Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steve blinks dazed eyes up at the silhouette of the younger boy above him. There's sweat and blood dripping down his face, obscuring the view, but he can still see the fury etched into the lines of Byers’ face.

Steve had known he'd gone too far as soon as the words about Byers’ little brother were out of his mouth, but by then it had been too late. The sirens have gone now, disappeared further down the road and Steve is alone and vulnerable with a furious Jonathan Byers; Tommy and the others had bolted when they’d heard the sirens and Nancy had hurried off to try and grab some help.

Byers fists a hand in his hair, pulling his head back further and Steve yelps in pain as a few strands come loose.

“Well?” Steve demands when Byers just holds him there for a long moment, not saying anything. He can’t get away from the hand holding him still and there’s a little fear stirring in his gut. He falls back on the King persona, pulling it on like he does every day for school, “what are you gonna do, huh? Are you too much of a pussy even now?”

Byers’ lip curls, eyes flashing with fury, and then he’s moving and all of Steve’s fears come true. He pulls Steve closer by his hair, shoving his face into his crotch harshly, grinding his slowly hardening cock against Steve's split lip.

"Always knew you were queer," Steve sneers, his voice muffled by the denim of Byers’ jeans. 

“I’m not the one on my knees right now, Harrington,” Byers grunts, pulling Steve back so he has enough room to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of the metal loud in the otherwise empty alleyway.

Steve tries to pull back, shuffle away, but Byers has a tight hold on his hair and he can’t move far at all. He swallows, mouth dry and eyes watering with the pain of having his hair pulled and the fear of what’s to come because Byers is shoving his jeans down and out of the way to reveal thin pale gray briefs stretched taut over his already straining erection.

“What the fuck, Byers?!” Steve tries to shout, but his voice trembles around the words when Jonathan pulls his long, uncut dick free, stroking once from base to tip.

“If you bite me, I’ll make it worse Harrington,” Byers threatens, manipulating the angle of Steve’s head until his mouth falls open despite his best efforts, a yelp of pain falling from his parted lips.

Steve lets out a groan of protest, not getting a chance to close his mouth before Byers is slicking the wet tip of his dick over his bottom lip. He can’t recover, can't compose himself, can’t reconcile that he’s currently on his knees in front of Jonathan Byers with a hard cock being pushed between his lips.

Steve keens around the length, lips stretching wide as Byers pushes in. Tears gather in his eyes, spilling over and down his cheeks as Byers sinks all the way to the base in one long slide, ignoring Steve’s protesting groan. The sudden sensation is too much and Steve chokes around his length, the sudden thickness of the cock making him gag, saliva filling his mouth.

Byers tightens his grasp in Steve’s hair, holding him still as he slowly starts thrusting, pulling all the way out to let Steve gasp air in briefly before sliding back in deep. Steve wants to scream, but it's trapped by the cock cutting off his air, so a small whine is all that slips out instead. He tries to take shallow breaths in through his nose, suppressing the panic rising in his chest. 

Byers keeps hitting the back of his throat roughly, pulling lewd choking noises from him.

He uses Steve’s mouth like it was made for him. His thrusts speed up, drool dripping sloppily around Byers’ length as he pushes deeper and harder. Steve looks up at him through the tears in his eyes, silently begging him to just stop , but Byers doesn't understand – wilfully or not – his eyes focusing intently on the way Steve’s sobbing and choking on his cock.

His hand slides to the back of Steve’s head to hold him there as he slips into his throat, cutting off Steve’s air. Steve chokes again, struggling in Byers’ hold, but he’s got too good of a hold on him, keeps his dick deep, cutting off the precious air Steve needs.

Steve’s lips begin to ache at the edges, stretched wide with no reprieve until Byers pulls out for a brief second before pushing back deep. The taste is strong and musky, making saliva pool in Steve’s mouth and drip out of his mouth with each of Byers’ strong thrusts. The drool wets his shirt, drips onto the cold ground between his spread knees.

He sobs, more and more tears falling from his eyes, unable to stop himself under the assault. Steve hurts inside and out; his knees on the tarmac, mouth aching, throat burning. Each choke and gag around Byers’ length has Steve scrabbling in his hold, whimpering in fear and pain, hands pushing against Byers’ thighs, trying to pull away from the tight hold the younger boy has on him.

Steve’s nose is blocked, stuck with the thick smell of Byers’ in his nostrils every time he slides into his throat. There’s no room in Steve’s mouth, he’s struggling to keep his teeth away and his tongue down and not throw up when that thick mushroom head slams deep into his throat. 

“You call me queer, but look at you,” Byers murmurs above him. Steve looks up at him through blurry tears, practically limp in his hold as he speeds up his thrusts. He finally gives Steve’s throat a break, thrusting shallow and fast, “on your knees, sucking my cock. Guess that makes you queer.”

Steve wants to protest. He’s not enjoying this. He really isn’t. His dick is limp in his jeans, he’s crying and aching, broken beneath each thrust. But, Byers is right, Steve is on his knees, in an alley, sucking cock.

What else would it take to make him queer except that?

“God, I’m gonna come on your face, Harrington.”

Steve has never heard Byers’ voice so cold and cruel before, and that scares him just as much as the fact that he’s being assaulted by this boy in this alley. Byers’ head has dropped forward and he’s watching enraptured as Steve takes his cock again and again, no longer struggling, just limp and waiting for the inevitable finish.

“On second thought, I think you should swallow it all,” Byers laughs quietly, “really get a taste of another guy. See you deny being queer then.”

He thrusts deep again, forcing Steve all the way back down on his cock. Steve gags, spit slipping out the sides of his mouth, tears mingling with the liquid in a disgusting mess.

Byers doesn't warn him when he comes, just holds Steve there with his dick buried in his throat. He chokes and coughs when unpleasantly thick and musky come pulses out of his cock, sliding to settle horrible in Steve’s stomach.

“Fuck, that’s it Harrington,” Byers mumbles, groaning loudly as he slowly pulls out, letting the last pulses hit Steve’s abused tongue and lips, “swallow it all.”

Steve sobs, catching Byers’ eyes with a begging look, but Byers is cold and collected, taps Steve’s chin cruelly until Steve obeys his order and swallows the final remnants of Byers’ come that he hadn’t already.

“You better not tell anyone about this. You know what’ll happen if you do.”

Byers doesn't need to threaten Steve, he has no intention of fucking telling anyone how he’d lost a fight to Jonathan Byers and then been forced to suck his dick.