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The SU bar is crowded, but Steve has a perfect line of sight to Reece at the bar. He's been watching him for twenty minutes, watching him laugh throatily at some third-year's jokes, watching him lean in just slightly too close, letting the guy’s hands drift closer and closer to his waist while he pretends not to notice.
"He's getting better at this," Mark observes, watching Steve's knuckles whiten around his glass.
"Better at what?"
"Making you jealous." Mark sips his beer. "Look. He's actually learned how to act."
On cue, Reece lets out another practiced laugh, touching the older student's arm in that way he has - the way he first touched Steve, all those months ago.
"If he wants my attention," Steve says through gritted teeth, "he doesn’t have to play stupid games."
"Doesn’t he?" Mark's tone is mild. "Sometimes I think he's still working out exactly what he can get from you. And what he has to do to get it."
At the bar, Reece tilts his head to one side, looks up through his lashes, and flashes his teeth in a pert grin. The third-year - Tom? Tim? Whatever - leans in closer, clearly enchanted.
"You're going to break that glass," Mark observes.
Steve looks down at his white-knuckled grip on his pint. "He's doing it on purpose."
"Of course he is." Mark's voice betrays just how amusing he finds the whole situation. He lights a cigarette and lets the smoke haze between them. "Question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"I should-" Steve starts to rise, but Mark's hand on his arm stops him.
"Wait."
"For what?"
"Watch."
Reece glances over at their table, so quickly most people would miss it. But Steve catches it - the flash of calculation in those eyes before Reece turns back to his admirer, giggling at something that probably isn't even funny.
"Little bastard," Steve mutters, but there's something like admiration in his voice.
"Mmm. He's smarter than we gave him credit for," Mark agrees, tapping ash into an overflowing glass tray. "Always was. We just got distracted by how pretty he is on his knees."
It’s obvious, now Steve knows what he’s looking at. Every move Reece makes, from the way he has to look up at the other student through his fringe to the occasional darting of his tongue across his lips, is designed to get his attention.
The third-year is whispering something in Reece's ear now, one hand braced against the bar behind him, effectively caging him in. Reece's smile is the perfect mix of shy interest and naivety.
Steve stands. This time Mark doesn't stop him.
He crosses the pub in quick strides, coming up behind Reece and wrapping an arm around his waist. The possessiveness of the gesture is deliberate, matching Reece's performance with his own.
"Steve!" Reece's surprise is perfectly acted, his whole body doing a little startled movement that makes him seem even smaller than usual. "Have you met Tom? He’s doing a PGCE. He was just telling me about-"
"Time to go home," Steve says quietly, right against Reece's ear.
The third-year - Tom, apparently - looks between them uncertainly. "Oh, are you two..."
"Yes," Steve says flatly. "We are."
"No. We're not," Reece counters, but he's already melting back against Steve's chest even as he protests.
Tom takes a step back, hands raised. "Sorry mate, I didn't realise-"
"Maybe I'll see you around!" Reece calls brightly as Steve steers him away.
The cold air hits them as they exit the pub. Steve keeps walking, practically dragging Reece along, until they're in the alley beside the building.
"What the fuck was that?" Steve demands, pushing Reece against the wall.
"I don't know what you mean." But Reece's smirk says otherwise. "I was just being friendly."
"No," Steve says. "You were yanking my chain. Pretty effectively, I might add."
For a moment Reece looks uncertain - caught out in his manipulation. Then his chin lifts defiantly. "You don't get to tell me who to talk to."
The brick is rough against Reece's back, catching at his shirt. Music from the pub bleeds through the wall, muffled and distorted. The pub door opens, spilling light and noise. Mark's silhouette appears, then moves to lean against the opposite wall. His cigarette glows in the darkness.
"Well?" he calls softly. "Did our boy get what he wanted?"
Reece's breath catches.
"Did you?" Steve asks.
"I don't know what you’re talking abou-" Reece starts, but Steve's hand moves to his face, grasping his cheeks, fingers pressing either side of his mouth in a tight grip that forces Reece's lips to pout even more than usual.
"Don't lie. Not now.”
Mark's cigarette arcs through the darkness as he flicks ash. "Told you he was getting better at manipulation."
"Fuck off!” Reece and Steve say in tandem, making Mark smirk and raise an eyebrow.
The moment hangs between them - Reece pinned against rough brick, Steve's body holding him there, Mark watching it all unfold. Bass from the pub throbs through the wall like a heartbeat.
"Take him home," Mark says finally. Steve realizes he's pressed fully against Reece now, and the younger man's eyes are dark, his breath coming fast and shallow like a trapped animal's.
"Home," Mark says again. "Before this gets indecent."
But they all know it's been indecent from the start.
The walk back is tense. Steve keeps his hand pinched on Reece's neck, ostensibly guiding him but really just maintaining contact - proof of ownership that Reece claims not to want.
In Reece's room, it all breaks loose. The tension brewing between them explodes as Steve slams the door behind him. He grabs Reece by his shirt, shoving him against the wall with a force that sends tremors through the room. Rage and lust fight for dominance in Steve's eyes as he stands over the smaller man.
"You want to play games?" he growls, yanking at Reece's belt and roughly pulling it down. "I'll show you fucking games."
Reece’s hands bat weakly at Steve's chest, a half-hearted attempt at pushing him away even though his erection is obvious to them both.
"You want to act like you’re not mine?" Steve growls, his breath hot against Reece's ear. "Fine. Let's see how long you can keep pretending."
"I'm not yours," Reece gasps, even as Steve’s hands move to his wrists, and grip them tightly. "I'm not- ah!"
Steve bites down on the place where his neck meets his shoulder. "No? Then why are you so hard for me already? Why are you begging for it?"
"I'm not begging," Reece says petulantly, but his hips are rolling forward desperately.
Steve's voice is low, dangerous in Reece's ear. "No, but you will be."
Steve's mouth crashes down in a brutal kiss that is more punishment than passion. He pushes Reece onto the bed, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his ankles.
"Fuck you," Reece mumbles against Steve's mouth, but the words dissolve into moans as Steve’s hand wraps around his cock.
"You know what I hate the most, Reece?" Steve pants in between biting kisses down the column of the younger man's neck, his grip on his cock tightening just a little too much. "It's not that you can't keep your dick in your pants. It's that you don't even care who's watching."
Reece tries to look indignant, but it's ruined by the way his hips are bucking into Steve's grip. "I... I... I didn't... shit... I didn't think you c-cared," he stutters out, his voice strained.
"Oh, you didn't, did you?" Steve sneers, picking up the pace of his strokes. "Is that why you were acting like a whore? Looking for someone to treat you like the filthy slut you are?"
Reece bites his lip, desperate to maintain some semblance of composure, but the truth is evident in every shuddering breath and tremble that courses through his body. His cock twitches against Steve's grip, leaking pre-cum onto his stomach. His protests have dissolved into desperate gasps for air as Steve works him mercilessly.
Steve reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube, popping the cap with one hand while never losing his grip on Reece's cock with the other. He slicks up his own length quickly, not bothering with any finesse as he positions himself between Reece's spread legs.
Reece watches him through hooded eyes. He knows what's coming next.
"I'm not yours," Reece taunts, then gasps out loud as Steve enters him in one hard thrust, filling him completely.
"You. Are. Mine," Steve growls between clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a vicious snap of his hips. It’s rough and fast, their bodies slapping together with each thrust. Reece keens in response, his back arching, unable to control the pleasure coursing through him.
"I'm not," Reece insists again, but his voice is rising in pitch and it sounds more like a plea than a protest.
"You are," Steve says fiercely, leaning down to capture Reece’s lips in another bruising kiss. "You always have been."
Reece moans into the kiss, his hips bucking with ever-increasing desperation as Steve's thrusts grow even harder, more relentless. The bed frame creaks in time with their frantic pace, the headboard thumping against the wall.
"Say it," Steve growls into his ear. "Say you're mine."
"No," Reece gasps, but his voice is weakening. The urge to submit is too strong, especially when it feels this good. He pushes back against Steve, taking him in even deeper.
"Say it," Steve growls once more, one hand gripping Reece's hips so tightly they'll leave marks, his own hips grinding against him like he's trying to brand him with every thrust. His other hand roughly massages Reece's cock in time with his rhythmic pounding.
Reece moans again, his body betraying him by arching into Steve's rough touches and insatiable thrusts.
"Fuck," Reece curses through gritted teeth, his nails digging into the sheets as he tries to resist. He bites his lip so hard he draws blood, but it's no use. The intensity in Steve's voice, the raw possessiveness and desire, sends a shiver through Reece that he can't fight. His resolve crumbles under the onslaught of Steve's relentless fucking, his touches both painful and exquisite.
"Fine!" Reece finally cries out, unable to take it any longer. "I'm yours! You fucking bastard!" His back arches off the bed as he spits out the words.
As soon as the admission leaves his lips, his entire body tenses as his orgasm crashes through him. His cock throbs in Steve's grip, shooting thick ropes of cum onto his chest and stomach. His eyes roll back in his head as wave after wave of pleasure courses through him, blinding him to everything but the sensation of Steve inside him, owning him completely.
Steve growls in response, surging even deeper inside of Reece, his hips pistoning relentlessly as he pounds into him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with their ragged breaths and moans of pleasure. With a final, guttural moan, Steve's orgasm explodes within Reece. His grip on his hips tightens even more, fingers digging into his skin.
Slowly, Steve withdraws and collapses on top of the smaller man, their chests heaving in unison as they both try to catch their breath.
"Happy now?" Steve's voice is rough. "Got what you wanted?"
Reece stares up at the ceiling - lips swollen, throat marked, eyes bright with victory. His entire body feels raw and used.
"Oh yes," he breathes.