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I Gave You My Purity - My Purity You Stole

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Richie doesn't know how many drinks he's had to end up like this. He doesn't want to know, because the thought of it makes him feel even sicker than he already does. He's leaning on a wall outside the discotheque, trying to get some fresh air and sober up enough to go home without ending in some ditch.

He only notices Patrick when the older teen is already standing next to him.

"Trashmouth?"

His voice startles Richie a bit, a natural instinct after being bullied by the older teen for years, but he doesn't run. He could easily outrun Patrick when sober, he has countless times, but right now he's not in the shape for it. Instead, he just looks up at the lanky teen.

"That's my name...", he mumbles and then grins while Patrick watches him with a somehow confused face.

"... You okay?", Patrick eventually asks, then adds: "Do you need a ride home?"

Now, under normal circumstances, Richie would've known better than to even consider the offer. Everyone knows that Patrick isn't right in the head, crazy even. The best thing to do is to stay out of his way.

Right now though, the offer of a ride home sounds pretty nice. He can't bring himself to care about the fact that it's Patrick Hockstetter he's talking to. A ride is a ride, isn't it?

"Would'be nice actually, yeah..."

He closes his eyes for a moment because the world is spinning around him, which is enough for him to miss the wicked smile that spreads over Patrick's lips.

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Patrick expected quite a few things of his night, but having a pretty drunk Richie 'Trashmouth' Tozier on his passenger seat hadn't be one of them. He wouldn't complain though, because if he played this game right, the night could get quite interesting. If Tozier is drunk enough to trust one of his biggest bullies, what else would he be stupid enough to do?

Of course he doesn't intend to really take the younger teen home. He doesn't even know where he lives and he pretty much couldn't care less. No, he's going home and he's taking that little loser with him.

Richie doesn't talk during the drive. He notices that they're in the wrong neighbourhood, but his brain isn't really able to process that information. Patrick is sober, he knows what he's doing, so he thinks.

He also notices when Patrick's hand casually lands on his knee. He blinks twice, but he doesn't see a reason to object, so he just lets him. He even gives a small smile at the older teen when their eyes meet.

Patrick smirks. While they drive, his hand wanders up Richie's leg.

Richie notices. He doesn't mind. A warm feeling begins to rise in his body and this time, it's not the booze. It's the warm feeling he gets whenever he silently slips his hands underneath his blanket when he's alone in his room at night.

When they stop in front of the dark Hockstetter house, Patrick's hand is dangerously close to Richie's crotch and Richie is dangerously close to actually getting an erection from the way Patrick's hand squeezes his thigh. He looks at the older teen. Patrick smirks at him.

"Want to come in?"

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Patrick's room looks a lot more normal than Richie had imagined. Of course it's held in dark colours and the walls are decorated with posters of half naked girls and bands that seem to have jumped right out of a horror movie, but there are no chains on the wall or any collections of dead beetles like he would've thought there would be.

While Richie looks around, Patrick turns on the camera that is mounted on a tripod standing near his bed. If everything goes the way he wants it to, it's definietly worth filming it. Then, he flops down onto his bed, waiting for Richie to loose his interest for the room they're in. He's quickly getting impatient.

"Come here.", he calls, patting onto the bed next to where he sits. Richie does as he's told and sits down next to Patrick. His legs are wobbly anyway so he might as well sit down before he stumbles and breaks some shit. Somehow he's sure that would end in him getting his bones broken. He doesn't know where exactly the thought comes from.

Patrick's hand suddenly is on his leg again. This time, he places it directly onto his thigh.

Richie looks up at him. When Patrick leans forward to press his lips onto Richie's, the younger teen doesn't object. The warm feeling returns, stronger than before. It feels nice.

When he's met with no struggle, Patrick doesn't waste any time to lick his way inside Richie's mouth while simultaneously moving his hand to the teen's crotch, squeezing softly. Richie moans into the kiss.

Patrick pulls away, grinning.

"You're a little needy, aren't you?"

Richie only moans again, leaning back and thrusting his hips up. His mind is foggy with drunkeness and arousal.

Suddenly, Patrick grips his chin, hard. It hurts and Richie lets out a confused whine, looking into the older teen's cold eyes.

"Tell me, Trashmouth. You're a needy little slut, aren't you?"

For a little moment, fear makes Richie's body go cold. But then the warmth returns, converting into heat at being called names like this. He whines again.

"I'm a n-needy little slut Patrick..."

Patrick rewards him with a light kiss before letting go of his chin.

"Good boy", he coes. "And how can a needy slut like you be satisfied?"

Richie shudders. "T-Touch me please?"

The grin on Patrick's lips is a little unsettling, but the way he kisses Richie just a second later is enough to make him forget about it.

 

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Soon enough, Richie is lying on his back with Patrick above him. Their kisses are messy and Patrick's hand is underneath his shirt, rubbing his nipples almost gently. The heat inside his body is intense and his restrained erection aches. He whines into the kiss and Patrick chuckles before pulling back to look down at him.

Richie is a mess. His lips are slightly swollen from the hard kisses Patrick has pressed upon them, kisses that had involved some biting, too. His pupils are blown wide, so wide they almost swallow the chocolate brown of his eyes. He's panting needily and there's an obvious tent in his pants.

Patrick smiles down at him.

"Want more?"

It's almost adorable how Tozier nods quickly without thinking about it twice. He's clearly not aware of what he's getting himself into.

Patrick doesn't waste any time then. Not caring about the damage, he simply rips Richie's shirt open. The boy flinches at the sound, but that's about the only reaction. He's feeling so hot that the cool air of the room feels pretty good on his naked skin. Patrick then moves on to remove the younger teen's pants.

"I'm a virgin", Richie slurs as he lazily lets himself be undressed by Patrick. Then he starts giggling. "Not a surprise isn't it?"

"Not really", Patrick mumbles with a smirk, pulling the teens pants and underwear down in one go. Richie blushes, but he's too drunk to really feel ashamed. Not even with the camera pointed on him.

When did he agree to being filmed? He doesn't remember, but at some point he probably has. He wonders why he would do that, but then again he's about to have sex with Patrick Hockstetter, so being filmed while doing so probably isn't the craziest thing he's doing tonight.

Once he's undressed the younger teen, he actually takes a moment to take in the picture in front of him. Richie's skin is white and mostly unmarked, his body skinny but not too thin. He can't wait to mark him.

"You look like a doll. Like those porcelain dolls my mother used to collect. You know what I liked to do with them?"

Richie shakes his head and Patrick leans down, grinning, to whisper in his ear.

"I broke them."

And with that, he moves to bite down on Richie's neck hard enough to draw blood.

Richie screams.

 

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It turns out that Richie Tozier apparently is quite the masochist.

His neck and chest are bruised with bite marks and smeared with blood leaking from the wounds, but his little cock proudly stands, as hard as a rock, leaking against his stomach. Patrick licks his lips.

"Pretty little doll."

He is enjoying this, but it's not enough. He wants more. He wants Richie to scream louder, wants him to cry. He wants to see the boy suffer.

He takes his lighter out of his pocket.

Richie, upon hearing it click, lifts his head. His eyes go wide, but he doesn't object, just watches how Patrick heats the metal piece with the flame. The black haired teen smirks at him, then quickly presses the hot lighter against Richie's thigh. There's an audible sizzle in the air as the metal bites into the soft skin.

His scream is shrill this time, his voice breaking. The pain is almost unbearable and he can't help the reflex to kick Patrick.

It doesn't hurt him, but it irritates him. He quickly holds Richie's legs down.

"Stop that, slut."

Richie whines. The pain is still going through his body in waves.

Patrick, holding his legs down with one hand, searches for something in his nightstand with the other hand. He quickly finds his object of desire.

A moment later, Richie's legs are tied together by what seem to be even somehow professional leather cuffs. They're soft against his skin, but he's sure that his ankles will still bruise. The feeling of restraint sends another wave of arousal through his body.

"No running away anymore for you now...", Patrick hums, and deep down Richie knows that a statement like that from Patrick Hockstetter should frighten him to death. Still, it doesn't.

The older teen starts heating up his lighter once more. Richie's body starts to shake with a mixture of fear and excitement.

He screams even louder this time when Patrick brings the hot metal down on his skin.

 

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After marking up Richie eight times in total, Patrick finally starts to undress himself. He's painfully hard and Richie is crying which only adds to his arousal.

Richie has lost his ability to think straight. There's still too much alcohol left in his system and he's in so much pain, but he's also extremely aroused and the promise of getting fucked is enough to make him stay and play along to Hockstetter's sick games.

The older teen suddenly pulls him up and Richie finds himself on eye-level with Patrick's hard cock.

"Suck it, doll."

The truth is, Richie has never sucked cock before. Hell, the most he's probably ever done with anybody is french kissing.

He seems to hesitate too long, because Patrick suddenly shoves his cock between Richie's lips and down his throat, causing the teen to choke and gag violently.

"I said suck it!"

Patrick's grip in his hair is painful, but enjoyable and so is the hard length between his lips. Richie feels his throat convulse and Patrick moans in delight at the wet tightness. Drool runs down Richie's chin and drips onto his naked chest, mixing with the drying blood. Both liquids soon mix with his salty tears that run down his cheeks.

The older teen snaps the lighter open again.

It takes a burn to Richie's neck and a breathless scream around his cock to make Patrick come down his throat. He doesn't really care if Richie swallows or not, but he's pleased to see the teen try at least. Some of it runs from the corner of his mouth and drips down onto his chest.

Richie smiles.

 

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Patrick leaves the preparation to Richie.

It's not as arousing or interesting like burning or biting him, but it's nice to watch the teen struggle to stretch himself, especially because he still has his legs chained together. At least Patrick has been nice enough to help him up so he's on his knees, ass in the air. Of course the older teen has made sure to position him in the perfect angle for the camera.

"Go on, doll. Your slutty little hole wants to be filled, doesn't it?"

He earns a moan from Richie, who currently scissors himself open with two fingers. His hole is slick with lube and his fingers slide in and out of it easily enough for him to add a third finger, but that's the moment Patrick slaps his hand away.

"That's enough, slut. I want you as tight as possible."

Truth is, he simply wants it to hurt. He wants Richie to scream and beg and still not wanting him to stop because the trashmouth is a kinky little slut.

Richie is panting and shaking, his body struggling with the booze in his system and the wounds on his skin.

Patrick's hand feels cold on his skin when the older teen touches his butt, but it's feeling good on his heatened skin so he presses against his hand. It earns him a hard slap that colours his asscheek red and causes him to whine loudly.

"You like that? Getting spanked?"

Without waiting for an answer, Patrick slaps Richie again, harder this time. It stings and Richie moans shamelessley.

Patrick smirks and reaches for his discarded pants to take out his leather belt.

 

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When Patrick finally sinks into Richie with a moan, the slim hips underneath his hands are sticky with blood and Richie's throat hurts from screaming out loud again and again. His whole body aches to the point where he can't tell if it's a good or a bad ache anymore.

He gasps out the older teen's name when he's finally filled, his voice both lustful and pained at the same time. All of his feelings are mixing together.

It hurts, it hurts a lot especially because he's far from being properly stretched and Patrick is far too large for his body, but Richie only bites down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. It earch him only more pain when Patrick digs his fingernails into his narrow hips.

"Don't hold back. Let everyone know how much of a filthy whore you are, Trashmouth."

Richie sobs. He can't hold back the tears streaming down his face. Everything's just too much. He's so overwhelmed with all the feelings he's experiencing.

"You like this? Having a big cock up your little virgin ass?"

"I-I like it.", Richie sobs into the pillow he has eventually grabbed at some point while Patrick was bringing down the belt on his soft skin, decorating his ass and back with bloody streaks.

Patrick digs his nails deeper into his skin. "I can't hear you, doll. What was that again?"

"I like it! Please, Patrick..."

The older teen smirks and rewards Richie with a hard thrust, quickly setting a fast pace.

Richie squeals and grabs the bedsheets, his face scrunching up. Patrick's cock is long and it hits places inside him that feel weird and uncomfortable, but when he tries to shift Patrick only presses him down into the mattress and fucks him harder.

It hurts, it hurts a lot, but there's also a pleasurable sensation caused by the motion against one tiny spot inside him that makes Richie moan. His eyes are closed and he feels some drool on his cheek, but he can't bring himself to care.

Suddenly, Patrick pulls out of him, leaving Richie confused and feeling empty. Before he can complain, Patrick turns him around and a yell of pain leaves Richie's lips when his full weight is put on his abused back.

Patrick only smirks and lifts Richie's legs up so his ankles rest on the older teen's shoulders. The chain is a bit disruptive and it also has started hurting Richie, but Patrick doesn't seem to care as he slides back into the boy, pressing him down with his weight. Richie moans hoarsley as he looks up at the dark haired teen. He still smiles in that goddamn way he always does, this predatory, almost creepy smile. And as he watches, he begins to understand that Patrick has waited for this a long time, maybe years. It all makes sense now, all the time Richie has felt his eyes on him, the weird energy between them that was more than just that of a bully and his victim. He's always been Patrick's prey.

For some reason, that sudden realization scares him. It scares him a lot and it has to be visible in his eyes, because Patrick's expression changes, too. He reacts faster than the younger teen, Richie can't even get a single syllable out of his throat before Patrick's hands are on it and squeeze. Richie's body convulses as his air supply is suddenly cut off and he gasps for air he won't get.

"That's it doll. You feel that? You're at my mercy.", Patrick murmurs softly, almost with a hint of love in his voice. Not love for Richie, but love for the control he has over the boy.

Richie struggles, his hands clawing at Patrick's, but the older teen is stronger than him. It doesn't seem like he even feels how Richie scratches his hands and lower arms open. Richie's vision starts to fade, black dots dancing in front of his eyes, blackness creeping in from the edges of his visual field. He's about to go unconcious when Patrick suddenly lets go.

It's the sudden rush of air inside his lungs that triggers Richie's orgasm. He's only able to give a raspy little squeak, but his body lifts off the mattress and his toes curl when the arousal inside him finally explodes into streaks of white across his abdomen.

The heavenly feeling doesn't last long. Richie is still twitching with the afterwaves when Patrick chokes him again and starts snapping his hips even faster, harder.

Richie looks up at the older teen, his mouth moving with silent pleads to stop. Everything hurts and he'll pass out if Patrick doesn't stop, he knows it. His body is spent. Patrick doesn't care.

Richie's body cramps. His eyes are bloodshot. His lungs are on fire, his limps are freezing.

Patrick pants. His eyes never leave Richie's. There's so much fear in them and he's so close, so damn close.

Richie's eyes roll up. His body goes limp.

Patrick hisses at the sight, then he comes deep inside the unconcious teen with a shout.

He stays like that for a while before entangling himself from Richie and standing to clean himself up. His eyes wander over the younger's body. With a smile he leans over him, leaving an almost gentle kiss on the boy's sweaty temple.

"Good night, sweetheart."

 

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When Richie awakes, he's disoriented and in so much pain that he can't hold back a whine.

Lifting his head is hard because his throat hurts for some reason and when he looks down on himself, he wishes he wouldn't have tried in the first place.

He's naked and covered in dried blood and some semen. The room he's in is definietly not one he's been in ever before.

'Kidnapped'. That's his first thought.

He remembers the disco. Dancing with random males and females. Drinking one drink after another. He hasn't paid for one of them. Maybe someone drugged his drink.

Just as he's starting to panic, the door to the room swings open. All colour leaves Richie's face when he sees Patrick Hockstetter standing there, smirking like the Cheshire Cat in person. He could've dealt with anything, but this is too much. Patrick has been pretty much his personal psychotic nightmare since Richie met him for the first time.

"Well good morning princess. Thought I'd have to kiss you awake."

Richie doesn't answer, but the thought makes him shudder. That's before his brain finally manages to put together the pieces. He's naked, he's apparently in Patrick's house, his skin is stained with blood and cum.

"You... You raped me."

His voice is only a whisper, but that seems to be enough because Patrick laughs out loud. It sounds cold and cruel.

"Well, of course that's the first thing that comes to mind, isn't it?", he asks, still sounding too amused for Richie's taste. "But it's not true."

Leaning against the doorframe (blocking the exit, Richie realizes) Patrick casually takes out his smartphone. Richie scoffs.

"You think someone will believe you more than me, Hockstetter? Did you look at me?"

His throat hurts with every word and his voice is raspy, but there some hot anger inside Richie that makes him endure the pain.

Patrick smiles.

"They would believe me, but they won't have to. Because you're going to keep quiet."

Richie actually laughs.

"You're not serious right now, are you? You fucking raped me and you expect me to just act like nothing happened?"

He wants to continue, he wants to threaten Patrick with everything that happens to rapists in jail, but the sound of his own voice coming from the device in Patrick's hands shuts him up.

"I'm a n-needy little slut Patrick..."

It's almost laughable how needy he indeed sounds. Patrick smirks. "This is almost two and a half hours long. A masterpiece. Do you want to see the rest?"

Richie shakes his head. He feels numb inside.

Patrick comes closer. Sits down next to him. Softly twirls one of the boy's brown locks hanging into his eyes between his fingers while Richie lies frozen.

"If you don't remember last night, we can even do it again."

Richie shakes his head again. Faster this time. His heart races inside his chest and he's sweating, but his body feels cold.

"No?", Patrick asks in faked surprise. "Well maybe I'll send this to a few people then. I'm sure -"

"No! Please don't!"

The way Richie looks at him reminds Patrick of a scared puppy and it's enough to get him hard. He smirks and leans down.

"Will you be a good little doll then?"

Richie nods. He's shaking. Patrick smirks.

Their lips touch again.