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So messed up, I want you here

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“Wakey, wakey, princess.”

’Rgrove? ” Harrington slurs, face half buried in his pillow. God, he’s beautiful in the morning light, mouth soft, that little frown etched into his brow. Almost as beautiful as he was taking Billy’s knot last night.

Billy grabs his cigarettes while he watches Harrington sit up with a wince.

Billy smiles, slow and feral. “Slept well?”

He offers the pack, but it’s just an excuse to get Harrington to put his wrist within reach.

Billy grabs and pulls and Harrington tumbles in his lap, long limbs flailing.

“What the fuck?” He snaps and tries to push off Billy, but Billy is strong, so much stronger than the average human: Harrington has no chance. He keeps his hold loose enough that Harrington can tug and struggle and tire himself out without adding to the collection of marks on his milky skin.

Marks that Billy put there, sucking at Harrignton’s sweat slicked neck, at his heaving chest, holding on tight on slim hips, fingers digging into tense muscle.

He licks a long stripe down Harrington’s neck, presses his teeth where the skin has gone purple and tender, where he should put his bite, and Harrington stills, goes slack and pliant, breath trapped in his chest.

Good bitch. He’s starting to figure this out.

“Let me go,” Harrington is saying. He tries for steady and pissed, but it comes out breathless instead and Billy is already addicted to making Harrington breathless.

“Nah,” he replies, adds another scrape of teeth, doesn’t miss the way Harrington shudders, his scent goes sharper. “‘m not done with you yet, princess.”

Harrington gives him an incredulous look, which turns sour as soon as he realises Billy is not relenting. “Fuck off,” he spits, and plants an elbow into Billy’s gut. Billy’s hold slackens a fraction, and Harrington seizes the opportunity.

He doesn’t get far before Billy is on him. He ends on his back, Billy straddling his thighs, holding his wrists high above his head.

There’s no hiding Harrington’s arousal, not exposed as he is, but Harrington’s eyes are cold and dark. His scent is dizzying, a mix of hunger and anger, it doesn’t make any sense, Harrington doesn’t make any sense.

“Get off me,” he growls and bucks, and Billy smirks and tightens his grip.

Well, if this is how Harrington wants to play - the wolf does love a chase. Billy cages both wrists in one hand and palms at Harrington’s hard cock, skin hot and velvety under his touch.

Billy jacks him off slowly, wrist twisting just so. Harrington makes the most endearing noises as his mouth slackens and his hips start rocking. When Billy’s hand stills, he fucks into his grip twice before he realises what he’s doing.

His eyes go wide when he meets Billy’s knowing gaze. His face flushes pink, and he moves his head to the side, lowers his eyelashes, hides. Billy rubs his thumb over the wet slit , just enough pressure to border on too much, and smirks, wide and mean, when Harrington gasps.

“No need to play hard to get, we both know you want it,” he offers and smears Harrington’s precome over his lower lip. Harrington flinches, but his tongue darts out to dab and the slick, at Billy’s thumb before he snaps his teeth, tries to bite at Billy’s knuckle. Not fast enough. Billy chuckles and Harrignton starts pulling at his wrists again, hard enough to make his bones grind together in Billy’s hold.

“Fuck off,” he growls. Billy ignores him and reaches between his legs instead. The furled hole it’s hot and soft to the touch, well fucked and twitching, begging to be filled. Billy hums and pushes two fingers in, slowly. He rubs and curls and presses at that place that makes Harrington’s mouth falls open and his eyes flutter shut. “Still slick and loose from taking my knot,” he grins. “Bitch.”

“I’m not a bitch,” he grits out. He’s got guts, Billy must give him that. The only one who would ever dare to fight back against him, even when at his most vulnerable, even when it means fighting against his own desire.

“Of course you are,” Billy murmurs, adds a third finger, twists, teases. “I turned you. That makes you a bitch. My bitch.”

Harrington shakes his head, in pleasure or in denial, Billy can’t tell.

“I was fucking high,” he says.

Bullshit,” Billy chuckles, pulls his fingers free, wipes them on Harrinton’s tense stomach, watches him flinch. “I would have known, same way I know you want this. You reek with it.”

A smile spreads on Harrington’s mouth, slow and mean. “Doesn’t mean I want you .”

Before he can control the beast, Billy’s hand wraps itself around Harrington’s pale throat.

“Shut up,” he warns.

Harrington just stares back, placid.

“Come on, then,” he rasps under Billy’s grip. “Make me.”

He could, he has. They both know. What Harringont doesn’t seem to know, is that he would never. 

Billy shoves off Harrington, stumbles off the bed, blinded by the implication.

Harrington takes it in stride, sprawls back against the headboard still naked, still hard, still so fucking beautiful.

Billy can’t think, he can’t think .

“Get out,” he hears over the roar of his betrayed heart. “We’re done.”

Those dark eyes are hard and cold, wet stones and Billy is slipping. He forces out a chuckle, forces himself into motion.

“I turned you bitch, Harrington.” His voice is gravel and petrol, his limbs and heart lead.  “We’re never going to be done .”

-

To Harrington’s credit, it takes him a full week to cave, but cave he does.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

Billy leans against the Camaro, hides his relief behind a cigarette, his aviators. Because what if Harrington didn’t come to him? What if Harrington found some other alpha? “Told you. Turned you bitch. Just like you wanted.”

“You never said it would feel like -“ Harrington he bites on his lips.

“Like what? Like you’re in heat?” Billy shrugs. “Thought you knew, princess. Everyone knows.”

Harrington looks away and, fuck, Billy thinks. He barks out a laugh, unhinged, but then Harrington must be insane if he got himself turned without knowing what it would entail.

Harrington scuffs the toe of his expensive sneaker to the ground, shrugs.

“Yeah, well, I thought -” he stops, huffs, mouth pinched. “Doesn’t matter. How do I make it stop.”

Billy shrugs, unwilling to show how much he hates the idea that Harrington doesn’t want Billy to help. “Same way you started it.”

He watches with grim satisfaction as Harrington works his jaw, chews on his lips, processes the news. He seems about to shake out of his skin and Billy bites his tongue until he tastes blood to stop himself from reaching out. He manages to count to ten, then he has to get in the car - before he’s the one begging.

One more week, he tells himself as he watches Harrington disappear in the rearview mirror, head bent, shoulders tense. Harrington must come to him, just like he did that night, when he walked up to Billy in the chaos of that stupid party, put his fingers on Billy’s wrist, his eyes on Billy’s mouth and said let’s get out of here.

One more week and Harrington will come to him, he will. Billy can’t bear to think otherwise.

-

Harrington finds him again after five days. The scent of him hits Billy like Tina’s spiked punch, sweet and ripe, heady, like the knowledge that Harrington hasn’t found release elsewhere.

“Billy,” he murmurs and Billy is once more biting his tongue and shoving his hands in his pockets before he does something stupid. His name in that mouth does things to him.

“Pretty boy,” he sucks on his teeth, smiles, slow and smug. “Anything I can help you with?”

He watches Harrington sway at his scent, a parched leaf, Billy the east wind.

“I need -“ Harrington licks his lips, stalls, unable to give voice to his need.

“What? An alpha cock?” Billy offers, cutting. He crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back. Harrington stumbles after him, nostrils flaring, a dog on a leash, but Billy keeps himself out of reach: Harrington needs to be sure, Billy needs him to be sure. “Ask your pal Byers. Bet he’d give it to you real nice. Maybe even get Wheeler to watch for old times sake. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

It’s crass, but true. If Harrington didn’t want him, he could fuck any alpha to scratch the itch, to get by. It’s not like Billy claimed him. And Billy knows there would be plenty of alphas willing to fuck a pretty boy like Harrington, even in this shithole of a town. But Harrington shakes his head, gives him a look, half obstinate, half pleading. Those eyes of his are sprung traps and Billy should have known better than to go looking into them..

“I don’t want Jonathan,” Harrington says and looks away, eyelashes casting shadows on his heated cheeks. Such a fucking tease.

“You don’t want me, either,” Billy points out.

Harrington rubs at his brow and for a moment he looks on the verge of tears. But then he sets his jaw, glares, cheeks flushing. “Do I have to beg?” He grits out. “That gets you off? Makes you feel like an alpha ?”

Billy raises an eyebrow at the outburst, and Harrington winces and closes his eyes, takes a shuddering breath.

Oh, well. Billy clicks his tongue, goes for the kill.

“Thing is am an alpha, princess. And I need a nice submissive bitch .”

Harrington flinches at the words, but when he opens his eyes again there’s a kind of grim determination in them and Billy can tell that underneath the burning need, he’s still Harrington. Still fighting this, whatever this is, even as he holds Billy’s gaze and kneels, he kneels for Billy - right there, in the school parking lot.

Jesus. Fuck.

Billy digs his fingernails in the palms of his hands to stop himself from slamming Harrington over the hood of the Camaro and fucking him right there, in front of the staring students.

Instead he takes a breath and hopes his voice comes out steady because he feels anything but: “All right, then. Get in the car.”

-

They are back where they left off, Harrington naked on his preppy boy bed, three fingers deep in his ass, lube shining on them and on his rim, stretching himself for Billy, like a good bitch. And if that wasn’t enough to drive Billy mad with want, Harrington’s smells so sweet, so desperate. Billy is drunk with it.

”Enough,” Billy growls. “Hands and knees.” Harrington squeezes his eyes shut, frustration etching a line between his eyebrows, but he obeys, pulls his fingers out and moves on the bed, lithe body rearranging to present, hips up, head down, thighs parted to show his willingness, his submission.

Billy can see the humiliation in the flushed cheek pressed on the rumpled sheet, the sour twist of that mouth. It’s not mindless obedience: it costs Harrington to do this, to offer himself to Billy like this. Yet he’s doing it anyway.

God, Billy needs to get inside him, claim him for good.

Instead he approaches the bed, thumbs at Harrington’s slick pucker, watches it flutter as Harrington tenses and shudders but holds himself still for Billy’s inspection.

“Last chance, princess. We do this, you are mine. You try to deny it again and I’ll fucking collar you.”

It’s not an empty threat. Harrington must know that traditional alphas get their bitches to wear a collar in public.

Harrington swallows, slow and hard. Billy waits. He needs to know .

Harrington gives a sharp nod, a jerk of his head as if someone tugged on his strings, forced the answer out of him.

“Say it,” Billy insists.

Harrington clenches his jaw, closes his eyes.

“Look me in the eye and say it .”

The moment he caves, oh, it’s glorious. Billy could come then, on that surrender, on that gaze, on those words.

“I’m your bitch ,” Harrington grits out, eyes blazing, voice flat - ah, the stubborn bastard. So defiant, so fucking perfect. He makes Billy’s blood sing.

Billy barks a laugh, rubs at Harrignton’s tense back, counts the knobs of his spine. “That’s right. And I’m going to fuck you like one.”

Billy pushes three fingers in, watches mesmerized as Harrignton’s hole swallows them. He prods and twists until he finds what he’s looking for, until Harrington mewls with every precise press and curl.

He can’t come, not like this, not without being pumped full of Billy’s seed first, and Billy wants him to know, he wants Harrington to understand that he’s Billy’s now.

“Could do this all night,” he muses. It’s an entertaining thought, and Harrington’s desperation is a thing of beauty.  “Get you to know what it means to beg like a bitch in heat. Maybe that would teach you.”

He adds a fourth finger and pushes all the way in to the third knuckle, slow and steady, relentless. Harrignont’s hole is well stretched for his dick, but not nearly enough for his knot and he doesn’t want to hurt him - not like that. He wants to wreck Harrington with pleasure . Harrington bites back a slutty moan, fists the sheets, rocks his hips meeting Billy’s thrusts, chasing an impossible climax.

“Fuck me,” he groans, but Billy just teases the stretched rim and rubs at Harrington’s prostate, stealing gasps and curses. Again and again until Harrington squeezes his eyes shut, tears clinging to his eyelashes, mouth twisted in almost pain. “Come on, you bastard, fuck me like the bitch I am.”

Billy chuckles. When he asks so nicely, how can Billy refuse him?

He slips his fingers free, gets on top of Harrington and lines his cock, head catching at the swollen rim. Harrington’s back arches wantonly, pushes himself back, a broken whine escaping his lips as he opens up for Billy. Billy stills, fully sheated, and savours the moment, the clench of Harrington around him. He mouths at a tense shoulder, hot and salty under his tongue. Harrington gives a full body shudder when he scrapes his teeth over his skin, and that’s when Billy starts rocking into him, slow precise thrusts that nail Harrington’s prostate everytime and make him gasp and whimper.

It’s not enough.

Billy wants to own all of him. He grasps Harrington’s stiff, dripping cock and pumps it in time with his thrusts, relishing at Harrington’s choked moan.

“Good bitch,” Billy murmurs, snaps his hips, grinds them, rubs at the soaked tip of Harrington’s erection. “You take what I give you, when I give it to you.”

Harrington must be burning from within, with his orgasm so close yet unattainable, he must be seething, being so completely dependent on Billy’s mercy.

“Billy.” It’s like a soap bubble, tiny and precious, emerging from those lips and immediately bursting. “Billy, please .

“Not yet,” Billy soothes, not unkind, and he lets go of Harrington’s cock, scrapes his teeth to Harrington’s sweat slick neck. Then he grabs at the slender waist and thrusts harder, deeper - meaner.

“Ah, fuck, ” Harrington sobs, arms giving out underneath him. He can only lay there, clutching at the bedsheet as Billy chuckles, serves him long, punishing strokes. “That’s the idea, pretty boy. I’m going to take you apart.”

Harrington writhes against him, curses and gasps but not once he protests, not once he tries to fight back. He’s so hot and slick where he clenches around Billy, and the pale skin of his back is flushed pink and damp with sweat.

“Going to fill you up,” Billy muses, orgasm approaching. “Going to breed you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be dripping with it for days. Any wolf will smell it on you from across town. A sniff and they’ll know you are mine. My bitch.”

And that’s what tips him over the edge, the knowledge that Harrington is now his. It tips Harrington over the edge too, the moment the chemicals in Billy’s seed hit his bloodstream and allow his release.

“Billy?” he gasps, almost confused, almost scared, like he forgot what it’s like to come, like he‘s asking for permission.

“Come,” Billy grunts and Harrington is coming, clenching like a vise around Billy, breath locking in his chest as Billy, still hard, grits his teeth and fucks him through it, chases each spasm of Harrignont’s ass around his dick. He grips Harrington’s spluttering cock to wring out the last of his pleasure, keeps pumping him and into him until Harrignton is begging him to stop, shaking, spent.

Billy is not done, but he slows his rhythm and lightens his touch until Harrington stops thrashing and just lays there, whimpering, a boneless heap rocked by shudders and Billy’s cock.

Fucked out and oversensitive, Harrington is a treat. Quiet and subdued for once, eyes glazed and defenceless where he collapsed on the mattress. Only Billy’s hands on his hips and his cock keep him up, while Billy works him back to hardness, his touch relentless. It doesn’t take long, one of the perks of being turned bitch.

“Look at you,” Billy mutters, as Harrington arches his back and starts meeting his thrusts. “Made for this, for me.” Billy tugs one last time at Harrington’s dick before letting it go and pulling out. Harrington gasps and arches against him as if his overworked body can’t bear to not have Billy tormenting it, owning it, even for a second. But Billy is already pulling Harrington to his chest, until he’s straddling his legs. He needs to watch Harrington's face as he takes his knot, he needs to see . Rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back, he guides him back down on his cock, kisses the whimpers off swollen lips, until he’s back inside that addictive heat, Harrington thoroughly impaled.

Billy takes it easy this time, his touch light and playful as he stokes Harrington’s arousal, pinching a nipple, rubbing at the stretched rim where they are joined. His mouth traces Harrington’s neck, tongue licking at the shell of his ear, mapping the moles on his neck.

He keeps it slow, he keeps it gentle: he wants Harrington nice and relaxed when he takes Billy’s knot.

But with every touch, every kiss, Harrington grows tenser, his eyes close off.

“You going to knot me anytime soon?” He snaps and Billy’s wolf snarls, wants to push Harrington underneath him and show him who is in charge. Billy bites his tongue, forces his hands to stay feather light.

“Moment you get off you forget your manners?” He teases. “Shall I teach you again who owns you?”

He sucks another bruise on Harrington’s neck and catches him leaning into the touch before his brain must kick in again and he wrenches his head away.

Undeterred, Billy cradles the back of his skull, fists chocolate hair, finds his mouth and kisses him.

And Harrington - Harrington, the crazy bastard, bites him.

Billy pulls away, licks at the wound on his lip, blood sharp on his tongue and finds Harrington is looking back, wide eyed, mouth parted, lips stained red - like he can’t believe he did that. He’s quick to recover though, defiant look back on his face like daring Billy to retaliate.

“It’s like you want me to be mean,” Billy wonders and the wolf is pushing to break free, to teach the bitch a lesson. “That’s what gets you off?”

Harrington looks away, hair in his eyes, mouth pinched. And yes, there’s something, something going on with him and Billy needs to know.

“What does it matter? I’m just a bitch.”

When he raises a hand to run a thumb on Harrington’s cheek, Harrington flinches, but closes his eyes, offers his face, resigned.

Billy’s heart stutters in his chest.

His fingers skim over heated skin, the ghost of a touch. It’s more gentle than Billy thought himself capable of, and Harrington’s mouth goes soft, his eyes open, uncertain, hungry, as he leans into the touch.

My bitch,” Billy explains. Suddenly he’s trembling under Billy’s touch, and Billy wants to go for soft, but his words come out forceful, an animal growl. “ Mine .”

Harrington stares back, stunned, and Billy goes to kiss him again, deep and filthy and this time, this time Harrington kisses back, just as hungry and desperate, arms locking around Billy’s neck.

Harrington rocks in his lap, his cock rubbing against Billy’s abs, his mouth never leaving Billy’s and Billy can feel his knot swell where he’s burrowed deep into Harrington’.

“Mine,” he growls one last time and Harrington keens in his mouth as the knot catches on his rim, trapping Billy within him. He watches as Harrington’s eyes go wide at the stretch, his mouth slack, his breath stutters in his chest. He kisses the soft lips and tugs at Harrington’s dick, still hard between them. He mouths at Harrington’s neck, smiles when the other tilts his head, offers the tender skin of his throat to Billy’s sharp teeth.

“Come for me, pretty boy,” Billy murmurs, simply, and Harrington does just that, spilling between them, clenching around Billy’s knot, holding on to Billy as if about to be swept away. It’s enough to tip Billy over the edge. He comes too, world spinning out of axis.

Billy pets Harrington’s back as he shakes with his orgasm, mouths at his cheek. Harrington responds with soft sighs, his head lolling on Billy’s shoulder. Billy never wants to let go.

“All right?” Billy checks, and Harrington hums his assent, sated and lax, fingers carding through Billy’s curls and Billy can feel the beast quieten for the first time since he laid eyes on Harrington that fateful night. So he lets the sound of Harrington’s breath, the smell of him and the touch in his hair lull him into a moment of pure quiet, and they just are.

+

On Monday morning, the news spread around Hawkins High like wildfire. Harrington showed up with his neck marked and reeking of Billy. He holds his head high, though, scoffs at the murmurs and god, Billy wants to kiss him stupid.

So he does just that, crowding him against his locker, revelling in the gossip buzzing around them.

“Princess,” he leers.

“Billy,” Harrington huffs, a hint of annoyance on his face. Still, when Billy taps his chin he tilts his face up, and lets himself be kissed, wet and filthy.

It’s only when Billy pushes a thigh against his groin that he pulls back and shoves at Billy’s chest, red faced and out of breath.

“Come on, everyone’s watching.”

Billy shrugs, unmoved. “Good. Want everyone to know you are mine.”

Harrington rolls his eyes, but there’s a tiny smile in his lips and he smells eager. He smells like Billy.

“As if anyone could have missed that,” he snorts and tries to squirm away.

Billy nuzzles at his cheek, a warning growl in his chest.

Harrington goes still, then he exposes his throat and lets Billy suck a new bruise on his skin.

“Fuck,” he winces, rubbing at the inflamed flesh. “Possessive much?”

“Mind the attitude, pretty boy. I’ve got that collar right here.” He pats the pocket of his jacket and Harrington’s face twists with something like hunger, before he schools his expression into bland annoyance.

“Okay, okay, sorry . Jesus.” He grabs his notes and slams his locker shut, rolls his eyes.

“Good bitch,” Billy nods and watches him go, watches the other students’ envious eyes follow.

He doesn’t mind. Mine, Billy thinks and the wolf howls. Mine .