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Drowning In You

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You were about to come down from the lifeguard chair, noting that it was almost time to switch off with someone else, when you spotted Billy emerging from the men’s change room at the other end of the pool. He was shirtless, as usual, his golden pecs already glistening in the midday summer sun (you hoped it was the grease from sunscreen and that he hadn’t intentionally oiled himself up just for attention; that he wasn’t that self important). He was wearing his tiny red swim shorts with the Hawkins Pool logo in the corner, which you almost could have sworn had gotten smaller since the last time you’d seen him. His whistle around his neck, his aviator sunglasses covering his discontented expression as he surveyed the crowd of children, parents, and young teens, all just waiting to piss him off.

You made your descent easily, coming to stand beside the tall perched beach chair, still watching him as he sauntered past the trail of house wives sitting in their beach chairs, making a parade of himself like he always did. You had to roll your eyes behind your dark sunglasses. You weren’t sure if he actually needed attention to survive, like most normal humans needed oxygen, or if he just liked the way their eyes popped out of their skulls when he flexed his chest slightly more than normal as he greeted them casually. (Not that you had ever noticed how much his chest was or wasn’t flexing.)

He had been the exact same way when you were in classes together at Hawkins High. Not with middle aged women, but with any girl who would give him the time of day. Even you. He’d ask to borrow a pencil and give you some kind of sleazy compliment; say he’d forgotten his text book and wiggle in as close as possible to you, put his arm around you in order to read off yours; there was even more than once when he’d stopped you outside at lunch and asked you for a light because he knew you were a smoker too. You’d actually quit partway into senior year just so that he’d stop bothering you.

(Good thing, too. Because now your lungs were stronger and when you were applying for the lifeguard position, you beat him on the swim test by a whole twenty-six seconds. He still got the job, though. Just your luck.)

It wasn’t even that you despised Billy that much or anything. Sure, he was an asshole. He could say and do some pretty awful things – but you always saw past that when it came to him. He had always been nice enough to you personally, but therein lays your problem. He hadn’t even been in Hawkins for that long, and he had taken home any girl who would have him (not even all of them had made it back to his house; you’d heard some pretty graphic stories about the back seat of his Camaro). He flirted with literally anything with tits and a heartbeat – including you. And you had absolutely no doubts that him being nice to you was just a ploy to get into your pants, and you’d mean absolutely nothing more to him than the few pennies he paid for the condom he’d use on you.

When he’d first moved to town, you’d thought about it. Oh, how you had thought about. Especially with your best friend Heather breathing down your neck about how your mom was so much cooler than her dad and how you wouldn’t get in trouble for staying out late and living out her fantasy of being with a bad boy for once in your lives. (You had to remind her many times that it was her fantasy you’d be living out, not yours. No matter how many nights Billy and his tight denim jeans and his fast car crept into your dreams.)

Especially when he had showed up in your chemistry and English classes and seemed to take a particularly special interest in you – you had thought about it many, many times. The thought had even come up again, briefly, when you found out that he got the job at the pool and you saw him for the first time in his unnecessarily tiny uniform.

But you had no interest in being used by a douche bag in a leather jacket and cheap cologne who you were sure wouldn’t even call you the next day. (Heather had assured you that his cologne was certainly not cheap, when you were explaining to her why you had never gone out with him in high school, but that was definitely aside from the point.)

Billy made it to the lifeguard chair just as you were strictly reminding yourself of all of this, sliding a piece of Juicy Fruit between his lips. You’d noticed that he’d picked up a gum chewing habit while on shift, because he wasn’t allowed to smoke behind the gate. It smelled a lot better than nicotine (especially to someone who was supposed to hate the smell now that you’d quit); and you secretly cursed yourself for getting close enough to notice the smell of his breath in the first place.

“Anything to report?” He asked you coyly. He gave you a smirk as he chewed. You wanted to slap it right off his face. He was being perfectly decent, keeping the conversation just about work – but that look. It was so indecent that he should be banned from looking at you like that.

“The flasher’s back again,” You forced yourself to be polite, keeping the conversation on work as well. You informed him that a man from a few days ago who had ‘accidentally’ let his swim trunks slip in front of a group of women had returned. And that day technically you couldn’t ban him because he had claimed over and over again that it was an accident and none of the lifeguards saw it happen.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Billy mumbled under his breath, turning his head to scan around for the person in question. At the time, he’d wanted to not only ban the man for life, but lay a ‘hardy beating on his ass’ to make sure that he didn’t come back again. That was one thing you did commend him for – he took this job very seriously.

“And the kid who keeps bringing fudge pops in from the ice cream truck just walked in a few minutes ago,” You told him with a sigh.

“Let me guess, the truck is parked on the corner?” He growled under his breath.

You giggled and nodded, pointing to where the clean white truck with the colorful logos could be seen through the gate.

“I’ll shove that fucking fudge pop up his ass this time.” Billy leaned against a tall leg of the lifeguard chair, unwrapping another piece of Juicy Fruit and shoving it into his mouth. Clearly his limited patience for the shift was already running low.

“You could just tell the truck to park further away.” You posed the idea to him, shrugging. “I said I wasn’t gonna fuck with it, but clearly you have more balls than I do,”

“And a bigger cock too,” He winked at you, which was clear even through his sunglasses. You shook your head, exhaling heavily. You knew it wouldn’t be long before the conversation strayed from the topic of work. “But we can talk more about that later, Princess.”

That was probably enough Billy for today.

“Goodbye, Billy.” You declared the end of the conversation, your tone irate as you turned abruptly, walking away.

Your shift was over and you didn’t have enough patience to stand there and placate his flirting. It was time to go home.


You came in to work the next day like normal.

You went into the change room, put your gym bag on the bench, took off your hoodie and put it inside. You took off your grey shorts and put those in as well, digging around inside for your red Hawkins Pool uniform shorts to replace them. It was mandatory that the only clothing you could wear during your shift had to be ordered and issued by the pool, so you always wore a pair of the men’s swim trunks over your one piece swimsuit for a bit more coverage.

You exhaled hard through your nose when you couldn’t see the red shorts in your bag.

You took everything from your bag piece by piece; your hoodie, your grey shorts, your sneakers, your water bottle, your spare tube socks... no swim trunks. You growled lightly to yourself when you truly realized they weren’t in there.

“Mom,” The title was like poison on your lips. She was a sweet, well-intending woman, but she always, always put your stuff exactly where it wasn’t supposed to be. You were willing to bet that those trunks were hanging on the line in your backyard right now, freshly washed, when they were supposed to be in your bag. Technically they were supposed to be on your ass.

You put everything back in your bag, handling your things with vicious malice and frustration, zipping the bag closed with jerking, angry movements. You opened your locker and threw it inside, slamming the door closed with a great bang. You propped your sunglasses on your head, going over to the large mirror on the wall.

You looked yourself up and down carefully, examining your body in your bathing suit. Your breasts fit in the top fairly well, leaving only a ghost of cleavage peeking out of the round neck, it was more so the bottom that would draw all the attention. The extremely trendy deep V cut of the hip area left little to the imagination, especially when you turned around. A good portion of your ass cheeks were hanging out, showing an erotic curve where your ass met your upper thighs.

You looked really fucking good, you had to admit to yourself. But that would probably be part of the problem.

Either way, you didn’t have your uniform shorts, and you didn’t want to get a write up for wearing non uniform ones during your shift. Oddly enough, the most professional decision here was to attend your shift wearing less clothes than you normally did.

Most of the Moms came to the pool wear less trying to catch Billy’s eye anyway.

You tried your hardest not to think about that fact, and absolutely resisted the temptation to see if he was on the schedule today before you put your sunglasses down and went out for your shift.


Apparently most men just lose their minds when they see a little bit more than average of a woman’s skin. No less than ten different men had flirted with you, made some kind of... course comment toward you, or called you some kind of name – babe, baby, doll, sweetie, sweetheart... you had lost track. You couldn’t even count the number of looks you’d been given, all the men who were acting like their eyes didn’t physically belong inside their heads when they came up to you.

You didn’t even want to think about the Dads who had laced their voices with fake sweetness when talking to you, all but forgetting the existence of their children (it made your spine almost come out your throat to see some of them holding the hands of little girls, their daughters) to make dreadfully lustful eyes at you while they asked you stupid questions about the minimum times before reapplying sunscreen or how long you had worked at the pool, just to have an excuse to talk to you.

(The flasher had even showed up again and “accidentally” let his trunks slip in front of you. At least you had a real reason to ban him this time.)

You were silently thanking God that your supervising shift was almost over. Then you could hide in the office for the rest of the afternoon. Where hopefully you could keep your interactions with people short, and at the very least, keep your chair pushed in and hide your... assets underneath the desk. 

You were yapping at another one of the kids to stop running, something easily that took up most of the oxygen for your day, so you didn’t even notice someone approaching your perch to the left.

“Excuse me!” He shouted at you, desperate to get your attention. Your ears were drawn to the voice immediately, picking up on the urgency of the tone over the white noise of children playing, splashing, and adults lulling with small talk, and your head whipped around to see a blond teenage boy standing beside the lifeguard chair. Another boy was standing beside him, brunet, holding both his hands to his chest near his throat, his mouth wide open as deep, harsh pants flowed in and out. “Excuse me, Miss, my friend can’t breathe!”

You felt a jump in your chest. Your feet were on the first rung of the ladder, then on the ground in a matter of seconds, following your instincts and trying to remember every detail of your first aid training to try and help this boy. You approached him quickly, but calmly, and his eyes fell on you, slightly glassed over.

His blond friend smirked at him and then walked away, which you found incredibly suspicious, but didn’t have time to question.

“Are you okay?” You knew it was a stupid question, but it came flying from your lips before you could stop yourself. You placed a hand on his upper arm out of an instinct to comfort, and his panting slowed down slightly. Again, highly suspicious. “Do you have asthma? Do you use an inhaler?”

They were perfectly reasonable questions that were met with absolute bullshit for an answer.

“I think I need mouth-to-mouth, Lifeguard Hottie,” His panting came to a complete stop, and he removed his hands from his chest, giving you an all too obnoxious wink.

Your hand dropped from his arm, not fast enough, and you crossed both your arms over your chest, putting the sourest look you could muster onto your face. You decided it was even apt to take a moment and push your sunglasses up onto your forehead so that you would be able to look him in the eyes while speaking. You wanted to properly glare into his soul so that your words truly came across.

“I am a trained lifeguard, so you will not concern my time with pranks and bullshit.” You weren’t supposed to swear on the job, especially not to patrons, but you were just so done with men, especially on this day, that you didn’t care if you got a write up. You didn’t even care if you got fired. (At this point it would have seemed better worth it to take the write up for wearing your non uniform shorts than to go through all this.) “After pulling a stunt like that, if you came to me again with a real medical emergency, I’d let you choke.” You tried your hardest to put some true venom in your words so that he knew you absolutely meant it. “So please, get out of my sight before I ban you.”

You shoved your sunglasses back down, whipping back around to go back to your post when you heard his insolent voice daring to speak to you again.

“Oh, but this is a real medical emergency!” He chuckled. You heard the faint echo of his friend chuckling too, and you imagined yourself popping both their heads off like Pez Dispensers. “I have a rare disease where I have to kiss a hot girl every two hours or I’ll die,”

You deeply considered telling him ‘go die, then’ – but you figured letting a swear word slip was bad enough. You only had a few more minutes left before the sanctuary of the office was yours and you could do crosswords and forget that all this had ever happened. You had to keep your cool so that you could keep your three fifty an hour, because college certainly wasn’t going to pay for itself.

“Please run along.” You huffed out as your foot mounted the bottom run of the ladder. “I need to do my job.”

“I can appreciate that,” He came up to you, and you swung up to the next rung, resisting the urge to donkey kick him when he got exceedingly close to you. “But before I go, I do have a serious question about being a lifeguard,”

You glared over your shoulder at him, hoping he was getting the full measure of your distaste through the darkness of your shades. You knew that it wasn’t going to be a serious question. You absolutely knew it from the moment that comment left his lips; but you couldn’t exactly tell him to fuck off, and taking a quick glance around the pool, you knew next shift wasn’t here to rescue you yet... so you had to indulge him.

“What is that?” You let the words fall as a deep sigh from your lips, staring down at this awful turd of a human being, waiting for the reply.

“How do you fit all this...?” Before you knew what was happening, he raised a hand, and laid a small, but horrifying smack onto your ass. His hand made contact with the skin that was bared, making a sound resonate through the air that completely took the air from your lungs. It wasn’t hard enough to leave a mark, just to sting ever so slightly as his hand fell back at his side and he finished his question. “...into this tiny little swimsuit?”

He wore the worst kind of shit eating grin as he looked up at you, your face a natural ‘oh’ of pure shock, still void of air and unable to form words, like a sad, empty balloon.

Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.” Billy’s voice was drenched in distain, the rage palpable in the air as his eyes shot daggers into the back of this kid’s head. (Sure, the guy was probably your age, maybe a year or two younger, but what he had done to you made him nothing more than a snot nosed kid in your eyes.)

Wherever Billy had come from, he had appeared behind the nuisance you were dealing with very quickly. He looked the same as he always did – golden, glistening, glasses, no shirt, and the optical illusion shorts that got tinier every single day. But you didn’t have time to focus on his looks or even his words – the fact that he had called you his girl (when you two had never even spoken outside of work or school before) because when the kid turned around at the sound of Billy’s voice, you were too busy racing back down the ladder to take in the show that was about to unfold before you.

You were about to get a whole shitty afternoon’s worth of karma, and you were not going to miss it.

When the boy spotted Billy, his whole posture changed. He went from tall, swaggered and confident, to small, sloped, and leering. In a matter of seconds, it seemed as though his spine disappeared. Which it probably did, quaking in Billy’s presence. Absolutely everybody knew Billy’s reputation as a tough guy. Billy hadn’t hesitated to take credit for the absolute shit show that was Steve Harrington’s face when he came to school looking almost unrecognizable the previous fall. So if someone was hitting on his girl, especially if it was unwanted... well, you’d best want to be praying for them.

(Not that you were his girl. You just didn’t want to ruin the show before it had even started.)

“She’s your girlfriend? Shit man, I’m sorry, I didn’t kn...” He instantly started stuttering an apology, his voice small, cracking in some places, collapsing under the weight of his nerves.

Billy reached up, taking off his aviators, using the same tactic you had to intimidate this little shit. He was probably going to be a lot better at than you, if you were being completely honest with yourself.

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her,” Billy’s order was simple, his voice still very dark, but shockingly calm compared to just moments before. He seemed to have a rather good harness on his anger, which confused you. You’d always heard he was one to immediately blow his lid and overreact – not that you had ever seen it firsthand. You weren’t one to take joy in witnessing fights. (At least not normally.)

You are steeped in self satisfaction when the turd immediately turned around to where you were leaning against the lifeguard chair, no longer capable of even making eye contact, a complete ghost of the cocky thing he was just a minute ago.

“I’m so, so sorry, (Y/N.)” He declared, almost sounding truly genuine, using your real name and not some pet name he pulled from his sickly little repertoire.

“That’s Lifeguard (Y/N), to you, prick. Now tell her it’ll never happen again.” Billy added, flooring the gas on this little power trip. Billy drifted around so that he was standing beside you, the hand that wasn’t holding his sunglasses coming up to rest on your hip, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist. You had no clue why the movement felt so natural, or why you relaxed into the built hardness of his side, bringing your hand up to rest on his shoulder. You knew absolutely anybody who looked at you would have easily mistaken you for a real couple, one who had been together for months, maybe even years. And feeling the warmth if his palm radiate across your hip – you liked that fact.

Maybe this was all you ever wanted from Billy. Not to be some throwaway one night stand, but to be this – his girl.

“So sorry, Lifeguard, (Y/N). It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

You were getting so caught up in the feeling of Billy’s arm around you that you almost missed the kid’s grovelling. It almost didn’t feel satisfying because you were now carrying the weight of your newfound realization. The crippling knowledge that you might actually like Billy. You hated that.

“Good. You’re banned for two weeks. Now get the hell out of my sight before I decide to ban you for life,” Billy’s words were sharp, vibrating against your side and you couldn’t help but find him flexing his authoritative muscles hot.

“Why the hell am I getting banned?” It appeared the kid had one last bit of defiance left in him. “She’s the one going around with her ass hanging out!” His voice came out in a terrible, high pitched whine as he waved a hand at you, as if to present some sort of evidence to the situation.

(You knew you should have just worn your shorts and taken the write up. You knew it. But then again, if you had, Billy Hargrove might not be standing here with his arm around you right now. So – give and take.)

Billy was instantly fuming at the back talk. His whole body tightened up with rage, and you found yourself subconsciously rubbing the side of his neck in an attempt to soothe him. You had to remind yourself once again that you were indeed, not actually his girlfriend.

“Make that two months!” He barked, shaking the air around you with the power of his voice. Almost everyone at the pool had stopped, not to slyly, to turn and watch, and under the attention you had to resist the urge to pull away from Billy’s touch. “If you ever want to see the inside of that gate again, I suggest you get. The hell. Out. Of my sight,” Billy gestured with the hand that was holding his glasses, pointing a free finger in the opposite direction, deeply urging this stupid, stupid kid to finally make a wise choice.

You could practically see a puff of cartoon dust well up behind him with how fast he disappeared.

Billy then turned to you, finally releasing you from his gentle, protective hold. You instantly missed the touch and you hated that you wanted to reach out for him, that you’d have to show him you wanted him if you were to reinitiate contact.

“Are you going home?” His tone was instantly much sweeter and calmer with you. It was so strange; it was much different than any tone he had ever used with you before. It didn’t have any underlying seductive nature or hook of flirtation. It didn’t say that he was trying to bait you or sell you anything. It was almost – caring. Genuinely caring. Like there was some true sweetness somewhere inside of him somewhere.

“No.” You answered truthfully. “I’m covering for Heather. I’m in the office now until closing,”

He seemed to be brewing a thought, and you waited patiently until he let it bubble past his lips.

“My staff windbreaker is in my locker. If you don’t have anything you can wear,” The more you heard, the more you realized that it was true caring that his voice was showing you. His baby blues were swimming with genuine concern for you, and you wanted to soak in it. You were so shocked by the sudden changes in him, in his voice, his words, his behaviour. All of it - that you don’t even reply for a few moments. This caused him to flounder. “Not that you need to cover up. You look fantastic just like that, babe. Only if you want it. It is colder in the office...” He trailed off awkwardly, clearing his throat. He slipped his glasses back on to avoid further eye contact, playing it cool as he took a piece of Juicy Fruit out of his pocket.

It was the very first time you had ever seen Billy Hargrove stumble over his words, flipping hats between caring sweet guy and shameless flirt. Clearly he didn’t truly know how to be the first, and he didn’t want to revert fully back to the other, because he had seen how much it had turned you off in the past.

“Thank you.” You declared. You wanted it to sound as true and as genuine as possible. You didn’t want to scare away this side of Billy with a lack of response, as much as it was faltering before your eyes. If you could draw out this sweeter side of him, and keep him around, then damn – you just might have yourself something worthy of a boyfriend. “Thank you a lot, Billy. I will take you up on that offer.”

“My code’s 5, 15, 16.” He told you shortly before moving to take his place atop the lifeguard chair.

You were astonished at the whole exchange that had just taken place, but rushed off into the change room, not wasting any more time. Whoever was in the office now was probably antsy for you to take over – and you were antsy to sit down and debrief what the hell had just happened with yourself.


You sat at the front desk for the rest of the afternoon, barely getting through one crossword puzzle because your mind was still too fixated on Billy.

You had looked at the schedule, and he was there through closing, just like you were, but it was Friday, so mostly everybody would come up with some excuse to slip out early. And you, being the minder of the front desk, and therefore the time cards, would be responsible for being kind enough to punch everyone’s cards after they left so that they would return the favor for you on a day when you wanted to leave early.

You wouldn’t doubt that Billy’s card wouldn’t be in the lot. He probably had some hot date that he had to get to, somebody else to steam up the back windows of the Camaro.

You gnawed harder on the end of your pencil just thinking about it.

There were only two other people on shift, and as the sun lowered in the sky and the light pouring in through the large window of the office turned golden, they both came and went, slipping out early, as usual; and asking you in overly sweet voices to punch their cards at the correct times, to which you agreed. This likely meant they had slacked off on a lot of the evening cleaning duties that were supposed to be done to keep the cleanliness of pool up to code.

But you didn’t entirely care, because your brain was now entirely stuck on the fact that Billy was the only person left, aside from yourself, who hadn’t clocked out yet. Which meant, as the last of the patrons came from the change rooms and went out the front door after closing time, that you two were the only people left in the building.

It was an entirely suspicious thing. And just to make sure that you were absolutely correct in thinking it, you found yourself rising from the desk and going over to peer out the glass double doors that lead to the parking lot, looking under the street lamp that had just turned on in against the dimness of the deep orange sky, and seeing that indeed, Billy’s Camaro was still parked out there. He hadn’t sneaked past you to avoid some awkward conversation about him wanting his jacket back.

You weren’t exactly sure why you did it, but while you stood at the double doors, one of your hands came up to turn the large metal lock, ensuring that anybody who approached would be easily kept outside. Then you turned on your heels, going to search for Billy, curious to ask him why he had stayed so late. Especially when the responsibility to close down for the night had been placed on you.

You entered the men’s change room, not even thinking twice about it being ‘only for men’, seeing as you were staff and you were in and out of here all the time anyway, cleaning usually. It had been strange the first couple of times, but soon after that you realized that the gendered signs on bathrooms and change rooms were more for people’s comfort than for placing any real authority or rules in the world.

You got around the first row of lockers when the smell of cigarette smoke tickled the inside of your nose. It was fresh, and pungent, unlike the smell of smoke that you’d noticed coming off his coat when you’d first put it on – which was stale and dull, but still had you jonesing for a smoke all afternoon. You felt a jolt in your bones as you walked toward it, as it really penetrated your senses. You genuinely hated that you had quit smoking for Billy Hargrove and that now he was the one who was making you want to take it up all over again.

Your flip flops made a loud scuffle against the floor, easily breaking up the quiet that surrounded Billy as you approached him. He had his back turned to you, mopping the floor between the showers with a cigarette perched between his lips. He was focused intently on his work, the glisten on the tiles telling you that he was almost finished with the area; the muscles of his back flexing and rippling with every little movement he made as he swirled the mop in wide motions across the floor.

You leaned up against the last row of lockers, staring him down, waiting for him to notice you.

It seemed that either he did, and didn’t care to acknowledge you, or he had drifted so far off in his own little world that he hadn’t even heard you come in.

“You got stuck on mop duty again?” You observed in a quiet voice, trying to strike up a casual conversation.

The manager, only a year or two older than the both of you, who was a total douche, maybe even worse than Billy in some ways, acted like he was reigning King of Everything, and he usually liked to make Billy stay and mop up at the end of the night. Especially if Billy gave him some kind of attitude or made one of the little kids cry. And seeing as Billy was the best swim teacher on staff, he couldn’t exactly fire him when he swore at customers or when he did sneak puffs of a cigarette behind the fence. So – he and this mop bucket were very familiar by now.

“I offered to take it.” He hummed around his cigarette, finishing his last few passes on the wet floor.

His words instantly confused you. Everyone hated mop duty. Especially the men’s change room. Because it was a public shower area, it was the perfect mix of privacy and the aspect of ‘welp, I won’t have to deal with this later’, meaning the men always left the most... unsavory messes.

“Why?” You had to ask.

He put the mop back in the bucket where it was sitting against the wall, and perched the wooden handle upright before turning to you. His eyes scanned you up and down, something he had done many times before without shame, the icy blue tracing every single detail of you where you stood. You had your hands in the pockets of the jacket, which was left unzipped, hanging loosely around your goddess-like form. You noticed his eyes linger for a moment around your hips, though they were slightly hidden by the long hem of the jacket, before they slid all the way up to get stuck on your mouth.

You were biting your lip; you had felt a snarky comment toward him rising in your chest, the urge to tell him to keep his fucking eyes inside his head, and you pushed it down because somewhere even deeper than those snarky comments – you wanted his eyes on you. You liked the feeling of him undressing you with those baby blues, fucking you, violating you, all while standing five feet across the room. It lit a fire in your belly that you had never felt while with anyone else before. And despite how much you wanted to deny it – you wanted more of it.

He took the small tip of what was left of his smoke and sucked back hard, and you found yourself focusing on the thickness of his wrist, how smooth and beautiful that line tapered into his bulging forearm. You almost felt a dull ache between your legs as your eyes traced the prominent veins running up and down his arm, but you absolutely ignored it.

He dropped the butt into the mop water, the object making a small hiss that broke up the overwhelmingly tense silence that had grown around you. His fingers went behind his ear, where he had tucked a fresh smoke, a good place to keep one when he couldn’t fit the whole pack into the pockets of his tiny, tiny shorts. He then went into his shorts’ pocket for his lighter and bathed the lower part of his face in a beautiful orange glow when he flicked the flame on before he started to fill the room with that sharp, fresh, tobacco smell once again.

“You look good in my jacket.” He praised in a smooth voice as the light grey smoke poured from his lips.

You felt yourself crumbling under the compliment. It was one of the first things he’d ever said to you that had sounded so genuine. Like it was a pure thought from his head that he wanted to communicate to you, not just a line that he came up with to try and get you in bed.

“You can have it back...” You had no clue why this was your first instinct. In truth, you didn’t want to part with the object. It was just a stupid piece of red and white nylon, but in the few hours you had been wrapped up in it, it had brought you a great amount of comfort. You had gotten so used to the deep penetrating smell of cigarettes, motor oil, and cologne that now it was almost like your own. It reminded you of Billy, but not the annoying parts of him that you’d come to detest – the parts that you secretly liked. Like the feeling of his arm around your waist and the fact that he had come to your rescue without a second thought.

You stood to your full height, putting your weight fully on your feet as you started to slide the loud material off your shoulders.

Billy raised a hand up, abruptly stopping you.

“No, keep it.” He said as he raised his smoke to his lips again, inhaling deeply. “It looks better on you anyway.” These words put a special glint in his eye; a glint that said once again, his words were genuine, and it made your stomach twist. You felt the fire grow hotter in your stomach, spreading inside your body, making you warm.

You sighed out heavily, trying to relieve some of the tension that was sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. Just being in the room with Billy, being alone with him, talking to him – it was making the air around you so thick, so suffocating, and you almost couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Can I have a drag?” You finally asked as you watched him raise the cigarette to his lips again. (You convinced yourself that you were focusing on the cigarette and not the way his pink lips wrapped around it.)

You really didn’t want to cave, but having some nicotine in your system would make this whole conversation easier. It would make being around this new version of Billy easier. It would make dealing with the newfound realization that you actually wanted to be with him easier.

“I thought you quit,” His brows knitted together in confusion as he stared you down, wondering if this was some kind of trick. He knew he’d been bothersome to you in school, all those times he asked you for a light just to have an excuse to talk to you when his own zippo was always tucked away right there in his pocket. He wondered for a moment if you had lied to him about quitting just to get him to leave you alone. (Which really wouldn’t have surprised him in the least. But it still would have hurt him a little. He could admit that much to himself.)

“I did,” You admitted honestly, extending your hand out to him, hoping that he’d hand you the cigarette soon. “I’ve just had a...” You sighed, looking for the words. “...very long day.”

‘Confusing’ might have been the better term for it, but you didn’t want to lay it all out on the table for him. You didn’t want to spill all the crap about your feelings and how you thought he was just a tail chasing ladies man when it turned out he was really some sweet, valiant knight. (At least when it came to you.) Maybe, maybe you would get to that stuff later. But definitely only after you got to have your smoke.

“That’s fair,” Billy admitted, laughing lightly at your words before he reached his hand out to you. He was mostly just relieved that you hadn’t been lying to him for over two years just to escape his attempts at flirting with you. His ego came out of the scuffle unbruised.

Your fingers brushed as you took the cigarette from him, and you felt a trail of sharp goosebumps forming up your arm as you pulled away. You tried your hardest to ignore it – the electricity, the attraction. But it was like walking across a shag carpet and then touching a doorknob. It was inevitable.

You held the cigarette between two fingers, a practiced movement that had been ingrained into your muscle memory, that hadn’t been forgotten even after years of going without, and put it up to your lips with urgency. Billy watched you shamelessly, without saying a word. He seemed content with just observing you, your little movements, everything that was you.

As the heavy smoke entered your lungs, it balanced out the weight of the bricks sitting on top of your chest, and you felt like you could finally breathe again. You held it there for a moment too long, making the veins in your forehead and your neck start to throb painfully, before you released. As you felt the effects of just one puff overtaking your body: your muscles relaxing, your pulse evening out as your stress level came down, the small wave of dopamine that the chemicals brought you, you let out a small, deep moan.

You extended your arm out, going to hand the cigarette back to Billy, and he chuckled lowly, letting his tongue out to lick over his top lip to compliment the noise. Your eyes immediately darted to the pinkness of it, how the hues of the muscle complimented the natural pink of his lips, and you hoped that he hadn’t noticed where your eyes were lingering.  

“You can finish that one.” He said with a small smile. Not a showy kind of smirk, but a real smile. “Seems like you need it more than I do.”

“Thanks,” You couldn’t help but smile back at him, taking another puff.

You found yourselves wrapped in another silence, though this one didn’t have that same kind of tension. It was less like a giant snake had wrapped itself around your body and was slowly strangling you for its next meal, and a lot more like the walls were closing in. Like the oxygen was slowly being drained from the room and the only way you could actually get any air into your lungs was to take short, quick puffs from your cigarette, or to get closer to Billy. Like smelling the masculine sweat coming off him with the bare undertones of his cologne were the only things that were going to keep you alive. You hated it so much.

You hated how the feeling doubled when you let your eyes trail over his round pecs, his taught stomach, how your mind actually lingered around his shorts and how you wondered for a fraction of a moment what was underneath. And when your gaze rocketed back up to his face with the embarrassment of your own lust, and you locked eyes with his – you absolutely hated that the only thing reflecting back to you was two shocking pools of icy hot fire that said he was feeling every single thing you were.

You hated how it made the pain between your legs even sharper, and that you knew for certain you were soaked by now, and how you had to wonder if your wetness could be seen soaking through your swimsuit.

As another breath of warm smoke drifted up across your cheek, you found yourself inflated with a sense of false bravery.

“So... I’m your girl, am I?” It was the thing you had been dying to address since you had first spotted him, and you finally found the words to do so. You looked right at him, waiting for an answer, both intensely curious about the true meaning behind his words and deadly worried that there had been no true meaning at all; that it had just been something he’d spewed out in the moment in heated anger.

“You never said you weren’t,” He jousted back at you, his voice flat, not giving away a hint of emotion. He was playing word games with you, optimally trying to force you to be the first to give any show of real emotion.

He liked you. He truly, honestly, let you have the last piece of cheesecake, let you pick the music for a long car ride, would find your snoring cute, liked you. But because he had never fallen for someone like this, ever, he just used the same old tricks on you – tired flirting and overdone lines, hoping that he could get you to fall for it, for him, knowing you were too good for that shit. And tried to fill his heart with other girls when you went through all of high school coming up with more creative ways to tell him to fuck off.

And when you both got hired at the pool, he tried his hardest not to think of it as a second chance. He tried his hardest to push all his feelings back into that little box where he kept them and lock them away forever. He tried his hardest not to admire your sickly sweet interactions with the little kids and not to watch the way every single water droplet ran down your body when you emerged from the pool after swim lessons. He tried not to be jealous of the towels just because they got the very esteemed privilege of being wrapped around your angelic form.

His gaze burned hot into your own as he stared into your soul, and for a fraction of a moment, you swore that you could read all of this in his eyes, a wordless confession of everything he was thinking, every single thing he wanted to say to you so badly that was caged up inside his soul. But he was terrified of putting it all out there only to have you strike it all down. He was terrified of getting hurt.

The eye contact was so intense that it made the air hot. The jacket stuck to your skin uncomfortably and you shifted on the spot.

“I... I liked it. Being your girl. Even if it wasn’t real. Even if it was only for five minutes,” You finally admitted it. You put the cigarette back to your lips, stopping off any more words that might come spilling out, choosing to wait for whatever he may say or do. It was a small butt by now, and it almost burned your fingers, but you sucked back on it hard, wanting to get whatever bits of stress relief out of it that you could.

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you, and you could feel body heat coming off him in waves. It made your skin itch, made the jacket stick to you even more. He took the butt from your hand as you exhaled slowly, and tossed it into the mop bucket. The sharp searing noise it made seemed to be the loudest thing in the room, followed only by your shallow breathing and the pounding thump of your racing heartbeat.

Less than a moment later, but what seemed like a decade, his body so close to yours, eyes still locked – he finally touched you. His left hand came up and his fingertips just barely grazed across the bottom of your jaw, the warmth of his skin touching yours, even just barely, making a small noise erupt from the back of your throat. His lips curled up when he heard it. Those fingertips made the journey all the way across your jaw, the slowness of it making your heart pound even harder, and he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, your shiver just barely visible to the eye.

He carefully placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, turning your head purposefully to one side, finally breaking that fatal eye contact. You were almost disappointed by that until he got even closer, bringing his head to touch yours, his damp forehead pressing against your hair, his body just centimeters from yours – so purposefully not touching you. Just a tiny little push and you could have pressed yourself against him, could have felt the hardness of his body against you. Could have felt all of what was beneath his shorts in between your legs, even if it was through clothing.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was low, weighed down with all the intention behind his words. It was a gravelly tone that scraped against the sides of his throat and you knew for sure that your swimsuit had to be soaked through by now. “Do you really want to be my girl?” The proposal, the heat of his touch, the way he could make you feel so weak without even getting you undressed – all of it had you racing for an answer, but nothing came out. “Do you want me to make you mine?” His breath was damp against the side of your face and you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out another noise at the offer.

You were weak, wavering under his attention, and your eyes shifted, landing on the floor. The shiny, clean tiles of the freshly mopped floor.

“Why did you take mop duty willingly?” Your voice was small, your throat so dry that you were surprised that you could even get words out. “We never quite got to that part.”

He snaked a hand underneath his jacket, which was still wrapped around your body like the thick air of a hot Indiana night, and grazed his fingertips along your hip. The action made you lurch, forcing you to be the one to close the tiny slot between your bodies. Finally pressed against him, from pelvis to breasts, with his forehead still resting on your temple, his breath gently ghosting across your cheek. You could feel his cock, very clearly an almighty beast, pressed against your throbbing mound as his hand found its destination, taking a firm hold on your barely clothed ass cheek – a deeply different touch from the last hand that had made contact with it.

The moan that poured from your lips was absolutely undeniable, and so was his throaty chuckle that followed.

“I wanted to be alone with you,” He whispered the confession lowly, his words dripping down your skin like butter, effectively filling up both your already over excited heart and making your already incredibly needy pussy jolt.

Your hand couldn’t help but find its way up to his face, brushing your fingers against his cheek before pursuing a gentle, affectionate hold on his jaw. You felt the heavy beads of sweat that had gathered there, both from the work he had done and from the fiery tension that had been building between you this whole time. His body ached for you, but he waited still, licking his tongue over his lips in anticipation. He needed you to say something. He wasn’t going to hurt you; he wasn’t going to be that guy who pushed himself on a girl who didn’t really want him.

You were too touched by his words and too horny all at once. Your head was absolutely spinning. He was willing to clean god knows what off the floors just to have the chance of spending some time alone with you. Not just flirting. Not just bullshit. Maybe he really was trying to offer you something real. And at this point, with the way you were feeling – with how badly your pussy was throbbing between your legs, with the way his cock was pressed against you; even if he did just want sex, you wanted to get fucked so badly that you’d give it to him.

He had won. And hell, you wanted him so fucking badly at that point, you felt like you’d won too.

“Make me yours.” Your voice came out in a high pitched whine. “Please, Billy, fuck me.”

He certainly didn’t mess around after this plea landed on his ears.

He was on you in a second, his mouth finding yours in a flash, the feeling of his lips on yours for the first time absolutely raw and hot and searing. He kissed you with incredible purpose, like the world was at stake and he’d find all the solutions written on your lips. His small bit of facial hair scrubbed against you, but felt like almost nothing compared to the focused talent of his mouth. His right hand quickly came to the back of your head, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of your neck, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he assaulted your lovely mouth.

The hand on your ass took an even tighter grip, the spots where his fingers dug in sending sharp jolts to your pussy and hitting the sore spot that awful shitstain of human being had caused that afternoon, making for a sickly sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, which caused you to moan loudly against his lips. It reminded you again of how Billy had saved you, of the thing that had caused the entire shift in your very dynamic – of the reason you were allowing him to squeeze your ass so wantonly right now. He took your open mouth as an opportunity and didn’t hesitate for even a moment to slip his tongue inside, skillfully laving it over your own.

You whined again quietly, half disappointed and half deeply turned on when he used his grip on your hair to pull you away from his mouth. There was a sloppy sound, pure spit and tongues as you separated, and you blinked open your eyes to look up at him. He was the perfect picture of sex; strands of hair stuck to his face with sweat, his eyes absolutely glossed over with lust, kiss swollen lips ever so slightly parted as he looked down at you with a look that he promised he was absolutely going to wreck you.

“I have a condom in my locker,” His voice was still so low, already sounding wrecked by his lust.

You had seen the entire pack in there earlier that day when you were retrieving his jacket.

Some part of you, the part that used to scoff at his flirting and walk away from him whenever he called you doll or babe, had rolled your eyes when you saw the pack of Magnums sitting on the shelf.

You had found bile rising in your throat at the idea, at him being so cocky as to bring them with him to work; to believe he’d even need one. But in some ill guided move, with some strange horny ghost guiding your hand that wasn’t actually you – you had picked up the box and taken one out, stashing it in the pocket of the jacket after you’d put it on. You really had no clue what you were thinking or if you’d even use it, if you’d even use it with him, but you found it comforting to have it there anyway.

Now you were simply grateful for that past, very slutty part of yourself for being prepared; for being in the mindset to protect yourself. (If you hadn’t taken the condom, you were so wet right now that you honestly would have let him have you raw.)

“I know.” You told him, flashing him a wicked grin as you reached into the pocket and pulled out the condom for him to see.

He snatched it from you, tucking it away in the pocket of his shorts as his own wicked grin formed.

“Naughty girl,” Clearly this was a compliment coming from him, and he didn’t care in the least that you had gone through his personal belongings and technically had stolen from him. In fact, all he seemed to care about was getting you undressed, as frantic hands came up to the rustling nylon of the jacket and tore it from your shoulders. “Have you been dreaming about my cock all day, Princess?”

He poured the words into your ear with his beautiful, cocky tone before he latched onto your neck, tossing the jacket off to the side somewhere. His mouth was carnal; he seemed to like biting your skin much more than kissing it, digging his teeth in hard in some places.

“Been thinking about how much I’m gonna fill you up? How badly I’m gonna split you open?”

Clearly he was a fan of dirty talk. You couldn’t say that it bothered you. You couldn’t say that you didn’t clench and flood with a new wave of wetness for every word that vibrated against your throat.

Your hands flung to him, one threading into his hair where he was brutalizing your delicate skin, and the other planting on his firm bicep, simply enjoying the privilege that you got to be the one to touch it. (If only the Pool Moms could see you now.) You were certain that he’d leave marks, that he was trying to mark you on purpose, claim you, and you moaned out loudly at the thought.

“You been dreaming of being with a real man? Someone who’s gonna fuck you real good, have you walking limp for days,”

His hands found their way to the straps of your swimsuit, and you cheered in a mental victory that he was finally going to fuck you, but his fingertips seemed to pause after they hooked under the stretchy material.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Princess,” He growled lowly against your neck, grinding his cock into you to emphasize his words.

The nickname alone had you reeling. You didn’t think that you would ever enjoy being called ‘princess’; that the word would ever cross your ears and not feel absolutely condescending or slimy. Especially not after the shift you’d had.

But the way the word rattled against your skin, especially in his lust deepened tone, made you want to record it and play it on repeat over and over again. Your moans were rattling against your windpipe relentlessly now. You almost didn’t have time to breathe through the feral, guttural sounds that poured through your lips. His hardness grinding on your clit was driving you insane, a stimulation that you had been waiting for that felt just satisfying enough – even through your clothing, it was so delicious. You knew you could have cum just from this if he kept at it.

“Tell me Princess, tell me what you were thinking about when you took the condom from my locker,” He demanded this in a harsher tone, his voice almost sounding angry. That anger should have scared you, but somehow, it only served to turn you on. He was growing impatient with you, and moved his hands from your straps, grinding even harder into you as he held you by the back of the neck and punctuated his demand with a careful slap to your ass.

He had spanked you. It had been a small, testing smack. Clearly he had been holding back a lot, and didn’t apply even a quarter of his strength to you. It almost didn’t register in your brain. What did register was the pure flood of wetness that came rushing out of you when his hand made contact.

His dominance, his control over you – it was all so hot. You almost wanted to wait and see if he’d spank you again, if he’d hit you harder, but you thought it was wise to give in and just give him what he wanted.

“I – I don’t know!” You shouted out, pure honesty pouring through your lips. You wouldn’t have had even the smallest bit of ability to craft a lie right now, with how wound up you were. He had you dangling on a string. He could have asked you absolutely anything and you would have told him the truth. He seized the movement of his hips and took his mouth off your neck to look at your face. You whined loudly at the loss. You knew he was expecting more from you, so you swallowed around your sandpaper tongue, trying to think of more words. “I guess I was jealous.” Maybe that was it. “I saw them in your locker and thought that if you had them in there, you needed them. That maybe you’ve been fucking some other girl around here...”

He took the hand that was on your neck and reached up to your hair, taking a huge fistful and pulling back. Your back curved uncomfortably, and your hands gripped onto both his arms for stability so that you wouldn’t fall over. He was forcing you to look up at him, making you small and feeble below him. The hold on your hair was fierce, commanding – he could have easily thrown you to the floor and walked away, or forced you onto your knees to suck his cock in one cheap move.

It was thrilling and nerve wracking all at the same time.

You examined his face carefully – you couldn’t quite decipher the look. It was somewhere between hurt and greatly pleased, perhaps.

“What if I am?” He growled at you. “It’s not like you ever showed any interest in me. Not like you have the right to be jealous, Princess.”

Fuck. He had a point.

“I was always interested in you,” Your voice was already wrecked, cracking out, sounding so small as you delivered the words to him. “I just thought you only wanted me for sex.”

It was something far too sappy to be said while his boner was pressed up against you, and you thought he may just drop you like he had been burned and turn around to walk out. He could get off with anyone – he probably didn’t need all the emotional excess that came with you.

Much to your surprise, he didn’t push you away and rush out of the room. Instead, he released his tight hold on your hair, allowing you to rise back up to your full height, and moved his hand to sit gently on the side of your burning face. It was a touch so tender that it made your stomach twist. 

“The sex is gonna be great, babe,” He told you, licking his tongue out over his lips again. “But if I can call you mine forever, I want you forever.”

You didn’t even know how to react to such words. You wondered if he was just saying these things so that you wouldn’t run away. Because you were weak and wet and vulnerable, and you had revealed your heart to him so now he was making a mockery of giving you his when really all he wanted to give you was a load full of hot cum. You wouldn’t put it past someone like him to put on a good show of getting emotional just to get inside someone. But you really didn’t want to ride that emotional rollercoaster right now. You were standing on the spot, flushed, soaked, and absolutely breathless. You were the definition of needy and wanted no more foreplay. No more words. You just wanted him deep inside you, fucking you brutal until you came. Hard.

You followed your instincts and grabbed him, pulling him forward by his shoulders until his mouth was locked into yours again. He used the momentum to push you back a few steps until your back hit the row of lockers, causing a great crash with the weight of both of you rocking up against the metal. (Luckily for you, they were bolted to the floor.) The metal was a cold shock against your skin, a delightful feeling that contrasted with the way your blood was boiling.

“Please, Billy.” You murmured into his mouth, begging for the one thing you wanted most.

His hands came to the straps of your swimsuit again, and this time, as you hallowed your cheeks and sucked on his tongue, he didn’t hesitate to rip the offending item right off you. You swore you almost heard the sound of actual ripping, but in that moment, you couldn’t have cared less. His hands eagerly carried the item down past your thighs, and you kicked it off your feet, ditching your flip flops along the way. You hissed loudly against Billy’s lips as your wet pussy was finally exposed to the open air; the throbbing flesh so hot that even the humid air of the change room felt shockingly cold against it.  

Billy immediately pulled away from your kiss to stare you down. He had waited far too long, spent too many nights with lesser girls imagining what it would be like to be with you. There was no way in hell that he wasn’t going to enjoy this to the fullest extent.

His eyes raked over every single little detail of your body, making you feel more naked than you had ever been in front of another human being before, and the wicked satisfied grin that spread over his lips gave you a burst of confidence that you wished you could bottle and drink in your weakest moments.

“You are too fucking gorgeous,” He complimented, his eyes still feasting on your exposed, sweat glazed skin. “Better than fucking porn, baby,”

You wanted to roll your eyes at that last comment, but a very large part of you took it as the sincere compliment that it was intended to be.

In a flash, his mouth was back on your neck, his hands going to your breasts.

“These are the best fucking tits,” He mumbled against your neck. He seemed to want to lather you with compliments, to show his appreciation for your body. His appreciation that he was getting the privilege to touch it. “So fucking soft and pretty, Princess.” You couldn’t deny that you liked how good he was at petting your ego as well as your outsides.

This seemed to be a routine he knew well; he was obviously practiced, that much you knew, but you had no clue how great it would be to have an experienced lover. He didn’t just tug on your breasts and play with them like party balloons. Like some teenager in a backseat who was getting to touch boobs for the very first time. He cupped them so tentatively, humbling worshipping the flesh as he teased your nipples with his thumbs. The tender touches sent shocks down your body, causing you to moan right into his ear.

He kissed his way up to your jaw, suckling there for a moment before he said something that would change your life forever.

“I wanna taste you, baby,” He made his declaration before he started kissing his way down your body, planting simple kisses down your neck and on your collar bones, and stopping where his hands were gently massaging your breasts to take one of your nipples into his hot mouth. This made you moan out, arching into the touch and grabbing at his hair.

“You mean, like... oral?” Your words were stuttered between heavy breaths and moans as he suckled at your nipples and left open mouthed kisses all over your breasts. You wanted to be sure you understood him correctly.

He chuckled against your skin. “Yeah. Of course.” He descended lower, getting on his knees. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to see what your pretty pussy tastes like,”

The words were so powerful that they literally made your leg collapse this time. Your knee wobbled so hard that you almost fell over and Billy chuckled in amusement before he caught you by the hips, pinning you against the locker. You were shaking, relying pretty much entirely on his strength to hold you up while your head swam. He started laying kisses down your stomach, making a distinct trail toward his destination.

“No one’s ever really done that for me before,” You admitted.

It was true. You’d had some... pretty unsatisfying lovers in the past. You lost your virginity in freshman year in your bedroom when your mom was on the night shift at work, with the lights off and half your clothes still on, to a guy who had no clue what he was doing and rushed through it so he hurt you a lot and didn’t even call you back the next day.

You’d had a boyfriend before, during your junior year – a schmuck you dated because he was pretty cute and halfway decent to talk to, but he couldn’t even unhook your bra on his own and thought the clitoris was a myth. You broke up with him shortly after you found that out. You’d had a few one night stands since then, but probably the closest you’d come to having a good time with a partner was when Heather snagged a bottle of pinot grigio from her mom’s stash and you both finished it off before experimentally making out and your hands wandered down each other’s pants. (And that may or may not happen on a regular basis now – without the wine.) (A strange thing to be thinking about as Billy’s tongue laves over your hip, but still.)

One of your hands found a natural place in his hair, the other laying limp and dumb by your side, too numb with lust to do anything. He smirked against your skin, mouth so very close to the place where you needed him most, and you swear your heart stopped.

“Then no one’s ever made you cum properly,” His eyes shined like the devil when he looked up at you. “Legs on my shoulders, Princess.” He moved his hands to the outside of your thighs, and you wanted to hesitate, wanted to ask if you’d be too heavy to sit on his shoulders like that – but you were quickly getting too weak to stand and the broad golden skin of his shoulders just looked like too good of a seat.

He helped you get comfortable, hovering completely off the floor with his help; your back pressed against the hard metal of the lockers and your thighs on his shoulders with both his hands digging into the supple flesh, your hand still in his hair. He was perfectly eye level with your pussy now, and you didn’t have a moment to be self conscious about the idea of that before he was diving in.

His tongue was sharp, digging between your swollen lips until he found your clit easily, his small mustache scraping against you in horribly pleasant ways. He wasn’t going to tease you, wasn’t going to play around – if this was your first time getting eaten out, he was going to show you the true pleasure that could be found here. He was going to get you off.

“Fuck, Billy!” Your voice came out a perfect scream, echoing off the tiled walls as your head arched up by reflex, your skull banging against the row of lockers and only adding to the array of sounds. The sloppy kiss of his tongue between your thighs, the sharp growl he let out when your sharp taste hit his tongue, your swift pants and whines and steady chorus of his name.

He was masterful; he worked your swollen clit with such practice, the hard muscle of his tongue bouncing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the wetness of his spit mixing with your own in a way that made you want to die. You were burning up, the fire that encapsulated your skin and raged inside you increasing with every flick of his dangerous, deadly tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, Billy, I’m gonna cum!” It had only been a few moments of him being connected to you at the most dangerous point, of him holding your entire life against his lips, but you could feel the distinct sharpness coming to a point at the front of your pelvis, and you knew that soon you’d come undone by his perfect mouth.

He pulled his tongue away from you, took away that hot piece of flesh that was giving you everything you needed in the world, and you whined in great protest. You feared for a moment that this had all been a joke; that he may just drop you on the floor and get up and leave. That this would be his punishment to you for rejecting him for all these years. Making you absolutely weak, bringing you so close to orgasm and leaving you begging for him, but giving you absolutely nothing. But he squeezed your thighs tightly as a tear that was deeply against your will slipped from your eye and you knew this was his way of telling you that he had absolutely no intentions of going anywhere. (The fact that he could sense this fear building in you and wanted to quell it was incredible.)

“Look at me.” He growled against your pussy. The vibrations from his words sent a weak sound spilling from your lips. “Look at me when I make you cum.”

You did exactly as he demanded. You titled your head down, and as he leaned back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard, your eyes locked with his where he was staring up at you. Your grip in his hair tightened iron hard, even tighter when he released one of your thighs to bring a hand underneath you and slip a finger inside you.


The single digit slipped in easily with how turned on you were, and seemed to light up every single nerve ending inside you that he touched. It sent you over the edge, along with his tongue relentlessly rocking against your clit, and you found yourself shamelessly canting your hips against his face, eyes still locked as your orgasm hit you full force.

“Billy! Billy! Fuck!”

His name was a shadow on your lips, and he took you through it perfectly – never more infatuated with you than when you flooded more wetness into his mouth and clenched hard around his finger. When you sighed beautifully and collapsed back against the lockers, he moved his hand once again to hold you up, wanting to make sure that you’d be fully supported. He kept his head between your legs, moving his tongue down to lick up your wetness, wanting to enjoy every last bit of your taste that he could.

Feeling his tongue probing at your sensitive entrance made you flinch, your hips once again inching toward his face involuntarily.

“Aren’t – aren’t you done?” You managed to stutter out. Surely he had noticed that you had cum. Surely he wouldn’t still be going at it if he knew that you had cum.

He took one last long lick up your pussy before hesitantly pulling away. Because unfortunately, he couldn’t answer your query while his tongue was inside you.

“I’m done if you are,” He stated simply. “But honestly Princess, I could eat your pussy for hours. You taste so damn good. Kinda wanna see if I can eat you til you pass out,”

You almost did pass out at the mere mention of these things. For one, knowing that he liked the taste of you. Knowing that he enjoyed giving oral so much that he wanted to do it for hours. Knowing that he fantasized about overstimulating until you passed out. Billy Hargrove was too much for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” You told him your honest desire.

As much as you liked the sound of what he had said, the men’s change room wasn’t exactly a relaxing place to recover after having enough orgasms to make you pass out. And you weren’t exactly sure if you were in any place to invite yourself back to his place to perform such an activity – or if you wanted to put yourself out there to invite him back to your place. (Or if your mom would be home or not, for that matter.)

He seemed satisfied enough with your response.

He began to adjust himself, getting up off his knees, carefully taking you off his shoulders so that he could rise back to his full height. You were expected to stand on your own two feet now; a task that seemed insurmountable at the moment. The second that the burning pads of your feet hit the cool tile floor, you were stumbling. Your hands flung back against the lockers, looking for some kind of stability, but found none.

“Fuck, I can’t stand,” Your voice was a weak rasp as you relayed this information to him.

You missed the deadly cocky smirk he had plastered on his face at your words, all too proud of what he had done to you, leaving you stumbling and legless with just his tongue, because your eyes got stuck halfway up his body where he had pulled his cock over the waistband of his shorts and was pumping it lazily with one hand.

“Fuck,” You mumbled under your breath.

He certainly didn’t need his ego to be stroked any more, but here you were, rubbing it down with oil and shining up the reflection.

It was quite a sight to behold. Especially from your position, practically sitting on the floor.

His cock was a lovely shade of tan just like the rest of his body – and you couldn’t help but notice that there was no abrupt line where his shorts would have normally sat. Your mind instantly went to the image of a stark naked Billy sitting on a lawn chair in his backyard, or oiling himself up before laying down in a tanning booth – because the idea of tan lines was just that tragic to Billy Hargrove.

Of course, anybody who paid that much mind to their hair, their car, and their body wouldn’t be caught dead with tan lines. But that was a fleeting thought in comparison to his cock, right now. It had prominent purple veins that ran all up and down the large, raging monster; reminiscent of the veins that stuck off from his forearms in that sexy, brutish way. The patch of dark blonde hair at the base was well groomed (of course), but not shaved off completely – he was a man who liked you to damn well know that he was a man. The tip was revealed to you to be angry purple, as he pulled back the foreskin with one of his strokes, and drooling with precum. He was more than ready to be inside you.

“Then you can just sit on my cock, baby,” He commented smoothly as he took the condom out of his pocket, tore open the packet and rolled it on.

He then shucked off his shorts completely, stepping out of them and kicking them off along with his own shoes before he stepped back toward you once more. He leaned down and wrapped a powerful arm around your middle, bringing an intense wave of warmth toward you; not just sex warmth, but the same kind of warmth you had felt that day when his arm had been wrapped around you, when all your clothes had still been on and he hadn’t been about to fuck you. It was just as protective. It was just as caring. It made your throat tighten up because even though there wasn’t that great of a size difference between you, you felt so small in his arms. You felt like he was a great big house of a man that you could spend the rest of your life living in.

He secured his hold tightly around the center of your back, using his other hand on the back of your left knee, lifting you up. It was an insane turn on that he could lift you so easily. That it seemed like with no effort at all, he could have carried you around all day. Out of instinct, you wrapped your legs around his torso, feeling the strong muscles and shallow breathing trapped underneath your thighs. Your arms went around his shoulders, holding him in a tight vice, one hand finding a place back in his hair, where you seemed to like it most, while his hand migrated from your knee to your hip to get a better hold on you.

He slid into you with ease.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

You tried to ignore the effect that your name, your actual name coming off his lips in a groan like that had on you. You were so ready, so turned on that his cock was met with no resistance when he angled his hips and pushed in. All you could feel was the white hot fireworks that ignited from your pussy when he pushed against every single nerve-ending inside you, spreading you out in the most perfect way.

“Billy. Fucking hell!”

He wasted no time before he started pounding into you. He knew that he didn’t have to be gentle, didn’t have to wait for you to adjust. He could feel the way that your pussy had sucked in his cock like a hungry animal, and he knew that you wanted this just as badly as he did, in the exact same way as he did: hard, fast, hot, and brutal.

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Gonna make sure you can’t walk for a week,”

You were still hovering by the lockers, but he was holding you up entirely. That thought alone made your gut twist. To get some extra leverage, he planted both his feet and took his hand from your hip to put on the surface behind you, leaning your shoulders against it while your lower half was still tightly pressed against him, being pushed and pulled in a brutal rhythm by him.

This seemed to really give him an advantage, because his pace picked up tenfold, and with your legs gripped like a vice on either side of his stomach, he hammered into you with no abandon. You barely had time to recover from the loss of his cock before it was back again, could barely register the places inside you that he was reaching. Your throat was aching, and you really weren’t sure if it was because you hadn’t stopped wailing from the moment he entered you or because that angry purple tip was beginning to hammer against your larynx from underneath.

“Billy, Billy, please!” You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for; for him to stop, for him to make you cum – for him to never stop fucking you ever again because the world might end if he did.

A salty tear dripped from the corner of your eye, having gathered there from the intense overstimulation, and Billy growled under his breath before he leaned in and licked it up, his salvia leaving a cool trail on your cheek.

“Who’s fucking you this good, baby?” He demanded in a rattled, fucked out voice as he slammed his hips against you, stilling his movements with his cock inside you. “Tell me whose cock is making you feel this good,” He ground his hips against you as he waited for his answer, the head of his cock rubbing against that spot inside you that made you want to cry, his pelvis trapping your swollen clit in a movement that should have been illegal.

“Yours!” You instantly gave him what he wanted, hoping he would return the favour. You wiggled against him, tightening your legs around his middle, tightening your arm around his shoulders, digging your nails tight into the skin under your fingers. “You, Billy! I love your cock! I love it so much!”

You praised him in eager shouts, not lying for a moment, hoping he would return to his break-neck pace and pound you into the neck dimension as a reward for your filthy words.

“So fucking filthy, Princess,” He praised as he began to move his hips again. “I love this filthy mouth.” He moved his lips to yours, and as got only one or two kisses from you before you were simply moaning, slack-jawed into his mouth as his hips bruised yours once more. “I can’t wait to have this gorgeous, filthy mouth wrapped around my cock.”

His dirty words, in perfect combination with his skilled hips and giant cock, had you coming undone in perfect time. That white hot searing in your pelvis was coming to a head, and you knew Billy would carry you to a perfect end.

You threw your head back, moaning out loudly, ready for him to guide you to one of the best orgasms of your life. “I’m gonna cum!” You announced again, feeling like your voice was a million miles away.

His had was under your jaw in a second, forcing you to look at him. You opened your eyes and almost exploded at the indescribable fire in his.

“I want to see the look on your pretty face when you cum on my cock,”

His fingers were dancing on either side of your face, his thumb hovering around your pulse point. He wasn’t exactly applying any pressure; just steady enough to hold you there, to get you to look at him like he wanted. He wasn’t even choking you, but it sent such a thrill shooting down your spine that it made you squeal. He wasn’t even choking you, but you wanted him to be.

“Billy,” His name was the only thing you managed to get out, most of your orgasm punctuated by strangled breaths and a choked off moan that may have made it past your lips. Every single other thing in the world disappeared, including your own limbs. For those few moments, there was only you, your center, Billy; the precious place where you were joined, and his dangerous eyes invading your soul. It felt all too personal and all too precious, all at once.

He chased you, hard, all the way through it, and as you were coming down from your insane high and started to get a normal level of feeling back again, he muttered out his own chorus of harsh curses, pounding into you even harder as he chased his own high. And you, being in such a sensitive state from having just had your own orgasm only seconds ago, couldn’t take this.

“Fuck, fuck, Billy!”

You smacked him harshly on the shoulder. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop or if it was the mark of the best sex you’d ever had, because he sent you spiraling into a third orgasm immediately after your second as he buried his face in your hair and spilled into the condom with a deep groan. 

“You cum again?” He chuckled into your hair. He was running his nose up and down your neck, still holding onto you tightly. You were quite obviously finished now, but he didn’t want to pull out. He didn’t want to leave you yet. He didn’t want this whole thing to be over. Not yet.

Especially not if that meant you never wanted to have anything to do with him again.

“Y-yeah.” You breathed out. You were panting heavily, still trying to get your breath back. Hell, you were still trying to get your grip on reality back after having three orgasms.

He pulled out of you, still impressively large even though he was going soft, and you let out a weak mewl at the loss. You wanted to cry at how empty you felt. Not just physically. But you felt like now that this was over, he’d be taking so much more away from you than just his cock.

“You gonna be okay if I put you down?”

It was an entirely sweet thing to ask.

You wanted to say no. You wanted to make him carry you. You wanted to give him some kind of excuse for you not to separate. At least for the night. Maybe for forever.

“I should be fine.” You were almost sure that you could hear the grief in your voice, and there was a moment of hesitation on his part before he moved. You untangled your weak legs from around him and he set you carefully on the floor, and even though you were barely able to feel your feet, you miraculously found yourself able to stand on quivering, unsteady legs.

You gave him a weak smile as he unwrapped his arm from you, pulling away completely and turning around to find his discarded shorts. Even though you were sweat-soaked and your body was still flushed from your orgasms, you felt bitterly cold without him. Like he had been providing every stitch of warmth you’d felt since he had first made contact with you.

You tried your best to forget about that, tried your best to ignore the now looming regret that tightened in your chest because you had just done the one thing you promised yourself that you never would – become a throwaway one night stand for Billy Hargrove. You needed to get dressed. You spotted the bright red of your swimsuit on the floor and went to pick it up, hating the terrible ache that was already forming in your back when you bent down for it.

You noticed a bright white run in the spandex the second that you picked it up. Your eyes traced the ugly line all the way to the neckline, easily noticing the large tear that had formed in the back of the bright red suit. The large tear had been ripped into the fabric when Billy was taking it off you. You had no clue how he did it, but he managed to put a fucking tear the size of the Mississippi in a stretch fabric swimsuit.

“Fucking asshole!” You swore loudly, catching his attention from where he had just finished tying off the condom before he tossed it into the mop bucket.

He pulled his shorts all the way up before he turned to you, pleased to see you still completely naked, holding your swimsuit with a look of absolutely distain.


“Look at what you did!” You showed him the large, visible tear, and he immediately burst into laughter. You gave him a strong glare. You weren’t happy about it. It was your uniform. Now you had to order a new one. You were deeply trying to ignore the sexual thrill at the idea that he was so eager to fuck you that he had literally torn your clothes off. He shrugged. “I can’t help it. When I want something, nothing can stand in my way,”

His low, overly sexual voice wrapping around these words almost got you going again. You hated that. You hated him.

“I hope you’re happy.” You growled at him as you found your shoes, kicking your feet into them with stiff movements. You balled the suit up in your fist, mostly trying to direct your energy anywhere but him. “Now I have to walk out to the women’s change room naked.”

“I’m always happy about you being naked,” He couldn’t help but take that one. You had lined it up for him so perfectly. “But here, wear this.” He leaned down and picked up his jacket off the floor, coming up to you and draping it over your shoulders. It was the most dainty, hesitant way that he had touched you all night. As if he was afraid you’d shatter into a million pieces under his fingertips. Which he most definitely knew was not the case after what he had done to you. He was close enough to you to be hovering just inches from your face again, and you dared to look into his eyes.

Longing. That terrible, awful longing.

“Thanks.” You muttered quietly.

You pushed your arms through the sleeves, awkwardly stuffing your hand that was holding the suit through and wrapping the jacket around you, not bothering to zip it up, trying to save as many seconds as possible so that you wouldn’t have to be strangled by the regret in your chest, by being in a room alone with him for a moment longer than you had to, before you turned around and ran out into the hall way.

If being a room with him was always going to feel like that now, then you were going to be absolutely fucked when you came in to work on Sunday.


You got dressed in slow agony.

You knew the walk home, something that you usually enjoyed, for the fresh air and the bit of exercise, was going to be awful. Not just because your whole body was already stiff and sore in a way that was both delightful and dreadful, but because you hadn’t brought any underwear, thinking that you’d be wearing your swimsuit all day, and the normally soft feeling material of your cotton shorts and zippered hoodie felt like razor wire against your overly sensitive skin.

You should have jumped in the shower, should have rinsed off the sweat, the ghost of Billy’s touch off you, but you didn’t have the patience for it by far. Or the damn energy. You barely had the energy to make sure your sneakers were on the correct feet as you shoved into them before you picked your flip flops up off the floor and shoved them into your gym bag, hastily zipping it shut.

The last thing you expected to see when you came out of the women’s change room was Billy Hargrove; leaning against the counter of the front desk, a halo of warm yellow light cast around him, coming from the street lamp outside, all the lights in the office turned off, keys twirling around his fingers in one hand and a cigarette between his fingers in the other. He was fully dressed now; wearing a light blue shirt that he was too lazy to button all the way, and a pair of jeans that fit him way too well with his black high top converse.

You thought for sure that he would have gotten his shit and gotten the hell out. Sped off in his car without a second thought. He got what he wanted from you, what he had been trying to get from you for a long time now. He had won. What more could he possibly want from you?

“What are you doing?” Your voice came out in a quiet crack. You were honestly afraid to ask. Maybe he would tell you that he had changed his mind and he did want his jacket back. (Which you had no clue why, but you were carrying it over your arm like it actually meant something to you. You should have left it in your locker. You should have shoved it into the bottom of your gym bag to throw away with your ripped up swimsuit when you got home.) Maybe he would tell you that he was only waiting for you because Heather had given you the keys to the front door and he needed make sure you closed the front door behind him.

His head shot up at your words, looking across the polite darkness of the room to you.

“I was waiting for you.” He answered your question simply. When you did not reply, and did not move toward him or acknowledge his response in any way, gouged by the simplicity of it, this prompted further explanation from him. “I know that you usually walk. It’s dark now.” He gestured vaguely to the door, to the outside, his keys jingling with the motion. “I didn’t want you walking home. Alone. In the dark.”

“Thank you.” You had no clue what else to say, and you decided that you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t think about why he even cared about you walking home alone in the dark, so instead you moved. You had to get the keys from the desk drawer to lock up the front door as you left.

“I got ‘em already.” You barely made it to the desk before he stopped your pursuit. Your eyes glanced over the desk and realized that he had neatly stowed away your crossword and pencil, the sign-in sheet for the day, any other little things that had cluttered the desk top; your eyes glanced to the wall and you saw that he had punched both yours and his punch cards. With the lights turned off and all, he had done all of your closing duties. At least all of the obvious ones you had neglected while he was balls deep in your cunt.

“Thanks.” You responded to his statement flatly, hiking your bag up on your shoulder.

It was too good. He was being too nice.

You whipped around, unlocking the front door from where you had locked it before, and high-tailing it outside, absolutely unable to look at him. You didn’t want that knot to come back in your stomach again. You didn’t want to remind yourself of what you had given to him. You didn’t want to remind yourself of the sacred promise to yourself that you had broken.

The summer night was still balmy, even though the sun had set, the sound of crickets and a distant car engine hitting your ears. The warm air was irritating against your skin as you waited for Billy to lock up, and stash the keys under an allocated rock a few feet away from the door; something you could most certainly only get away with in a town as small as Hawkins. (And something the managers were only insistent upon doing because they were too lazy to copy the keys and allocate opening and closing shifts to only certain people who would then own those sets of keys.)

You followed him over to the Camaro in the otherwise empty parking lot, naturally going around to the passenger’s side, finding it strange when he followed you. Before you could reach for the car door handle, he grabbed it and opened the door for you, giving you a little grin with his cigarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks,” You mumbled quietly. You were entirely unsure what to do with this behaviour from him.

You slid your bag off your shoulder, and threw his jacket off your arm, tossing both things onto the mat in front of the seat before you sat down, and he waited patiently for you to get comfortable before he shut the door behind you. He flicked his butt onto the pavement somewhere as he crossed around the front of the car and got in.

Maybe he wasn’t feeling the same way you were... hell, he probably wasn’t. He was used to one night stands from his track record. He probably thought it was polite to make sure that you got home safely afterward. It was clear that he wasn’t feeling the same tension, the same sick self loathing when he got into the driver’s seat, and was calmly selecting one of his tapes, popping it in, starting the car to turn on the radio and confirm his likeness to his music selection – and then immediately turning down the volume when you jumped as loud rock music came blaring out at you.

“Sorry,” He gave you a truly apologetic look about the volume of his music.

You hated his stupidly handsome face. You hated the way his gorgeous hand gripped the stick shift and put the car in gear and the way he sped out of the parking lot so nonchalantly, whipping you around so roughly before you even had your seat belt on. Clearly he handled his car the way he handed his women – and you absolutely hated how for a brief moment that thought had you turned on again. Your turn with Billy Hargrove was over. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about things like that anymore.

You had to turn away from him as you buckled your seatbelt, determinedly looking out the window as the houses and other buildings whipped by in the darkness.

Maybe the worst part about this was that you did actually feel something for him; maybe you had this whole time. And now you had given him a reason to stop chasing you; you wouldn’t be the object of his affections anymore, you wouldn’t be the target of this flirting. And you felt like the biggest moron in the world for falling for any of his overly polished charms in the first place.

There were a few moments where all that could be heard were the low cries of Motley Crue, and you couldn’t help but release the words that were building inside you. Maybe it was being inside the car with Billy; feeling his presence, smelling the stench of his extensive collection of butts rising up from the ash tray. What really sent you over the edge was when he reached over and put a hand on your bare thigh. Like you were his fucking girlfriend.

“What the fuck is this?” You turned your head to look at him, boring your eyes into the side of his face as he stared at the road.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded offended more than anything else, like you were accusing him of something unfair.

You grabbed his hand by the wrist and put it gently back in his lap. You couldn’t stand the burning of his palm against your skin. Not if it was only skin against skin. You wanted more.

“Don’t play stupid, Billy. It doesn’t look good on you.” You were so exasperated with all of this. “What are you doing? You got me naked, you got what you wanted. Now you want to – what? Drive me home? Open the door for me? Put your hand on my thigh like I’ve been your girlfriend forever? Be all cute with me?”

Billy sighed. He seemed deeply frustrated with you right now. You noticed him clenching his jaw and wondered what he had to be pissed off about.

“Yeah. That is what I want.” His tone was flat, reeking of ‘no shit, Sherlock’. It made your stomach twist in a strange way, made you light headed. You had the fleeting feeling that you were being the biggest idiot in the world and just now realizing it. “I thought that wouldn’t be a problem. You like me, don’t you?”

“I thought you only wanted me for sex.” You repeated your words from earlier, the shadow of that deep insecurity showing up once again. It was a difficult thing to beat down.

Billy was such an amazing guy. The perfect guy. Almost. How could he possibly want to be your boyfriend? There had to be a catch.

“I know girls can go a little bit deaf when they’re horny, but we went over this, babe.” He stated this in his perfectly matter-of-fact, cocky tone. “I meant what I said. You are too good of a woman to have just for one night. There’s no way in hell I would pass up on having you as mine. That is, if you’ll settle for having me.”

Those words punched you in the gut. Settle. Sure, he could be a bit of a jerk. But you secretly found his temper hot, and you probably both hated the same kind of people, so it’s not like you would ever get mad at him for being an asshole where being an asshole was due. If he could getting his flirting under control, especially when it came to menopausal women, then Billy Hargrove would definitely not be anything to settle for.

“I wouldn’t have to settle for you, Billy.” You couldn’t leave that alone. You had to say something about it. “But honestly, I thought you were only saying the things you said to... seal the deal with me. To guarantee that I’d fuck you,”  

“Seriously? You think I would do that?”

The true disappointment in his voice made something crumble inside you.

You stared straight ahead at the dark road, unable to look at him where you could feel his glassy blues ripping into the side of your face. He wasn’t looking where he was going, but he was driving slow. Going along at almost a crawl. So slowly that you could have easily opened the door and abandoned this pressure cooker of a conversation, grabbed up your bag and jogged the rest of the way home.

But you needed to have this conversation. These things needed to be said.

“I’m sorry,” You croaked quietly. You cleared your throat, sitting up straighter in your seat. “You have to admit, you do have a reputation.”

“I do.” He turned to look back at the road, speeding up slightly as he turned down a quiet residential side street; you realized in that moment that he was seamlessly navigating his way to your house, without directions. You wanted to ask him how he knew where you lived, but you didn’t want to interrupt his next stream of thoughts. “But you’re different from those girls...”

“Cliché.” You warned him.

“It’s the truth, though. Even if it is cliché.” His voice held a certain kind of pleading as he pulled in front of your driveway and put the car in park. He let out a firm breath, staring straight ahead into the night, not daring to look at you, same as you couldn’t bring yourself to peer over to the driver’s side.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, needing to do something to fill the space.

He was probably expecting you to just get out and leave. To abandon this whole conversation and pretend this whole thing never happened. It would be a harsh stab to his heart – but he would recover. Just like he had before.  

“So you really want to be my boyfriend?” You threw these words out after what felt like too long.

“I thought I made that clear by now.” Maybe you were mocking him, or maybe... you wanted the same things he did. Either way, he was raggedly tired and you could hear it in his voice from a mile away.

“Take me on dates? Hold my hand? Be exclusive with me? Not fuck other girls? Not even flirt with other girls?” It was very difficult for you to imagine Billy Hargrove as monogamous. But the clearer the image became in your mind – you wearing his jacket, having permanent dibs on the passenger’s seat of his car, going to the drive in a town over and not watching the movie, walking around with his hand in your back pocket; him flirting with you, not because he was trying to pick you up, but because you were already his and he just liked seeing you blush and giggle.

“Of course.” He finally turned to you, his voice melted into a quiet, silken softness that wrapped around you just like his jacket. You gave in and shifted your head, leaning back against the cool leather of the seat as you settled into stomach-twisting yet comforting eye contact with him. “I want it all with you. The whole deal.”

“Okay.” You agreed quietly. There were no more points to argue.

“Okay.” He said too.

You hated that you had to leave him now, but if you dared to look at his watch, you would know that you were bounding upon your curfew. (Not that your mom ever bothered to enforce it – most of the time she made jokes about you being ‘too responsible’ and said if there was anyone in world who didn’t need a curfew, it would be you.)

“I’m really sorry, but... I really should get inside.”

In what felt like a natural next move, you leaned across the center console and pressed your lips to Billy’s. He was warm and wonderful and it felt endlessly natural to chase contact with him. You placed a hand on the side of his face, keeping the other next to the ash tray so that the gear stick wouldn’t stab you to death, engaging in a simple, warm, stunning kiss.

When you went to pull away, about to say goodnight and get out of the car, his hand cupped over your ear and his lips pressed hotter into yours. You knew that you needed to leave, but you found your mind melting away at the stunning magnetism that you felt with him, at the beautiful wetness of his tongue.

And you didn’t come back to your senses until you felt his other hand sneak its way onto your breast, starting to grope the fat globe through the material of your sweatshirt, making your braless nipple pebble up in seconds.

You pulled away from his kiss gently, leaving only a breath’s worth of space between your mouths as you reached your hand up to cover his on your chest.

“I was just kissing you goodnight, Billy,” You noted, taking his hand down and placing it back on his side of the console. You could feel a heat stirring in your body, even so soon after being fucked better than you ever had been, after having three orgasms, and you knew it would be wiser to save it for later. “I wasn’t trying to get into anything again,”

He jumped away from you faster than you could blink. He seemed to be trying to press himself through the closed door of the car, if that was possible, staring you down with the expression of a kicked puppy. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“You didn’t offend me.” You wanted to make sure that he knew this. You saw the breath that he had been holding in fear deflate from his chest when your words reached the inside of his skull. His eyes were wandering over you, and you knew that he was fixating on your now hardened nipples, which were so delightfully visible through your shirt – you wished you were wearing a bra.

You crossed your arms over your chest before you posed your next question to him. “Have you ever actually kissed a girl goodnight before?”

He shrugged, choosing intently to not look at you again.

You sighed deeply. You reached over the console, not seeking searing touches or feeling ripe with want – but looking for something deeper inside Billy. You placed a hand on his thigh; a loving, caring, gentle touch. It was an honest act of human connection, in an effort to get him to open up to you.

No one had ever tried this hard to find the deeper parts of him. Hell, no one had ever tried to find parts of him deeper than his wet mouth or what was past the open fly of his jeans.

“You can tell me, Billy.”

“Most of the girls I see aren’t interested in goodnight kisses.” You could feel the true weight of each brick he was unpacking when the words poured quietly from his lips. It was something he had thought about for a long time, but never dared to speak out loud. He hated the shithole that was Hawkins, Indiana, and that’s probably why he never dared to commit his days to any one of the skanks that frequented the backseat of his car while living there. “They’re usually just whining about being dropped off a block away so their parents don’t see them sneaking back in, or telling me all the places that I can’t throw away the condom cause their mom will find it...” But he also hated the used feeling that washed over him whenever he threw away another condom and went about his day like that’s all he was good for – being a cum machine. But he didn’t dare to think that he actually deserved to have someone who truly cared about him in this world and want to have sex with him. Not Billy Hargrove. “Once they get what they want from me, it’s not really sweet romance anymore.”

“You don’t deserve that.” You squeezed his leg slightly, trying to communicate some form of understanding. “Girls get upset if you fuck them and don’t call the next day... you have the right to be upset if those same girls only see being with you as some cheap, one time thrill. A secret way to rebel behind their parents’ backs.”

That’s all Heather had talked about. The way his ass looked in his jeans. The fast car. How hot he looked when he smoked out behind the school. Pieces of him. You hated it, but up until this moment – you had only seen Billy in pieces. And now you were truly coming to see him as a whole person.

Someone who would be disappointed if he got rejected by a girl. Someone with fears, disappointments, dreams. Someone with insecurities.

“And you don’t see me that way?” He dared to ask.

“Certainly not anymore.” You gave him the most honest answer you could give, and he smiled at you.

He leaned across again, and when his lips met yours, it was a gentle, sweet, honest to God, goodnight kiss. You pulled away with a grin on your face that couldn’t have been beaten off, Billy wearing a matching one, so lovingly light headed that you almost forgot to grab your bag before you got out of the car. You closed the door behind yourself and only made it a few steps up the driveway before you heard his door opening.

“Hey!” He called out after you.

You turned around to see him quickly stepping around the car with a beacon of bright red and white nylon in his hands. Of course. How could you possibly have forgotten?

“You forgot your jacket,” He smiled as he spun the words with a new implication, and you reached out, thinking he would simply hand it to you. But instead he closed the few steps between you and, with the same poise and gentleness that he had used earlier that evening, he opened up the fabric carefully, draping it around your shoulders. It was a balmy night and you were already wearing your hoodie, but the gesture was so gentle, so tentative, so heartfelt that you had to keep the cloth draped around you to wear his affection – at least until you got inside.

“Are you working tomorrow?” He queried, desperate to keep your presence for just a few moments longer.

“No, actually. I managed to get the day off because my niece is having her sixth birthday party,”  

Billy tried not to imagine you playing with a sweet little niece that probably resembled you; he tried not to let the idea of you with a child make his heart twist in a way that he both loved and absolutely hated at the same time.

“Oh,” He was very visibly disappointed.

“But I do have to come in and pick up the order form for my new swimsuit.” This was just resurfacing to the front of your mind. It would be the perfect excuse to go and see Billy at work. Not that you really needed one. Not now that you were his girlfriend. You had to resist the schoolgirl giggle that threatened to spill from your lips at this thought. “You know. Some raging horny beast torn mine up earlier tonight.”

He let out a hardy chuckle at your comment. “So I will see you?” You nodded in reply. “Maybe I could take you out for dinner when my shift is over? I have the afternoon but I managed to get out of closing, so... you know, we could just... talk. Or something,”

He seemed delightfully unsure of himself. It was a nice change of pace for Billy.

“That sounds really good.” You were already fluttering with a beautiful kind of nervous energy – wondering what you were going to wear; wondering what a real date with Billy was going to be like. “I do have to get inside now,” You heavily resisted the urge to kiss him one last time. “Goodnight Billy,”

“Where do you wanna go out to eat?” His words chased you as you walked to your front door, deeply ignoring the soreness between your thighs – it felt oddly familiar and yet, so vastly different to be trying your best to ignore Billy, walking away from him while he desperately pleaded for your attention.

“Goodnight Billy!” You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as you gave him one last greeting, because you knew if you did, even though your mom was home (her red pickup in the driveway), you would take one look at that face and you would be inviting him in for the night.   


Billy got yelled at for coming home so late, and for having a stupid grin on his face the entire time that he was being yelled at, but for once in his life – he absolutely, entirely, did not give a fuck about one word that came out of his asshole father’s mouth.

You were finally his. He was riding that high.

He probably wouldn’t care about a damn thing that Neil said to him for at least a solid fucking month after this.


You woke up the next morning, and you mind immediately went to the events of the night previous. The cold locker against your back, his hot tongue against your clit, his thick cock splitting you open while his grunts and the metal rattled so loud in your ears. You thought maybe it had been a dream, some wild fantasy you conjured up while you were melting away with boredom in the dusty confines of the office, until you turned over in bed, and felt the soreness setting into your used body. Your legs felt like they were being weighed down with bricks, your entire pussy aching with a wonderful soreness, your lower back radiating with a weak pain as you came to face your sun bathed bedroom. You spotted Billy’s jacket hanging off the back of your desk chair, and felt a warm tingle in your stomach.

You had the over whelming urge to see him. To kiss him. To be wrapped up in those strong arms. You wanted to get up right now and walk to the pool right now and stare at him waltzing around in his tiny red shorts like one of the shameless Pool Moms-  

Before you could fully process this stream of thoughts, your mom was knocking on your closed door. The sudden disturbance of your early morning peace made you jump and sit up in bed.

“Yeah?” You called out groggily.

She opened the door a crack, peeking around the corner to smile at you. “You got in late last night, so I let you sleep in.” You had been hoping that she hadn’t noticed just how late Billy had dropped you off, but apparently, she didn’t even care. “But if you don’t get on the go soon, we’re gonna be late for Annie’s party.”

Shit. The birthday party.

“I’ll be ready soon.”

“I’m really glad you got a ride home,” She noted. With her face just barely through the door, you could see the grin she was clearly holding back. “But whose car was that?”

Of course she had been watching you through her bedroom window when she heard his obnoxious engine roar up.

You wanted desperately to yank the blankets up over your neck to cover up the hickies that you knew she was staring down right now. Sometimes, most times, she was nosier about your love life than Heather. She was truly the single mother who wanted nothing more than to be your best friend. You didn’t know how you weren’t strung out on vodka and heroine with several bad tattoos by now.

“Billy Hargrove’s.” You answered honestly.

She smiled at you. “Bring him in to meet me next time.” She closed her bedroom door behind herself as she left.

You felt a small grin forming over your lips at the idea of Billy meeting your mom.

It took much longer than you anticipated to cover up the barrage of hickies that Billy had left on your neck. (This meant that your chlorine damaged hair got shafted, and ended up being thrown up into a messy ponytail.) They had turned a deeper purple overnight, and it took the last of your good concealer and a worrying amount of foundation to get your neck (and the skin of your breasts that was visible from your low cut sundress) appearing to be all the same colour. You sat down in your desk chair to put on your modest heels, and without even really thinking about why, you grabbed Billy’s jacket off the back of it when you stood up to leave.

It was like a hundred degrees outside and you most certainly did not need a jacket, but you liked having it with you. It made you feel like you belonged to him. And even though a lot of people only saw him as an asshole – he was your asshole now. And you liked the feeling of wearing that on your back.


You had your mom drop you off at the pool when your niece’s birthday party was over. She was entirely curious about why you were so eager to go in on your day off, and you spun a fantastic lie about how you’d been working in the office and accidentally burst an entire ballpoint pen over your swimsuit, causing large blue ink stains that it would surely never recover from. And after she assured you that she’d be able to get the stains out, you told her that you had already thrown it out. What a shame. You were just gonna have to go in on your day off to get an order form for a new one.

You slipped on the jacket as you got out of the truck, and slipped your purse onto your shoulder, not giving her time to question why you needed a jacket in such warm weather before she drove away.

Heather was sitting behind the desk, chewing on the end of a pen, her feet resting on the counter carelessly. You hovered by the door for a moment when you saw her. You had been hoping it would be anybody but her. (Billy particularly, though he never took office duty because it bored him out of his mind.)

You had spent the last years practically turning purple trying to convince her that no, you would never hook up with Billy Hargrove. No, you did like Billy Hargrove. Most days you barely tolerated him. Most days you barely got by without strangling him with your bare hands. No, that was not a sign of your blooming lust. (The fact that she called it ‘blooming lust’ had made it all the more irritating for you.)

And now that you had finally given in to Billy, you had to face the fact that she had been right all along.

It had actually been her idea for you to both apply for jobs at the pool, and all this time you had a lingering suspicion that it was just a plot on her part to get you to spend more time with Billy. And for you to ‘finally’ realize your feelings for him. Or for you to just hook up with him and tell her all the dirty details.

“Hey,” You greeted her casually as you leaned against the counter.

“Oh hey (Y/N),” She was clearly surprised to see you. She took her feet down, sitting upright in the chair. “You aren’t on today, are you?”

“I’m not.” You sighed. “I need an order form for a new swimsuit.” You most definitely were not ready for her smugness when she found out the truth as to why.

A huge grin came over her face. She pushed the rolling chair back and started searching through the drawers, looking for the form you desired. You hated that grin – it was the same grin she gave you right before she asked you to pay for the pizza or asked to copy your homework because she fell asleep before she could do hers. It was the same grin she’d given you right before she asked you to take her shift in the office yesterday.

“What happened to your old one?” She asked as she handed you the form and a random pen from off the desk.

“I was doing a crossword last night before closing, and I accidentally burst a pen all over myself. The ink stains are just never gonna come out.” You told her the same lie, beginning to fill out all your information, glad that you had something else to look at so she couldn’t see the guilt of lying in your eyes.

“That’s funny,” Heather said, a deep knowing in her voice as she leaned forward on her elbows. “Don’t you usually do crosswords in pencil?”

Dammit. She knew you too well.

You shrugged it off, trying your hardest to pretend that you hadn’t been caught in the lie. “I couldn’t find one,”

You weren’t even sure why you were so hesitant to tell her. Maybe it was because you hated that she had been right this whole time. That if you had just listened to her sooner, you could have embraced Billy as a real person, not just the sex object that everyone else saw him as.

“Then, uh...” She trailed off, rising off her seat to reach across the counter to you. You had no clue what she was doing, but stilled yourself to let it happened as she gently grabbed the collar of the jacket, lifting it up to reveal a small, but pointed detail that was embroidered in red thread on the chest. Billy’s name. “Why are you wearing Billy’s jacket?”

You had actually forgotten that all the windbreakers had everyone’s names embroidered into the chest. Billy had truly branded you as his own. Even with the hickies covered, and with you recovering your ability to walk normally through the soreness surprisingly quickly – everyone could see that you were his. And you couldn’t deny that, even for a second.

You sighed deeply, finally admitting your defeat to yourself.

“Okay, you got me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Heather sat back down in the chair, smirking at you in satisfaction. “So how was he?”

“We didn’t do anything...”

You were almost immediately cut off by her. “No more lies.” She stated sharply.

Before you really realized what was happening, she had turned on the monitor behind the desk, a security monitor that you mostly used for a camera pointed at the gate leading to the outside to make sure that no one snuck in without paying the fee.

When she turned the bulky screen toward you, there, in black and white, was a recording of Billy slamming you up against the lockers with his mouth molded to yours. It was silent, but you could hear the crash in your mind, and you knew you were flushed bright red and slick between your legs (you regretted your choice not to wear any underwear beneath your dress just to tease Billy, because if your thighs got too slick, it could get awkward) just from watching the replay. When his hands came up to your swimsuit, you realized how exposed you’d be, how the monitor was facing the potential public, and whipped your hand down to push it away, hoping to hide at least some of your exploits from the world.

“There’s a camera in the men’s change room?” This was the first thing on your mind, for some reason. “Recording people changing, that can’t be legal.”

“There was a bunch of personal property stolen from lockers last year.” Heather shrugged at you, her eyes glued to the monitor, and you wanted to smack her for watching it so shamelessly. “They never took the camera down. And plus, they think it’ll keep the men from... you know. If they see the red light and think they’re being watched. But you’ve seen the showers after closing time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the comment.

“Okay, so. Now you know...”

“He’s got such a great ass...” She mumbled quietly, her eyes still glued to the monitor.

“Stop watching that!” You barked at her, leaning in over the desk to turn off the screen.

“Don’t be so touchy,” She rolled her eyes at you. She turned her attention to her nails, finding something that she felt the need to pick at, not looking at you. “I already made a copy of that for my personal collection, and I am keeping it. So don’t bother arguing. I should at least get to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

You were instantly confused. You did want to argue with her about her keeping a copy of a video of you fucking Billy, and being to shameless about it, but you got stuck on... the fruits of her labour?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She gave you that same grin again. Deeply knowing. About to hit you with something that would absolutely get under your skin. “Why do you think I gave you my closing shift? And who do you think told him to stay late because everyone else would be gone? Who do you think asked everybody else to make themselves scarce?” She leaned forward on her elbows again, a marvelous glint in her eyes. “Who do you think took your shorts from your bag on Thursday so you’d have to go around shaking your money maker for him?”

You hadn’t had the time, or really the mental presence to ask your mom where she had put your shorts, so in your mind, you were still blaming her for taking them. Of course, it hadn’t worked out exactly as Heather had planned. But it had worked out none the less.

You growled under your breath. You weren’t sure if you should be mad or if you should thank her. For initiating the best sex of your life, for starting the interaction that got you seeing Billy in a whole new light.

“I can’t believe you.” Was all you managed to get out, as you stared her down with serious tension in your eyes, but a great smile threatening to form over your lips.

“It’s not my fault you were always too stupid to realize how great you’d be for him,” She shrugged. She was truly shameless about what she had done. “And I’ve already organized all the file cabinets in here, so I had to do something to fill the time.”

“And playing puppet master in other people’s lives is your new hobby?” You sassed her, raising both your brows.

“Being right has always been my hobby.” She seemed deeply satisfied with herself. “I’m still waiting for a thank you.”

You were about to make some kind of snarky comment back, but you were instantly distracted by the feeling of someone watching you. You knew it well; but this time it made your spine tingle – it didn’t make you want to punch him in the face.

You turned to see Billy coming from the change room, his hair dripping on his shoulders, wearing a Kiss tee shirt that had the sleeves cut off to made a tank with far too large arm holes (not that you really minded seeing more of his body), a pair of tight, dark jeans and his black converse. He didn’t hesitate to come up to you and wrap an arm around your lower back before he planted a passionate kiss on your mouth. Even if it was just for a moment, you got lost in him. The masculine smell of his shampoo, his strong fingers digging into your waist.

You were finally letting yourself like him – and fuck, you were in deep.

When he pulled away from you (too depraved of oxygen to keep going, and knowing it was indecent to full-on makeout with you in this public setting), you immediately turned to Heather. She was hunched over the desk intently, pretending to do some kind of paperwork so that it wouldn’t seem like she was paying too much attention to the two of you. But you did notice the smile beaming off her lips at the affection Billy was so gratuitously giving you.

“Thank you,” You thanked her honestly. You scooped up the form you had taken from her and the pen and tossed them onto the desk in front of her. “Finish filling this out for me. Please.” She knew all your information, and she was the reason that you needed a new swimsuit in the first place. Not that you were even really complaining. “It’s the least you can do for me, Puppet Master.”

You gave her a playful wink along with the nickname before Billy was pulling you out the door for your first date.