"Damn, Hargrove, you need to relax," Harrington says with a smug smile on his face. He sucks on the joint and blows the smoke in Billy's direction.
How can he say that? Billy's boiling inside. He was supposed to hang out with Argyle today. They haven't seen each other in years. He has fucking missed that idiot.
"You're hanging out with Harrington," Billy repeats, pointing at the asshole in question and turning to Argyle who's all sunshine and calm, not matter how high the waves of Billy's rage get.
"Steve is a nice guy." Argyle shrugs, then hesitates for a moment. "Apparently we've got some things in common. What's your problem, amigo?"
"Yeah, Hargrove," Harrington chimes in. "Are you jealous of me hanging with your childhood friend?"
"He is jealous," Argyle says, eyes shining in amazement, still a little glassy from the weed. "Billy, that's..."
"Don't you dare," Billy grits his teeth.
Argyle's hand ruffles his hair. "That's so cute."
"I'm not fucking cute." Billy's flush turns more pink than red now. He can feel it creeping down his neck.
Harrington hums and gets up, gaze heavy on Billy like he's seeing him for the first time, one brow raised. Billy wants to fucking deck him.
"You are kinda cute," he says, when he's so close that Billy has to plant his feet to not tackle him.
Wait. That has to be the joint talking, right?
Harrington bops Billy's nose with his finger.
"Freckles," he tells Billy like he had no idea, like he never really looked. "Very cute."
That's it. Billy raises his fist to teach that arrogant ass some manners, when Argyle's warm big hand closes around his wrist, gently but firmly guiding his arm away from Steve.
"It's a compliment, Billy," Argyle whispers, other arm sneaking around Billy's waist and pulling him closer.
"Is it," Billy says weakly, the world around him being turned upside down. He feels Argyle's warmth behind him, weirdly grounding and there's Harrington's hand again, stroking a blonde curl back behind his ear.
"What do you say when somebody gives you a compliment?" Steve tilts his head.
Oh.
Fuck.
Billy stares at Steve's crooked grin, reminding him of a cat that got some cream. Argyle pushes his hips against him. He's hard. Billy's pants turn tight too. He doesn't dare to look at Steve's. He knows the answer already.
"Fuck you," Billy spits.
Argyle laughs in his ear. "C'mon, show some manners, sunshine."
"Fuck you, too," Billy mumbles, ears ringing, skin prickling.
Taking someone's cigarette out of their mouth: Multiple meanings - used a lot in media to convey control, power play, very masculine, I'm your boss and this is mine now, get over it. Mildly flirty, look at me, all in your space and shit, seductive. You're not allowed to smoke, because I say so.
Putting the cigarette back in their mouth afterwards: Ground-breaking. Would be less erotic to just fuck honestly. Who does this?
i think the hottest look you can give someone after they commit acts of unspeakable violence is approval. like don't get me wrong if there's lust there too that's great, but staring at someone with gore dripping down their chin and coating their hands to the wrists with undisguised appraisal and admiration. maybe giving them a little nod as if to say 'well done'. THAT'S what says "yeah we're gonna fuck nasty later".
kinktober prompt: shotgunning | @eddiemonth prompt: committed
3.7k | explicit
based on this post
Summary: When Eddie texts him that he has "some new stuff" for him to try, he rushes over because it's been a stressful week and he could use the distraction - getting smoked out by his dealer who sometimes lets him try new strains or whatever for free sounds like the perfect way to de-stress.
And yeah, maybe it's a little weird that Eddie always asks him to strip down to his underwear when they smoke, but Steve is paying way too much in rent to turn down free weed, even if it means being ogled a little.
read on ao3
Steve will never understand how he ends up in these situations.
This is just like the time he ended up with Tommy's dick shoved down his throat because he can't say no to a challenge or a dare.
Well, at least that time with Tommy confirmed some things about himself that he was questioning. Having a cock down his throat wasn't as revelatory as it felt like it should have been. It was less of an oh moment and more of a yeah, that makes sense kind of moment.
So when Eddie texts him that he has "some new stuff" for him to try, he rushes over because it's been a stressful week and he could use the distraction - getting smoked out by his dealer who sometimes lets him try new strains or whatever for free sounds like the perfect way to de-stress.
And yeah, maybe it's a little weird that Eddie always asks him to strip down to his underwear when they smoke, but Steve is paying way too much in rent to turn down free weed, even if it means being ogled a little.
But anyway, it gets hot in Eddie's trailer and Steve mentioned it one time and Eddie told him to strip and he did. So now Eddie just says he wants Steve to be comfortable around him and Steve starts taking his clothes off. It's a weird set up, but it's free weed.
It's not every time he comes over, but he feels like he has a Pavlovian response at this point - Eddie will text him and Steve will throw on something comfortable and easy to take off. Honestly, he thinks being this committed to the bit is something that should be applauded.
Eddie opens the door and lets him inside. The air inside is filled with the smell of weed and Steve can already feel himself relaxing. It's been a bitch of a week.
"You wanna get comfortable?" Eddie asks and one side of Steve's mouth quirks up.
He just nods and starts taking his clothes off - well worn sweatpants and an old gym shirt.
He sits down on the couch and lets Eddie get his fill of looking at him for the time being. It always makes him shiver a little, the way Eddie's eyes track up and down his body, the way he has his undivided attention. It's flattering, a little. Maybe a little weird, but it makes him feel good, knowing there's someone who wants him, even if he never does anything about it.
Eddie sits next to him on the couch and starts rolling a joint and Steve lets himself look around while he does.
He's always just a little fascinated by Eddie's place. He likes looking at what mugs are on the drying rack to see which ones from his collection he's been using - there's a black mug with bat wings sitting on the counter this time - and what magazines he's been flicking through on the coffee table-
His breath gets caught in his throat when he spots something - shorts maybe? - on the floor, shoved under the arm chair, like someone was taking off their clothes in a hurry.
He's stretching over and reaching out and grabbing it before he realizes what he's doing, almost like he's in a trance. It's a skirt. There was a skirt shoved half under an arm chair in Eddie's living room and Steve doesn't know what to make of it.
Eddie's distracted so he doesn't notice right away, but he looks up when Steve asks, "Whose is this?"
Steve tries to keep his tone light, but the words come out accusatory anyway.
Eddie looks at the skirt in his hands and a slow smile spreads on his face. "Oh, Chrissy was looking for that."
"Chrissy. Cunningham?" Steve asks, wondering what the hell she would have been doing taking off her skirt in Eddie's living room. Does he do this with other people? Ask them to take their clothes off and look at them too?
"Yeah, she's a friend," Eddie says, going back to finishing the couple of joints he's been rolling.
"A friend who takes off her skirt in your living room? What, did she walk out of here without it somehow?" Steve asks, not sure why it bothers him. Why does it feel like a betrayal? Why did Steve think that was their thing?
"I mean, she borrowed a pair of shorts because she was in a hurry. And yeah, she stayed the night." He's nonchalant about it, shrugging his shoulders as he finishes up and presents the joints with a ta-da motion.
"Why was Chrissy staying over?" Steve asks before he can stop himself. He shouldn't care, is the thing. He should put the skirt down and let Eddie light the joint and stop thinking about it.
"Why do you sound like a jealous girlfriend?" Eddie asks and Steve glares at him. Jealous? Jeal- oh fuck, is he jealous?
"I'm not j- I just, Chrissy doesn't seem like your type," he says, stammering through maybe the worst sentence he's ever produced.
"Chrissy's kind of everyone's type, man. The whole innocent cheerleader thing really does it for people. But we're friends, mostly."
"Mostly," Steve says in a tight voice, trying to will himself to let this go, willing himself to let the skirt fall back onto the floor, but he doesn't, his grip on the skirt tightening despite wanting to let it go.
"Yeah, when she's not dating anyone and I'm not dating anyone, we hook up sometimes. But she is dating someone right now, so she slept on the couch when she stayed over." Eddie scoots closer to him and lights the joint, taking the first drag.
"Oh," he says, shoulders dropping, the fight leaving his body. Eddie smirks at him, so he scoffs and insists, "I'm not jealous."
Eddie hums and takes another drag. "Sure," he says, blowing the smoke in Steve's direction. "You wanna put that on?" he asks, nodding to the skirt.
Steve's brain short-circuits a little bit. He looks at the skirt still clenched in his hand and then looks back at Eddie. "Why would I do that?"
"Because I asked you to," Eddie says, tilting his head and looking at him with heat in his eyes, flicking his gaze up and down his body, like he's imaging what Steve's going to look like when he pulls the skirt on - because there's no question that he's going to do it now.
Eddie asked him to, so he stands up and looks down at the skirt in his hands, the thoughts running through his head a little hazy even though he hasn't even taken a drag of the joint yet.
The skirt has a stretchy waistband, but Steve knows it's going to dig into his hip bones because Chrissy is tiny and Steve is a lot bigger than her.
He steps into it and pulls it up anyway, over his underwear, and it's actually not that bad, fit-wise. It's snug around his waist, but not as tight as he thought it might be. Other than being a little bit snug on him, it's short and flowy and kind of nice.
His heart is beating fast in his chest when he looks up and sees Eddie looking at him.
"Looks good. Pretty," Eddie says, reaching a hand out and tugging the bottom of the skirt out to the side. He looks up at Steve and raises an eyebrow at him before pulling his hand away.
Steve goes to sit down on the couch, somehow feeling more exposed than he does when he's just in his underwear, but Eddie stops him.
"C'mere, princess," he says, gesturing to his lap.
He doesn't know what makes him do it, why he doesn't just shrug it off and laugh like he normally might, but he sits down in Eddie's lap like he asked, knees on either side of Eddie's legs, heart beating a mile a minute. Eddie's jeans are rough against his thighs.
Eddie runs a hand up Steve's leg as he hands the joint to Steve and he shivers at Eddie's hand on his bare thigh.
He takes a drag and tries to relax, tries not to think about Eddie's hand on him, playing with the hem of the skirt, too close - much too close - to his dick.
"Good boy," Eddie says under his breath and Steve coughs out smoke on his next exhale.
Eddie smooths a hand up and down Steve's bare back as he stops coughing and it feels like his skin is buzzing everywhere Eddie touches.
It's maybe been a while since anyone's touched him, so that must be why he's reacting like this, leaning back into the touch, not asking him to stop, letting his other hand that's riding higher under the skirt go unchallenged.
Eddie plucks the joint from his hand when Steve's breathing goes back to normal.
He says, "We're gonna try something. Since you seem to have forgotten how to inhale properly."
He takes a drag and Steve sits there, perched in his lap, buzzing with anticipation.
The hand that was high on his thigh, thumb almost touching his underwear, recedes from under the skirt and comes up to grip his chin.
Eddie grips Steve's chin and digs his thumb in to get him to open his mouth.
Steve let his jaw drop open. He knows what's coming and he lets it happen.
He lets Eddie lean forward and he tilts his head the opposite way of Eddie and lets him seal their mouths together as he breathes the smoke out of his lungs and into Steve's mouth.
It's smooth and nice and even though he knows how to smoke, thank you very much, he's always loved shotgunning.
Eddie drops the hand that was holding his jaw back to Steve's thigh as he takes another drag. He leans forward again, seals his mouth to Steve's and Steve breathes in his smoke again, feeling the tension drop from his body as he puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders.
Eddie runs his hand up and down Steve's thigh underneath the skirt again as they exchange smoke over and over again, Steve opening his mouth obediently each time Eddie leans in.
It kind of feels like an out of body experience - Eddie's hand getting closer and closer to touching Steve's dick where it's starting to tent the skirt, Eddie's mouth dry against his as he breathes the smoke from his lungs out and into Steve's mouth. It's so fucking surreal and Steve is so fucking turned on.
He keeps waiting to feel Eddie's tongue in his mouth, for him to push his hand further into his lap, for Eddie to kiss him for real, but it doesn't come. They keep doing the same thing until the joint is most of the way done, until Steve's brain is as swirly as the smoke floating above them.
He comes to the conclusion that Eddie's waiting on him. Maybe he's been waiting all along. Since the first time Steve stupidly stripped for him just because he said he should.
Maybe he's been patiently waiting for Steve to be the one to make the move, to make sure they're on the same page.
Even now, with Steve perched in his lap, wearing a fucking skirt, Eddie isn't taking the bait.
So Steve watches as Eddie reaches around him to stub out the end of the joint, discarding it in the ashtray on the coffee table, and then he watches him settle back into the couch, content to just have Steve in his lap, running his hands up and down under the skirt.
Steve's dick is hard and he knows Eddie knows that, knows he can see it when he looks down at where his hands are placed under Steve's skirt.
He shifts in Eddie's lap, leaning forward, getting right up in his face, nose to nose.
Eddie smiles lazily at him. "Something you want, princess?" he asks, and something about the set of his mouth, how fucking cocky he sounds, is driving Steve insane. He has to get his mouth on him.
He scoots his hips forward, displacing Eddie's hands, so that he can feel Eddie hard against him, so he knows he hasn't been reading this wrong. The long line of Eddie pressing against him tells him he hasn't.
He closes the gap between them and kisses him, deep from the start, tilting his head and licking into his mouth - tasting him beneath the taste of the smoke lingering on his tongue.
He gasps into Eddie's mouth as his hands find a home on his hips underneath the skirt, dragging him even closer, perching him right on top of his cock, rocking him against it as their tongues stroke against each other.
Eddie grips his ass and grinds their cocks together, only a few layers of fabric between them.
Eddie pulls away from the kiss, a string of spit connecting their lips and Steve, kiss-dumb and horny, leans forward to lap at where it's hanging from Eddie's lip, breaking the strand.
This reignites Eddie, it seems, as he rocks Steve against him harder and kisses him again, biting at his bottom lip.
He pulls away to say, "You wanna get your cock out, pretty boy?"
Always a question, always Steve's decision. That makes him insane for some reason.
"I will if you do," Steve says, already reaching down to flip the skirt up.
Eddie pulls a hand away from Steve's ass to pop open the button of his jeans and get the zipper down, his other hand still possessively gripping Steve's ass.
Steve pulls his cock out of his underwear, tucking his underwear under his balls, as Eddie gets himself out of his underwear.
His heart is racing in his chest looking down at both of them, seeing the wet tip of Eddie's cock. He wants it in his mouth.
He watches as Eddie strokes himself, spreading the precome down his cock. He watches as Eddie gathers both of their cocks in his fist, hissing at the first touch against his cock.
He groans when Eddie grips them tighter together, their cocks lining up, the heads bumping up against each other in his fist as he strokes up.
He lowers the skirt again, letting it cover them, the motion of Eddie's hand slowly jerking them moving the skirt up and down.
His breath is stuttering in his chest and he needs to get his mouth back on Eddie's.
He leans in again and kisses him, moaning into his mouth - the feeling of Eddie's lips against his, his tongue against his, his cock against his, is so heady.
He rocks into Eddie's grip, letting him lick into his mouth again, letting him suck on his tongue.
He kisses back, bringing his hand up to cup Eddie's neck, holding him where he wants him.
"Fuck, sweetheart," Eddie whispers against his mouth, shifting like he wants to get closer, like Steve in his lap isn't close enough - Steve feels the same.
"Want you inside me," he says, whining against Eddie's mouth as he squeezes their cocks.
"Yeah?" Eddie asks. "You want me to fuck you?"
He nods, rolling his hips, fucking up into Eddie's grip.
He only whines a little as Eddie pulls his hand away, reaching into the couch cushions and digging around. He pulls out a small bottle of lube and a strip of condoms.
He snickers at Steve's indignant look.
"Would you believe me if I said I don't actually do this all that often?" Eddie asks and Steve rolls his eyes.
"What, you don't have pretty boys in your lap every time you offer them free weed?" Steve asks, trying not to let it show how much he really hopes he doesn't.
"If I offered every cute boy I dealt to free weed, I'd be out of business, babe. You really are the only one other than Chrissy who gets anything for free from me," Eddie says, rubbing a soothing hand up his thigh.
That soothes the sting a little. He asks, "Why do you offer me freebies?"
Eddie smiles, the same easy smile he always has, soft and fond and oh-
He says, "Maybe because I was hoping we'd end up like this."
"With me in your lap in a skirt?" Steve asks.
"It's not exactly how I imagined it happening, but you're extremely susceptible to suggestion, my dear," Eddie says, snapping the waistband of the skirt.
He's not about to say that he likes doing what Eddie asks him, so he asks, "Are you gonna fuck me or not?" and hopes he doesn't sound as petulant as he feels.
Eddie answers him by placing the lube and condoms in his hand on the couch next to them and sliding his hands back up Steve's skirt. He pulls his underwear further down and Steve has to nudge up to get them to slide down his thighs.
There's a more efficient way to do this, but he lets Eddie struggle to get him out of his underwear because he's still a little miffed that he just has lube and condoms chilling in between the couch cushions.
He ends up having to stand anyway to get them all the way off, but it's still a win in his book when Eddie leans forward and nudges his skirt up to mouth at Steve's cock.
He runs his tongue over the shaft, licking him from root to tip a few times before pulling away and tugging him back into his lap.
"The skirt stays on?" he asks, the corners of his mouth turning up a little.
"The skirt stays on," Eddie agrees, grabbing the lube again and warming some up on his fingers.
Steve grabs a condom and tears it open as Eddie's fingers find his hole under the skirt.
He rolls the condom on Eddie as Eddie pets at his hole and mouths at his neck, biting little marks into his skin.
He groans when Eddie presses a finger inside, the slide smooth from the lube. He fucks a second finger inside and manages to hit Steve's prostate.
His resulting moan is loud and he can't even be mad when Eddie looks a little smug.
"Fuck me," he says, bouncing on Eddie's fingers.
Eddie pulls his fingers free and spreads more lube on his cock before pulling his shirt off one-handed with his clean hand and wiping the other on the shirt once it's off.
Steve should not find that as endearing as he does. It's objectively a weird thing to do, but at least it's efficient.
He sits up and holds the skirt up and Eddie holds his cock still for Steve to sink down on it.
He sighs as he sits back down in Eddie's lap, bottoming out on his dick. He leans in and presses his mouth to Eddie's jaw, kissing down his neck as he rolls his hips slowly.
Eddie's hands are back on his hips underneath the skirt and he bounces Steve in his lap, his breath picking up as he moves him faster on his cock.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he pants and Steve preens.
He sits up and puts his hands on Eddie's knees behind him as leverage, fucking himself on his dick, letting Eddie control the speed of his hips.
Eddie groans and leans forward, capturing one of Steve's nipples in his mouth. The angle makes Steve's dick grind against the inside of the skirt and Eddie's stomach as his hips move.
He's probably getting precome all over the inside of Chrissy's skirt, he realizes. He's going to come all over it, get it wet and messy.
He takes over and drops into Eddie's lap to grind on his cock as Eddie moves to bite his other nipple.
One of Eddie's hands leaves his hip to take Steve's cock in hand, jerking it fast and tight.
He moans loud at the triple attack - Eddie's hand on him and his mouth on him and his cock grinding deep inside him.
Eddie pulls back and his free hand comes up to grip the back of Steve's neck to drag him into a messy kiss.
Steve licks into his mouth sloppily as he rocks his hips in Eddie's lap, getting closer and closer as Eddie thumbs at the head of his dick.
He gasps into Eddie's mouth as he rubs his thumb along the sensitive skin under the head of his cock.
The motion of his hips gets more desperate as Eddie returns to stroking him with a tight fist.
He chokes on a groan as he comes, spurting up onto the skirt and over Eddie's fist, grinding his hips down and clenching around Eddie's cock.
Eddie thrusts up into him, rabbiting his hips as he chases his orgasm and licks into Steve's open mouth. He shudders through the aftershocks as Eddie fucks up into him and keeps stroking his sensitive cock.
He can feel it when Eddie's cock jerks inside of him, when he starts to come into the condom. His kisses get more uncoordinated, he groans against Steve's mouth, and his thrusts turn into grinds.
Steve melts into his lap and lets himself be kissed as they come down, his heartbeat slowing down as the kisses turn softer, as Eddie's hand stills on his cock.
They pull away from each other's mouth and Steve looks at Eddie, somehow feeling higher than before.
"You got your skirt all messy," Eddie says, pulling his hand off Steve's cock and wiping his hand off on the outside of the skirt, messing it up even more.
Wait-
"My skirt?" he asks, his brain moving a little slower than normal.
Eddie smiles at him, ducking forward and kissing him briefly. "Yeah," he says. "It's not actually Chrissy's. I don't think you could fit one of her skirts, no offense. She's tiny."
"It's not hers?" he asks. Eddie shakes his head. "When you say my skirt-"
"I mean I planted a skirt to make you jealous. Or I hoped you'd be jealous anyway," Eddie says, nudging him up so that he can pull out.
"You're kind of devious, you know that?" he asks, sighing a little as Eddie pulls out.
"But you admit you were jealous," Eddie says cheekily.
"I'm not admitting anything. You're a goddamn conman," he says with a laugh.
"Conned my way right into your pants. Or- skirt, as it were."
Steve grumbles about it some more, but he has to admit, it was effective.
(roommates, kink experimentation, billy is a good boy, nsfw)
Steve felt like a real asshole when Robin asked out of the blue one day, maybe a month after he and Billy became roommates, if Billy was paying part of his rent in labor. Shave some off if he agreed to be your housekeeper? And, at Steveâs incredulous bafflement, had clarified: Every time Iâm over heâs cooking or doing laundry orâcleaning shit! To his horror, a highlight reel started up in his mind, a montage of Billy doing all those chores and more, and worse, Steve realized heâd contributed approximately nothing to the daily maintenance of their shared living space. Steve! Robin had scolded, correctly interpreting his guilty grimace.Â
So heâd promised to talk to Billy about itâassure him that keeping the place sparkling was in no way required or expected orâor if that was just how he preferred to live, then heâd promise to do his share from now on. Only, bringing it up over pizza and beer, a basketball game on TV, had produced an unexpected reaction. Billy⊠kinda⊠froze? Went bug-eyed, like Steve had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He looked embarrassed.
âMan, itâs fine,â Steve said, tripping over himself to explainâput him at ease. âI really donât care either way. I just wanted to check and make sure you knew I wasnât gonna, likeâkick you out if you let up on the Cinderella routine.â
Billy flushed more, beet red, and Steve resisted smacking himself in the face. He was fucking this up so bad.
âI meanââ
âI donât mind,â Billy mumbled, avoiding Steveâs eye as he reached for his beer. âI like it.â
âOkay,â Steve said, over the top encouraging. âGreat. Well, Iâll at least pitch in moreââ
âYou donât have to do that.â Billyâs throat worked, gulping, plush lips pursed on the can. Steve blinked, shook his head, tuned back in to catch the muttered aside, gaze locked on the Michelob commercial. âItâs all good. Nothing has to change.â
Why the hell was he being so weird about this? Did he think Steve couldnât chip in? Pull his weight?
âJust because I grew up with a nanny doesnât mean I donât know how to do stuff. Vacuum and dishes andââ
Billy grunted, annoyed, throwing his shoulders back to wedge himself into the couch, a mulish slouch. âJust drop it, will ya? I like things how they are, so whatâs the fucking problem?â
âAll right, jeez,â Steve cried, holding up his hands. âTouchy.â
They were quiet, both ticked, but the kind that would drain away by halftime. Exceptâhe felt shitty just leaving it like this, having semi-acknowledged that Billy was acting like his maid.
âIs there anything I can do?â Steve asked, his tone deliberately mild, not looking away from the freethrow swishing on screen. âThat you donât like?â
No explosionâgood sign. After a long, loaded pause, Billy sighed. âTake out the trash.â
âGot it,â Steve said. And let it go.
But from then on, he kept watch, determined to figure out the source of the weirdness. Almost positive it wasnât a control freak thing or a neat freak thingâit wasnât like the apartment was pristine. It was more that⊠everyday, Billy had done something obvious enough that Steve commented on itâalways had. Nothing major, just Oh, heyâyou got that stain out of the carpet or Holy shit, it smells so goodâwhat is that? or Howâd you unclog that drain? Wasnât like he thanked Billy, though he probably should have beenâalthough maybe Billy didnât want him to make a big deal out of it?âbut heâd always notice and say something admiring because Billy was good at stuff. Good at so much stuff.
He started taking out the trash, and Billy never let on that he noticed, but Steve thought he did. And he kept up the compliments whenever Billy did something nice, since that hadnât been explicitly forbidden. But since he was paying more attention now, heânoticed some things. Only when he was pretending to look elsewhere, monitoring Billy in his periphery or in the reflection of the window or decorative mirrors his mom had foisted on him. He noticed that, those times, Billy sort of⊠ducked his head, hiding a grin that bordered on⊠bashful? And his shoulders bowed a bit, like he wasâcurling in on himself. Likeâin delight?
Likeâhe secretly really liked it? When Steve noticed heâd done something nice? When Steve said something nice about it?
So⊠he decided to test it. Nothing too overbearing or obvious, justâinstead of merely noticing, he was sure to compliment. Because why not, if Billy liked it and still wouldnât let Steve lift a finger except on garbage day?
Good became his go-to. This tastes so good. That looks so good. Good, good, good.
Which is when it clicked for himâthat Billy didnât do chores and stuff because he liked the chores. But because⊠he liked Steveâs reaction?
Andâthat would explain his weirdness. Why he didnât want to talk about it. Like maybe he was worried Steve would think Billy liked being his bitch or somethingâSteve winced, anticipating the whack from the Robin who lived in his headânot that Steve thought of him that way.
âŠThough if he didnât mind Steve thinking of him that wayâor even liked it, thenâŠ
Well, Steve didnâtâdislike that. Like the general concept. Held a certainâ
Anyway, in the interest of furtherâah, testing, Steve mentioned, casually, on his way to work one morning, âIâve been craving that pasta salad you made.â
Billy cut him a glance over his coffee where he was hunched at the kitchen table. Grunted, and Steve quirked a grin, tossed him a salute goodbye. It wasnât even a lieâthe pasta thingâheâd been salivating at the memory. This version with Italian dressing instead of mayo, with olives and stuff.Â
Lo, late that afternoon, when he got back, there was a big Tupperware of it in the fridge. Billy wandered in halfway through his second helping. They paused, wide-eyed at the sudden charge buzzing in the air, and Steveâs stomach clenched.
âItâsâgood,â he managed, hands suddenly clammy around his fork and bowl. Billy was staring at Steveâs hands, held awkwardly aloft where he leaned on the counter. The stare was strangely heavyâhooded lids. Steve cleared his throat. âYouâdid good.â
Billyâs cheeks were as flushed as that day on the couch, watching basketball, insisting he likedâ
Abruptly aware his boner was starting to tent his shorts, Steve turned to face the counter, ducking to shovel more pasta in his idiot mouth. Heard Billy go to the cabinet, fetch a glass. Fill it. Walk back out.
Heaving an unwinding breath, Steve set down the bowl, let his elbows bear the weight of this latest sexual awakening.
So that was a thing, apparentlyâand for Billy, too, potentially. Probably. Because, without quite meaning to, they fell into this little routine where, before Steve left for work, heâd pause, and Billy would look up from his coffee, and Steve would mention somethingâa rental movie he wanted to see, or a sale at the liquor store, or if Billy would mind throwing Steveâs whites in with his so heâd have a shirt to wear to this meeting later in the weekâŠ
And the VHS would be waiting on the counter. And a six-pack would be waiting in the fridge. And his shirt would be washed and ironed and waiting in his closet. And everytime Billy would be lingering nearby, not quite meeting his eyes, and Steveâs pulse would pound even though technically there was nothing sexy about an ironed shirt, and Steve would say Good. You did good.
Billy would sometimes clench his fist, when Steve said it. Or squirm in his seat a bit. Or swallow, throat bobbing. Color rising. And the sight hit Steve like a load of bricks. A load of bricks to the head.
It was the weirdest game of gay chickenâscrambling to find mundane tasks for Billy to complete for the prize of a pat on the back, when all Steve wanted, and he bet Billy felt similarly, was to order Billy to his knees.
He thought about it whenever they were on the couch watching TV, whenever they were eating in the kitchen or drinking on the balcony or passing each other outside the bathroom in the morning.
So he tested further. Came home and went to see if Billy had done itâand there he was, standing by Steveâs bed. The neatly made bed.Â
Steveâs heart was rabbiting out of his chest, too on the fritz to form words, and his feet werenât much better, charting a crooked, clumsy course until they were toe to toe, Billyâs gaze downcast, his lips parted, breaths shallow.Â
He didnât know whether itâd sound stupid if he said it out loud, what heâd been wanting to say for daysâwhether Billy wanted to hear, or would consider it a step too far.
Theyâd come this far, though. Steve wet his lips, took a calming breath, and Billy seemed to brace for it. âGood,â Steve said, and it came out breathy. âGood boy.â
Billy curledâdid that thing where he ducked, hunching around something invisibleâand the sound punched out of him, this pained gasp. Steveâs hands moved on their own, reaching to cradle Billyâs head, step close to whisper in his ear, Billyâs brow at Steveâs shoulder: âGood? Is this good?â Felt more than saw him nodding. âYou want to be good for me?â
âFuck,â Billy whisperedâbit wheezing. Wet. âFuck.â
âWhat do you want?â Steve asked, fumbling at his heated neck. âWhat do youâ?â
âBe good.â It was mumbled, cringing. âWanna be good.â A shaky inhale. âMake you feel good.â
Steveâs blood was roaring everywhere but his brainâwouldâve fallen over if he werenât clutching Billy. âWant that, too.â
He heard a thready laugh, and Billy straightened, leaning back into his hold, face tipped, lidded gaze on Steveâs chin. âSo?â
So whatâll it be?
Buying himself time to gather his wits, some composure lest he combust, Steve tilted his head, assessing. Adjusting his hold, ran a thumb across Billyâs lower lip, firm enough to pull at the skin. âWant this.â Another swipe, exposing teeth, his curving tongue. âMake me feel good with this.â
A tug at his belt, and Billy was nodding, making short work of the button and zipâmovements quick and precise. He sank, kneeling at Steveâs feet, tugging the pants to hang at midthigh, and finally looked up.Â
Steve swept blond curls off his forehead. âLike you like this.â
Billy stared, eyes gleaming. Seemed to beâwaiting.
âSo good like this,â Steve corrected. âNow show me how good.â
Swaying, Billy buried his face in Steveâs briefs, nosing him through straining cotton, and huffed hot air at the crown. Steve compulsively gripped fistfuls of hair, still using Billyâs ears as handlebars, and resolved not to let goâto let Billy show him.
And, boy, did he. Laved at his dick until the fabric was soaked, the white gone translucentâwhite gone flushed pink, twitching under kitten licksâand Steve was on the verge of begging when a pull at his waistband freed his cock, bobbing only a sec before swallowed in Billyâs grip, fed into his greedy mouth.
Steveâs entire vocabulary had been reduced to one word, babbled at the ceiling behind closed lids: good, good, good, only sometimes it came out guh, guh, guh. One hand cupped the back of Billyâs head, and it was when his hips were on a steady grinding roll that he realized heâd caged Billy against him, locked the gulping heat around his cock as he plugged toward the peak.
Billy wasnât struggling, thoughâhis fingers biting into the meat of Steveâs ass, moaning so deep in his chest that Steve felt it more than heard it.
Steve grappled for a new wordâclose, closeâbut Billy didnât stop, didnât let up a second, and when Steve grunted his release, the throat worked around him still.Â
The moment Billy pulled off, lungs heaving, face ruby red and shining, Steve flopped to his knees, blindly reached for Billy, draping loose arms around his neck, his ribs, waiting for his own breaths to slow.
âWas it,â Billy asked, tight. âWas itâ?â
âGood,â Steve said, huffing a laugh, coasting hands across the bellows of his back. âSo goodâyouâre so good. Always so good for me.â
Billy burrowed his face into Steveâs throat, his collarbone, looping him in an uncertain hug. He was hard, pressed against where Steveâs clothes gaped open. Working a hand between them, Steve rubbed his palm along rigid heat.Â
âWhat do you want?â he asked, nuzzling the nest of blond. âSince you been so good?â
A shudder ran up the sloping spine. Steve smoothed his free hand down to Billyâs waist and back up, waiting.
âIâcleaned the shower,â Billy said, halting. âI couldâshow you, andâ?â
Steve kissed his temple, quick, so helplessly fond. Overwhelmed.
âGood boy wants a wash?â Steve suggested, and tightened his arms when Billy tried to do his pillbug thing. âBe my good boy,â he said, hushed, nosing Billyâs flushed ear. âYou want to?â
And Billy curled again, only this time around him. âYeah,â he said. âYeah.â
Steve looks good in lilac and lace, and he smells like something citrus, fresh and sweet. Eddie thinks he mustâve done something right to get this all for himself.
It wasn't a secret that Billy was loud. He mouthed off every chance he got, be it in class, on the basketball court or even at the pool. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that Billy was loud in bed as well, but there was loud and then there was porn star loud.Â
Billy wasn't exactly talkative in bed, in fact the second Eddie got inside of him that first time he was practically incoherent, but god the noises he made. Like a wounded animal or a dog in heat, and he didn't even seem to realise he was doing it.
Eddie had initially thought that Billy did it for show, sure he knew he was good in bed, had never had any complaints at least but he half thought that Billy was making fun of him. Then he'd rolled Billy onto his back and seen the look on his face, totally cock drunk and blissed out, mouth open and eyes rolling into the back of his head as he writhed and arched beneath him.
"Eddie, Eddie, fuck hnghhhh." Billy practically screamed as his back bowed and he came.
So it turned out Billy was just like that, loud and unabashed in how much he enjoyed having Eddie fucking his brains out. Eddie was definitely not complaining.Â
He was a little worried though.
Because Billy didn't seem to be able to control his volume. It didn't matter when they were properly alone, out by the quarry or in Eddie's room. In fact Eddie encouraged it, laveshing Billy with praise and all the dirty talk he could want just to make him sing all the louder.
But they were very much not alone right now.
Sure, Eddie wasn't exactly innocent in all of this. He had been the one to drag Billy away after seeing Tina's hand drop dangerously close to his ass and pull him into the closest, empty bedroom. He had a possessive side, so sue him. But he'd figured that given the circumstances Billy would keep it down at least a little.
But as he had so often in the past, his little baby surprised him.Â
He had Billy face down on Tina's parents flora bedspread, his own shirt stuffed into Billy's mouth as he fucked his ownership back into his boyfriend. And despite the impromptu gag Billy's almost feral cries of pleasure were clearly audible.
"You've gotta keep it down sweetness, or everyone's gonna know what a cock hungry slut you are." Eddie hissed, his grin slightly wild. Okay, so he loved that everyone could hear, he loved the fact that by the end of the night not a single student from Hawkins High would be unaware that the school freak was railing the top dog.Â
He was just surprised that Billy was okay with that.
Billy spat out the shirt, reaching blearily behind him to grab at Eddie. "Ed...Eh...fu...Eddie." he moaned, arm flailing until Eddie hunched forward and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.
Eddie could feel the vibrations of Billy's next cry, could hear it clearly through the seal of their lips. "That's it." He whispered, smiling lovingly at Billy's glazed expression. "Let 'em all know who you belong to."
'I'm not a queer', Steve thinks when Billy pushes his cock all the way inside.
He's not a queer because before he met Billy he has not even kissed another guy and he has always enjoyed having sex with girls. Right now he's just experimenting, it's nothing serious. And he can still say that he didn't like it afterwards.
Afterwards.
After Billy made him moan like a pornstar and beg for his cock like a cheap whore.
But Steve doesn't like it.
Doesn't like the way Billy's grinning down at him right now, all smug and hot, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead.
He looks like an angel and Steve doesn't like it, so he grabs him by the nape of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Just so he doesn't have to see Billy like this anymore.
Because Steve's not a queer.
He doesn't like it when Billy hits that one spot inside of him, that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He doesn't like that the feeling of being stretched open on Billy's cock makes him squirm and whine because he feels so full. So complete.
But he hates Billy, actually.
Hates him so much that he's leaving ugly red scratch marks on his tanned back, that will look absolutely terrible tomorrow morning when he has to go back to the public pool.
Hates him so much that he's burying his fingernails in the flesh of Billy's hips which will surely leave half-moon shaped marks. Because he wants to keep Billy close. Wants his dick even deeper inside of him. Wants Billy to fuck him harder.
And Billy does.
He presses on more kiss to Steve's open mouth before he straightens his back. He grabs Steve's thighs, spreads his legs even wider and increases the pace of his thrusts. Steve moans, in protests of course, and grabs the bedsheets with both hands, because Billy fucks like an animal and Steve thinks he's going to pass out.
He doesn't like it when Billy calls him his 'good boy'. Doesn't like how warm it makes him feel. Doesn't like it when Billy tells him how pretty he looks right now. How well he's taking his cock. How perfect he is for him.
Steve's going to come like that.
Billy hasn't even touched his dick yet but he's going to come. Can feel his orgasm on the tip of his tongue.
He reaches out and puts a hand on Billy's left pec. He lets his hand travel down to Billy's toned stomach where he can feel his muscles working under the warm skin.
Steve's not into guys but Billy keeps hitting that one spot perfectly and fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!!
He moans Billy's name.
Says a few things he's not proud of. Does a few things he's going to regret for the rest of his life.
And when he comes, it's hot and loud and intense.
It makes Billy groan. Makes him slam his cock so deep inside, Steve thinks he can feel it in his throat. And then he feels something warm filling him up and it makes his already spent cock twitch.
Steve doesn't like it when Billy pulls out and he suddenly feels a kind of emptiness he has never felt before.
He doesn't like the feeling of cum dripping down his thighs. Billy's cum.
Billy.
He flops down on the bed next to Steve. Breathing heavily. One arm covering half of his face.
He looks as tired as Steve feels.
Steve isn't a queer and he doesn't like Billy but he doesn't say anything when Billy's drifting off to sleep in his bed. Doesn't wake him up. Doesn't kick him out.
He grabs the blanket to cover both of their naked bodies. Has to move closer to Billy, so they both fit, he tells himself. So close that his head is resting on Billy's chest.
Billy's heart's beating fast. Like he ran a marathon. Steve wonders if his own heart is beating as rapidly when Billy carefully puts an arm around him, keeping him close.
He doesn't really care because he doesn't like Billy. And he doesn't like guys. Not in that way, at least.
And maybe that's alright.
He doesn't have to be queer to enjoy another person's warmth. Doesn't have to be queer to like being held. Doesn't have to be queer to like the feeling of Billy's soft cock against his thigh.
there's something about holding a guy in your lap and telling him that he's doing so well and being such a good boy while you're up to your knuckles with your hand in his shorts and you can feel him rutting against your fingers and he's just soaking your hand and you hear him trying to hold in his moans cause he's shy so you gotta remind him how pretty he sounds by pressing up on that spot that makes his brain turn off and
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