More nipple pierced Steve.?
And I feel like there was a part 3 but I don’t remember for sure and fuck if I can find it on this hell site where I don’t tag for shit.
Warning for incorrect nipple piercing aftercare, probably.
Billy’s standing in his front door, grinning wide, like he belongs there. He’s got a little baggy dangling from his fingertips, the glint of gold painfully obvious. Steve doesn’t remember giving him an open invitation, but here he fucking is.
“You gonna invite me in, pretty boy?”
“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”
“Thought that was obvious,” Billy says, and shoves by before Steve can stop him. “I brought a present.”
Steve sighs as he shuts his door. Rests his head against it for a second, and then turns when he hears Billy’s jacket hit the floor, brows pinched.
He doesn’t get a chance to ask what he’s doing. Doesn’t get a second to be properly confused. Not before Billy is in his space, pushing him back against the door, tongue peeking between his teeth as he shoves at Steve’s shirt.
He gets it rucked up to his armpits before Steve catches his wrists. “What are you doing–?”
“Helping you out, aren’t I?” Billy asks, shaking off Steve’s grip, getting his shirt up to his collar, and dipping down to get his mouth on Steve’s right nipple.
The breath in Steve’s lungs shudders right out of him. He clutches at Billy’s shoulders, a sound catching in the back of his throat, until he feels teeth– and then he’s crying out, arching, seizing.
“Fuck,” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut, fingers curling in tight; bruising. “Fuck–”
“Yeah, baby,” Billy groans against his skin, pulling back and yanking at his shirt, working it over Steve’s head and dropping it to the floor with his jacket. “Fuckin’ look at you, huh? You like that?”
Steve’s face burns. His head is swimming. He sneers, kinda dizzy, and shoves at Billy as big, rough hands skim down his sides; as burning blue eyes watch the muscles tighten and pull taut under Steve’s skin. As Billy tugs at his hips and presses in flush so that Steve can feel how hard he is.
“Fuck you,” Steve breathes, and Billy laughs, hot and low as he curves back down to drag his tongue over the sensitive skin. “Fuck off.”
“Sorry, pretty boy,” Billy says, but he doesn’t sound sorry, not at all, and really Steve isn’t either, but he can’t say it.
And then Billy’s hands are hooking behind his thighs, hefting him up, and the weight of him is suffocating. Pinning Steve to his front fucking door. Grinding up against him as they pant into each other’s mouths. Steve buries a hand into Billy’s curls and pulls.
Billy moans and bucks against him. Gets a hand splayed out over Steve’s ribs, thumb dragging over his nipple, catching on the silver ring, tugging until Steve’s whining like a bitch and squirming against him as the muscles in his lower abdomen quiver.
“Yeah?” Billy grins, all white teeth– hungry– and sets a steady motion with his hips against Steve’s, between his thighs, until they’re rutting together and Steve is nodding his head to some unasked question. “You gonna come apart for me again, pretty boy?”
And then his mouth is on him again. Wet and hot and so good that Steve’s eyes roll back for a second.
He groans, hand at Billy’s nape, like he’s trying to keep him there– and he is. Doesn’t want it to ever stop. Not if it means this– this heat, swimming like syrup through his veins, until his thighs are flexing and trying to get Billy closer.
Billy sucks, with a hint of teeth following, catching on the little ball of the ring and tugging. Steve jerks, spasms, and spits out another curse. Claws across Billy’s shoulders as pressure builds low in his stomach.
“Billy– oh, fuck, Billy–”
Billy makes a low sound. Ruts into him harder. Uses one hand to pull and pluck at the glint of silver dangling from his other nipple and uses the other to curve over Steve’s ass, squeezing him through his jeans, keeping him steady as he rocks against him.
The friction. The heat. The pain and pleasure of it. It’s all too much.
He comes with a half shout of a sound. Knees drawing up, thighs trembling and tightening around Billy’s waist, eyes screwing shut as his head thuds back against the door. His toes curl as Billy ruts through it and then gasps against his chest, a low groan making Steve shudder and quake.
Slumping in Billy’s hold, panting and flush, Steve stares up at the high ceiling of his foyer.
They stay there, like that, for a long moment. Billy peppering kisses to Steve chest, petting at his thigh and down his side. Steve curling and uncurling his fingers in Billy’s hair and shirt.
“Was that my present?” Steve asks, breathless, and Billy laughs before looking up at him.
“Nah, pretty boy,” he says, and there’s that baggy in his hand again, two gold rings inside, one with a little slim bobble dangling from it like one of Billy’s earrings. “Thought I might finally get to see you in nothing but gold.”
Steve’s throat works. “Yeah, okay.”
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