otherbitches | IC Inbox [ RUBI ]

[ Heaven and hell. Itchy cotton and Easter mass. A long, long fucking time ago. ]

what? near home base.

[ he'd started toward the boarding house and a linen closet. gotten distracted. he projects a disjointed image. he's leaning up against the boarding house on the back end. ]

cool

[she's coming 2 get yoooou Billy. literally; she's got the vague image and she's ready to go, slippers on - she thinks they're meant to be slippers, anyway - and off she goes. down the hallways, through the main areas, right to the back where she imagines the deliveries must come in if there ever is anyway.

if she could sneak up behind him she would. instead she has to put up with peeking her head around the door and whispering:] Boo, [while she slips out, and slips into his space, easy, like she's been doing it forever. hands on his hips, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him. maybe it should be more frantic, the way her hearts been going dumdumdum since he said you dont think this place is like hell?; it's lazy instead, it's demanding.

she's pushing him against the wood and brick, trying to kiss the bleakness out of them both.]

[ He expects her, doesn't jump at the 'boo,' but leans his head back, tilts it toward her, mouth upturned slightly at the corner. He knows what she's getting at when she doesn't answer. A pessimistic voice rears its head, but it can stay buried under the way his chest feels heavy when she goes on tip toes, tilts her head up.

She kisses him, hard and demanding and rather unlike the girls back home. He's not sure he'd felt much of anything back home, besides the coiling in his gut that was the race to a bragworthy orgasm, one to be shared from girl to girl at lunch tables and in girls' bathrooms.

Jem's hands are hard on his hips, press him back and his mouth opens, licking slow and purposefully into her mouth. He lets her set the pace, matches her, lets his buzzing brain melt away from slopping human meat, the cold bite of bleach on his tongue, fire, brimstone, and a thousand frowning saints. His hands rise though, one on the back of her neck, the other on her jaw. ]

[Does this feel like Hell she thinks, directly to him. Her hands are squeezing his hips while she presses forward further into his space, till they're all lined up, till there's nothing in between. She smiles against his mouth, and it maybe feels a little sad, but that's only because Henry's still lingering on her mind.

Maybe it'd be better if this were Hell. Maybe she'd know what to do with knowing she were being punished for her sins. The Devil isn't here, though, and if he were, she doubts they'd be allowed to be this intimate. This - distracting. This caring.

She pulls back to sigh, to smile soft at him. Wraps her arms around his middle and shoves her hands up the back of his shirt, palms flat against his back.] Is it scarier if this is Hell or if it's a second chance, d'you think?

[ It should dig at him more that the warmth of Jem's body against his is soothing. He doesn't know her, not really. But he does. In this short amount of time, he really feels like he knows her. It's fucked because Billy wasn't eager for anyone to know him back in Hawkins. If he thinks of home, he sees his dad, his step-sister, an absent mom, a meaningless crown and a deadbeat town. And then a mirror image, all of that but with a shadow of a girl in the Camaro's passenger seat.

When Billy flippantly told Max he was taking Jem to prom, she wrinkled her nose and said, "Her? With you? Why? She's cool." And he'd laughed. None of that was real.

But Jem's real against him, her head tilted up toward him, hands on his hips like she's not going to let go. His settle on her waist and he groans, head going back against the wall. ]

Second chance. Way scarier. [ He pulls her tighter against him, resettles to knock his forehead against hers. ] Sounds like it comes with homework. Worksheets.

A three-thousand word essay on what it means to be alive, even? [She’s snickering, but she likes the feel of his forehead against hers. She learned everything about Billy Hargrove in another life, and she thinks most of it was true, if not real. He likes thrash metal, he likes to smoke Marlboro red’s, she knows the intimate parts of him like they lived it.

She thinks she would have ran away with him, in the dream. Packed a bag, climbed in the passenger seat of that blue Camaro, and never looked back. A lot of the dreams felt like Hell, but that had felt like Heaven.]

D’you want to go inside? Doesn’t have to be a linen closet. [She’s nosing against him, voice quiet, absolutely no room for Jesus between them.] Or we could stay out.

You sure? [ He mutters in the the little private place between their mouths. For all intents and purposes, they look like two high schoolers performing PDA on a nuclear level. His hand is big and heavy on her lower back, not that he needs to keep her there. She's a steady warmth.

He knows she's different than she was in the dream. She never actually lived in Hawkins, never sat shut gun while he drove Max to the arcade, never met up under the bleachers to smoke joints he rolled on his knee, licked closed with the tip of his tongue. But he has flashes, saw the alabaster tinge to her brother's skin, knows how to piss Kieran off, but only to make Jem laugh, not to make her bark at him. ]

You weren't wild about it on the network. [ His hand slides down over ass. ] Not worried about someone getting an eyeful?

No one's here, really. Besides, who says I didn't mean going on a walk?

[There's something different about someone hearing it than someone seeing it (there isn't). It's the same thrill of being caught that fuelled the false memory of locking themselves in a janitors closet. There's not really a thrill here, though. Mostly she just wants to sink into his warmth, distract them both a little from having being a little too honest earlier.

She nips at his mouth, eyes bright when she leans back enough to gauge his mood. Then, admits, softly: ] I want to keep touching you.

I don't think you meant just going on a walk.

[ He teases lightly. That would be a little too sweet given everything else. He wants to feel her hands on his skin, her nails digging into his back, wants to press into her, feel where she gives and where she pushes back, find out of if she tastes as good as she did in the dream.

There's no janitor's closet here, but he says, "Come on," and pushes off the wall tugging her with him. The boarding house has its little courtyard; it saves it from the encroachment of Rubilykskoye's other cramped buildings. There's a shed in the corner, half open air. Firewood is piled up high on the side, and inside some rusted tools lay around a dusty workbench. Billy tugs Jem in and grins before scooping her up and sitting her on the edge of the bench. ] Keep touching me. Blanket permission. You can touch me whenever you want.

[ His own hands run up her legs, thumbs gliding and pressing in at her inner thigh. ]

The skirt she's got on is the shortest thing she could find, and then she cut some more off for good measure. It sits at her knees, rides up when she's on the bench, stretching a little over her thighs when she spreads them to welcome him and his thumbs in. There's a scrap of fabric working as underwear, but it splits under the pelvis and opens up at the crotch. A tease of lace and then skin.

She tugs at his shirt, starts on the buttons one by one and muses, voice light: ] That's a dangerous thought. Whenever I want?

[There's a new kind of thrill. She sends an image to him while she smooths a hand over his shoulders, pushing his shirt down: Billy asleep, and Jem's mouth and hands tasting, wandering, slowly, carefully as not to wake him. At the same time a thumb glides over his nipple in the fantasy, both hers thumb over his in reality. She grins a little as the image fades, leans in and presses a kiss to his shoulder. ]

[ That's new. His hands are full of Jem, mouth already watering at the ripped skirt and the little slips of lace. His thumbs dig into the pretty fat at her thighs, running over the dip where the straps press in. One hand keeps coasting, fingers drifting through the slick already gathered at her lips, thumb dragging wet over her clit.

The sensory slip is new; it's all image, but it's impossible not to imagine feeling it. Jem's mouth is on him, on his pelvic bone, on the meat of his thigh, his dick is slowly filling under her ministrations. In both fantasy and real life Billy jumps at the thumbs on his chest, mouth parting with a breathy groan, his eyes dilated and eager. ]

You can. [ His voice is darker, gone gravelly as he looks at her hard, two fingers sliding between her folds, sliding deeper. ] Want to wake up to you sucking my dick. [ His fingers flex, jerking as he fucks three fingers harder into her. ] Want to wake up to you riding me.

[ He sends an image back, it's Jem, how she looks to Billy: skin shiny with sweat, perky tits peaked, her hips flush to his, the base of his dick shiny wet where it's not buried in her cunt. More importantly, her cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dilated, hair a little wild. She looks beautiful. ]

[There's colour spreading over her cheeks; splotchy red, eyes wide for a moment before they get real soft, even when her thighs manage to part impossibly wider. Her breath hitches, hiccups as her hips jerk forward, one hand pinching a nipple between her thumb and forefinger as she breathes: ] Is that how you see me?

[It's different to feel how someone sees you, to see how you look in their eyes. Her whole body feels hot, inside and outside. Her eyes are getting wet, and as she blinks it away she tries to send something back: the way Billy looks under her, flushed, eyes hooded but alert; the way his mouth looks plush when it's parted, or when it's sucking around her fingers, a nipple. Beautiful, beautiful -

His fingers in her cunt sound obscene; wet, noisy squelches. She sends another impression; the feeling of being asleep, drifting off, fucked through a dream. She says: ] You could, [voice pitched, whining, close -] Fuck me awake, or not, just - [keep fucking her while she's out cold, staying inside of her. It's not using her, not really, not when the feeling she's trying to convey - tying to share with that particular image - is safe, safe, safe and trust, and always want you with me, inside of me, part of me -

A hand flies to cover her mouth, keep herself quiet as she bites down on her knuckles; comes so unexpected, hard, that she shakes a little with it.]

[ It's too soft, too sweet probably, but he grunts out a "Yes," as he gets Jem hotter under his fingers, as her own images sink into his, fold over reality. He isn't sure where to focus at first. Billy loves the way he looks, it feels different knowing how he looks to her. Flushed, eyes fever bright, the focus on his lips, always too pink, always too plush.

His hand keeps fucking into her, curling inside her cunt, hand moving faster. He hears static, a harsh little buzz that accompanies new images, new promises. ] Fuck. Fuck, baby, I bet if I play with you while you're asleep, you'd take me so good. Sink right inside you. [ His own brain joins in, a mental image of Jem so soft in sleep, dark eyelashes fanned over her cheeks, mouth parted, pussy wet and ready. Her back's pulled back against his chest, his hips fucking her lazily. His own breathing is high, quick, and chaotic at the image. He wants her, he wants her to trust him, and for some fucking reason she does, and his dick is hard and—

When she comes, he blinks back to reality, dual images warring with what he sees. Jem on the table, legs spread, pussy glistening, his fingers sopping. She's red in the cheeks, and Billy is too, his mouth hanging open, eyes hazy and blue as he watches her shake with it. ] Holy shit. [ He drags her hand away from her mouth, seals them together before he licks in. His hand had paused, but he pistons it harder now, the force making her thighs jiggle as a fourth finger bullies in, his heel grinding against her clit, he wants her to come again and again. ]

[Her whole body feels as though it's tingling, right down from her head to her toes. The toes, naturally, curling as she grips at his biceps nails first as she rides through it. Makes a noise like a sob as he licks into her mouth, makes a noise like a shocked, muted scream when he bullies a fourth finger into her, heel cruel against her clit.

For a long, long moment, she isn't sure whether she wants to push him away or hold on for dear life. It's all too much too soon, the trembling won't stop, the whine in the back of her throat won't stop. She has to break the kiss to choke on it, to say, helpless: ] I can't, I can't - [while her thighs shake, while they go a little further apart, a knee bending as her heel digs into the wood, nails dragging along his arms, head bowed. She sniffles a little, feels pathetic as tears start dripping down her face.

She says Billy, I can't, again, and then her whole body tenses, goes rigid, goes blistering hot as she comes again, harder, head dipped down, sobbing into his shoulder. Still, the trembling keeps going, keeps rocking through her as sobs his name over and over and over.

All the while, some cognisant part of brain thinks: he could wake you up like this. Oversensitive, sobbing, clinging on for deer life. The psychic image is not that unlike reality this time; it's just, Jem's blinking awake, sobbing, Billy's fingers four-deep in her cunt with his cum cool-dried on her thighs, on her ass.

Distantly, she thinks that he must be so hard still, must be straining, leaking - tries to convey through image, sound, that she wants him in her now, no matter what she's babbling about how it's too much, or much of a sobbing mess she is. ]

You can, you can, you can, [ Billy whispers into her ear in her/his/their bed, wipes away the sweaty strands clinging to her forehead as the second orgasm crashes into her like a wave, one of those massive things, ten, fifteen, twenty feet high. If you don't catch them, they crash into you, pull you under, leave you shaking and without breath, wreck your body. Billy leans over Jem, leaves her gasping in bed, except—

Except they're in the wood shed, she's propped on a workbench, cunt clenching sweetly around Billy's four fingers. ] Look at you, [ he coos, sweetly, leaning in close and kissing her cheek, lips capturing the tear trails. ] I bet I could keep going. [ His fingers move gently inside her, heel still pressed against her sensitive clit, a firm pressure, but not forcing out pleasure.

He tugs her off the table, catches her so her knees don't give out, turns her smoothly and presses her over the wood. Her skirts are thrown up as his hand drags over and up her back. From this angle, her thighs are shimmery with slick. He releases his cock and rubs it against her folds, but not before his fingers run through the mess, drag it up and circle her asshole. As the fat head of his dick pushes in, his finger dips against her hole.

He sounds reverential. He sounds teasing. He sounds like he's at church. ] Want to taste every part of you, baby. Want everything you can give.

[It feels dreamy; feels like she's floating, like she weighs nothing. Her forehead presses against her forearm, legs wobbly, breath hitching with subsiding sobs. Her breath catches in her throat every time he touches her, catches and holds a final time when he pushes in, when his finger dips, teases.

Her body tries to rock forward, tries to resist being pulled back, him pushing in. She's so wet though, can feel it dripping down her thighs, can feel it in the way he slips in easy. She clenches around him, hiccups into her arm, feels like she's having some kind of outer body experience. When she speaks, her voice is a little slurred; when she speaks, she begs: ] Do it, [and maybe she means fuck me, please, but she also means you can have me there, too when his finger dips, teases penetration. ] Please, please -

[She wishes her eyes weren't so wet, so that when she cranes her neck up she might be able to see him. She daydreams of keeping him inside of her, plugged up, kept safe while he fills her up again, then feeds it to her. A thousand ways to keep him inside, to say you're mine, you're mine just for a little while. She thinks if she woke up with him inside of her, every way, any way, it would feel a little like love. ]

Edited (use the correct words dani) 2023-11-28 21:02 (UTC)

[ She asks for it, begs for it, and his chest fills with a heady, hot warmth. It catches in his throat, almost makes him choke. He wants her, so deeply, and the pleasure at having her warm and wet, plaintive and overwhelmed and needing more wraps around his rib cage and squeezes.

The thick head of his cock slips between her folds, pops in and he slides so fucking smooth into her, she feels like she was made for him. It's insane then not to fuck into her, to start a fast and desperate and punishing rhythm. He wants to, but he wants all of her. To have as much of her as he can.

His arm wraps around her and his fingers brush over her mound of pubic hair, slide over her sensitive clit and against her soaked inner thighs. He gathers it up, fingers slick with it when he brings it back and presses it against her hole, finger teasing slowly before dipping in, up to the first knuckle. His other hand finds her hip and holds her back against the cradle of his hips. ]

[ Surprisingly soft. Reverential: ] That it. Keep me warm. [ His finger slides deeper, up to the second knuckle, spreading slick where it's needed, his eyes glued to the way she sucks him in, no matter where, like they're two beings meant to meld together in every and any way. ] Good. Fuck, you're so good, Jem. [ His second blunt finger pushes in past her rim, slick and slow as his fingers stretch her slowly, surely, the tip of a third bullying soon. He grunts, feeling insane when she takes him, can't help it then but to pull out of her, dick shiny with her own slick when he presses the head to her ass. ]

Breathe, [ he tells her, tells himself as he bears down, her rim tortuously sweet when it clenches down on him as he fucks into her. ]

[She makes a sound she doesn't think she's ever made before: it's something wet, something high and pitiful. It's a moan, warbled into a trill, a sob. She can't really do anything except push back weakly onto his cock, onto his fingers. She does it again when he says 'keep me warm', and again when he bullies that third finger in.

When his cock slips from her, she makes another embarrassing sound like a sniffle, a gasp. She chokes on it, head bowed forward onto her arms, nails clawing at the wood. She sucks in such a deep breath it shakes her ribcage, and then her mouth releases a soft, stifled groan when he starts to push in. It feels just as strange as the first time anyone ever fucked her there; feels, for a moment, like he's pushing the air out of her lungs with each inch he sinks in. She blinks wet eyes, staring down at the blurry, shadowed wood and breathes, exhales.

When she has the sense to, she cranes her head a little, looking at him over her shoulder, hair all pooling to one side. She looks a mess, probably: face steaked wet, eyes glassy, dazed, gone real fucking cock-stupid and only getting worse with the passing seconds. Her mouth's still parted, and she blinks slow, and thinks Billy looks beautiful behind her, looks menaced, looks just as fuck-stupid and intense as she feels. For a long moment, while he calls her good, while she's quietly preening under the attention, she's silent. Can't find the words, or the energy to push them out.

It takes swallowing a few times, breath hitching, before she manages to say anything at all, and even that is just: ] Billy, [with her voice cracking, pitched. So instead, she thinks, in abstracts: good, so good, full, move, move, move, please, make me feel it.]

[ Her voice is deliciously parched and broken, unreal in the way it makes his stomach swoop, thick cock twitch where it's already buried in her deep as he can go. It's hard to quantify how he's feeling: he feels wild, warm all over, chest bursting at having her body in his hands, something to take and break and care for. ~~That's love, isn't it? Something like it? That trust?~~ ]

There you go, baby. [ Soft praise bubbles over his lips, hand rubbing a soothing circle against her side. ]

[ A sure fire way not to get a girl pregnant is fucking her in the ass, but only so many girls back home wanted to take that safe route, were comfortable enough to take it without an age of prep. Jem takes it so well because she was made for him, and he pauses to feel her, her tight little rim squeezing him.

Then he moves, hip pistoning, eyes glued to his dick disappearing into her until he looks up, sees her pretty feverish eyes and her mess of dark hair. ] So cute when you whine like that, and so tight. Jesus Christ.

[ He closes a fist into her hair as he fucks her, settling into a harsh and steady rhythm. ]

Mmmm, [is what she manages at first. Even the slightest movement has twitching a little, has her stomach sucking in with a sharp breath. Every inch of her feels hot, feels raw. She breathes through it, tentatively pushes herself up onto an elbow, testing pushing back onto his dick, how it feels.

Every breath she takes is a trembling thing, and after a whine, she manages a coherent: ] Oh, oh, fuck - [and then reaches the other arm behind her, stretching to drag her nails across where his fingers have dug into her hips. She wets her lips, pushes back again, then again, Billy going a little blurry when she blinks, eyelashes wet.

She doesn't think she's going to come again like this; thinks she can't, not really without dropping her head to the wood and slipping a hand down under her skirts. Except she shifts onto her tiptoes and pushes back hard and it does something, forces a surprised gasp out of her throat, has muttering: ] Fuck, do that again -

[ Her hair is silky smooth in his fist, her eyes are dewy with tears ready to spill. He isn't sure she's going to come just from this either, until she moans piteously under him, her ass clenching around him when she pushes back so fucking sweetly. ]

I got you, baby, [ he promises, his palm moving to cover her hand instead, to grip her tight anywhere he can when his pace quickens, hips rolling down hard to meet her, skin sticking before he pulls back to fuck her again. He's not sure he's ever been this hard, dick begging to come. He wants her so bad it hurts, leaning down to blanket her back and press his mouth to her shoulder as he fucks her hard. ] Think you were made for me, [ he chokes out, right before he comes, fucking her through it as he comes in her ass, teeth biting down on her shoulder. ]

[He's got her real tight, fingers gripping his, skin slapping against her ass. She feels full up and used up, can't look away from him for a single second in case she misses something new on his face. She loves him like this, she thinks; when he looks a little soft on top of the wild. Her head knocks against his, hiccuping, gasping, murmuring his name is quick, broken succession.

When he comes, she swears she feels it in her throat. She thinks he was made for her, because how else would she be close with him in her ass, with him filling her up, teeth finding purchase in her flesh. She cries out with it, a startled ah - and then:] Billy, Billy -

[She isn't coming again, but the emotional ride of it sort of feels like coming. She's shaking a little on her tip toes. Gentle tremors, still making noise that sound like little broken sobs, little mantras of name like its a prayer. He feels so fucking good inside of her, and it takes her a second to realise she's saying it: ] So good, so good, always want you inside of me, Billy, always -

Has he ever come this hard? He doesn't fucking know, he remembers void memories, her mouth, her pussy, her eyes. It sounds stupid, but he could get lost in her eyes, how she seems to know him. Maybe the void has something to do with it, but maybe the void did it for a reason, smashed them together and reorganized their thoughts, their memories, already knew they were similar in too many ways, that they were more than an argument in the woods.

He comes, body trembling, breath hitched as his bite lessons, beathing warm air over the impressions left by his teeth.

I'll keep you full, [ he thinks, still breathing hard. She's so tight around his softening cock, but he doesn't withdraw, his pelvis still nestled close to her. Aloud he says, ] One more. Want to feel you around me.

[ His front is pressed to her back, his head rolls to the side to press against hers as his clean hand slides between her thighs. His fingers slide into her easy, wedged in beside his cock still in her ass. He flexes them, digging the meat of his palm against her clit slow, then faster. ] One more. I know you have it in you.

Can't, [is what she whines, nails digging into the meat of his hand, her own hip when it slips. She sobs a little gets right back onto her tiptoes, clenches around his dick while the other curls into a fist on the wood.

It feels so much, feels a little painful, feels like if she tries to comes again she's going to lose her mind. Like she's going break into little pieces, spill out of her own skin. She says, again, hiccupping: ] Can't, can't, please -

[But she can feel it building, can feel something twisting in her gut, something rising, electric. ] Billy, Billy please -

Sure you can, [ he coos, still a little breathless, still a little out of his mind from having his dick still kept warm and snug. ] You look so beautiful like this, so full. Should get you a plug. [ Then he could keep his cum in her for as long he wants.

The hand under hers twists to grip back, slotting their fingers together. He breathes in time with her, in and out, she can do this. She will do this, because his fingers slide deeper into her pretty, pink pussy, hand angling so his thumb can drag over her clit. ] Come on, Jem, come on, baby.

[ His hips are still tight against her, her pussy full of his quickening fingers. She's so wet, she's so ready, they could go forever, they could— ] God. Bet I could fit my whole goddamn fist in you.

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