made him go faster. He pulled him back by the hips, until Steve was basically sitting on his face, whimpering and moaning all the while.
Steve was making all of these fucking noises. Noises that made Billy feel like he was losing his fucking mind. He couldn’t take watching this shit much longer, the humiliation of running out of here might be worth it after all.
But then Steve was coming, right onto Eddie’s chest, pressing his backside into his face as he cried out.
Billy couldn’t help it. He had to touch himself, just a little to take the pressure off. He cupped himself through his sweats, trying his damndest to not make any sounds. But the touch wasn’t helping, not really. It was just making him feel hotter.
He shouldn’t.
Steve let out a breathy sigh as his orgasm shook through him. He slowly crawled off of Eddie’s chest, spinning back around to face him. Then he bent his head down, actually licking his own come off of him, just one more thing to send Billy’s head spinning.
He can’t.
Steve flipped around, and Billy realized that he still hadn’t swallowed it. He stared with rapt attention as he popped two fingers into Eddie’s mouth, pulling down on his bottom lip until he stuck his tongue out. And then he was spitting down into his mouth, with Eddie moaning around his fingers.
Billy couldn’t take it anymore. He slipped his hand inside his sweats, grimacing at how wet his dick was. He could feel it through his fucking boxer. But he had to do something, the pain was killing him. He’d never felt like this before, not with this, not with sex.
“How’s it feel?” Steve asked, still playing with Eddie’s tongue, “You hurting at all?”
“It’s tight,” Eddie mumbled around his fingers, “Feels hot, intense. But I still want to fuck you.”
“Of course you do,” Steve laughed. He plucked the lube bottle from beside Eddie’s head, slathering some on his hand. He reached back to rub it all over Eddie’s cock, and then the fucker just sat on it, in one smooth slide, knocking the breath out of Eddie and Billy both.
Jesus Christ, he looked good, bouncing up and down on Eddie’s cock like he was made for it. He was reducing Eddie to a simpering little mess, clutching at his hips while he panted below him.
“So big,” Steve moaned, “Ruined me for anyone else, didn’t you?”
Eddie swallowed, reverent as he stared up at him, his words slurring, “J’ust for me. My Stevie. Love you so much.”
Love.
Jesus, if Billy wasn’t moments away from coming at this bizarre show that would have been enough to make him go soft.
Steve smiled down at him, soft and sweet, his hands rubbing up and down his chest, “That’s right sweetheart. I’m all yours, just like you're all mine, right?”
Eddie nodded, quick and desperate, “All yours. Only yours, forever.”
“I like the sound of that,” Steve laughed, “Maybe I should get a collar for you huh? So the whole world can know you’re my good boy.”
“Oh fuck,” Eddie whimpered, hips bucking up, “Stevie, fuck, baby, jesus.”
Utter nonsense was falling from his mouth, but Steve was eating it up, fucking himself down on Eddie’s cock faster, “Oh, you like that huh? Maybe I should get you a leash too, since you can’t seem to control yourself.”
There Eddie Munson was, the guy who kicked his ass acting like a whipped bitch as he nodded frantically, “A-Anything you want, fuck, angel it hurts. Wanna come. Can I?”
Steve shook his head, circling his hips just to watch him choke, “Not yet sweetheart. You can be good for a little longer, can’t you?”
Billy could not understand how Eddie could let him talk to him like that. How could you have that guy in your lap and not fuck him into the mattress. Who cared what he wanted?
No, if that was him fucking Steve he’d have him crying, begging him to stop while he pounded into his ass. None of this pussy shit. No, he’d fucking ruin him, for anyone one else. He thought Eddie was good? He’d make him forget every name that wasn’t Billy Hargrove. The thoughts helped him feel a little less disgusting as he stroked his cock.
Made all of this sick shit easier to swallow down if he could pretend like he was in control. The only thing worse was that now Billy had been reduced to jerking off to these freaks.
But this Steve wasn’t crying. He wasn’t quaking from pain or fear. He was having the time of his life, moaning and gyrating like a whore. A whore who needed to be put in his fucking place. Not that Eddie Munson was up to the task.
Clearly.
No, he was too busy gasping and whimpering like a little bitch, Steve cooing above him, “Oh baby, are those tears for me?”
Eddie nodded, quick and desperate, “Let me come inside you baby, please? It’ll be so good, just the way you like it Stevie. Let me make you feel good?”
Steve didn’t answer, instead he just leaned down to kiss him, swallowing up his moans and gasps before pulling off his dick completely. Billy watched as he slowly pulled the cock ring off, blind as he sucked on Eddie’s tongue.
Then he was sinking right back down, taking him to the hilt. That's all Eddie needed to cry out, hips pressing up into his ass as he shot cum into his hole. But Steve was shaking too, trembling like he was coming, but his dick was still soft.
But then Billy realized what was happening, he was coming like a fucking girl, completely from the inside out.
That was the final straw.
Billy snapped his eyes closed, biting into his bottom lip, hard. Hard enough to tear into the skin while he came. It felt so fucking wrong. Sick and disgusting. But the worst part was that he’d never come this hard in his life.
By the time he opened his eyes, Eddie’s soft cock had slipped from his stretched hole. Steve was still in Eddie’s lap but now he had him sitting up against the headboard, hands cupping Eddie's cheeks as he kissed away all of his overwhelmed tears. He was showering him in praise all the while, “You were so good, baby. My good boy, my perfect boy. Love you so much.”
Eddie was eating it the fuck up. He looked high, completely glowing under the kisses and words. He looked so fucking happy. They both did, utterly lost in their own little world.
It made Billy feel sick, worse with the fucking come cooling in his hand.
They didn’t deserve to be happy, but here they fucking were. Basking in the afterglow of their own debauchery.
“Wow, you’re really down huh?” Steve mumbled, moving to start kissing all over his face. Eddie didn’t say anything. He just nodded, looking like a moron as he smiled up at Steve.
“Need some time before you can talk all the way?”
He nodded again and Steve smiled, “No worries sweetheart. How about we get you cleaned up, huh?”
Steve threw his legs over the bed, standing up with a cute little oof sound. Billy could fucking see the come slipping down his thighs, an image that was going to be burned in his brain forever. He watched as Steve bent down, gathering Eddie up in his arms bridal style.
“M’heavy,” Eddie slurred out, like Steve wasn’t already in the middle of lifting him in the air, muscles flexing. His arms were bigger than Billy remembered, but apparently they were all for show considering he hit like a bitch.
But they worked well enough here. He hefted Eddie up into his arms, staggering for a split second before straightening. He grinned down at him, smacking a kiss to his forehead before proudly declaring, “Not for me.”
He started walking them towards the door, cum leaking out of his ass while he carried the guy that fucked him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, “Gonna get you all taken care of baby, don’t gotta worry about anything. You were so perfect, amazing. Always treat me so good.”
Eddie giggled like a teenage girl, instead of the grown ass man he was. He looked so fucking happy to be coddled, like it wasn’t one of the most emasculating things Billy had ever seen. But Eddie didn’t seem to care, he was too busy looking at Steve like he was the best thing to ever walk the earth.
He was kissing any inch of skin he could reach, basically just licking at his collarbone like a dog.
It was disgusting, but it just made Steve laugh, “Love it when you get like this. So fucking cute, Jesus.”
He fumbled with the knob before flinging the door open, finally leaving Billy only. He waited until he heard the bathroom door close, then a little longer for the sound of water. After that he made a break for it, that ill feeling finally fully taking over.
He goes for the front door, passing the bathroom on the way. He can hear them fucking giggling in there. But he didn’t stop to see what sick shit it was about. All he cares about is getting the fuck out of here. He hates that he’s abandoning the plan but he can’t fucking focus like this.
How the fuck did he get here? Running from the Munson household in the middle of the night, tail between his legs. He was disgusted with himself, but fuck, he had been stuck in that pit for like an hour. What else would have happened?
But it was still all wrong. Besides the obvious that they were fags, that crap he saw wasn’t what sex was about. It's about dominating, getting what you want and moving on to the next. Not all that mushy shit, like making the guy fucking you more of a girl than you were.
But the sick part was that he had been the one to get off on that sick shit.
Because you want it.
It's those treacherous thoughts again, louder than ever before.
You want him.
He can fucking see it, invading his mind no matter how much he doesn't want it. Steve looking at him the way he looked at Eddie. Being taken care of, carried and coddled and loved. It would feel amazing. He knows it would feel amazing-
And that was probably the most disgusting thing he had ever thought. Probably the worst thing to ever run through his head.
Suddenly all thoughts of revenge and payback couldn't be farther from his mind. He needs to fucking get away from these people. He doesn’t need revenge. He needs distance. That shit is like a disease, and if he didn’t know better he’d say he was already infected. But he’s better than that. He’s better than them.
But he’s not better than his dreams. Because ever since that fucking night, they had only gotten worse and worse. Like Steve smiling under him, that breathy voice moaning his name while he fucked him, voice clearer than ever. Saying stupid shit like I love you.
Steve riding him, moaning and laughing, kissing him like he was worth something.
And then there’s the fucking worst one. It's rare, but it happens enough to burn into his brain, with vague thoughts of jumping off a bridge the next day.
It's horrifying, and it always starts the same. He’ll blink his eyes open, feeling all slow and hazy. He’ll feel a tug on his neck, and it automatically makes him smile, no matter how much his real consciousness is screaming at him to wake up. And he’ll fucking see him. Steve, tugging on his imaginary leash, leading him forward. And he’ll crawl, more than happy to be his faggy little bitch.
He always wakes up before they touch. It fucking haunts him. Makes him wish he had killed him all over again. But staying away from them both is the right thing to do. He can't have that shit near him. He just needs to move on.
That’s all.
He gets a job as a lifeguard. Makes a plan to get in the pants of all the lonely housewives in this shithole, something that’s big enough to keep his mind occupied for more than half the time. Because he’s going to get over this.
He has to.