
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12345456.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      IT_(2017)
  Relationship:
      Patrick_Hockstetter/Henry_Bowers
  Character:
      Patrick_Hockstetter, Henry_Bowers
  Additional Tags:
      Choking, Canon-Typical_Violence, Oral_Sex, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-12 Words: 1287
****** restlessness leads to a dangerous kind of fun. ******
by dreamyhoney
Summary
     If there is anything left to know about Henry Bowers, Patrick will be
     the first to find out.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Henry is on his third beer, while Patrick sits beside him drinking. And
watching. Boys like Henry don’t get drunk; they get angry. There’s an appeal to
that too, of course.
Henry sits there, breathing heavy, muttering curses to himself. He has been
damn quiet tonight, and Patrick knows something is bothering him. His hand
curls and uncurls around his pocket knife and his leg bounces how it always
does when he’s really, truly, goddamned angry.
Henry Bowers is not exactly receptive of sympathy, not that he feels it too
often himself. But Patrick sidles up so his spindly leg is brushing up against
Henry’s own, rests a hand real gentle on his thigh.
“Want me to make you feel better,” he offers, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.
This earns him a punch to the jaw, knocking him back into the rotting leaves
that surround them.
“Awe, baby, don’t be like that,” and he laughs a little, running his fingers
across the fresh blood on his lip.
It’s no secret that Henry fucking hates being called pet names. He doesn’t need
to vocalize that to make his point. This shit gets Patrick feeling giddy,
though. He runs his tongue along his teeth sucking at the blood that’s started
to gather. His dark eyes flicker, patient for that next punch.
Reluctant, reluctant, reluctant. This is how it always goes with Henry. But
he’s on him now, fists curling into the rot above Patrick’s head.
“Fucking cocksucker,” he spits, but he’s moving a hand to undo his jeans. There
is something endearing about how Henry seems to think he’s in control now. He’s
got his hand around his fat cock, but he’s still shaking. He doesn’t say
anything, but Patrick knows what to do.
It’s easy to play Henry Bowers like a fucking fiddle. There isn’t much
complexity inside that skull. He’s a needy little thing, really. What it boils
down to is that Henry wants to feel good. He’s so controlled by that feeling,
it’s almost cute. Patrick likes to feel it too, but he likes it best when Henry
draws first blood. He wants to make Henry come. He wants to split his head open
against a rock.
Henry’s calves are planted firm on either side of Patrick’s lanky frame.
Patrick bends himself upward, folding his body like a ragdoll, and kisses Henry
hard and messy. Henry can feel Patrick smile into his mouth. It has taken a lot
to get Henry Bowers to the point where he will let himself be kissed.
While he would argue the point, Henry is an absolutely terrible kisser. He is
all tongue and teeth, and he bites at Patrick’s lip like a starved animal.
Their tongues drag along each other, tasting of copper and spit. Patrick burst
lip spills red down his chin; sickly sweet like overripe fruit.
He won’t touch Henry, though he wants to, that isn’t how this works. Henry
needs to think this is all his idea. So Patrick waits, sucking on Henry’s
tongue, until he lets his own fists unclench and tangle up in Patrick’s thick
hair.
He leans Patrick’s head back, kissing him deep and needy. He moves fast like
it’s all going to be over soon.
“Eager,” Patrick taunts, though he knows it is toeing the line of what Henry
will tolerate. If there is anything left to know about Henry Bowers, he will be
the first to find out.
Henry’s cock is straining and it stains Patrick’s t-shirt where it meets his
belly.
“Fucking do something, then”.
There’s that cat’s grin that makes Henry’s skin prickle. Patrick touches him
now; his thin hands run the length of his spine, lingering on each knob until
they meet at the nape of his neck. He twirls his fingers through Henry’s little
curls.
“Wish you’d let me fuck you,” he whispers, feeling his cock twitch in his jeans
at the way Henry’s whole body goes stiff. Henry doesn’t push him off though;
he’s getting too impatient to let anything to deter this.
Patrick is still fucking smiling, as he rises to his knees and brushes the dirt
from his jeans. He cocks his head up and Henry stands. Obedient. Like a damn
dog.
Patrick’s tongue slips out to wet his lips, and his eyes look so hungry when
they meet Henry’s gaze. He starts to think that this is probably a very bad
idea, because Patrick is weird, even for his standards. But the taller boy
licks up the length of his cock and the thought is forced from his mind.
He digs the heels of his boots into the soil, because suddenly his legs are
feeling very weak. Patrick looks really pretty like this; his slim face is
haunting in the dim light. His tongue darts out, feline, to drag along the tip
of Henry’s cock.
“Fuck,” he curses, his eyes rolling back as he let’s the sensation overwhelm.
Patrick wraps his lips around the head of his cock and sucks. Above him, Henry
is practically sobbing, and he bites at the heel of his palm to try and quiet
himself. His other hand finds Patrick’s hair again and tugs.
“Patrick,” he whines, embarrassed at the cadence his voice takes. The other boy
has picked up a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down. Patrick let’s his teeth
graze Henry, just slightly, liking the shudder it draws from him.
He takes him into the back of his throat, and Henry nearly sobs. Then Patrick
hums low in his throat, and Henry feels the tight coiling in his stomach about
to release. His hands tense up in Patrick’s hair nearly pulling a chunk out.
Abruptly, Patrick pulls off. Henry’s disappointment is a low groan, his
eyebrows furrowing in frustration.
“What the fuck is your problem,” he says, but his voice is more gravelly than
angry. He presses a foot to the inside of Patrick’s thigh. He is dangerously
close to stepping on Patrick’s dick, and Patrick looks up still grinning.
“Let me show you something,” Patrick says, “I promise you’ll like it”. He bends
forward and kisses the leather of Henry’s boot.
Henry sinks to his knees and let’s Patrick kiss him again. Patrick thumbs at a
bruise on Henry’s jaw, then tilts his head back to expose his neck. His thin
fingers run over his skin with an uncharacteristic gentleness.
Brushing Henry’s adam’s apple he says, “this will make you feel so real”. His
fingers follow Henry’s sudden swallow.
Henry tenses up when Patrick closes his hand around his throat. His own hands
shoot up to clutch at the invasive arm in reflex. But Patrick starts to stroke
his cock, and the switch is flipped; this is all he cares about.
He doesn’t ask, although it frightens him, what exactly Patrick plans to do.
Henry does not like to feel so vulnerable. Despite this, he leans into the
touch.
Patrick is looking at him through his dark lashes, his lower lip caught between
his teeth. His fingers squeeze Henry’s neck, and the boy sees stars.
He humors the thought of letting Henry pass out, but he releases his hold.
Henry’s eyes are rolling back to the whites. He looks so pretty Patrick might
come himself.
Patrick gives it a rhythm; stroking, squeezing, seeing the fruits of his labor
playing off on Henry’s face. Henry sounds like a fucking wreck, and he shifts
and shakes at Patrick’s touch.
Suddenly he is coming in Patrick’s hand. He gasps and splutters, clutching onto
Patrick’s shoulders to keep the world from falling away. The other boy strokes
him through his orgasm. He loves the way Henry’s body buckles with his
pleasure.
Breathing heavy, Henry says, “You’re a fucking freak, Hockstetter”.
End Notes
     Back on my bullshit! I apologize if the characterization is off, I
     was mostly basing it on the movie.
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