❝and when i say i'm in love with you,❞ a long pause lays between his words, so much emotion lacing throughout his eyes, ❝i fucking mean it.❞
-⚘ in which i had a smut book with 400k reads and it got deleted. now, i'm writing new, original chapters (l...
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It began with Richie just being himself – a complete meme lord and way too proud of it.
Bill was sitting, having a laugh with his drama mates, at Patty's house party, when he spotted Richie approaching, Richie's team mates were stood close behind, egging him on obnoxiously and Bill knew he should try and leave, maybe wait him out in the bathroom till the situation de-escalated because something was definitely up. But obviously Richie caught the look in his eyes and blocked his path.
Bill sighed, he was trapped.
"Richie, what—"
"yeah, I just had a little bit too much Hennessey," he slurred, the guys from the team started laughing amongst themselves and Bill could have sworn he noticed some of them recording. A dare, that made sense, Richie could never down a dare, "just wanna tell you how I feel, yeah?" He continued, moving in closer and causing Bill to take a step back, pressing himself against the counter. He frowned up at his boyfriend in confusion as Richie, in front of all his drama friends, divulged into a sort of half rap, half song about Bill's smile; and that was the first time he was introduced to the song 'Mine' by Bazzi.
He quickly decided that he hated the damn song
Unluckily, that wasn't the end of it. Bill stupidly assumed that that single drunk episode would be the last he'd hear of the song, from Richie's mouth at least, so when he heard the tell-tale notes playing when he was waiting on the pitch – was that the fucking band?— he immediately turned to glare up at the bleachers to where he knew his boyfriend was sitting. And there he was, smiling way too widely to come across as innocent as he showed Bill his empty palms and shrugged.
Bill almost dropped the baton because he was too preoccupied giving Richie the bird.
The next time Bill was 'serenaded', it was somehow more of a shock and even less welcome.
"You so fuckin' precious when you smile," Richie whisper sang as twisted his finger slowly, not quite searching, just teasing.
"Richie, don't you fucking—uh," The younger boy's sentence cut out as Richie grazed over his prostate purposefully, his hips jolted. Bill reached down to blindly slap at Richie, catching his upper arm, when he heard him snicker. He'd always had a sort of morbid fascination with holding Bill down, ever since Bill had called him weak when they were 16. Then, it had manifested into fake wresting matches or stealing Bill's stuff and holding him back by the shoulder so he couldn't get it (Richie's arms were longer). But more recently it was this; Pressing Bill's hips into the mattress tight enough to bruise as Richie fingered him open at whatever pace he liked. And as much as Bill whined and bitched and complained, they both knew he loved it.
"Hit it from the back and drive you wild," he sang on, ignoring Bill's half protest.
"You're a fucking asshole," Bill muttered throwing his head back against the bedsheet petulantly. Richie added a second finger, still at that same torturously slow pace and Bill gasped as Richie skirted around inside of him, dodging the spot where he truly wanted them. "C'mon Rich, please," he cried out, trying to rock back on his fingers and regain control of the situation but Richie's arm only tightened across his hips. Suddenly Richie's head appeared within Bill's vision, fucking smirking like he always was, and he ground down slowly, brushing Bill's dick against his thigh,
