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“The Stroke”

Verse: Stranger Things

Characters/Pairings: Billy Hargrove, Billy Hargrove/ Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), creampie, hand jobs, driving while fucking (please don’t do this), PWP, hardcore eye fucking, Billy being Billy.

Word Count: 6946

Summary: When the weather outside is too damn hot and your shitty car won’t start, Billy offers to drive you home.

Notes: As requested by the lovely @coldmuffinpartycloud and the wonderful @sleep-yv, here is part 2 to the former headcanon asking “Can I get a HC about Billy pretending to drown while his coworker jumps in to save him and its all a ploy to get her to kiss him?"

Link to Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40656261 Link to previous HC: [Link]

Another hot summer day, the heat index claiming to be a measly 90ºF but feeling like a sweltering 100ºF. You could already feel the heat wave rolling through the area taking its effect on your body despite the big umbrella covering over the lifeguard stand. You reach for your water, having already refilled it twice today and taking a generous sip, wetting your palette but sighing at the lukewarm nature it had taken on from being in the ambient heat. This was a downside of working the pool, having to deal with whatever temperature Mother Nature decided to throw your way. The other downside was the influx of people taking advantage of the open-to-the-public pool. More people meant more attention was needed, meaning you having to blow your whistle and yell more than you usually had to. Adjusting on the stand, you try to free the swimsuit clinging to your skin from the mixture of sweat and sunscreen that made it feel like a glove that was far too tight.

This was dreadful, but it was about to get so much worse when you see a familiar face come into the pool area.

The very fool who would not leave you alone for the past couple of weeks since the incident as you called it. Always with the same smug grin and aviators, letting them tip so you caught a glimpse of those baby blues that could practically see into your soul each time they came in contact with your gaze. Always with those bright red shorts that clung to his hips and ass oh so nicely. That was at least one thing you could agree with the female population at Hawkins High on, he did have a nice rump. Pretty face too if you allowed yourself to admit such, but instead you push such thoughts back in exchange for looking away from him before he has any attempt at getting your attention more than he has already. The bastard seemed to thrive off of it, knowing you were looking back, and you tried to never afford him the opportunity to know but sometimes it was a struggle. On some days, he’d catch you and give that little lip lick, or allow the intensity of his gaze alone to make you squirm. On others, he’d simply stare back, daring you to keep the contact going or be the first to turn away, which usually was what happened. Though there was that one-day Mrs. Cunningham intruded on his sexually charged staring contest and he had to look away, though he dreaded it. That day you rode on the high of knowing he broke the contact first, even if it was due to interference.

“Pretty hot out today, Sweetheart. You must be meltin’.” His voice, it had that tone that made your heart flutter just a bit faster, and fingers grip tighter on the arm rest of the elevated seat. Without missing a beat, or sparing him a glance, you respond. “Well, it’s certainly not cold now is it, Hargrove?” The sarcasm leaking from each syllable was enough to earn a chuckle from him, the lad leaning against the stand and admiring your form openly. Up close, he could make out more of you, raking over your form from the tips of your toes and moving upward over the expanses of your legs. Then your hips, your belly, your chest, before coming up to look at that cute little face of yours hidden behind dark sunglasses and over casted by a shade of red from the canopy above the lifeguard seat. He watches how you adjusted in the seat, fingers snatching the whistle that hung oh so delicately between your breast and blowing into the metal piece. A shrill whistle comes to the air, and Billy watched as you took a breath before calling out in your best authoritative voice to the children running near the pool, telling them to slow down or get out.

It's adorable when you try to be in charge.

But to that same note, it was infuriating to Billy. Ever since the day he felt your lips on his, and just the smallest smidge of you actually enjoying it before you went and landed a hard smack on his cheek, storming off not too long after, it’s all he’s been thinking of. You have been all he can think of. From the little day to day things like working on his car or chasing after the next piece of tail to sate his needs, all he has in his mind is you. He imagined you riding shotgun, his hand on your thigh as you both drove around this hellhole of a town, basking in the AC the car provides. Would you get squirmy and squeal when he hits the gas and you both take off like a bullet releasing from a gun? Would you beg him to stop, but secretly get the thrill of going so fast? Of living? On the same token, you were all he could imagine as he fucked the next girl who threw herself at him. Your legs spread for him, needy for him, begging him to just take you already. How needy you’d be for his touch, his cock, but in reality beyond his desires, you simply sat stoic in the face of his many advances. It just made him want you even more, playing hard to get with him.

“What are you doing after your shift today?” He questioned after a moment, hearing the faint chuckle leaving your lips.

“Going home and praying the AC is working.” You muse, finally sparing the man a glance and fuck, you shouldn’t have done that because the way he was looking up at you was absolutely sinful. The looks pastors warn young followers about when they supposedly look in the face of the devil and are lured in. Those blue eyes look over the aviator frames, casted up to you and twinkling with something akin to burning lust. That’s all you could chop it up to as, lust. The playboy was practically eye fucking you, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips made something in you clench at the view. You will your body as best as you can to stop the shiver threatening to travel up your spine, an odd sight in such heat. You couldn’t dare allow him to know the true effect he had over you. “My car’s got AC. I could drive you back, or maybe just take ya on a nice long ride, hm?” His fingertips trailed dangerously close to your leg as he gripped the lifeguard stand bars, as if testing the waters before allowing his digits to come in contact with your heated flesh.

Hot, his skin was way too hot against your leg, but it burned oh so deliciously as he trailed the length of your calf, up to your knee before trailing back down. You jerk your leg away when you see your boss round the corner, waving hello before turning your gaze back to the lad standing below and sending a glare. “As much as I feel others have taken your offer, I think I’m gonna pass.” Heat be damned, you were not giving in to that boy. He simply smiled, a smile that sent your mind to blank for ever a subtle moment, before coming back to reality when he speaks. “Just keep it in mind, yeah?” He pulls away from the stand, humming his acknowledgement to your shared boss as he passes back. “See ya later, sweetheart.” And with that he goes to the pool, slipping into the lukewarm depths. Oh, how you wished you could join him- Of course not for the reason of being around him! Never for that reason! But rather for some relief from the heat that surrounded you.

Your shift ticks by slowly, hand fanning at your heated flesh and breathing just a touch more labored than you would prefer. This heat was insufferable, and you knew surely you’d be melting the moment you leave the covering to start getting things ready for the end of your shift, closing up the pool and all that. “Fuck, I wish someone would just drown so I can get in that water.” You mumble to yourself. Of course, you’d never want to see anyone get hurt, but any excuse to get in the water would be glorious. Just a little dip and it’d all be worth it, would it not? But alas, you were stuck in your place, mentally pleading the universe to send a raincloud your way, even if just for a single moment. Was that too much to ask for? Perhaps it was, but no matter, you’ll struggle through. Jumping down from the lifeguard shack and adjusting your suit from having sat so long, you begin making your rounds around the pool, carefully observing everyone there. All in all, despite the heat, you haven’t had much trouble from the children today. No one was really rough housing or horse playing, just the occasional runner or splashing at those sunbathing on the sidelines. Though you found them crazy for doing such, knowing surely these housewives and girls around your age would be burned within the hour. Bye-bye perfect tans, hello red hot, inflamed skin. In a way you envied how they could stand the heat, but in the same note you pitied them for not heeding the advice given by the weatherman to avoid the direct sunlight for long exposures during this day. Collecting the final pool noodles and tubes that laid on the sidelines, unused by the stragglers milking the last few minutes of the pool remaining open before they have to leave into the heat once more, stashing them behind the rental stand.

The sun, blaring and hot, loomed aggressively as you called out that the pool was closing, watching those who remained scurry away to find shelter from the heat waves. Good, they were in a hurry to get out of here, which meant less people you’d have to deal with as you packed things away. Watching the last person slip out from the gate, you move to lock it up and sigh in newfound relief. Finally, you can hurry up here, then get to your car and bask in the cold air it’d provide for you. Oh, that relief sounded divine, but the relief blinded you from the fact you had lost track of the blonde who had previously been staring you down as you did your little task in that little suit that just oh so nicely fit you. Peculiar, it truly was because when the thought catches up to you, you look around and don’t spot the cocky playboy who had been eye-fucking you the entirety of his stay. Maybe the heat was too much, even for him. Maybe he snuck away after a piece of tail that enticed him for the moment. You wave the possibilities and “what if’s” away from your scattered mind, exchanging for the spreadsheet before you that accounted for everything that was being stored away, checking off each item as you go. Next was cleaning up any trash from the pool and surrounding area. And finally, it was time to lock up and get ready to leave, your favorite part of this excruciating day. Placing the keys back in their respective place, you wave good night to the owner and make your way to the parking lot, a smile lingering on your lips at the prospect of heading home until you spot a familiar sight and hear the sweet purr of its engine. The 79’ Chevrolet Camaro sat idle, the blue in the paint shining brightly under the evening sun, almost blinding and causing you to squint your gaze. Oh, that’s where he went. A sigh falls from your lips, bright orbs rolling at the fact he’s still here and hand plucking your keys from your pocket as you skedaddle over to the beaten up (and frankly on its last legs) 72’ Ford Pinto. The car was a mess, having so many problems you had to fork money up for. It was no wonder you had to take double shifts at the pool just to pay for it AND try to have enough for whatever life throws at you next.

You climb into the sweltering car, throwing the door back open in need of some relief from the hot interior. The black leather pressed against your skin was excruciating, making you teether on the edge of the seat as you insert the key and try to crank the old hunk of junk. The engine sputters but doesn’t turn over the first try. “Come on baby, work with me.” The words fall out in almost a whine beneath your breath as you try once more, groaning softly when it doesn’t start up yet again. Again, and again, and again until you finally fall back against the hot leather with a noise of defeat. Great, just fucking great. You were royally screwed by this damn car, and it just had to be on the hottest day of summer. Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out another noise, peeling yourself from the hot seats and slamming the door to the car shut in frustration. The faint music playing within the confines of the Camaro grows louder, drawing your attention as you watch the blonde lean over the passenger seat, that grin resting on his lips making your tummy flutter with something akin to nerves. “Car troubles, sweetheart?” “No, I just willingly am standing here sweating my ass off while I have a ‘perfectly good’ ride here.” You reply with snark, but your tone sounded tired, like the fight was leaving it with each ticking second you stood in the direct sunlight. The playboy lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, peering over them with those familiar baby blues that could make anyone who stared back swoon. A laugh brushes past perfectly delicious looking lips, tongue tracing over them briefly as he watched you. “Really now? Well, it seems to me that your ‘perfectly good’ ride isn’t doing so hot.” He pats the door; the soft sound of metal being hit making your head throb temporarily. “I couldn’t in good conscience just leave little ole you out here to melt, now could I?” Carefully he rakes his gaze over you before leaning back from the seat. “Get in, I’ll take you home.”

In any other situation with anyone else you knew, you would have been throwing yourself into that seat and allowing your body to bask in the chilled air that flooded the cabin of the car, but alas you hesitate, even if just for a second, because of who was inviting you in. It made you nervous, thinking about being in such a confined space with Billy Hargrove, but your body screamed for relief and moved upon its own accord as you pull the door handle open and take a cautious seat on the leather seat. The moment the door closes, and you feel the air hit your heated skin, you all but sink into the seat, humming out in approval. Fuck it, you knew if you even attempted to walk in this heat home, you’d die of heat stroke or something worse. Billy gives you a final glance before pulling out of the parking lot like a bat out of Hell. Your hand shoots to the edge of the seat, clutching the chilled material between your digits, and the sounding laugh leaving his lips at your reaction makes heat rise to your already warm skin. “When’s the last time you lived a little?” He questioned suddenly, his fingers resting lazily over the stick shift while his others tap on the steering wheel. “Felt that adrenaline rush? Or has the sweet princess never had a taste of the wild side her daddy warned her about so much?”

“I’ve experienced enough as is, Hargrove. Maybe not like your Camaro but I know what speed is like.” You shake your head at him, seeing his lips shift into an ever-subtle smirk in the side profile you capture. “In that little Pinto of yours? Oh, you speed demon you. Real rule breaker going forty-five in a forty, huh?” A laugh leaves your lips despite attempting to hold it back, and you send him a look that challenged him. “Alright then, Hargrove, I’ll bite. Show me a taste of this wild side of yours since you’re so insistent in corrupting the youth of Hawkins.” A scoff brushes past his lips at the word “corrupting”. Corruption? All because some girls go a bit dick crazy over him? It’s laughable, how you assume he’s corrupting them when in reality they just want a difference within this sleepy little shit town. He’s just the new element in their boring lives. His foot presses down on the gas and he shifts into gear, the engine roaring in a beautiful show of dominance over the terrain, the car speeding off like a bullet on the long stretch of road. Your grip tightens on the leather, heart hammering in your chest, all while you watch elements pass by in a blur outside the front windshield and see the way his features contort in way that shined a different light over him. Maybe it was the heat that had whittled away at your mind, your control, but as he sped through the sleepy town like some sort of demon screaming through the streets like it was clawing its way out of Hell, he seemed more at ease. He was within his element, control of the road, control of the beat you were seated in, and control of your attention. It was a silent victory to him, knowing he had you captivated by the show he was putting on. Another laugh bubbles up from your chest and past your lips, watching how he sped around a curve, hearing a car blare their horn at him and seeing the cocky little wave he sent before he shifted gear and sped around them, making you tense at the possibility that maybe this would be it, what kills you. Speeding away in Billy Hargrove’s 79’ Camaro and dying from the heart attack he gives you with each move he makes on the road.

You hadn’t noticed when his hand had slipped to your thigh, only realizing as he slows the heat of the digits subtly rubbing at your bare skin. In a way, you cursed having to opt for shorts in this heat, but at the same time with your heart screaming at you for relief, it brought you back to the present. “Why have you been like this?” The question is sudden, startling even, and a squeeze to your thigh is given as his lips move to respond. “What ya mean, sweetheart?”

“I mean, why have you been the way that you’ve been at the pool, in the last couple of weeks? I mean,” you gesture to the hand on your thigh, and vaguely to yourself within his car, “this. Why this?”

“You gotta be a little more clear, (Last name).” He spares you a glance before gluing his eyes back to the asphalt ahead, watching the street signs pass by. A sigh of frustration leaves you and you turn towards him in the seat, his hand shifting with the move of your body before pulling back to the shift stick and resting there. Perhaps the advance was too much on his part. “What the fuck has been all this eye contact and flirting about?” Blunt, you got straight to the point now. “I mean you have been after me since I started working at the pool! Especially after the people from our school started showing up. I mean what is up with that, Billy?”

“Nothin’.” He mumbles the word, his grin falling the ever-slightest bit. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“Y’know what I mean, Billy. You’re basically being territorial with me.” You huff the words out. “It’s like the moment Steve and the other boys have been talkin’ to me…” You trail off for a moment, gaze settling on the glovebox before you as you process your own words. This all started when Steve was there, Billy barking at him to let you work. And then the flirting, and the eye contact, and the ever so subtle touches… It was like Billy just couldn’t stand to see another guy talking to you, much less Harrington. “So that’s why you’ve been so froward with me,”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re fucking jealous, aren’t you, Hargrove?” The realization slips from your lips, gaze damn near twinkling with the fact that you uncovered what it’s all about. But this hardheaded fucker wasn’t going to admit such, never to you. Especially when it came to seeing Steve with you. His grip on the wheel and gear stick tightens, and for a split second you catch the faintest dusting of color on his cheeks rising, his head tilting out of view as best as it can. Billy Hargrove was blushing. Fucking blushing, and it’s all because of you. Oh, you savored this moment, a grin slipping onto your lips as you watch his reaction. “It’s true! You’re jealous!” He bites at his lip, and you can see the white-knuckled vice he has adopted as he fights back in silence. It just wasn’t satisfying, not hearing him say the words. Every girl has begged for Billy, begged him to touch them, to speak to them, much less cast his gaze in their general direction, but here he is an embarrassed version of what he usually presents, and you want to milk it for all its worth.

Maybe it’s time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Your digits reach to the knob for the radio, turning the station up when The Stroke by Billy Squire plays, the song appropriate in your mind as you steady yourself in the seat, face moving in towards his ear and planting a delicate kiss. He swears for a moment his heart stops at the action, and it takes everything within him not to jerk the wheel when you repeat the motion, inching downward along the column of his neck after brushing aside the curled blonde locks that were in your way. Your lips, they felt like pure fire against his skin, burning a path that made him squirm and hips jump at the jolt they leave behind. “Is it true, Hargrove?” The way you whisper- no, purr- the words, his cock jumps and he sinks his teeth into the plump flash of his lip, feeling his body buzz with each subtle brush of your lips across his skin. “Scared of ‘King Steve’ staking himself on your claim that you were too scared to approach before he made his move?”

Now everybody, have you heard, if you're in the game

Then the stroke's the word

Don't take no rhythm,

Don't take no style

Gotta thirst for killin',

Grab your vial uh

“Scared?” His voice held the subtle shakiness akin to that of a virgin being with their first, those beautiful lashes of his fluttering behind the aviators that shaded him from the sun that began to set in the distance, casting the earth in shades of orange and fiery red. “Of Harrington?” He scoffs, though the noise is cut off by a low growl that goes straight to your core as you drag your chilled digits down the expanses of his sculpted chest, feeling the way his chest rises and falls just a touch quicker. They trail, brushing past his stomach before hesitating, just for a single second at the tip of his tightened jeans. His breaths in a sudden breath, licking at his lips in anticipation before another soft, subtle noise falls from his lips as you breach the layers surrounding him and reach for the hot flesh straining for release. You clutch his cock, his hips jumping up in response, and a self-satisfied hum of approval escapes your lips. “The big bad Billy Hargrove, reduced to silence all because his dick is being grabbed. This isn’t how it usually goes for you, is it?” Another hot peck is given to his ear before you drag the tip of your tongue along the shell of it, hearing how his breath grows louder, free in the air over the lyrics pouring from the song blasting on the radio.

Put your right hand out, give a firm handshake

Talk to me about that one big break

Spread your ear pollution, both far and wide

Keep your contributions by your side and

The softest of moans leave Billy’s lips as you pump his length, chewing at your lip as you watch each subtle gesture he gives away. The way his jaw twitches from how tightly its set, the soft part of his lips as he takes in a soft breath, coaxed by each brush of your thumb over his weeping tip. The way his eyes flutter, even behind the tinted shades, how each noise leaving him is strangled, held back, and the soft curse that spills from them suddenly when you grip the base of him, grabbing as much of his attention that can be dedicated away from the road towards you. “Fuck, sweetheart.” He chokes out the words, his grip damn near breaking the wheel and stick shift if he had the strength to do such. “Tell me, Billy, are you jealous because you thought Steve would finally get to fuck me before you could? Maybe that he'd do it better than you?” Another noise spills from his parted lips, and it draws out the moment you suckle a lingering mark along his throat. “Is that it, Billy? You think you could fuck me better?”

“K-Know I can.” He huffs the words out, and you can’t help the elated smirk coming to your lips. “Is that so?” You pull your hand away from his cock, spitting into your palm before returning and setting a steady rhythm. He wavers on the road for a split second, steadying himself as best as he can except for the way his hips twitch and push upward into your grasp. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t getting off on this, the power trip you were riding on enough to be dizzying to him but made his body scream in desire for your attention, maybe even your affections. In any other circumstance, it’d be his hand down your pants, his fingers buried inside of you and working you up just as you were doing to him. Up, up, up, working him up until he’s sitting right there on that edge before grasping him at the base and stopping. “Fucking hell, sweetheart.” He hisses the words, teeth clenched from the abrupt stop. “Do you want to cum, hot shot?” He glances over at you, met by the cocky smirk that had extended over your features and for a moment you’re a different girl than what he had expected you to be. He knew you were stubborn and resisting his advances, knew you were smart, and funny, and had a smile to kill for that for once he just wished was for him and him alone. That body alone spoke for itself, but what he never had expected was you fighting him for dominance, for calling him on his bullshit over Steve and the little dick fighting competition they had going on since he moved here. Never had he thought you’d play with him like this, but he knew what you wanted to hear from him. You wanted an admission of being right, that he was fighting for claim over you. He just wasn’t ready to let that go just yet.

Stroke me, stroke me

Could be a winner boy you move mighty well

Stroke me, stroke me (stroke)

Stroke me, stroke me

You got your number down

Stroke me, stroke me

Say you're a winner but babe, you're just a sinner now

Silence, you were met with silence in the face of your question and a roll of your eyes followed. “No? You don’t want to cum? I thought you liked it so much with other girls that you’d do anything to do it now.” A laugh leaves your lips, and you brush your thumb over the vein running up his length, feeling his hips jump at the contact. “Guess I was wrong, but at least I’ll admit it.” Casually, slowly, you start back on a lazy rhythm, feeling him flex and try not to thrust up into your pumping fist as he drives along the road. By now it’s just a drive, no destination in sight. He’s forgotten about asking for your address, or even traveling in the direction of his own home, and by this rate you’ll be bound for another state. But none of that mattered, not right now when you were touching him and the absolute filth pouring from your lips had him balancing on the thinnest tightrope imaginable. It was like all the stamina he had developed over the years was shot out the window the moment you started touching on him, and he couldn’t possibly explain it.

“I’ll even go as far as to admit that these little interactions we’ve been having at the pool have stuck with me. Thinkin’ about you and all.” Your words fall as a whisper, breath hitting his ear in a way that sends a shiver straight up and down his spine. It was purely erotic, the tone your voice took on, and it was better than anything he could have imagined hearing. “Yeah? What- Fuck- What have you been thinkin’ about, pretty girl?” The pet name, it was something that made your heart skip and pussy clench around the intrusion of nothingness, breaking your confidence for a split second because oh, the power of his words and what they could make you do to yourself once you’re alone was wonderous. Carefully you collect yourself, lips opening to speak but tensing when you hear the breathiness that your tone takes on. “I’ve been thinking about you in the pool, giving me one of those famous lessons you cluck on about to those little housewives that swoon over you. Backstroke…Breaststroke…Whatever you would be willing to teach me.” A huff leaves him at the visualization of such, recalling a similar thought he had about you in that very same pool, only the lesson wasn’t quite what he would offer those, as you called them, little housewives. His teeth damn near break the skin of his lip at this rate, and his gaze lands on you as your rhythm increased right back to where it had been when he was about to cum. He pulsed in your grasp, twitching, and signaling how close his release was getting just from your words alone. “I can only imagine what your hands would feel like on my body, what you could make it do if I let you.” He sucks in a breath, sharp and sudden, then a noise only recognizable over the sound of the radio that can be identified as simply a whine leaves him when you remove your hand from his jeans altogether, leaving him aching and needy for you.

“(First name)- “

“Yes Billy?” That condescending tone, fuck it got to him. You wanted him just as he wanted you. Begging. Needy. He battles with himself and the raging boner sitting tented in the tight denim around his lower half, scolding himself for the words about to spill from his lips. “(First name) …please.” Oh, that word alone would never do anything to you but hearing it come from him, hearing him say it was all the stimulation you needed in the world to open the flood gates. By now you were dripping and blanking for a stagnant moment because holy shit, he said it. Swallowing thickly, your fingers trace over the zipper of his pants, playing with the metal bit and toying with it between your fingers. “Please what, Billy?” He huffed out a breath, and you finally get a full glimpse of the color that adorned his skin, the blush from before returning tenfold and making you feel damn near feral at the sight. “Please just... Fuck it, please let me cum.”

Who were you to deny such a request?

Put your left foot out, keep it all in place

Work your way right into my face

First you try to bet me, you make my backbone slide

When you find you've bled me, slip on by, and

Pulling the zipper down before grabbing at the waistband of his jeans, you yank to your best effort on the denim material, requiring him to lift his hips momentarily before letting the fabric bunch midway on his thighs. And there it was in all its glory, the thing that drove the women of Hawkins mad and made them dick crazy for the California boy again and again. He was impressive, the rumors you come to realize being true about how well endowed the lad is. Thick, long, and absolutely throbbing for you and you alone. Pride swelled in your chest at the angry red color it had taken on at the tip, on a hair trigger for eruption and weeping pre-cum from the edging it has endured. With a second of deliberation, you reach for your shorts, working them off your hips and down the length of your legs, Billy stealing a glance every chance he can away from the road to watch you drop them to the floorboard of his car. Your panties follow, the material cast aside so quickly that he can’t even register the style of them, much less the color. A noise of surprise leaves his lips when you climb over into the driver’s side of the car, his head on instinct whipping around to keep an eye on the road, as he feels your legs surround him on the leather seat.

“Whoa sweetheart, let me pull over first-”

“I thought you liked the thrill of danger, Billy.” You feel his tip brush your slick folds, shivering gently at the contact. He felt his heart hammer and adrenaline spike at what you’re insinuating, liking this side of you. “No, keep driving.” His hand briefly pulls from the shift stick, pulling your body flush against his chest so he can rest his chin on your shoulder, watching the road as you carefully grind your slickened core against his hardened cock. His tip brushes your clit, and an airy moan falls from your lips when you repeat the action. It was only when he grew impatient do you both finally join, wasting no time sinking down his length and gripping at the thick shaft spreading your walls. “Fuck!“

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take it.” The words growl near your ear, rumbling between the contact of your pressed chest and making you clench around him in response.

Stroke me, stroke me

Give me the reason this is all night long

Stroke me, stroke me

(Stroke)

Stroke me, stroke me

Get yourself together boy

Stroke me, stroke me

Say you're a winner but man you're just a sinner now

(Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke)

“Goddamn, you’re so wet.” A chuckle brushes past your ear, choking off when your hips raise and you sink back down onto his length, setting a pace that leaves you both moaning out. His hips twitch and thrust upward to meet each downward motion, your clit grinding against his pelvic bone each time and sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. With this angle, his cock was brushing all the sweet spots deep within you that was maddening and mind numbing all in the same. Words were failing you as you rode him, clinging to his body with each push along his length and a sweetened noise spilling from your lips at each intrusion. “Billy, J-Jesus…Fucking shit…”

“Already cock drunk?” He huffs the question out suddenly, cocky in nature but edged with a hint of need that can only be contributed to the high he’s getting from rising closer and closer to his release. It’s mutual, feeling that edge get closer to where you’re about ready to fall off. It’s quicker than most, but the thrill of the situation was making the pleasure and the experience itself come tenfold. Plus, it was an added bonus just who you were doing this with, the playboy knowing how to toy with your body just with his words alone.

You’d hate to see what it’d be like if he could actually touch you properly right now.

Better listen now

Said it ain't no joke

Don't let your conscience fail ya'

Just do the stroke

Don't ya' take no chances

Keep your eye on top

Do your fancy dances

You can't stop you just

Stroke me, stroke me

The car comes to a stop suddenly, a question lingering on your lips about it until you feel him pressing you against the steering wheel, the horn going off suddenly and making your heartbeat quicken. He fumbles for the seat adjuster after putting it in park, sending the seat backwards and leaving more room within the Camaro than would be imaginable. He man spreads now, smirking up to you from his reclined position in the seat and all you can do is grasp at him before he takes hold of your hips in a vice grip and sends his cock into you like a feral animal. You gasp at the sudden pace change, tears blossoming at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over at the onslaught of his cock hitting that sweet spot within you. His thumb moves down, rubbing quick, harsh circles in time with his thrust, and you’re done for. Your walls clamp around him and a shrill cry leaves your throat as your orgasm hits like a brick wall. Tears stream down your cheeks and all you can do is hold on as he fucks you through it, seeking his own end and clinging to every noise and sloppy spill of his name that cries out from your lips. Your face buries against his neck, nails dig in through the fabric of his shirt, but it’s not what does him in. Not yet.

“You were right, pretty girl, I was laying claim.” Your walls clamp tightly amidst the pulse of your orgasm, the rhythm that matches your heartbeat thrown off, and sending him to buck his hips up with a low growl and fill you. Body trembling, numb and tired, you collapse against his chest and try to breath in as much air as the space of the car will allow. It’s hot despite the AC, clammy and sticky, but it’s something you never thought you’d love as much as you do now. Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine actually getting to do this with him. Of course, you fantasized what it’d be like to fuck, but never like this, never while he was driving or with the risk of a cop seeing. Never in his car like this. But it’s what made you smile, even when all you can do is lay there and bask in the afterglow. Carefully his hand comes up to your hair, brushing a strand away from your eyes before his lips connect with yours, swallowing the soft moan that follows. It’s nothing like the kiss when he tricked you that day by the pool, nothing like the incident as you had been calling it. It was hot, heavy, and everything that complimented the sex you just had with the California boy. Teeth clashing, tongues playing, and fighting for that dominance that was shared between you two during this whole experience.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to get this chance with how hard to get you were playin’.” He finally mumbled when you pull away, a soft laugh and attempt at a slap to his chest making him grin. “Thought Harrington would get to ya first.”

“I guess you should have asked about Harrington before going through all that trouble to get with me.” You mumble in turn, shaky digits trailing across his sweat-slickened neck before taking a curl and twirling it around your finger. “He’s not my type.”

“Is that so?” He questioned with a growing grin. “Then what is your type?” You pretend to deliberate, giving a soft hmm in false contemplation before you meet those baby blues, still shielded by the tinted aviators. “Flirty jackasses who pretend to drown just to kiss me.”

“Wow, that’s very specific, isn’t it?” He jokes, giving your rear a smack and making you squeak as you will your body to pull away from his. He falls out from your core, the drip of his spend following and gathering between your thighs as you move to fall back on his legs, seated there. He watches your chest heave beneath the material of your shirt, humming softly to himself as his hand traces over your covered breast. “Next time I’m getting all of you on view.”

“Oh, there’s going to be a next time?” You question with a grin, watching that devilish tongue traces his lips, a silent nod sent in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m laying claim, remember?”

Say you're a winner but man you're just a sinner now

#Billy Hargrove #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #Stranger Things #NS/FW #Billy Hargrove Part 2 #Stranger Things 4 #ao3 crosspost

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