hargrove’s girl.

only tonight was sig alpha’s end-of-semester party, which meant it would be one of their biggest turnouts and which meant billy had to be the image of SAE that everyone branded him as.

a plug up his ass didn’t aid towards that in the slightest, not that you seemed to care.

so there billy was, strolling around the fraternity house with his chin up, smile sharp, socializing with the crowd and egging on his brothers. he was wearing blue jeans tight enough to be considered painted on and one of his many muscle tees, his arms oiled earlier that day to give them the barely-there shine they had now.

billy was pure catnip for the partygoers.

girls flocked to him easy, drinks sloshing over the rim in their hurry to talk about nothing— about the random things chicks say that involves too much hair twirling and an annoying amount of forced giggling.

billy talked to them without much fanfare, any attention being good enough to satisfy their desperate need for male attention. it was as he reached out to push a strand of hair back from some tri delt’s face— casual flirting they saw as a declaration of love and he saw as saturday night— that he felt a sharp buzz between his cheeks where the plug was nestled.

his hips bucked forward, involuntary, and billy played it off with a smirk and a startled laugh.

“watch where your goin’ next time, alright?” he yelled out over his shoulder, blaming the swarming crowds around him. reorganizing himself, billy turned back to the girl. “people, am i right?”

tri-delt just giggled more, oblivious. “yeah, totally.”

but billy barely heard her over the blood flooding his ears as the buzz continued steadily inside of him and pressed against that spot— that spot that made him kick and squirm and come undone whenever you would curl your fingers against it— and made it impossible to focus on anything else.

“i- uh—“ billy blinked back to reality as the buzzing shut off as quickly as he turned on, his arousal going off-kiler by the sudden change. “i think i hear one of my brothers calling me. i’ll catch you later.”

he threw in a wink and another smirk to make his sudden departure seem plausible before ducking out into the crowds of college students. billy looked over heads in search of you, but you were nowhere to be found.

the moment soon rolled off his back as he walked past a drink station and refilled his cup, the action coupled with drinking serving to preoccupy his mind. by the time he was perusing the crowds again the plug was back to being background noise.

up until he was cozied up with another girl, sorority unknown but likely, given the combination of greek letters garishly stitched on the front of her shirt, and the buzzing started again. this time it was hard bursts followed by a pause, the pattern repeating in a way that had billy panting into his cup.

same as last time, the buzzing ceased whenever greek girl found someone else to twirl her hair and giggle to. by then, billy could tell what was happening, and knew you were to blame.

only by now he couldn’t be angry in favor of being undeniably horny, dick pressed against the seam of his jeans in a way that would be downright pornographic if the lights in the building were on.

the anger could come later. for now, the only goal was to find you so you could handle the situation you created. a goal that seemed impossible, given the fact you weren’t anywhere.

for a moment— just a moment, he swears— billy let his hand drift down to his bulge, giving it the barest of friction to relieve some of the pressure. he groaned through his teeth, willing himself to remain composed while being surrounded.

and it’s just as he ground his heel down into his jeans that you came up behind him, materializing from seemingly nowhere, and tutted at his action softly.

“bills,” you coo, “don’t tell me you’re making all these nice partygoers become voyeurs.”

billy’s shoulders went up at the sound of him being caught, hand retreating to his back pocket in a desperate attempt at not looking plausible.

his face told it all.

“guess that means you’re enjoying your toy, then?” you asked, smile deepening. “i figured keeping all of its abilities would be a nice surprise.”

“nice su— are you serious?” billy sputtered. “i almost came in my jeans like some virgin!”

your smile tipped into a pout. “so you’re saying you didn’t like my surprise? i just thought since you go so dumb whenever you’ve got something up your ass—“

“okay, okay,” billy cut you off, face flushed for an entirely different reason now. his eyes glanced around to make sure no one was listening, lest his reputation be compromised. “it’s fine. whatever. i can tune it out if i really want.”

both of you could hear the falseness in his tone, which in turn made your smile reappear. his brows furrowed further at the sight. billy never liked whenever he didn’t have a standing chance; despite the fact it was what turned him on so much.

“well if you can tune it out,” you were saying, hand drifting to your pocket, “then surely you won’t mind it i click it back on, right?” almost as soon as you’d finished speaking the buzzing resumed, this time at a pace that got billy quickly to the point of being worked up.

“jesus fucking—“ billy groaned, his hand jolting out to steady himself against your shoulder. “i- i can’t, nngh. please, baby.”

“mm, using our manners now?” your hand reached up to push his curls away from his forehead where sweat was beginning to collect. “are we already that desperate? do we want to be a slut in the middle of half of the greek organization on campus?”

your words— cruel, degrading, objectifying— only served to make him leak more into his briefs, his cock riding on the barely-there friction the seam of his jeans gave him.

“yeah, yeah, m’using my manners. i just- i need—“ his blue eyes grew lidded and his other hand found your other shoulder— “need you. need your thigh, please.”

there he was.

without drawing too much of a scene— because clearly billy was falling hard and without much consideration of his surroundings— you slotted your leg between his, lifted it up just enough to press against where he was aching and—

“shit, shit, shit,” billy chanted, fingers digging into your top as he began dragging his denim-clad cock back and forth against your leg, his pace reckless in a way that made you press against his lower back to guide him into a smoother motion.

“not gonna last long,” he said, right as the buzzing sensation turned up another notch, its efforts overwhelming in a way of absolute pleasure.

“yeah, that’s right. can’t do anything but just let it happen, can you? useless unless something’s pressing against your spot.” the hand you had on his back drifted lower, fingers finding the outline of his plug beneath his jeans.

“useless,” he parroted, “m’so fuckin’ useless.”

billy was making these barely-there noises, punched-out whines and whimpers as he drew closer to the edge. it only took one firm press against the base of the plug for billy to come apart, dragging his hips once, twice, three times before sagging against the edge of your knee.

in the dark of the party the blooming wet spot on the front spot of his jeans was barely noticeable. still, it didn’t stop you from smearing the cooling come around with your palm, making billy shy away and groan.

“stop being gross,” he mumbled.

“i can’t help it,” you replied, “you’re so fun to mess with.”

billy let his head fall to your chest and huffed out a laugh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?”

you shrugged, hand coming back up to his hair. this time instead of pushing them away you let your fingers card through his curls in a soothing motion. “at least it’ll be a good way to go.”

billy would be lying if he said he didn’t like seeing you being domestic with max and the gaggle of brats she chose to spend her time with— which is why, instead of voicing his opinion, he stays stubbornly silent.

the two of you had found yourselves in the wheeler’s basement on the premise of picking up max before her curfew ended, but max had flashed those annoying little shit eyes that billy hated and you weren’t immune to, and managed to buy herself a handful of extra minutes.

and in those minutes they had managed to rope you into whateverthefuck game was sprawled out across wheeler’s table; dungeons and dweebs by the look of the grainy graphics across the box.

“and this is the character sheet, here you can make whatever kinda person you want—“ that was harrington junior speaking, huddled close enough to you billy had to remember that he was a kid, and that you were you, and that you wanted no one but billy himself.

“is it cool if i make him a blond with an attitude?” you asked, eyes flicking towards billy with enough tease to make billy flush. billy looked away, only to find max’s eyes on him instead.

she squinted, looked between him and you and back to him and—

“kill it,” billy growled before she had a chance to open her mouth, inadvertently giving her the exact answer she needed.

max smiled to herself, smug, and went back to whatever she’d been preoccupied with beforehand.

this thing between him and you— it was ruining his reputation as a scary older brother.

if hawkins had one good thing, it was their high school parties.

billy, who’s yet to shut up about california this, california that, couldn’t deny that the high school’s lousy students had a redeemable quality of getting everyone properly shitfaced and thoroughly sated.

he was a regular party attender, arriving just late enough to get the most amount of attention without looking desperate, and since his arrival has managed to attend just about every one.

(neil, bitch that he was, had taken hostage of his keys a few fridays, which bled into sundays and kept billy bound to cherry lane.)

tonight would be much the same as every other night: show up looking good enough to fucking eat, drink, flirt in copious amounts, and find a chick loose enough to take somewhere private for something fast and dirty.

and, though billy refused to acknowledge its spot on the list, he’d also find a guy hot enough to fuel his libido while hooking up with the girl. it was pathetic, but necessary; girls were enough to get him hot under the collar, but that was the extent of their usefulness.

guys on the other hand— if billy thought about them for too long he’d end up with a half-chub.

shaking himself out of it, billy slammed his palms against the camaro’s steering wheel, the dull pain providing a constant he could hone in on, and got out of the car. he gave himself one final look in the side-view mirror, winked, and put on his signature smile— the one that made him look like any chick’s wet dream.

—

inside the house, the party’s in full swing.

teenagers inside and outside, all sloshing around jungle juice in red solo cups, already drunk because the tolerances out here were elementary.

billy could out-drink them all— has, on a couple memorable occasions.

he walked in with an easygoing swagger, nodded at the right people, flashed his smile to others, and ended up with his own solo cup filled to the brim with something that smelled like tomorrow’s regret.

it only took a few moments of leaning against the wall and sipping from the cup— jesus fuck it was strong— before a few of his basketball teammates crowded around him, eager to please him with bullshit he could honestly care less about.

if billy had a say in high school politics he would steer far away from it all, but he’d made it a point to steal the crown from harrington’s pretty head, which made it his unfortunate reality.

(his mom would’ve spewed some psychological crap about you made your bed, now lie in it, but she’d also ran away from her parental responsibilities, so her words that rang in billy’s mind were a moot point.)

as hagan’s voice droned on and on about whateverthefuck billy scanned the crowded room to see who’d be his prey for the night. the party’s large turnout gave way to some pretty good options.

there was tina, loretta, whatsherface with tits for days, and— billy’s internal catalog went off track as his eyes met yours.

blue eyes stared daggers into your intense gaze, billy’s face flushing for reasons beyond alcohol.

it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you around— you’d been on his radar for some time— but it was the first time he really saw you outside of blurred glances in hallways and overheard mentions of your name in passing.

billy’s feet were moving before he could stop himself. hagan made a noise of annoyance at being ignored, but it barely made it to billy’s ears, not when you two were having some kind of staring contest across the room.

it took no time for billy to be in front of you, chin tilted up and eyes narrowed— already framing himself as aggressive and in charge of the conversation.

“got somethin’ on my face, or you just like lookin’ at me?” he sneered, hackles raised.

“the second one,” you said back, a smile on your face as whatever retort billy had planned died on his tongue.

“keep it in your pants why don’t you?” billy managed, though it lacked the his usual bite. he was losing himself already.

you shrugged, smile growing. “not sure if that’s what you want, blue.”

and the nickname, billy thinks, is where the last of his rational ran out. he downed the remainder of his drink, shook off the burn that followed, and squared his shoulders.

fuck you for thinking you could talk to him like that. you should’ve been grateful he was even giving you the time of day instead of someone worthwhile.

billy told himself this and more as he stormed off and headed towards the kitchen with the sole intent of getting loaded. bottles littered every available counter and billy fumbled for the nearest one, filling his cup past a reasonable amount.

he needed to get you and your everything out of his head. the alcohol was meant to do just that, but even as billy grew progressively drunk, he couldn’t shake the words you two’d shared or the way you stared at him like you wanted to eat him whole.

(the tiny part of billy that he kept shoved deep, deep inside himself wanted more of that, desperately. wanted to be eaten in all the ways you’d provide, turned inside out and—)

it didn’t help he couldn’t seem to get away from you, either. every turn, every time he stopped to talk to someone there you were looming in the background, bright and burning. it got to a point where billy couldn’t stand it.

fuck this shit— he was going home.

he didn’t bother with letting anyone know he was leaving early, not keen on being deemed a lightweight who couldn’t handle his parties, and stumbled outside into the cold hawkins air.

times like these, fumbling with his car keys, he wished he’d had the hindsight to make an effort to dress warm. his chest was a pretty sight, but all his effort would be shit if he froze to death.

finally, finally, his alcohol-soaked coordination got it together long enough to stick his key in the keyhole, but as he was unlocking the camaro he heard a voice from behind him.

“where y’running to, blue?”

fuck.

billy didn’t bother turning around, couldn’t trust himself if he did, but it didn’t matter anyways— your coordination seemed to be stellar, and your hands caught his arms before he could shove himself inside the car.

“get your hands off of me!” billy growled. it didn’t carry its normal bite.

“easy, tiger,” you chided, teasing. “i won’t hurt you— unless you’re into that kinda thing.”

your voice dipped on that last part, and billy’s dick twitched, betraying him. the implications of those words had the last shred of his resolve leaving.

billy tried to play it off, scoffing. “as if you’d know shit about being rough in bed.”

“no one said anything about beds, blue. what’s got your mind in the gutter?”

billy’s face went red up to his ears because how could he defend himself against that? instead of answering he continued to fight you but it was a lost cause— you had him pinned up against the door.

(realistically, billy knew he could overpower you, but part of himself kept that strength at bay for reasons he kept locked away with all the other shit wrong with him).

slowly, your hand snaked down to the front of billy’s jeans and rested over the noticeable bulge there. billy’s hips bucked up against the pressure.

“mmf,” he groaned, the sound escaping him before he could bite it back.

“i find it hard to believe you don’t want this, blue, not when you’re so reactive.”

“don’t- i’m not a—“

your eyes hardened, squeezing him through his jeans in a way that sparked both pain and pleasure up billy’s spine. “whatever you were about to say,” you start, hand tightening, “keep it to yourself.”

billy’s mind went blank at the order. yes sir was at the tip of his tongue, embedded from years of obedience to neil, but he held it back, nodded instead.

your hand trailed upwards to the buckle of billy’s belt and your eyebrow raised in wordless question. you were mean, sure, but you weren’t an asshole. billy battled with himself internally for a moment before nodding again, words escaping him.

it was all the permission you seemed to need.

billy could only stand there and watch with wide eyes as your hands worked open his jeans and shimmied them down his legs, bare thighs getting hit with cool night air almost immediately. it got pushed to the back of his mind as he was turned around, suddenly all too aware of what was about to happen.

he’d touched himself back there before in the privacy of his room, ashamed and aroused in equal measure as he got off embarrassingly quick just from dipping his thumb in dry, but never before with a guy.

in california he’d let himself get handsy with a few boys under piers, sure, both their eyes red-rimmed enough to write it off as the weed’s doing, so it wasn’t like billy was completely green— but he wasn’t not, either.

“take—“ he began, voice rushed— “take it show, would ya?” he asked, aiming to sound unabashed. “s’not like i do this shit regularly, i’m normal.”

(normal, because taking it in the ass for a guy he met a few hours ago still warrants being able to call himself normal.)

you ignored billy, focusing on spitting onto two of your fingers and circling one of them around billy’s rim, watching as he clinched around nothing in anticipation.

“relax, blue,” you murmured. billy went to respond, but your index sank in just as he opened his mouth and made him moan instead. loudly. the action made you bring your free hand up to cover billy’s mouth and keep him quiet.

being shut up like this should’ve made billy angry, should’ve had him pushing you away and not letting his wants get the better of him, but it had the opposite effect. billy went lax.

something about the steady pressure against his lips, the undeniable fact he was being quieted, coupled with the now two fingers working their way inside him made billy feel weightless.

he was half-aware he was making heady noises behind your clamped hand, too far gone to stop himself, and went shock-still whenever your fingers brushed against that spot.

that spot.

“right there,” billy whined, beginning to push back against your fingers, greedy. “please, please.”

“patience, b. you’ll have the real thing soon enough.” as soon as the words left your mouth you pulled your fingers free and fumbled with your own zipper.

distantly, billy questioned if he was stretched enough, but thoughts evaded him as the blunt head of your cock caught against his rim.

this was really happening.

billy drooled against the hand still clamped around his mouth as you pushed inside, every sensation an afterthought to bring split open. it hurt was billy’s first reaction, followed quickly by it being fucking amazing.

your pace, which had begun to slowly speed up as billy’s body acclimated, bounced between a twinge of pain and an indescribable feeling, leaving billy moaning shamelessly with each thrust.

“if i would’ve known it only took a dick to reduce hawkins' golden boy to a puddle i would’ve fucked you ages ago, blue,” you whispered into his ear, pace quickening. billy adjusted to the new speed with more punched-out noises, barely able to hear you through the static between his ears.

“m’gonna come,” he managed to slur, words garbled from your hand and his current state. “can’t help it, feelssogood—“

you felt him clinch around you, sensation burning you in the best way, and then billy was barreling through an orgasm, hips twitching as his spunk globbed along the camaro’s car door.

(he’d painted baby with his jizz, where the hell had his priorities gone?)

billy felt boneless as his hole was pounded into with urgent need, your persona fracturing with the need to come. it took a few more thrusts before you emptied inside of billy, mindless dirty talk falling from your lips as you hunched over billy’s back.

the two of you stood like that for a while— pants around thighs, shirts rucked up, stinking of sex and reckless abandon— before you slowly eased out of billy. billy moaned softly at the feeling of being empty, then again at your fingers scooping up your spend leaking from his hole.

“open,” you mumbled, voice rough, and billy obeyed easy, mouth falling open to accept your come-coated digits. the bitter taste brought him back down from the clouds enough to recognize what he’d just done.

billy just had sex. with a guy. at the end of some kid’s driveway. and all he could think was—

“thanks,” billy said, lamely. he refused to make eye contact, sparing himself from whatever look you might’ve been giving him. “you, uh, know how to. well. y’know.”

“how to make a guy come with no hands?” you finished, teasing attitude fully returned. billy was smiling before he could stop himself.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. don’t give yourself too much credit.”

you huffed out a laugh. “keep telling yourself that, billy.”

and hearing that, hearing his name— not blue, or b, or any mumbled name you'd said mid-orgasm— come from your mouth made billy feel a way not even sex could.

as billy drove home, ass sore against the seat, dried come on the driver’s side door, he let his eyes flick to the receipt he stuck into the visor, rereading the hastily written words on the back.

for once, once, billy had the house to himself for the night.

save for the record he had spinning in the corner atop his crates— something gritty but low, enough to pass as background noise more than anything— the house wasn’t filled with its usual slew of overlapping racket.

neil was out with his military buddies, which meant no baseball reruns blaring from the living room, while susan took the weekend to visit her geriatric sister and dragged max along with her.

no one was here to bother billy. no one besides you. and you and him, you two weren’t together but you weren’t not together either. a kinda-sorta-but-not-really that gave room for regular hookups and narrowly avoided the word relationship.

which— billy wasn’t built for those, so it all worked itself out. what you two had was good, solid. an unspoken agreement to kiss and not tell.

billy exhaled, smoke escaping his mouth, and leaned back with a deep groan. the two of you had holed up in his room to get high and keep one another company. this was the real good shit, bought from hawkins’ resident freak. guy was obnoxious in every way, but he was good at what he did.

“what’re you starin’ at?” your brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at billy’s own where they were trained onto your face.

he blinked like hadn’t realized. “nothin’ but y’pretty face,” he crooned, a dopey grin forming on his face, pink lips stretching just so.

“god, you’re such a sleaze.”

“is it working?”

you rolled your eyes because yes, of course it was working. billy’s charm, even when inebriated, hit you in just the right spot every time.

“no, asshat.” you reached for the joint before he could hog it any longer and took a drag, letting the smoke curl in your lungs, build up a little burn, before letting it go. “try harder.”

billy took your words as a challenge and crawled over, bed creaking as he went, and crawled right up to face you directly. a few more inches and the two of you would be sharing the same air.

“want me to ‘try harder’, huh?” he leaned in, breath ghosting against your lips, what a tease— “this doin’ it for ya, baby?”

you shifted, feeling the beginning of that burn begin in your lower stomach, the one that made you have to squeeze your knees together. just a little.

his mouth continued its course, nearing all its usual stops but never quite making contact; a whisper of lips here, the feeling of a laugh against your earlobe there.

the record slowly crept to the end of the song but the change didn’t stop billy, only seemed to further encourage him— like he wanted your sounds to replace the music’s.

“billy, stop—“ the words left you as his lips finally pressed against your skin, the sensitive spot behind your ear that was a sure fire way in making you squirm. it was only a few close-mouthed pecks, but it was enough to have you letting out a little whine.

“s’not sounding like you want me to stop, babydoll.” he grinned against your skin. he was getting cocky, too cocky, and you knew that he was trying to push the boundaries.

because within your little arrangement, the roles, while never said, were clear. had been ever since the first time you referred to yourself as momma and billy came in record time.

he avoided you for a while after that, playing up the bad-boy-asshole persona he shucked on for school and pretending like what happened didn’t happen. like his mind hadn't been fucked for the next week, ruminating on what had happened.

but that was then. this is now— after he'd been coaxed out of his defensive shell and showered with enough praise to wash away the feelings gnawing at him. they were still present and making him feel wrong for getting off to what he did, but in the moment, your voice in his ear and your hands roaming, his own inner conflict quieted.

"bills, c'mon now," you tutted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently prying him away from where he'd nestled against your side. there was a hitch of breath like he was about to let out a whine but it was bitten down, replaced by a pout.

you smiled. “think you're in over your head there, champ. what did we talk about?”

he reddened; one of the best parts would always be how embarrassed he was whenever the truth was put into the spotlight. “about… bein’ good.”

“and are you being good right now?”

billy huffed, eyes going down. “was.”

that was debatable.

you hummed as if you were in thought, all whilst keeping your arm wrapped around him. it left billy unable to move away, not unless he really tried.

“i think,” you started, free hand beginning to trail down the ratty metallica shirt he wore, the smell of weed still faintly clinging to the cotton, “that you need a reminder of where you stand, yeah?”

billy’s hips arched up off the bed at your fingers coming to a stop on the waistband of his gym shorts. he nodded quickly, already going a little dumb. “mhm— yeah- yeah. need’a reminder.”

you patted his shoulder until he got the hint and rolled onto his back, legs spread just wide enough for you to squeeze in between them. your hands roamed along his exposed skin, up around his meaty thighs and down to his calves, earning you a shiver from him as he grew in anticipation.

as your fingers began easing down his shorts there was a moment— fleeting, sharp— where he felt stupid for wanting this. the man he figured he oughta be didn’t go belly-up for fingers in his ass yet here he was, panting, a little sticky beneath the mesh of the shorts.

you noticed the pinch of his brow and registered the inner conflict wrestling inside his mind, and paused your ministrations. he opened his mouth, likely to protest, but you shook your head.

“tell me what’s goin’ up there first,” you urged.

“s’nothing. i’m good, baby.” he tried to smile, even held up a thumb. you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“be serious.” you tweaked his nipple through his shirt just enough to make him groan a little and get his eyes back on yours. “we’re not doing anything if you’re feeling bad.”

billy sighed; there was no getting out of this. all of the feelings swirling around seemed to increase at the thought of admitting them and before he could come up with a lie he blurted: “i feel fucked-up for liking it.”

there. he said it. the words were out in the open for you to gawk at and look at him with pity he didn’t want. he could handle himself just fine.

you frowned some, hand resuming its journey down past his shorts and to his cock— boxer-free, what else is new— lightly grazing the skin. he seized up at the unexpected touch.

“there’s no need to feel ‘fucked-up’, bills. what you like is what you like, nothing’s wrong with that.” you brought your finger up to circle his tip in a teasing manner. a grin took over the look of pity you wore.

“especially not when you look so sweet whenever you come apart.”

billy whined some, the sound leaving before he could keep it down inside, and tried getting closer to the source of pleasure. his mind was replaying a litany of pleasepleaseplease at the barest of touch.

“tell momma how sweet you look, billy.”

he swallowed. hard. “i- i look sweet, momma.”

“that’s right,” you smiled, finally wrapping a hand around him and stroking him dryly, “the sweetest.”

“want—“ he moaned, twisted against the sheets. it felt good, so, so good, but he wanted— needed— more.

“what d’you want sweet boy? use your words for momma.”

billy tries to think why he thought he could be the one in charge whenever this was an option. center of attention, being taken care of simply because you wanted to take control.

“wanna have your fingers, momma. inside, please.” you smiled at his use of manners.

“such a good boy,” you cooed, mindlessly rambling while you let his hand fall from his cock down to his taint. for a while, you massaged the sensitive spot, drawing out sounds from billy he’d valiantly deny any other time.

continuing downwards, you made it to his furrowed hole and pressed the pad of your thumb in dry, just enough for that bite of pain that made billy go fuzzy between the ears. nothing but static in that pretty head of his.

you drew your hands out from his shorts just long enough to bring them up to his mouth. "open wide for me, be good for momma."

he obliged, mouth parting and tongue lolling out. when two fingers were pushed past his lips he closed his mouth around them and suckled messily along the digits, wetting them plenty, leaving them spit-soaked whenever they were pulled away.

"there's a good boy," you praised, the words making him light up inside.

settled back at his hole you opened him up slowly, one finger at first— down to the first knuckle— and let him adjust to the feeling before beginning to pump it in and out. billy kicked at the sheets, growing restless, and was making noise unabashedly now.

it felt too good to pretend he was above whining.

once he'd been stretched enough with just one you added another, the burn fading into a heady sense of pleasure and yesyesmoremorethankyousomuchmomma—

"chatty, are we?" you smirked, pace continuing.

billy;s cheeks flushed; he hadn't realized he was babbling, too caught up in it all to register the words flowing through his mind were traveling past his lips and out to your ears. instead of answering, he kept talking, incoherent sounds that all amounted to how good it felt.

it took a bit of searching but eventually your two fingers found his prostate and began steadily rubbing it with no warning. billy mewled, arching up off the bed as he simultaneously tried getting away and bearing down against the feeling.

the two of you seemed to come to the same realization at the same time because your fingers sped up while he began pleading for release. he was gonna— gonna—

"cum for momma, bills."

well. that was that.

billy came with a cry, painting the inside of his shorts you'd both neglected to pull off with his milky spend. your fingers didn't let up for a while, dragging his orgasm out till pleasure fell into overstimulation.

as you pulled your fingers free billy looked up at you, blue eyes a little shiny, and gave you a worn-out smile.

"thank you, momma."

you leaned down to kiss him at the corner of his mouth then again on his lips, bringing him back down from the clouds and back onto cherry lane.