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In all truthfulness, he had never envisioned himself in such a position.
Wearing one of his best suits, down on his knees, willing to do anything, ready to follow each order, wanting to please, eager to please.
Through a few locks of ginger hair, he could see Bill shifting in place, a movement so subtle but one that was capable of sending jolts of excitement down his spine.
His pants grew stiff.
"I promise you, I'll be a good boy if you give me a chance…" he breathed, almost out of air, daring to draw near and lay his head on Bill's lap. "Just give me a chance…"
Enamoured. Infatuated. Completely out of his mind, but happy to be. Happy to have his face slowly traced by shy fingers, happy to let out a whimper after snaking his tongue out and tasting those curious digits.
Derry had been his first option, but none of his plans were completely successful.
Robert Gray, 27 years old, came from the countryside. Humble origin, not close to his own family, with a talent for show business and magic tricks.
He traded his past for a chance of going big, and he certainly did; despite some people not enjoying Pennywise the Dancing Clown, and thinking the extravagant character didn't deserve his own TV show.
The industry for kids was big and children would often be easily impressed, which could be one of the reasons Robert, the man behind the white paint and pompous attire, managed so much in such a small amount of time.
Money, houses, luxury and interviews came, but also fake offers of friendship and jealousy and anger.
Often, he could handle it all pretty well, but it was becoming impossible to ignore the hole growing in a corner of his soul.
There was this little ritual Robert liked to go through a few times per week.
It helped keep him grounded, sane, reminded him of his own self and gave him the opportunity of meeting new people, of just being Robert Gray.
The kissing bridge made for a good afternoon walk, while some new restaurants were slowly becoming his favorites - Derry was a developing city, more extravagant diversions were steadily spreading, and while Robert did enjoy spending some of his nights in a respectable hotel or bar, he also gave in and visited less admirable stores.
His phase of being amazed by fame and its gifts was already gone, just like the one that had him spending blindly with people who didn't even deserve it.
Robert liked to think of himself as a smart man, but all his senses and barriers seemed to crumble after meeting him: William Denbrough.
.
"Please…" Robert's voice broke at the end, hoarse, desperate.
He couldn't look away, watching Bill with such attention that his very image would be forever imprinted into Robert's eyelids.
More than that, Robert wanted to intoxicate himself with Bill, to pry open his very soul and find out every little detail that composed his personality, his passions and fears, his past and present.
Robert wanted Bill. Raw, with all the imperfections and insecurities, the stuttering that only made him even more adorable, the desire of becoming a known author, even if life hadn't presented many opportunities.
"I can give you connections, little one… I can show you the world…" he whispered promises that his heart truly wanted to keep.
Bill deserved the world. And Robert would hand it to him.
William Denbrough was starting college when they met.
With no friends, no family and no money, he fell alongside many other teenagers that were trying to build a future using only their bare hands and courage.
Robert found it enticing about him, just like his open mannerisms, light jokes and easy smile.
It didn't take a lot to like Bill - an old nickname, but one that held so many memories and importance that it quickly became his real name.
It didn't take a lot for Robert to drag himself every night to where he could find Bill and then share pleasant conversations, buy him a nice drink, a nice meal.
The little courtesies escalated in a span of mere weeks and soon Robert Gray was offering to pay for Bill's tuition and rent and clothes.
It wasn't because he wanted something in return and was trying to make Bill feel obliged, of course not. It was because Bill deserved to be doted on and Robert had the power and ways to do so.
Sitting on the comfortable bed covered by velvet, Bill watched the man that grew from a stranger to a friend silently implore with his eyes.
Deep down he knew what Robert wanted, and it went beyond just "a chance".
Unsure, Bill let Robert press moist lips against his fingers, trailing to his knuckles, lingering on the back and finally kissing the palm, all the while keeping their gazes locked, unashamed.
He had never been treated with such adoration, such care. It was a new experience.
A soft sigh left Bill when Robert, more bold, started to caress above his wrist, sliding his big, open hands up Bill's arms, coiling up the sleeves.
"You are beautiful, little one…" a delicate kiss was pressed on Bill's forehead and he started to relax, to give in.
Robert clearly wanted that, had been preparing for weeks, slowly leading their relationship to such levels.
Bill hooked his fingers on the collar Robert was wearing and pulled lightly, guiding the man towards himself.
He too felt curious, open to see where things would go.
Their lips met and their hands slipped through each other's hair, feeling the texture, the smoothness.
Robert let Bill set the pace, gave him liberty to break the kiss and touch the beginnings of a beard.
"T-tickles," Bill explained with an innocence that made Robert's heart swell with love, and he went very still, allowing himself to be explored, to be taken in by Bill's exceptionally blue eyes. Like an animal being petted.
The examination led to his face being outlined. It was with reverence that Robert let himself be traced.
His jaw, nose, brows, forehead and every tiny detail was sculpted. Bill was an artist, a painter, and Robert desired to be his most valuable model.
Pushed against the bed leisurely, he helped his companion settle against his lap, granting enough time to make sure Bill realized his intentions and could escape, if he wanted to.
He did not.
With a strangled sigh, Robert felt his rigid member being nestled between covered plump flesh, moving his hips despite the silent promise of remaining still.
"Sorry, little one…" the justification was cut off by a shush, Bill leaning over to connect their lips in a sugary kiss.
"Don't apologize… It's… N-nice," to punctuate his words, a roll of hips that had them both seeing stars.
"Nice, yeah…?" Robert whispered, not fully aware of what he was saying, only wishing for more, moaning when Bill delivered, this time rubbing with more intent, losing his fears, becoming more daring, more hungry.
"Yeah," Bill's voice came choked, his eyes now closed, hands finding balance whilst friction brought them bliss.
Soon enough, though, layers of fabric became a hindrance and as an unspoken suggestion, Robert slipped feverish fingers inside Bill's waistband, pulling down slightly.
The grinding stopped and they stared deeply.
That wasn't a one night stand. The promises made wouldn't be held with just a few touches. The appetency wouldn't be quenched by mere hours of intimacy.
Aware of where he was going, what he was signing up to, Bill ghosted a hand over Robert's clothes, taking his time to open the suit, the white shirt underneath, finally revealing slightly carved muscles.
Robert held his breath, feeling nearly overwhelmed by the way his torso was being studied.
The silence was pushing his mind to a corner; he wanted to please, wanted to drive Bill crazy, but the only clue he was given was a smile.
Sly, impish.
"You are b-beautiful too." That was all the warning before Bill licked one of his nipples, pulling out a sigh that morphed into a delicious moan when that warm tongue slipped down, traveling south, over ribs and bumps, being stopped only by a belt.
Robert felt hot, feverish even. His hands shot for the buckle, but a devilish little laugh rang around the room and his wrists were caught.
"L-let me," it was a command he was willing to obey, although keeping from touching Bill was a torture in itself.
As a display of self control, Robert grabbed the headboard, willing himself to calm down, to just watch as his little one unbuckled and unbuttoned his trousers.
Like a show where the only spectator was Robert, Bill took his time palming his hard erection, smiling and pressing warm digits, drinking in all the reactions.
He was such a tease that Robert's knuckles became white and the headboard creaked.
C'mon, little buddy.
"You want m-me to keep touching you?" The answer was already pretty clear, but Robert knew that this was about the begging, the whole exciting parade that was having someone at your mercy.
“Yes… Please,” Robert whispered, eyes never leaving Bill, “I’ll be a good boy, please--” His throat closed in a raspy whimper at the erotic vision of having his sex being slowly pulled out by Bill.
The hot member, adorned by thick veins and flushed pink, looked good between his fingers, and Robert wanted to remember that scene forever, have it imprinted on his mind.
He also wanted to take the feeling of having it massaged, licked and kissed to all his fantasies and dreams of William Denbrough, auburn hair framing a side of his face, rosy tongue playfully tasting pre-cum.
It was all so exciting that Robert thought he would come only by that.
Wet noises sent waves of pleasure rolling through his spine, melting in his fingertips and curling his toes.
If the moans Bill let escape sometimes were a sign of anything, his little one was also being affected badly.
"If you keep doing that, I won't last-" Robert tried to warn, swallowing and using the headboard as an anchor to help keep him grounded.
As heavenly as it would be, spilling all over Bill's pretty face, painting his cherry lips with white, he did desire for more. Bill would get to decide, but the suggestion was there, invisible in the air.
Catching on it, Bill gave the slick member one last naughty lick, once again standing on his knees, using Robert's lap as a seat.
He was excited, it was obvious from the damp spot marked in the fine fabric of his pants.
Not able to control himself, Robert moved his hips and tightened his grip on the headboard. His arms hurt and the torment of being obedient when his body implored to move was great, but for Bill, it was worth it.
For Bill, he would obey.
"That's what you w-want?"
Rubbing against Robert, driving him to the edge, but always so excruciatingly gentle that the pressure building inside wasn't enough.
Robert had no idea of the extent of Bill's experiences in bed, but he was either doing it out of pure innocence or to provoke. He was okay with both, would take either gratefully.
"Please, I'm begging you-" Bill picked up the pace briefly, and Robert, unprepared, completely at mercy, moaned loudly, hips rolling and jolting.
"You really want t-that, hm?" A small laugh and Robert was agreeing shamelessly.
"I'll give you anything, anything you want, just please…"
The sound of fabric being pulled caught Robert's attention and he opened his eyes to see Bill wearing only a shirt.
Unable to look away, almost hypnotized, it took a great effort to not let go of the headboard and touch the lovely, wet folds, instead, he could only see Bill do what he wanted: rub fingers all along the pink flesh, dipping between them and inside, preparing for what they both craved.
Without realizing, compliments started to spiral down his mouth, but Bill was just so beautiful, so alluring and seductive and perfect.
Arms shaking and already sore, Robert thought he'd collapse in the moment Bill held his sex and positioned himself, guiding their bodies into a small dance, pushing the head against the wet entrance and in a matter of seconds, Robert thought he had met paradise.
"Fuck," the sensation of having warm, plushy walls surrounding all of himself was exquisite, overwhelming, so much that he wanted to thrust, slip all the way out and hurry back inside. However, Bill pressed both his hands on Robert's chest, a quiet plea.
Groaning, whimpering, he let his little one move at his own tempo.
Bill's tight sex slid wonderfully and squeezed from time to time, adding more to the fire building in their lower bellies.
Pearly sweat covered their bodies and their hair looked disheveled. Bill moved faster, eyes closed, lips parted in obscene moans, but even in this messy state, Robert found him completely irresistible.
"D-don't come, n-not yet-" Bill breathed, riding them to an orgasm and then suddenly forbidding his companion to hit it.
Robert had to bite his own bottom lip to obey.
It was after a few signs: back arching beautifully, walls squeezing almost impossibly tight, body shuddering, that Robert knew Bill was coming.
He watched his boy drag their hips together a few times before lazily getting up, bringing a protest right to his chest, but before Robert could say anything, Bill held his still very hard member with firm fingers, stimulating it.
"You c-can come now," the soft command was all it took to Robert relax, almost immediately spilling all over his own stomach, weakly whimpering and feeling completely exposed, spent and relieved.
Finally, he permitted his arms to move and almost cried in pain. The discomfort translated to his expression, for Bill was on his face in a moment, pressing delicate kisses and playing with locks of ginger hair.
"That was good…" Bill whispered and Robert buried his nose on auburn hair.
"Just good, little one?" Even though he was joking, the question held a bit of doubt that was dissolved after hearing Bill laugh lightly.
"You know what I m-meant."
He most certainly did, but putting a smile on Bill's face was worth it.
"Next time it'll be great, then," Robert said, trying to confirm that there would be a next time.
It was a harmless trap, merely to get Bill to admit that he agreed to give Robert a chance and all its implications.
“N-Next time, yeah.”