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Running helps. When the house is too quiet, when he can’t stop thinking about how he needs a new job, when he needs an excuse to not answer the phone because his dad will ask if he’s thought about his offer, and Steve doesn’t know how to tell him that no, he doesn’t want to work for him; no, he doesn’t know what to do either, but he knows he doesn’t want to work for his dad, doesn’t want to be the boss’ idiot son that people have to put up with even when he makes mistakes and proves to be completely incompetent.
It feels a bit like running away from his problems, yeah, but it’s hard to think about that when his muscles ache pleasantly and he has to focus on his breathing.
Steve slows down and starts walking, breathing deeply through his nose and running a hand through his damp hair to push it out of his face. It’s getting dark and it’s still hot, but it’s a bit more bearable here in the woods. The sunset is casting pink and purple lights on the trees around him and the sight is a bit eerie, but Steve likes it.
He knows these woods well, he’d spent so much time playing here with Tommy when they were kids, he could probably find his way home at night without a light. There’s the little stream they used to play in a bit further on Steve’s left, they’d come home covered in mud and Mom would scold them for being messy boys, but she was always smiling so Steve knew she didn’t really mind.
Steve feels a small smile tugging at his lips at the sight of the weird tree Tommy kept calling the Naked Chick, because he kept saying it looked like a naked woman—Steve still can’t see it.
He knows that if he keeps going in that direction, he’ll find the rocks they used to climb, he still has a scar alongside his left calf from when he slipped and fell once, the pointy edge of a rock slashing his flesh open. There’d been so much blood Tommy had started wailing and Steve had been forced to drag him back home even though he was the one who was hurt.
Steve snorts. Tommy was such a fucking crybaby.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, remembering all of this. Steve feels good here, at peace. They were good kids, but they were awful teenagers, and Steve doesn’t want to be like that anymore.
Maybe he should bring Robin here, ask her opinion about the Naked Chick, he has a feeling he’s going to be able to make fun of her for having something in common with Tommy Hagan.
Steve grins, feeling lighter and ready to go home and take a long, hot shower. He spins on his heels and starts heading back to his house when a noise makes him pause.
Steve tenses, the hair at the back of his neck standing up as he holds his breath and listens in. It sounds like rushed footsteps and it might be nothing, just someone else taking a stroll through the woods, but then there’s a thud and a groan, and Steve isn’t really thinking anymore as he quietly walks towards the origin of the sound.
He’s almost rounded the big oak tree blocking the view when he sees them, and Steve freezes and instantly feels stupid.
It’s just a couple making out against an uprooted tree, and Steve scrunches up his nose when he realizes the guy looks a lot like Billy Hargrove. Steve can’t see his face, but there’s only one guy in Hawkins with a mullet like that, and jeans that tight.
Did he really have to bring his last conquest to Steve’s woods? Okay, sure, this spot is far enough from Steve’s house it can’t really be considered his woods, they’re actually closer to the trailer park right now, but Steve can’t help but feel annoyed at the sight.
He’s about to turn on his heels and get away from here when Hargrove suddenly drops to his knees, and then Steve can’t move.
He can’t move, because that’s not a girl.
For a split second, Steve thinks maybe they were fighting, not making out, because it makes a lot more sense, but Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson doesn’t look like he was just threatened by a very angry Billy Hargrove, and why would Hargrove get on his knees to fight Munson, and—
“Fuck, baby, you’re that desperate already?” Munson asks, his voice low and amused, and Steve shouldn’t be here, Steve shouldn’t be seeing this, whatever this is, but he can’t move, because Munson puts his hand in Hargrove’s hair and tugs, and Hargrove makes a noise.
“Please,” Hargrove says, no, begs.
Munson makes a thoughtful sound, his grip on Hargrove’s hair tightening as he reaches down with his other hand and Steve can’t see what he’s doing exactly, but it looks like he’s touching Hargrove’s face. Steve feels his own face grow hot when whatever Munson does pulls a needy sound out of Hargrove.
“Ask for it, baby.”
Baby. What the fuck. What the fuck.
Hargrove huffs, and surely he’s going to tell Munson to fuck off, because this cannot be happening right now, it can’t be what Steve thinks this is, it doesn’t make any fucking sense.
“Can I suck your dick, please?”
Munson laughs, loud and delighted, and Steve has to brace himself against the tree he’s half hiding behind.
Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson. Steve knew they were—friends, he’s seen them at school, smoking by Munson’s van in the morning, he’s also spotted the two of them in Hargrove’s car more than once over the summer. He remembers thinking it was odd, because sure, they both listen to the same loud music, but he didn’t think someone like Hargrove would ever hang out with someone like Munson, and vice versa.
But this isn’t friends.
They were just making out, and Hargrove is on his knees, and he just asked Munson if he could suck his dick, like he’ll fucking die if he doesn’t get to.
“If you insist,” Munson drawls with a smirk, and then he’s letting go of Hargrove to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.
Steve can’t tear his gaze away as Hargrove reaches up, only to get his hands smacked away.
“Hands behind your back, baby,” Munson says, like he’s scolding a misbehaving child, and Steve thinks surely that’s it, that’ll be the last straw, but Hargrove fucking whines and does as he’s told, clasps his hand behind his back obediently.
Steve’s own dick is getting hard inside his shorts, and he can’t even think about what that means, because Munson is taking his dick out and Steve can see his arm flexing as he gives himself a few strokes.
“Aren’t you going to say hi?” Munsons asks, arching a brow.
Hargrove huffs, but then he’s leaning in, and Steve watches as Munson’s jaw tenses.
“So polite,” Munson coos. “That’s it, open up for me, baby.”
The next noise coming out of Hargrove’s mouth sounds muffled, and a full-body shiver runs through Steve when he realizes what it means. Munson’s eyes fall shut as Hargrove starts bobbing his head, clearly sucking his dick now, and Steve can’t believe he’s watching this.
Billy Hargrove, sucking Eddie Munson’s dick.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Munson groans.
Is he? Steve’s gotten his fair share of blowjobs but, fuck, it’s been a while, he doesn’t even remember the last time he got his dick sucked. It must have been Nancy, and it’s not something Steve wants to think about right now because it might not have been the greatest blowjob he’d received, but it’d been Nancy, it had meant something, at least for him.
Shit, what is he doing here? He’s seen and heard enough, more than enough, he—
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Munson says. “You remember the rules, baby?”
There’s a wet noise, then: “Keep my hands behind my back, tap your thigh twice if I need you to stop,” Hargrove says, and his voice sounds so low and thick it makes something hot coil in Steve’s belly.
“Good boy.”
Fuck. Fuck. Steve’s face feels like it’s on fire, and he’s so fucking hard, and he’s still standing there, watching as Munson fists Hargrove’s hair and pulls him forward.
Steve’s eyes grow wide. Munson is holding Hargrove, keeping him still, and Steve can see his hips shifting, rocking back and forth, like he’s—oh, he actually meant that. He’s doing it, he’s literally fucking Billy Hargrove’s mouth.
It looks—fuck, it looks obscene.
Steve was fifteen the first time he got his dick sucked. It was at one of his dad’s awful parties, and his only consolation had been that the adults were too busy to pay attention to him, so he’d been able to get a bit drunk. But then Lily had started talking to him, and Lily was pretty and funny and she was going to college next year, so she wasn’t like the other kids Steve had been forced to make small talk with all evening at the children’s table.
Steve ended up with his pants down his thighs, his naked butt perched on someone’s expensive desk, Lily’s mouth wrapped around his dick.
Oh, you’re big, she’d said, delighted, and Steve had almost come right there and then. He’d managed to hold back, and it had been so worth it, because then she’d started sucking on the tip of his dick, smearing her red lipstick all over the head, and it had been so good. So good that he’d started bucking his hips when she’d taken him deeper, and she had immediately pulled back with a frown.
Stay still, she had said, scolding him like a misbehaving kid, and Steve had nodded miserably, his face burning hot.
See, Steve might not be very smart, he might have barely graduated, but he can learn, and that’s a lesson he absorbed instantly. He stayed very still, got his brains sucked out of his dick by a gorgeous, older girl, came so hard he saw stars, and he’s been following Lily’s precious instruction diligently ever since.
So, Steve has definitely never fucked anyone’s mouth before.
Isn’t it painful? Or uncomfortable at least? Steve tries to picture it, and he’s not sure why he’s imagining having a dick in his mouth, but surely it can’t be good to be… used like this.
Yet, Hargrove is letting Munson do that to him, worse, he sounds like he likes it, because he’s fucking noisy, moaning around Munson’s dick like it’s the best meal he’s ever had, wet sloppy noises echoing loudly in the woods as Munson keeps shoving his dick inside his mouth.
“Fuck, look at you,” Munson is saying, and the look on his face is so fond, so full of—of affection, it makes Steve’s heart squeeze painfully inside his chest, because who looks at someone like this while fucking their mouth? “Can’t believe you dragged me out here because you couldn’t—fuck, couldn’t wait to choke on my dick.”
Hargrove moans again, louder this time. Munson chuckles. “Yeah, you want that, baby? I’ll give it to you, open wide, that’s it, fuck, yeah.”
A few girls had tried to take him a bit too far, so Steve knows what it sounds like when someone’s choking on a dick. It’s usually followed by the girl pulling back, gagging a bit before either stopping entirely or going back for it more carefully.
Hargrove doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, it’s like he completely melts into Munson’s touch, and Steve can hear the noises his throat makes as it’s being invaded by Munson’s dick.
“So good, taking me so well,” Munson babbles before pulling Hargrove off his dick. Hargrove lets out a wet gasp, it sounds so gross, Steve is so hard.
“Again, please,” Hargrove says, his voice sounds so fucking wrecked.
Munson giggles. “You’re so polite like this, so well-behaved,” he coos. “Who knew a mouth full of dick is what it’d take to get the big bad Billy Hargrove to act nicely.” Hargrove makes a keening sound, and Steve has to lean a bit more against the tree, his knees going weak. “It’s alright, love, here you go, that’s it.”
Steve wants to see. He wants to see Munson’s dick disappearing inside Hargrove’s mouth, wants to see the face he’s making as he gets his face fucked, as he chokes on a dick.
Steve can’t take it anymore. He’s so fucking hard it hurts, and there’s a voice at the back of his mind telling him this is wrong, that he should leave, but Steve ignores it and shoves a hand down his shorts.
He has to bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to hurt to hold back a moan as he wraps a hand around his dick. He feels ready to burst already, and he rests his temple against the bark of the tree as he starts stroking himself, his eyes still fixed on the pair.
Munson keeps fucking Hargrove’s mouth, pushing deep until he’s choking and convulsing on his dick, holding him for as long as possible until he lets go, and Steve squeezes the base of his own dick as he pictures doing the same: holding Billy’s face still as he shoves his dick down his throat, Billy’s nose buried in his pubes, his throat working around him, his face red and his eyes wet with tears.
Steve’s jerking off furiously, like he’s fucking fourteen again, he’s making a mess, leaking everywhere, and he’s so close already.
And Munson. Won’t. Stop. Talking.
“Billy, baby, so good, look at you, taking me so well, fuck, you’re perfect, gorgeous, so fucking pretty.” Hargrove is so fucking loud, Steve had no idea, yeah, he’s thought about it, once or twice, figured Hargrove would be the quiet, grunting type as he pounds a girl hard and fast until he’s done, but he isn’t pounding a girl right now, oh no, he’s getting his mouth fucked by the Freak, and he fucking loves it.
“Oh, babe, are those tears for me? Fuck, yeah, you’re so messy, god, I’m gonna fuck you good after this.” Steve shudders, the sight before him now replaced by Hargrove bracing himself against the uprooted tree, his pants around his ankles as Munson fucks his ass, fuck, fuck, Steve feels a whine climbing up his throat, shoves his fingers into his mouth to bite down on them.
“Gonna give it to you hard, you’ll be thinking about me all day while you sit on that chair. They’ll all be watching you, because they’re always—fuck, always watching you, aren’t they, baby? Yeah, I know you love it, but it doesn’t—ah, doesn’t matter, because you’ll be thinking about my dick,” Munson groans. “Fuck, m’gonna come, I’m—yeah, open wide, baby,” he says and then he’s pulling Hargrove off his dick, stroking it hard and fast, and Steve watches as Munson’s mouth falls open on a moan.
It feels like it takes forever, and Munson looks good, his cheeks flushed, his eyes half-lidded, Steve has even stopped stroking himself, too enraptured by the sight to keep moving.
“Show me,” Munson rasps, then groans. “Fuck, yeah, you love it, don’t you? You can swallow, baby.”
Steve can hear it, his dick twitches painfully in his hand.
“How hard are you right now?” Munson purrs, and the question isn’t directed at him, but Steve’s knees quake anyway.
“Please,” Hargrove croaks out. Fuck, his voice.
“I don’t know, I kinda feel like making you walk back like this, it’ll be very uncomfortable in those tight jeans. But you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”
Steve winces at the thought, and Hargrove fucking sobs at that.
“Wouldn’t you?” Munson insists with a harsh tug on Hargrove’s hair.
“Yes,” Hargrove keens. “Yes, yes, I would, I—fuck, Eddie, please.”
“Shhh, you’re okay, baby. Open your pants, show me how hard you are,” Munson says gently.
Hargrove moans and scrambles to do so, it looks like it takes him a couple of tries, but then he’s moaning again, and Munson whistles loudly.
“Oh, that looks painful, love. And just from sucking my dick, too.”
“Eddie, please,” Hargrove whines. He sounds so fucking miserable, fuck, is he crying?
“Okay, baby, okay, you can touch yourself, go on.”
Steve starts stroking his own cock again, his eyes falling shut.
“Slowly, that’s it, nice and slow,” Munson says, and Steve obeys without thinking, gritting his teeth as he teases the head of his dick with his thumb. “Such a lovely cock, and it’s all mine, isn’t it, babe?”
Yeah, yeah. “Yes, s’yours all yours,” Hargrove moans.
“You’re going to come for me, love? Make a big mess?” Yes, fuck, Steve’s so fucking close, he picks up the pace.
“Please, Eddie, babe, I—”
“Go ahead, come for me.”
Steve does. The orgasm hits him so hard his knees buckle and he has to brace himself against the tree with his shoulder, the bark digging in the side of his head as he presses his palm against his mouth to hold back a moan.
Steve comes all over his hand, inside his underwear, his shorts, it’s fucking gross, it feels so fucking good.
“So beautiful,” Munson says. “Clean up your mess, Billy.”
Steve’s eyes snap open, just in time to see Hargrove raise his hand, and—oh. Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and looks down as he takes his hand out of his shorts.
He brings his fingers to his mouth, catches a few droplets of cum with his tongue.
It’s fucking nasty,
“Good boy, that’s it, clean it all up.”
Steve presses his tongue against his palm, licks it up, and keeps going until his hand is shining with spit, and completely clean.
When he looks up, Munson is leaning against the uprooted tree, Hargrove is still kneeling at his feet, but his head is resting against Munson’s thigh. Munson is smoking a cigarette, his other hand gently petting Hargrove’s hair.
Steve wants—
“You falling asleep on me, California?” Munson asks, his voice low and soft and tender.
Hargrove mumbles something, too low for Steve to hear it, but it makes Munson laugh.
“I’m sorry, darling, sweetheart, light of my life, moon to my stars, su—”
“Eddie?”
“Yes, sweetcheeks?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Munson laughs. “You’re back with me?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hargrove says, his voice still hoarse. “Help me up.”
Munson does with a grunt, and then they’re kissing, and Steve feels sick.
He quietly slides back behind the tree, his hands and legs shaking as he leans against it.
“What?” he hears Hargrove ask.
“I thought I saw—”
Steve’s whole body goes tense, his blood runs cold.
He stops breathing.
“Saw what?” Hargrove sounds tense now, almost scared.
“Nothing, don’t worry. Come on, let’s go home.”
Steve listens to the sound of their footsteps retreating, his heart in his throat.
The woods are quiet suddenly, and dark, and Steve is cold. His underwear feels sticky and wet, because he came in his fucking shorts while watching Munson fuck Hargrove’s mouth, like a fucking creep.
Shame coils in his belly, makes his cheeks burn hot.
What the fuck, Steve. What the fuck.
He looks at his hands, he can still taste his own cum on his tongue, because Munson said to clean up his mess, and—
And he wasn’t talking to Steve, he was talking to Hargrove, but Steve did it anyway, because something’s wrong with him, because he’s a creep and a sad fuck who hasn’t gotten any in so long he got all hot and bothered watching two guys.
Steve’s not—he likes girls.
He loved Nancy, wanted her, desired her, fuck, watching her chew on a fucking pen while studying was enough to get him hard, he’s not—he’s just lonely.
Steve takes a deep breath and rubs a hand against his face.
He’s fine.
He just needs to go home, take a shower, and forget about this.
Steve is good at that.
Steve pulls away from the tree and starts walking.
Put the memory in a box, and throw away the key.