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You walk into the cold alleyway, lighting a cigarette and leaning back onto a wall. You're here for the deal you have with 16-year-old Will Byers, the town fag. Sure, you're 4 years older than him, who cares? In exchange for a few little pills, nothing that bad, just ecstasy, he gives you a blowjob. You're not gay yourself. In fact, you think queers are disgusting, but sex is sex. You take a long drag of your cigarette, sighing as you wait for the younger boy. You get to thinking... doesn't this kid have a boyfriend? You've never asked directly, but you've seen him hanging out with the Wheeler boy, and they seemed a bit more than friends.
By the time he gets there, you're almost done with your cigarette. "Sorry I'm late!" You hear a whispered yell from a familiar voice and soft footsteps coming closer to you. Will looks flushed and out of breath. He was definitely rushing to get here. His hair is messier than usual, there's sweat beads on his forehead, and he's bent slightly, trying to catch his breath. You look him over for a moment. He looks almost... pretty. Like a girl. He's always been feminine, you suppose. More feminine than any other guys you know.
"Whatever, let's go." You grumble, your voice thick with annoyance. Before you start heading back to your car, you lean over and put your cigarette out on the side of Will's neck. He clamps his hand over the spot, hissing slightly at the burn. You chuckle under your breath, watching his reaction closely. "Let's go, kid." You pat his back and lead him to the car. He follows willingly, sliding into the passenger side and buckling up the seat belt. As he relaxes into the seat and you begin to drive, you can't help but glance over and think about how pretty he is again. You wonder how he would look bent over, taking your... no. That's not a part of your deal with him.
You finally get to your house. It's small, nothing special, but it's home. You take Will into the bedroom and sit down on the bed expectantly. But he hesitates. "Uhm..." He stands in front of the bed, fiddling with his hands. "I'm not sure I want to do this anymore. I always feel guilty after, because my boyfriend doesn't know about this, and I really don't like betraying him like this." Hm. Disappointing. You stand up, walking closer to the boy. You reach your hand down and tilt his chin up. "But don't the pills make you feel good?" You reply, rubbing his cheek with your thumb. "Cmon, kid. You don't want to quit this. You know you don't. Who else would give you those wonderful pills? I know how much you love them." He meets your eyes, his own filled with nervousness and a bit of fear.
"I guess they do make me feel good... but I still feel guilty about it. I shouldn't be treating the trust my boyfriend has in me like this." He mumbles, kicking the back of his shoe with his other foot. You sigh. You didn't want to make it come to this. Or maybe you did. Either way, it's happening. "Well, at least have these before I take you back." You open your nightstand drawer and grab two of those small pills. "Oh, no, I shouldn't-" You cut him off by shoving the pills in his mouth. You hold your hand against his lips until he swallows, so he can't spit them out. While he's still processing what just happened, you grab the syringe you've been keeping for him. You suspected he'd do this a while ago, but you just aren't ready to let him go yet. You bought this from some sketchy guy, so who knows what it is- some sort of sedative.
"W-Wuh-" He sputters. You stab the syringe into his neck and inject the liquid. He groans and his eyes flutter closed. You catch him before he hits the ground. You put him on the bed and spread him out slightly. God, he looks pretty like this. Defenseless and submissive, completely at your mercy. You'd better hurry before the sedative wears off. You grab a few ropes and tie his wrists down, connecting the ropes to the bed frame. You leave his legs unattended so you can control the position he's in. You then unbutton and remove his jean shorts, admiring his form for a few seconds. You nudge his legs apart, grabbing the bottle of lube you keep in your nightstand. You've always wondered what it'd be like to fuck another man in the ass.
You coat your fingers thoroughly with the thick liquid, gently probing at his hole with one finger. You may be doing this without his consent, but you don't want to hurt him. Not when you can't see his reaction to the pain. You slowly push your finger into his tightness, feeling his walls clench at the intrusion. After a while of gently thrusting your finger in and out of him, you add another in. His hole gives way more easily this time. Once you fit both fingers in, you begin to make a scissoring motion with them. Soon enough, you decide he's ready to add one more, just for good measure. You apply a bit more lube to your fingers and slide the three in, stretching him out more. You spread those three fingers out, completely preparing him for what's to come.
You finally decide that Will is ready to take you. You withdraw your fingers from him and back up. You pull down your shorts and briefs, revealing your thick shaft to the cold air. You shiver, giving yourself a few strokes before pressing the head of your cock against Will's ass. You position yourself and slowly push in before Will slowly starts to fade back into consciousness. He looks disoriented and tries to move his arms, but is restricted. Panic sets in his eyes. He looks at you and realizes what's going on. Struggling or fighting isn't an option for him; he's still sluggish from the sedative. He whines and whimpers, trying as desperately as he can to move away from you. "S-Stop! Please! I don't want this!" Will begs. His efforts are unsuccessful, of course.
"Shut up, faggot," You growl, your voice gravely and aggressive. "Freaks like you like this. Having another man take you like this." You grab his legs and pin them down to the bed as you start to thrust harshly, the same gentleness you used when he was unconscious now gone. Will writhes and wiggles, attempting once more to escape your jarring movements. Tears well in his eyes, his body shaking with useless effort to get away. The ropes dig and rub into the boy's skin, leaving friction burns on his wrists. He winces at the pain, sobbing softly. You laugh, your hips becoming more brutal with every move. "What's that? Can't take a little pain? How pathetic." You grip his legs tighter, your nails digging into his skin and drawing blood.
His cries grow louder, as do his pleas for you to stop. Both are just wastes of energy; you're not letting up until you're satisfied. You lean down as your thrusts get harsher and more punishing, nuzzling your face into his neck and biting down where you burned him with your cigarette. He whines, gasping in pain. "P-Please- I just want to go home..." His pleas do nothing to deter you. You can feel yourself getting closer, that familiar feeling building up inside you. His begging and the sound of his pain only encourage you. After a few more thrusts, you let go, releasing inside him with a groan and a final harsh, painful thrust. After a few moments, you let go of him and slowly pull out. You watch as he trembles and shakes, his breathing uneven.
You untie the ropes and toss them aside. Will remains in place, too tired to get up. His face is soaked in sweat and tears, his hair sticks to his forehead, his throat hoarse from screaming and begging. You go to the kitchen and grab a glass of water, taking a sip for yourself before returning and setting it on the nightstand beside him. "Clean yourself up, you look disgusting."