A New Game

Steve Harrington had found a strange sort of peace in Hawkins. After the Upside Down, after Nancy, after everything, he’d settled into a quiet routine. He coached the little league team, spending his afternoons teaching kids how to swing a bat and slide into home. It filled a void, but not completely. At night, his house felt too big, too empty. He missed having someone to come home to, someone to share a beer with, someone to hold.

One evening, a rumor reached him at the Hawkins Diner, where he often grabbed a burger after practice. A couple of kids from the high school were gossiping nearby. “Yeah, Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers broke up. For good this time,” one said. Steve’s heart did a weird little flip. He’d known Nancy was off-limits; she’d made that clear. But Jonathan? He’d always been different. Quiet, intense, with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through you.

That night, Steve couldn’t shake the thought. He found himself driving to Jonathan’s apartment—a small, dingy place above the hardware store. He knocked before he could chicken out. The door creaked open, and Jonathan stood there, looking surprised.

“Steve?” Jonathan’s voice was wary.

“Hey. I heard about you and Nancy. I just… wanted to see if you’re okay,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jonathan stepped aside, letting him in. The apartment was cluttered with photography equipment and old pizza boxes. They talked for hours, the conversation flowing easier than it ever had. Steve admitted he was lonely. Jonathan admitted he’d always felt something more for Steve than he’d let on. When their eyes met, something clicked.

Before Steve knew it, he was in Jonathan’s bed, heart pounding. “I’ve never… with a guy before,” Steve whispered.

“That’s okay,” Jonathan said, his hand gentle on Steve’s cheek. “Just trust me.”

Steve did. He let Jonathan take control, felt the shift as Jonathan positioned him on his stomach, slicked fingers probing. He tensed, but Jonathan’s voice was soft. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

When Jonathan pushed inside, Steve gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure. He’d never been so vulnerable, so exposed. But Jonathan moved slowly, carefully, and soon Steve was moaning, his body responding in ways he hadn’t expected. It was overwhelming, intimate, and right.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, Steve’s head on Jonathan’s chest. “I like this,” Steve murmured. “I like being with you.”

Jonathan kissed his forehead. “Me too.”

Weeks passed. Their relationship deepened in ways Steve hadn’t imagined. Jonathan had landed a job as a photographer for a big city magazine, and the money was good. He insisted on treating Steve, buying him nice clothes, taking him to fancy restaurants. “You don’t have to,” Steve protested each time.

“I want to,” Jonathan said. “You’ve always taken care of everyone. Let me take care of you.”

But there was a condition. One night, Jonathan sat him down, looking serious. “I need something from you, Steve. If you want this—if you want me to keep providing—you have to let me have you. Completely. In bed, I call the shots. And when I’m away for work, I’ll send you things. But you have to use them.”

Steve’s stomach tightened. “You mean… like a sugar daddy?”

“If you want to call it that. But it’s more. I want to own you, Steve. In the best way.”

Steve hesitated. It felt degrading, but then he remembered how safe he felt in Jonathan’s arms, how much he craved that surrender. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The first time Jonathan was away, a package arrived. Inside was a sleek, black butt plug. Steve stared at it, his face flushing. He thought about throwing it away. But he thought about Jonathan’s eyes, the way he commanded Steve’s body. That night, he used it, the feeling strange and full, a constant reminder of who he belonged to.

When Jonathan returned, he checked. “Did you wear it?”

“Yes,” Steve admitted, shame and arousal mixing.

Jonathan smiled, pulling him close. “Good boy.”

It became their rhythm. Jonathan would leave for assignments, and Steve would wear the plug or another toy Jonathan had bought him. He’d send photos, and Jonathan would call, voice husky, telling him what to do. Steve learned to love the submission, the way his body craved Jonathan’s approval.

One night, Jonathan came home with a leather collar. He fastened it around Steve’s neck. “This is mine. You’re mine.”

Steve looked in the mirror, seeing the collar resting against his skin. He should have felt trapped. Instead, he felt claimed, wanted. He’d never been so cherished.

Now, lying in Jonathan’s bed, the city lights filtering through the window, Steve traced patterns on Jonathan’s chest. “I never thought I’d be this happy,” he said.

Jonathan turned, pulling him closer. “Neither did I. But you’re perfect, Steve. Just like this.”

Steve smiled, content. He was no longer just the former king of Hawkins High, the babysitter, the coach. He was Jonathan’s. And that was all he ever needed to be.