[ He's Jim's brat. The thought doesn't make Billy as feral as it would've at the start of this conversation. Because now it's snowballed and he doesn't want anything more than the ghost of those memories on his skin, pulling on his hair, stretching him open. He doesn't want, until he does, and then— here he is.
Show me. He tries, tries to project more than a picture, and it's something, the ghost of him, a semi mental impression of Billy's hand clenching the base of his dick, tugging it gently, thumb rolling over the head, a little mean. Billy chokes a little at Hopper's words in his head, and Hopper can see that too. Billy isn't being careful about what he shows: mouth parted as he breathes, eyes glassy. ]
Liked when you put me in my place. [ That includes the spanking, doesn't it? Everything that came with it. ] Liked feeling like I was— in your hands.
What'd I look like? [ His voice catches, hand jerking himself off slowly. ] Tell me what I looked like.
You looked beautiful, Billy. [Like he was all Jim's, gift-wrapped and made just for him, just for his cock. He sounds a little sad about it, too. A little choked up. For a beat, Jim lets himself close his eyes and remember all of it. Doesn't really know how else to describe it to Billy, or how to show him.
He sighs, soft: ] You were wild. You were so mad, [and he laughs, just a little. ] All you needed was a little reminder that you were mine, that you were loved.
[It feels cruel, to say it. Feels too honest. His fingertips skirt over his own thigh, and then curl into a fist. ] You want another reminder, Billy?
[ He sucks in a sharp breath, holds it like it's precious, heat pooling so molten in his stomach. Beautiful. He's coming around on beautiful, but wild and mad make his heart race. He is — Jesus, he is, isn't he? Wild? Out of control? Billy's old man liked to use that one on him: out of control.
He wasn't wrong. Billy is some times. Like a switch gets flipped and he can't stop. Fists bruising Murphy, words cutting hard into Iggy, all that filth that bubbled up for Alicent. Sometimes, Billy needs something to weigh him down when he's feeling half-mad, and Jim held him down, cupped him in his hands, he even loved him there, didn't he? ]
Yeah, [ he moans, a little broken, the vowels extending out long when he stripes his dick and bites back a whine, a little sob. ] I really fucking do. Daddy.
[It's a promise. It's a promise that is deliberately non-specific, but it's one nonetheless. His fingers catch on his trouser leg, dick aching, and breathes out through his nose. ]
I need you to do something for me though, Billy. You think you can?
[ 'Fishing' and home improvement might be worth it for that. Billy gives a shuddering sigh, fisting his dick, palm dragging over the head on the pull off. ]
I can do it. [ Hopper's not sending him a mental projection, and Billy's keeps wavering, eyes glassy and mouth a little slack. ] Tell me.
Billy. [It’s the same voice from the dream. It’s always been Jim’s voice, hasn’t it? He’s always been capable of this. He just hasn’t wanted to admit it.
He purrs:] I know you can be good for me. You can, can’t you - baby?
[Somehow it’s the baby that feels like the nail in the coffin.]
Take a deep breath for me. Put yourself away. You’re - you’re only come for me, when I say so. You can do that. [he’s lost his fucking mind, clearly.]
[ Hopper may have lost his mind, but Billy's been falling from the edge for a while now. He breathes, exhales, whines when his hand releases and jerks away from his dick. Both hands curl into fists on his thighs, muscles twitching from the force of not jerking off and coming on the flagstones.
It's "baby" that does it. The way Hop's voice curls into something deep and dark, a purr. His memory feels potent, like it's bubbling up his throat. ]
You too. [ He gasps, then his tone turns dark. ] You don't come for anyone else. I want it.
Billy. [He should have expected this, really. He's smiling despite it, like Billy's petty, jealousness has somehow become very endearing. It's - it wouldn't be hard, really. Jim's not exactly sleeping around, he's not making an effort beyond whatever this is. Hasn't, really, since the stocks, since the festival.
He sighs, endeared, relenting. ] Okay. Okay, just for you baby. [It's getting easier to say that. He thinks he should be more repulsed by it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He's Jim's brat. The thought doesn't make Billy as feral as it would've at the start of this conversation. Because now it's snowballed and he doesn't want anything more than the ghost of those memories on his skin, pulling on his hair, stretching him open. He doesn't want, until he does, and then— here he is.
Show me. He tries, tries to project more than a picture, and it's something, the ghost of him, a semi mental impression of Billy's hand clenching the base of his dick, tugging it gently, thumb rolling over the head, a little mean. Billy chokes a little at Hopper's words in his head, and Hopper can see that too. Billy isn't being careful about what he shows: mouth parted as he breathes, eyes glassy. ]
Liked when you put me in my place. [ That includes the spanking, doesn't it? Everything that came with it. ] Liked feeling like I was— in your hands.
What'd I look like? [ His voice catches, hand jerking himself off slowly. ] Tell me what I looked like.
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He sighs, soft: ] You were wild. You were so mad, [and he laughs, just a little. ] All you needed was a little reminder that you were mine, that you were loved.
[It feels cruel, to say it. Feels too honest. His fingertips skirt over his own thigh, and then curl into a fist. ] You want another reminder, Billy?
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He wasn't wrong. Billy is some times. Like a switch gets flipped and he can't stop. Fists bruising Murphy, words cutting hard into Iggy, all that filth that bubbled up for Alicent. Sometimes, Billy needs something to weigh him down when he's feeling half-mad, and Jim held him down, cupped him in his hands, he even loved him there, didn't he? ]
Yeah, [ he moans, a little broken, the vowels extending out long when he stripes his dick and bites back a whine, a little sob. ] I really fucking do. Daddy.
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[It's a promise. It's a promise that is deliberately non-specific, but it's one nonetheless. His fingers catch on his trouser leg, dick aching, and breathes out through his nose. ]
I need you to do something for me though, Billy. You think you can?
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I can do it. [ Hopper's not sending him a mental projection, and Billy's keeps wavering, eyes glassy and mouth a little slack. ] Tell me.
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[His voice is strained. ] Keep it for me, okay? Not till I see you.
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No. [ More a whine. ] Fuck! No, I'm too close.
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[He Can, the same way -] I'm doing it for you. You wanna be good for me, don't you Billy?
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He’s never been good like this before. ]
Hop.
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He purrs:] I know you can be good for me. You can, can’t you - baby?
[Somehow it’s the baby that feels like the nail in the coffin.]
Take a deep breath for me. Put yourself away. You’re - you’re only come for me, when I say so. You can do that. [he’s lost his fucking mind, clearly.]
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It's "baby" that does it. The way Hop's voice curls into something deep and dark, a purr. His memory feels potent, like it's bubbling up his throat. ]
You too. [ He gasps, then his tone turns dark. ] You don't come for anyone else. I want it.
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He sighs, endeared, relenting. ] Okay. Okay, just for you baby. [It's getting easier to say that. He thinks he should be more repulsed by it. ]