otherbitches | IC Inbox [ RUBI ]

No one's gonna mistake you for someone useful, [ he says, belly full, and well into a second cup of Eddie Munson's special tea. It's shockingly warm, calming, nostalgic even though he's never quite had anything quite like it.

He's watching Eddie softly, after having fallen into the... surprising comfort of domesticity. Somewhere, Foghorn has found a place to roost, and occasionally she make a breathy coo in her sleep. ]

( Eddie lifts his hands to his chest, mimics a stabbing with a faux gasp like he hadn't made the joke first. ) Wow. Don't agree so quick. Right for the chest, man!

I just fed you! ( he shakes his head, dropping one hand and lifting another to muffle a second yawn into his fist. then the look he gives Billy is surprisingly tired, or maybe not given the week, month, year they've all had so far. when he stretches his arm over his head, the shirt he's wearing under Jim's open flannel rides up. he resists for a bit longer and they spend the time shooting the shit, bantering with an easy sense of domesticity between them until Eddie can't stop yawning.

then it's a matter of cleaning up and leaving a plate of food and a drink out for Jim, so he'll notice that first before their new roommate in her roost.

when he's tired, Eddie's more tactile than normal. Jem gets the full extent of it but Billy's seen it too in the few days at the greenhouse, in the days at Jim's that have followed. he keeps himself in check mostly normally, but not with alcohol in his system, not with the warmth of the surrounding cabin. there's little touches to Billy's back as they move around each other, a bump of shoulders when they need to move around each other. the moment they're done cleaning up, he's pressed at Billy's side and tugging him toward the main bedroom with an arm around his waist. it's easy to shed layers, to let his hair down. when Eddie pulls him under the covers, he's got a pair of boxers and Billy's shirt still on but he's lost his sweatpants, socks, and flannel.

he turns on his side, facing Billy. though they've done this before, he realizes that this is the first time it's the two of them --- even after he'd fucked Billy at the boarding house, Eddie hadn't stayed the night in his own bed. he frowns, ) Uh. I call big spoon.

[ Eddie may have just fed him, but it doesn't stop Billy's eyes from looking haughty, judgmental, even if there's a placid softness to them. Maybe it comes from when Eddie stretches, flannel dragging up, and the shirt too, Billy notices it's his, along with the pale stripe of Eddie's stomach.

He offered to leave. Still can't really forget how Eddie sounded while Billy and Jem fell into their own madness. But Eddie said not to, and Billy follows him into the room he knows so well, because he's been fucked in it plenty by Jim.

There's no Jim or Jem to buffer, and it's not lost on Billy that after they'd fucked in the boarding house, Eddie had gone off to do fucking... evil mind-controlled bullshit, or whatever, and Billy had gotten out of dodge too, feeling stupid and angry and terribly, terribly unhappy.

The cabin's bed is warm, and Billy's head tilts, eyes glaring at Eddie at the big spoon comment, even though Billy would like it after they settled. ] I'm bigger than you. You're still a match stick.

[ Not entirely true, Eddie's put on muscle, but Billy pauses, thinking, before he rolls on his side, sets a hand on Eddie's stomach, on the stolen shirt. He almost asks why he took it, but even to him that sounds a little stupid to ask.

He pushes the shirt up, palm rolling over the taunt skin at Eddie's stomach, over scar tissue and warm, healthy skin. His head dips down, and his tongue drags from Eddie's navel up to the base of his sternum. ] I could pick you up.

I've got an inch on you! ( barely, actually, but Eddie's taller than him and he's taking any victory as one. Billy's still bigger than him, has more muscle and broadness to his shoulders. he'd actually feel safer in Billy's arms, he realises, but now it's a matter of principle.

the touch doesn't make him flinch. partially because Eddie sees it coming, partially because they're in the safety of Jim's bed already even if the older man's not there to buffer. Billy brushes over the edge of a sensitive scar and Eddie shudders, presses up before he realizes this is a distraction tactic even if it's one he's behind. he's got his fingers threading through the curls at Billy's nape before he realizes to keep him there, one calf hooked over the back of the younger man's thigh. ) Sure, but I can pin you down.

( which dredges up the memories again, makes him wince. he slides his hand to the side of Billy's neck, glances down. ) Fuck. I-- Sorry. I'm sorry.

[ Eddie's skin is warm under Billy's palm, rough where he brushes the scars, so smooth elsewhere. He feels it under his tongue too, the flat dragging over Eddie's mottled skin, tasting salt. He wants it, him, he thinks, more than he wants to talk about anything real. It'd be easier, Billy thinks, if he never had to talk through all this shit, if his body could communicate what he can't ever seem to with his mouth.

That wouldn't work either though. Billy's been lying his whole life. It's second nature.

He's about to respond off the cuff, a quick I'd like to see you try to the whole business of Eddie being able to pin him. But, Eddie's right, Eddie has. ]

I wanted you to. [ He says slowly, maybe a little stubbornly, because he did want him to, it's why he waited for him, practically begged for it. Felt like shit after it, and absolutely furious; but it feels insane that Eddie's apologizing when Billy was the one who scorched his skin. And he'd been in his 'right' mind, supposedly. ]

Yeah but not like that, right? ( Billy had asked to be fucked, not humiliated and then left behind as Eddie fucked off without a care to-- he's not sure anymore. maybe he went out to lure Aemond away from Alicent and Aegon, maybe he fucked off to terrorize some rubeans. it feels worse that he can't even remember what had been so pressing.

he still keeps his hands on Billy, holds him close because Billy's still a volatile mystery he's slowly learning to read but it's harder when he pulls away, shuts down. Eddie keeps his fingers threading through his hair, thinks of dealing with a skittish cat but one that's currently determined to stay if it can get the sort of pets it wants. ) I shouldn't have left you after either.

( he wasn't in his right mind, sure, but he knows better. )

[ It helps that Eddie says it out loud. Otherwise, it'd be too easy to say it didn't matter or he's fine. Because he is. He was fine and he's always been fine, he's always had to be fine.

So he almost says it, can feel the words filling up his throat. It's the last bit that arrests him, makes his mouth settle firm to keep from revealing too much emotion. But that's a tell in and of itself, isn't it? Eddie thinks he shouldn't have left. Billy knows that was 'fine' too, but also that... ]

No, [ he mumbles lowly, agreeing. ] Not like that.

[ It's hard to put into words what he'd wanted. Closeness. Turning his brain off. Some sort of emotional stopgap after what had happened in winter, when he couldn't turn to Jem, when Murphy had been missing and it had made sense to turn to Eddie. Now, Eddie's hand is still on the back of his neck, Billy's face is still hovering close to Eddie's stomach. His cheek turns, rests on Eddie's pelvic bone, eyes half-lidded when he looks up. ]

Edited 2024-05-05 05:04 (UTC)

I'm sorry. ( he lifts his free hand to rub at his face, feels like shit because sorry is really a load of bullshit for how that night played out. brainwashing or not, Billy deserved better -- deserves it. but he is sorry, means it as he looks back down at Billy.

whatever they have is so fucking fragile that Eddie's not sure it won't fall apart, that Jem's little dream of a happy little life for the three of them isn't merely just that. but-- but after the cellar, after everything he wants to build up the foundation. ) You didn't deserve any of that. Brainwashed or not, I shouldn't have. I won't--

( won't do any of it in the future, will follow Billy's lead if he wants it. )

Would you quit it? Christ I'm not— [ Weak. ]

It's fine. [ He can't stand it, can't take it, the apology, the emotional show makes him want to seize up. He can't do that, can't be as open as Eddie's being. He doesn't know how, not without his chest seizing up, feeling strange. Somewhere the chicken coos and Billy ducks his head back to Eddie's taunt stomach, his hands going to his slacks, pulling them down. He doesn't know how to talk about this anymore, but he does know how to wrap his hand around Eddie's dick, palm him, urging him to hardness. ]

( the one-eighty has Eddie bucking up into Billy's hand as soon as he tries to palm at him, pants pulled down his thighs before he can open his mouth to protest.

but protest he does, hand suddenly in Billy's hair and twisting in golden locks to pull his attention back up. ) Hey! What the fuck!

Boundaries, man! We're not done so hands off my dick, ( he hisses, frowning down at Billy but the look in his eyes shifts -- something closer to the Eddie in the bedroom that gave orders, that made demands even as Jem and Billy had him restrained. ) It wasn't fine. You just said it wasn't fine. We're not sweeping that under the rug.

( sharp eyes remained locked with baby blues, ) Unless part of it was fine? And then you've gotta tell me which part.

[ It's annoying. He's got Eddie's dick in his hand, and it should shut Eddie up. Eddie's dick is in Billy's hand! He should shut up! Maybe it's because Billy doesn't manage to get his mouth on him, even though he's lowering, mouth open, but Eddie gets a hand in his curls and grips tight, tugging, and Billy hisses.

Billy doesn't take his hand off his dick, yet, but he stops jerking him. He's staring back up at Eddie, eyes narrowed and blue and brilliant and stubborn. Eddie barks at him and it makes the hair on Billy's neck stand up, but it's, god— he wants to buck. ]

I didn't say that, [ Billy says on a technicality, even though he did sort of say that. ] It's fine, I came didn't I?

( it's very hard to think straight when Billy has his dick in his hand, is jerking him off. or was jerking him off. Eddie manages to hold back the micro-movements. barely. he is but a man, a man with Billy Hargrove's mouth close to his dick. he should honest to christ get an award.

he feels the tension in Billy's frame, keeps his legs locked around him. ) Yeah, you did but-- Okay.

( he takes a deep breath, loosens his hold on Billy's hair to not take his frustration out on him. ) I'm not not dropping it to be a shit. I'm not dropping it because I want to know what your boundaries are and not hurt you if we fuck around like that again.

I'm asking because I want to know. Because I actually do give a shit. ( about Billy, about how he feels about them and sex and, he's realising, just in general. ) And I do want to keep messing around without me freaking out either.

( stopping doesn't actually feel like a possibility; it feels too late, but he doesn't want to walk on egg-shells through it. fuck on egg-shells? gross. )

[ For a moment, Billy mourns the loss of Eddie's hand in his hair. He likes it, the way it feels when a hand tightens in his locks, gripping tight, the way his scalp tingles when they tug.

Eddie lets go, and that unfortunately gives Billy a little more control over his movements. Should have thought about that first, Eddie! He doesn't go so far as to stick Eddie's dick down his throat, but his face lowers, his breath hot where he breathes over the head. Eddie's still nice and thick in his palm. Billy's watching him with that same annoyed expression.

He interested, peeling apart what Eddie's saying. He figures they'd fuck again, but Eddie explicitly says, if we fuck around like that again. The idea that Billy would be hurt still rankles, even if he... was. ]

Why would you freak out? [ His eyes flick to Eddie's moved diabel mark. Because Billy— tortured him? A new apology is on the tip of his tongue, the shame still fierce and uncomfortable. ]

( the moment they're done having this talk that he's desperately trying to make happen, Eddie is shoving Billy down on his dick. he's decided it already. he deserves it, he thinks.

Billy looks up at him annoyed and Eddie gives him a look that reads slightly exasperated. he takes a deep breath. ) Because-- because I like a little-- No. Actually -- sometimes a lot of pain mixed in with sex, I get off on control and some humiliation. I like it but particularly when my partners get off on it. And if I can't tell if they're getting off on it or if they actually don't want that shit, no one's having a great time.

Jem likes it when I slap her, I have no idea if you do but right now I have a feeling you'd tell me it's fine even if you hate it, which means I can't trust shit you say unless you give me some real boundaries to work with. ( that is, in fact, all said in one breath. his fingers tightening in Billy's hair as he speaks out of habit, out of instinct. ) So I'd be freaking out and too in my head to enjoy it.

[ It's interesting, these data points, and when Billy's brain isn't being assaulted by trauma and bad stimulus, he can be shrewd. Analytical. Some of the words stick, words like pain, control, humiliation. Billy had felt humiliated. And part of that had made him come like a rocket, and another part made him feel like fucking shit for weeks.

His eyes narrow a little at slap. He doesn't like the idea of Jem getting slapped. He doesn't know about himself, if he'd like it. But he would probably tell Eddie it's fine, because it feels horrible trying to talk about this shit, all the little pieces, embarrassing and strange. He'd either tell Eddie it was fine, or he'd break his fingers.

Eddie's fingers close in his hair again. Billy's eyes close, just for a moment. He likes it. It's obvious.

When he opens them, he still looks ornery. Frustrated and even flustered to be having this conversation when he has Eddie's dick in his hand. ]

I wanted you to. I told you to. I came, didn't I? [ He's repeating himself, but it bears repeating. Then he grinds his teeth, and tries to explain: ] I didn't like that you— I didn't know what you were thinking, seeing me like that. So it made me think for you and... think about what a dickbag you could have been back home, if you knew that about me. You could've had a field day. [ And Billy's reputation couldn't have survived it; he's not sure he could've either, not if it got around, left Hawkins and wormed into some adult's ear, gotten back to his dad. On top of that, things had been different between them then, in January, and Eddie had been mean.

Eddie isn't a random Rubean at a festival or a void touched from space who doesn't get why Billy bucks sometimes with the gay shit. Eddie's from Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy knows how Eddie could think. ]

( there's plenty to learn from what Billy doesn't say; from the narrowing of his eyes, the way he almost presses back into Eddie's hand as he tightens his grip.

they're really shit at talking to each other or maybe it's that they're both still learning each other's language.

Billy speaks and Eddie thinks he's right on the money, actually. because Eddie could fucking laugh at the suggestion that he thinks any of that shit -- that he could have had a field day; that the usual Hawkins bullshit runs through his head when he looks at anyone after hears of getting beaten down by a small town's expectations. or lack-there-of. Junior was a fucked up good for nothing, like his dad -- the town freak, there to corrupt their sons and daughters. he could laugh at the idea that anyone would listen to him over Billy if he made any accusations.

he doesn't laugh. not this time, just looks at Billy with furrowed brows for a moment and tries to understand instead of assuming. it helps his dick calm down a little in Billy's palm. )

Okay. That's--- ( he bites his lip, wishes he could spin a ring on one of his fingers or pull at his own curls as he thinks. he tries to put himself in Billy's shoes, thinks he'd have freaked out worse. ) I wouldn't have had a field day, man, but I get it. What could have happened if someone got wind of it back home.

( what could have happened to Billy, to him. he gets it because it's exactly why he didn't advertise, didn't look to scratch any sort of itch within Hawkins proper. )

But I'm not-- and I hope I can prove this if I haven't -- I'm not that kind of guy. I'm never going to give you actual shit for what you're into. No outside the bedroom. While we're fucking? Sure. But that's not what I actually think of you outside of like... end scene.

[ Billy's never been any good at this this, putting into words how he feels, what he thinks. The cost always felt too great, and even now, he's still frowning, trying to sort through it. ]

You could've, [ he says firmly. He believes it.

He's not sure he believes Eddie's not going to be a cunt about it. At some point. Billy probably would, if he got mad enough. Hell, he has gotten mad enough, whenever Eddie'd bring up his tits, he'd bring up him bending over for it first. Because Billy's a fucking dick, and he assumes Eddie could be too.

But maybe he wouldn't be. ] You say all that, but. [ A beat. ] You were a real dick after.

[ And he knows Eddie was fucking... mind controlled or whatever, but the hurt's still there. The worry's still there. That's the problem, at it's most simple. That Billy's feelings were hurt. ]

I could have, sure, but I'm more about mutual benefit. ( if Eddie's honest, he probably would have blackmailed Billy into them regularly fucking if anything; an outlet and a need met that would have been tricky otherwise. less spent on gas money too.

the frown remains and Eddie nearly winces; Billy has a point. ) Yeah. That was... was intentional for the whole Slender m.o. going on. Skipping the aftercare was and will always be a cardinal sin.

How about a deal? Moving forward? So you have something to hold me to? ( he tilts his head. he can't undo the past, as much as he really fucking wants to, and a deal feels more up their alley than him making a promise that Billy probably won't believe. )

[ Now that’s a thought. It feels pretty inconceivable, imagining a Hawkins where he gets any of this. Eddie’s cock in his hand, cum down his throat, pressed down, fucked out, doing it in return. ]

What kind of deal? [ Asked with his eyes still narrowed. Eddie’s right. A deal’s better than a promise. ]

I don’t skip the after part, you tell me when you don’t like shit. We keep doing the part you liked, but if I fuck up on my side of things you can tell me to fuck off for good and I’ll fuck off. ( he doesn’t actually want to fuck off for good, not anymore, but it puts the power in Billy’s hands so Eddie puts it on the table. offering to keep working on it directly feels like it’ll spook the pound puppy he’s trying to befriend.

he still has his hands in Billy’s hair, is still watching him careful and intent like he’ll flee even though that grip on his dick isn’t loosening. )

I don't need you to like— spoon me. [ Big talk. And possibly a lie. In the heat of the moment, wrecked and spent, he'd probably allow anything. And back then, in that moment, he would have allowed the spooning, a warm washcloth, praise cooed against his sweaty neck. ] Just don't be a cunt afterward.

[ But that... works. He's still frustrated, at the mere idea of being perceived as needy. But: ] Deal.

[ And with that, his palm squeezes Eddie's dick again, pumping the softened cock back to life before his mouth closes on the head. ]

Deal. And--- fuck -- you know what aftercare is, man. I know you do. ( Eddie ends up hissing, the words melting into a groan as Billy starts to bring his cock back into the conversation. or Eddie out of the conversation and back into the moment.

Billy's mouth is a blessing and a curse; currently sinfully sweet as he licks, teases, and sucks at Eddie's cockhead. he groans, hips staying still but the hand in Billy's hair tightening around the locks and giving him a push down.

he's just as done talking about it for now too, would rather reap the benefits of what comes after. )

[ Does he know what aftercare is? Sure, but he never would have called it that before. Wouldn't have performed much of it before, either, not back home when he never really gave a shit about any of the girls he was fucking. But he knows enough now, knows he likes the kissing, the warm rags washing away sweat and spend. He even likes the spooning, doing it or having it be done. But that's not aftercare, that's just not being a cunt.

His tongue licks, flicks, mouth closing and sucking sweetly on the tip of Eddie's cock. He sinks down further, further, until Eddie's cock is bumping against the back of his throat and Billy can taste him, smell him, focus on all of this instead of all of that— the feelings bullshit. ]

( if Billy were to voice any of that, Eddie would roll his eyes and take a deep breath. since the blonde doesn't, Eddie only hisses, ) Brat.

( it's fond, though, because Billy's attention is all on his cock and Eddie's doing his best to not fuck his throat the moment he feels his cockhead against the soft, warm muscles twitching around him. Billy's good with his mouth; Eddie tells him as much as he rocks his hips up and tightens his grip in his hair, ) You're lucky you've got such a good mouth on you, baby. Or we'd keep talking.

[ Eddie calls him a brat and Billy sucks hard, a quick, harsh suction punctuated by his teeth gently pressing against the root of Eddie's dick. Billy thinks at him: ] You're lucky you've got such a nice dick.

[ He takes his time, focuses on Eddie's dick, eye lids fluttering closed when he breathes and lets the head settle further against the back of his throat, in his throat. It's a unique kind of worship, of seeking comfort. He sucks Eddie's dick like it's an apology, like it's the only thing he wants to be doing. He sucks Eddie's dick until Eddie's straining, thighs tense, and he's surprised when he's eased off, when Eddie says what he wants.

It says a lot about Billy, about who he's become here, that he's surprised. But he gets it; presses his spit-slick mouth to Eddie's and kisses him while he fingers him open with spit and oil. The first time he fucked Eddie, he was mad with bloodlust and had him bent over against a tree. He doesn't now, gets both hands on Eddie's thighs and holds him open while Billy nudges the head of his dick against his hole.

He presses in slow, eyes still half-lidded and cock drunk from holding Eddie in his throat. He folds over him when he's fully sheathed, mumbles in a raspy voice against his neck, ] I love— this. I love this.

Edited 2024-06-17 21:06 (UTC)

IC Inbox [ RUBI ]

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