When he looks at Billy, it’s like everything he’s ever felt in his entire life is crammed tight inside his chest, making it hard to breathe.
It’s like looking at the sun. Or the flash of a camera. Maybe even the sunlight rippling off of the lake.
Either way, he can’t find the words to describe exactly how Billy makes him feel.
The flash of anger in those blue eyes, the way his canines show when he smiles just big enough, the freckles on his nose bunching together as he scrunches his face in disgust, the way his tongue runs over his teeth, the way his laugh sounds in Steve’s car, the sleepy murmur of his voice in Steve’s ear late at night, the heaviness of his limbs as they’re thrown across Steve’s body.
It’s like he’s drowning when Billy’s around.
Which is ironic, he supposes, as he thinks of those red swim shorts that come out from June to August.
And yet, when he’s gasping for air when Billy’s kissing him, he doesn’t want to be helped, or saved, or anything.
He holds his breath and closes his eyes, feels the tightness of his chest as Billy pecks at his lips and holds him close, mumbling something dirty-sweet into his ear as he grabs Steve’s ass, like he always does.
His chest has been tight and full for so long, he’s used to being short of breath, but he’s breathless when he hears Billy mumble something new.
“I think,” the blond whispers into his ear, so low that Steve can barely hear him over the buzz of nothing, “I love you.”
He feels like his ribcage is cracked, suddenly. His eyes are wide and his heart is beating quick, not fast.
Billy pulls back just enough to look him in the eye, a vulnerability there that’s poorly hidden under his usual bravado as he huffs, “And you better love me, too, or I’ll beat your ass.”
He laughs. He can’t help it. It’s startled out of him, his eyes are wet as he grins and shakes his head in amused disbelief, which makes Billy eye him.
“I love you, too,” Steve whispers, pulling the blond close.
As their lips meet again, the crack in his ribcage bursts open, and then he can finally breathe.
you two started talking during a super rough time for you and the attachment gets rough. he's just here for a good time and the occasional fuck but you're falling in love. it's not like anyone can blame you but then again its downright pathetic how you act about him.
eventually he catches on to how infatuated you are and it becomes a games. how far are you willing to go with embarrassing yourself before its too far? he doesn't go straight to being mean, it's small stuff at first like the occasional comment on seeing other people. he'd tell you about an upcoming date and it'll send you straight into shock. it hurts to hear that word, a heavy sinking feeling settling into your chest the minute it leaves his lips. date. you two hadn't been on a date in god knows how long. every time you see each other its just for hooking up or maybe a chill hangout. why weren't you good enough for that kind of effort?
he'll see the hurt on your face but just continues on like its nothing. you've just given him confirmation of what he already knows, now the real games can begin.
for the next few months your life is genuine hell, that sinking feeling in your chest and suffocating lump in your throat becoming far too familiar. his text get less frequent, at first it's just a few days without hearing from him and then it turns into a week. a week becomes two weeks and suddenly y'all haven't talked in a month. when he finally pops back up again you're relieved, but that feeling is short lived when he last minute flakes on your plans, giving you some bullshit excuse about needing to finish a project he's been working on. the talking gets more consistent but it's really only to tell you about his dates or ask for advice on some other girl.
then you get the text.
holli<2: hey, things with amber are getting a bit serious and i just wanted to let you know, i didn't expect this to happen but i wanted to be honest with you.
that pit in your stomach comes back and it's so much deeper now, lump in your throat excruciatingly suffocating as your eyes start to well up with tears. there's honestly nothing he could've said that would be worse than this. you're distraught, on the brink of sobbing as you respond. losing to access him would break you, the thought of it causing tears to fall. you're response is one of pure desperation.
you: wishing the best for you two! if its not a problem i'd love to still be friends, i really enjoy hanging out with you and love to be able to continue doing so.
it's downright pathetic and hollis loves it. this lets him know you're truly all in, there's no way you could ever make the choice to leave on your own accord. you're stuck here and he's gonna milk that desperation until you can't take it anymore.
It’s not obvious from the entrance, but Family Video has a curtained-off 18+ section in the corner of the store.
It isn’t looked at a lot because most people are prudes in Hawkins, in Steve’s opinion.
He’s usually chasing curious kids out of there more often than he’s helping someone rent out whatever porn gets them off while they’re desperately avoiding eye contact with him.
Not that he wants to look at them.
But, what he does want to look at is the security camera footage on the computer, specifically of that section, especially when Billy Hargrove is perusing the shelves.
Keith’s told him about the handful of times he’d had to threaten to call the cops on guys who try to jerk off in the small room, and he hasn’t caught anyone yet, and Steve’s kept a mindful watch on it.
Like now, when he’s watching Billy adjust his dick through his jeans and his hand lingers there for a moment too long. Steve tells himself that he’s only watching so he knows when to…to…
In the grainy footage, he can see Billy take a tape off one of the shelves and his hand is rubbing the length of his cock through the denim, slow and steady, so obvious.
He and Billy are…friendly. Enough. There’s a tension that’s always been there, since that night they first met at Tina’s, but now it’s like a pot threatening to boil over.
Licking his lips, he wonders if Billy makes a habit of this — of jerking off in public.
Of being watched as he does it.
He’s, for once, glad that Robin called in sick and he’s the only one working. Maybe that’s why Billy’s being so ballsy.
No pun intended.
His mouth goes dry as he leans into the computer screen, watching as Billy begins to unzip his pants, his hand disappearing into it despite how tight they are.
Holy shit.
He can feel himself chubbing up in his jeans as he watches Billy pull out his dick and spit into his palm before wrapping it around his cock again, giving it a couple slow strokes as he picks up another tape and flips it over to look at the images on the back.
Billy’s gotta know, right? The camera isn’t exactly subtle, sitting in the top corner of the tiny room.
He’s only a couple feet away, around the corner.
He hears Billy’s poorly concealed moan and it makes him go hot all over.
His heart races in his chest as he watches Billy tilt his head back, his hand moving up and down his cock at a steady pace now, his eyes closed as he gets lost in the pleasure.
His stomach flips as he watches Billy’s eyes open, half-lidded, and then he winks at the camera.
At Steve.
His cock jumps in his jeans and okay, that’s it.
He stops the camera and rushes to the door, locking it and flipping the sign to ‘CLOSED’ before heading straight to the curtain around the corner, pushing it aside and walking in.
The sound of Billy’s delighted laugh echos through the store before Steve smothers it with a kiss.
After Starcourt, Billy doesn’t like being touched.
Which is hard for Steve, because he has the urge to casually touch Billy whenever they’re alone or in familiar company. He wants to hold Billy’s hand, grab his waist to pull him in for a hug, just hold him.
But Billy shies away every time, for the first while. When he’s feeling brave, he’ll give Steve a kiss, which delights Steve to no end. It’s more of a peck than a kiss, but Steve accepts it with a grin, treasuring the way Billy’s cheeks go pink as he pulls away and leaves the room.
Before Starcourt, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
It’s funny how different it all is now.
Except, it’s not funny at all.
But, Steve has to laugh or he’ll cry.
About six months after it, Billy asks to sleep over. His kisses are lingering, he sits right next to Steve on the couch and lets their knees bump and touch. He’s in control and Steve makes sure that Billy knows that, always.
He’s got the patience of a goddamn saint, Robin tells him.
But, does he? He’s impatient. Selfish. He wants to grab Billy and pull him close and kiss him with tongue and just feel their skin pressed together again.
He doesn’t, because he loves Billy more than his own urges and desires, and he supposes to other people who don’t live in his brain would see him as patient.
Not coveting what he already has.
Because Billy was hurt, he was stripped of everything, left broken and used and Steve’s been helping him pick up the pieces.
Just like Billy helps him, in the ways that he can.
Which is this, tonight — their first sleepover in almost seven months.
He makes himself a pathetic little bed on the floor, ready to give Billy his entire bed, but his boyfriend frowns when he sees it and asks, in a soft and lonely voice, “You’re not sleeping with me?”
“No! I mean, yes — I can, if you want?” Steve breathes out in a rush, his eyes wide, hopeful.
Billy nods, his blue eyes just that, blue — in every sense.
Steve bends down and scoops up his pillow and blanket from the floor, tossing them onto the bed before climbing in, careful to be still as Billy climbs in, too.
They’re not sharing a blanket, which is fine, because Billy kicks it off in the middle of the night. He used to, anyway. Steve wonders if that’s changed, too.
Once they’re settled down, facing each other, Steve stuffs his hands under his pillow and gives Billy a smile, “Comfy?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, although his brows are pinched in thought, or maybe conflict.
“What?” Steve hums.
Billy’s mouth moves, unsure, before he mumbles, “I…I want to ask you…something.”
Anxiety swirls in Steve’s stomach but he nods anyway, “Anything.”
“It’s hard for me to ask,” Billy whispers, avoiding Steve’s gaze now, instead looking down at the blankets between them, “I just…I know it’s been hard, for us, lately.”
Steve won’t deny that. “Mhm,” he hums gently, nodding, encouraging.
It’s like pulling teeth to get Billy to say what he truly wants, but Steve would wait the rest of his life for him to utter one word.
“I want you to…touch me, a little,” Billy finally whispers after a minute or two, his eyes glancing at Steve’s and he looks so vulnerable like this.
Steve can’t deny the hope that fills his chest, soothing his anxiety, but he pushes it down as he nods, “Yeah, honey, I can do that for you…”
Tears well up in those blue eyes and Steve wants to hold him, but he won’t, not until Billy tells him to.
“It’s…it’s so stupid,” Billy breathes out, wiping at his eyes, “It’s just…this thing my mom used to do, she’d…run her fingertips down my back, or my arm, slowly and…it would make me so tired, and it felt so good, like I was safe and…” his voice breaks a little, his tears slipping down his temple, “You make me feel safe, so…so…”
“Yeah,” Steve nods, almost in awe as he stares at Billy, “Yeah, and no, that is not stupid, okay? I’d love to do that for you, I want you to feel safe with me, I’m so glad that you do…”
Billy gives him the smallest smile, something thankful and honest, unable to trust his voice anymore.
“You want to start where? Your arm?” Steve suggests softly, patiently, and his breath catches in his throat as Billy nods and reaches over, resting his forearm between them on the bed.
Slowly, Steve moves his hand until he’s got his fingertips hovering over Billy’s wrist, glancing at him again as he asks, “Ready?”
Billy nods and Steve gently flutters his fingertips down the length of Billy’s forearm, from wrist to elbow, before pausing and checking his boyfriend’s face.
Billy’s nodding again so Steve repeats it, slowly and gently, and after a minute, he sees Billy relax.
Like, actually relax. His eyelids get heavier, his jaw isn’t clenched, his brow isn’t furrowed.
And, honestly, it’s making Steve relax, too.
He isn’t sure how long he does it for, but he watches Billy fall asleep, looking the most peaceful he’s ever had in months.
Because of him.
Steve feels his eyes burn at the realization, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he gently tickles Billy’s forearm, watching his boyfriend fall asleep to his touch for the first time in a long time.
He forces himself to keep doing it until his arm and shoulder are screaming at him, almost locked up from keeping that position for so long, but it’s beyond worth it in his opinion.
In the morning, when Billy wakes up with sleep lines on his face, looking the most rested he has in a while, Steve feels hope flutter in his chest again.
He's stoned out of his mind and laying on Billy's chest just so he can rub his fingertip across that little dark blonde moustache.
Billy's basically asleep now, his anxiety and worry gone thanks to the joint they'd shared, his eyes closed and breathing even as he dozes.
Here, Steve admires him, freely. Bloodshot eyes and his thoughts slow as molasses, he traces the edge of Billy's mouth, so sharp and defined.
He thinks about how Billy kisses him with it, yells at Max to get out of his room when they want to be alone, smiles at him when they're driving too fast down Main Street.
The freckles are dotted next, across the bridge of Billy's nose and scattered across his cheekbones, a couple on his eyelids. He traces the scar going through Billy's eyebrow, remembering the story of how Billy's surfboard had caused it, how it reminded him of home.
He flicks the little golden curl on his boyfriend's forehead, smiling as it bounces back into place.
"Mm," Billy hums under him, half asleep.
Affection swoops in, wraps around Steve's heart, squeezing it so hard that he swears it'll stop dead. Instead, it makes his eyes fall to Billy's mouth again.
"Can I kiss you?" he mumbles, shy.
Billy doesn't reply, only gently pouts his lips.
It's enough for Steve to lean down and press his lips to Billy's, his eyes falling shut as he does, feeling that little moustache tickle his lip. He pecks it once, twice - he loses count.
Billy turns his head, like he always does whenever he wants Steve to kiss his neck, so he presses his lips to that sharp jaw and brushes the tip of his nose against it, too. Nuzzling him.
He kisses down to Billy's pulse, resting his lips there, breathing him in.
His eyes don't open again for another hour, the two of them napping just like that, together, lulled into sleep by comfort and familiarity.
Drunk Steve who is extra touchy and loves to make out with Billy but when he’s sober he always keeps his distance and never mentions it even tho they both know it happens
And Billy kinda loves it, knows Steve’s past that point whenever he feels a hand on his lower back or if Steve’s petting his chest and looking at him with those big doe eyes, seeing how they trail down his face before landing on his lips
He loves how easy Steve is like this, lets Billy coax his mouth open with his tongue, quietly moaning into his mouth and needing to be close, as close as he can by pressing their bodies together, hoping they’ll melt into one
And it’s always Billy that Steve is after, never anyone else, feeling slim fingers slip between his own before pulling him away from the party and to somewhere a bit more private
It’s great until Billy begins to crave it when he’s sober, wishing Steve would rub his stomach while they cuddle up to watch a movie instead of sitting on the opposite end of the couch, wishing for a lingering kiss at the door when he has to leave instead of a wave goodbye, wishing to feel Steve hold the top of his hand and rub his thumb along his knuckles when they study together
It’ll never happen and it begins to eat Billy up from the inside out, like a rotting fruit on the vine, every drunk kiss and tipsy flirt feeling like a stab to the heart that makes him ache
Billy doesn't even know the guy, really. He'd met Steve almost an hour ago, and it was barely anything at all, but...
He'd watched Steve toss back shot after shot after his girl had left the party, clearly trying to suppress whatever emotion he was feeling, and Billy knew better than to approach him, and yet...
Knowing better doesn't always mean doing better, does it? Especially when he's drunk.
He blames it on that when he fists the front of the pretty boy's shirt and Steve falls forward with the smallest little tug, his eyelids so heavy as their gazes meet, his lips parted just enough that Billy needs to kiss him.
But, he doesn't. Not yet.
Instead, he offers to take Steve home, and to his surprise, Steve accepts.
He doesn't live far. They climb into Billy's car and Steve's scrunching his nose at the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne and the loud music that's suddenly playing. He looks so cute, Billy wants to eat him.
But, he doesn't. Instead, he smirks and drives just fast enough to make Steve nervous.
When they arrive to what might be the biggest house in Hawkins, it looks like no one is home. He watches Steve stumble out of the car and laughs at him, gets out and circles the car to help him up from the driveway as Steve whines and brushes the dirt from his palms, leaning all of his weight against Billy as they make their way to the front door.
It's a real nice place, Billy thinks, as he helps Steve up to his room. The guy's room has the ugliest wallpaper he's ever seen, though, and he's about to say that but Steve’s heavy-limbed, so drunk, and Billy’s no better at this point, so when Steve’s knees suddenly give out and he’s kneeling at Billy’s feet, his flushed cheek pressed to the front of Billy’s jeans with his big doe eyes staring up at him, Billy's too slow to stop it.
He leans back against the bedroom door and hears it click shut with the motion, tucking his chin and staring down at the pretty boy at his feet. Steve's mumbling something under his breath, sighing heavily as he rubs his cheekbone along the denim, and Billy feels his cock stir.
There's a moment of silence, where Billy's staring down at Steve's thick hair and Steve's stopped mumbling so he can tilt his chin up and look at him again, their gazes once again locked.
That whole thing about not doing better echos in the back of his mind as he lifts his hand from his side and presses his thumb against the line of Steve’s lips, tugging his lower lip down, wondering if Steve will push off of him and tell him to get out but no, instead he feels his stomach flip when Steve’s tongue presses against the pad of his thumb, drawing it into his mouth quietly, their gaze never breaking.
He feels Steve give the smallest little suck and Billy fucking moans.
It feels dangerous, like this is not going to be worth the trouble it'll eventually cause, but when he sees Steve smirk around his thumb and how bright his eyes are, Billy can't really bring himself to care.
Billy’s pretty sure he’s going to cum in his pants.
The way the street lamp is shining down on the car gives him just enough light to see the warm orange glow across Steve’s flushed face that's pinched with pleasure, his mouth parted with stuttering little gasps and quiet reedy whines that Billy can just hear over his playlist that fills his car.
He’s got his seat pushed all the way back, his pretty boy perched on his lap with two of his fingers buried deep in Harrington’s ass, down to the knuckle and pressed right into his prostate.
“Fuck, you’re tight, baby,” he breathes, nearly moans, as he feels Steve’s hole clench around his fingers, sucking him in deeper, so hot and wet with too much lube.
“Sh…shut up,” Steve gasps, rolling his hips and tilting his head back, all but riding his fingers now, desperate.
Billy isn’t sure how long it’s been, he doesn’t really care, not when he’s wrapping his free hand around Steve’s huge cock and giving it a couple strokes, feeling how wet he is with precum at the tip.
Steve’s always been a slut for this — for Billy fingering him, spreading him open, stretching him in just the way he needs.
He’s always a slut for anything, really, which is what makes him so fun.
They’ve got plans tonight, and when Billy feels Steve begin to tense, his breath catching in his throat, the sound going shorter and shorter, he pulls his hand away from that beautiful cock and slips his fingers out to rub at his rim.
“Billy—” Steve cries out, having been denied his orgasm three times already, making this cute pathetic little sound in the back of his throat as he clutches at Billy’s shirt, begging against his mouth feverishly, “Please, please, let me, please, I’ve been so good—”
Fuck, Billy wants to give in. He wants to watch the pretty boy fall apart on his fingers, make Steve look him in the eyes as he does so he knows exactly who makes him feel like this.
But, he reminds himself of their agreement, their plan, and coos a mockingly sweet, “No, Stevie,” and presses a kiss to that open mouth, licking into it slowly just to feel Steve’s bottom lip tremble. He grins against Steve’s hot mouth and murmurs, “You’ve been so good, just a bit more, yeah?”
He puts his hands on Steve’s hips as the brunet leans forward, pressing his forehead to Billy’s shoulder as he takes a deep, calming breath before nodding quietly.
“Gotta get you all riled up, honey,” Billy hums, sliding a hand down to grab at one of Steve’s ass cheeks, smoothing his palm over it as he turns his head, his lips against Steve’s red-tipped ear, “You’re so wet and open for me, it’ll be worth it, I promise…”
“It better be,” Steve pouts, pulling back to look at him, his face so flushed and pretty, even with that put-upon look across it as he asks, “Again?”
Billy’s eyebrows lift, “I think you might cry if we do it again…” which he really would love to see, but he doesn't want to risk Steve actually coming just yet.
“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Steve mutters, a little smirk pulling on his lips, so Billy kisses it away.
No, he’s not going to fall for it this time. He knows Steve's tricks.
“I think,” he hums as he pulls away, smirking as Steve follows his mouth before giving up, “I think…I’m going to take you home now.”
There’s a look in Steve’s eye then, because he knows what comes next, but it’s almost like he’s fighting an internal battle of wanting to cum now and wanting to try something they’ve both wanted for so long.
So, Billy picks for him, and wipes his lube-slick fingers across Steve’s ass before beginning to lift him from his lap, grinning at the sound of Steve’s huffs and sighs as he slumps back into the passenger seat and grabs his sweatpants from the floor.
He’s such a brat and Billy can’t get enough of it.
He throws his car into ‘drive’ and gets Steve back home within minutes.
“Don’t even think about humping your goddamn bed,” he nearly growls as he parks outside the Harrington house, turning to Steve just in time for the brunet to lean over and kiss him, desperate and hungry.
How Steve is going to fall asleep after this, Billy doesn’t know. Maybe take one of his mom’s sleeping pills or something.
The thought, weirdly, makes his dick throb in his pants.
“The key is where it usually is,” Steve murmurs, which Billy nods at, before Harrington’s hand drops to his lap and gives Billy’s dick a rather hard squeeze through his pants.
It’s like a punch to the gut, arousal flooding his entire body as he grunts, hissing, “Fuck you,” with a grin as Steve smirks at him.
“See you later,” Steve hums, pulling away and opening the door.
“Sleep tight,” Billy smirks as he watches Steve shut the door and make his way back up to his house, waiting until the other is inside before driving away.
-
He’d gone home and checked in with Neil, letting the old bastard believe he was home for the night before sitting in his room and waiting. He’d wanted to stay at Steve’s, wait for him to fall sleep, but the temptation would’ve been too much. It was better this way — more believable, like they’d discussed.
And fuck, he was hard again. He’d jerked off in his car after leaving Steve’s, just to take the edge off, but as he drove across town he found himself getting harder and harder as the streets passed, thinking about Steve settling in his bed and trying to get comfortable with lube between his cheeks and a hard cock that he was forced to ignore.
Thinking about Steve was usually enough to get him going, but this was something else. This was uncharted territory, something they both knew they wanted, and it was driving him insane to wait for it.
But, he had, and now he finds himself outside Steve's house again in the middle of the night.
He finds the key where he always does and slips inside, making sure to put the key back and lock the door behind him as he does. Steve's parents aren't home, having left earlier that day, and the house is dark and quiet as he pauses at the foyer to listen.
Nothing.
So, he toes his shoes off and sneaks upstairs, listening for any sign that Steve might not be asleep.
He spots the pretty boy's bedroom door cracked open an inch and there's a gentle glow coming from it.
Slowly, he pushes it open a little more, and peeks inside.
Steve left his desk lamp on, a habit he has for whenever he's sleeping alone without anyone else in the house, but it's the perfect amount of light to see him where he's asleep on his bed.
He's sleeping on his stomach, his face turned away from Billy, but he knows Steve's sleeping because his breathing is slow and he's snoring just a little.
Shrugging his shirt off and pushing his sweatpants down then off, Billy crawls onto the bed easily, knowing Steve's a deep sleeper. He feels his dick throb as he slowly pulls Steve's blanket down, eyeing the soft sleep shirt where it's riding up his waist until he realizes that his Stevie didn't bother to wear anything else.
At all.
Fuck, he thinks, smoothing a hand down Steve's back to see how deeply he was into his sleep.
Nothing, not change in breathing or shifting.
So, he slides his hand down further, giving that perfect ass a gentle squeeze, watching the flesh and muscle and fat dimple under his fingertips before glancing up at the back of Steve's head again.
Damn, he's out.
Licking his lips, Billy inches down the bed, gently pushing Steve's legs apart and settling between them, his hands going to pull Steve's cheeks apart to admire his hole in the dim light.
A pretty little furl, still slick with lube, probably so sensitive to the touch.
Unable to help himself, Billy leans in and gives it a little kiss, his breath ghosting across tender skin as he laves the flat of his tongue up the twitching muscle.
He hears a soft sigh from Steve, but not much else.
God, he's so hard it aches.
He takes his time eating Steve out, loves every second of it, giving slow and broad licks and groaning softly as he feels the muscle clench against the flat of his tongue. Spearing the tip of it, he presses forward, not needing to put much force before it just slips inside, the heat of Steve making his cock leak against the bed.
He worships Steve and his perfect body, licks down to that sensitive patch of smooth skin before mouthing at his balls, sucking them into his mouth and only stopping when his jaw begins to ache and he can't wait anymore.
Pulling away, he pauses and waits, listening to how Steve's breathing has picked up a little but he's still clearly asleep, his body so limp and relaxed. Billy wonders if the pretty boy is dreaming of this, taking these touches and putting them into his unconscious, maybe dreaming of him.
He grabs the lube from Steve's bedside table and squeezes some onto his fingers, settling back down onto his spot as he rubs his slick fingers across that soft entrance, two of them slipping inside without a problem. Steve's so relaxed and loose, a little sloppy from all the spit and lube, but it only drives Billy fucking crazy.
He can't wait. He pushes Steve's legs together and straddles them, slicking his aching cock with lube as he presses the tip to Steve's entrance and gently bullies inside slowly.
"Fuck," he groans low and long, watching his cock disappear inside Steve so slowly, feeling how Steve's sleeping body accepts him so easily, not putting up a fight at all. He presses the meat of his palm against one of Steve's cheeks to get a better look, watching himself sink deeper and deeper before a filthy idea pops into his head. Stopping, he leans down and lets spit gather on his tongue before letting it drop onto Steve's stretched rim, groaning again as he continues to press deeper, his spit disappearing into the pretty boy until he's stuffed Steve full.
He waits there, bottomed out, for a long moment, his eyes trailing up to the side of Steve's sleeping face and admiring it. God, he's so pretty. He watches how Steve's eyelashes flutter, how his brows are furrowed a little, his lips parted against his pillow because his breathing's picked up a little.
Billy's eyes still glued to Steve's face, he leans forward to press his hands down onto the bed on either side of the pretty boy's waist, and rolls his hips down.
Steve makes this sound, like a groan, but it's muffled and sleepy and it makes Billy pull his hips back before thrusting them forward, starting a slow rhythm that feels so fucking good, Steve so warm and perfect around him as he uses him, the slick sound of the spit and lube making Billy's eyes roll back just a little.
He begins to move faster, chasing that pleasure, his half-lidded eyes focusing on Steve again as he hears the cute little noises of confusion as he begins to wake up, his eyes fluttering open and going impossibly tight around Billy, probably panicking for a second before he's relaxing and moaning in a sleepy tone, "Billy..."
Hearing his name, Billy presses himself down onto Steve's back and kisses the side of his face, finding his ear and murmuring, "M'right here," and smiles as Steve moans, clenching around him again and it's that's so fucking perfect that it almost makes Billy stop thinking for a second.
"You're taking me so good, baby," Billy groans softly into Steve's ear, pouring filth into it, "So perfect for me, so easy, you look so pretty right now taking my cock..."
"More," Steve breathlessly begs, pressing back against Billy where he's not moving, his movements still so slow but purposeful, "Please..."
If his baby wants more, he'll get more.
He pulls out and ignores the whiny little sound Steve makes, grabbing his hips and pulling them up, waiting a moment before Steve gets the idea and stuffs a pillow under them, and then he's sinking back in, his groan matching Steve's as he bottoms out.
He doesn't hold back, groaning and cursing as he begins to fuck into Steve, the sound of their skin slapping just barely covering every little hitch of Steve's breath, every moan smothered into his pillow, every time he quietly whines Billy's name and clenches around him.
He's kissing at Steve's back and panting against it, open-mouthed in mindless pleasure as he fucks into his pretty boy, feeling Steve begin to meet his thrusts, suddenly whining louder and louder.
"M'gonna cum," Steve pants, shivering under Billy, tensing completely in the way he always does when he cums, and it makes Billy grin against Steve's back as he fucks him through it, listening to the fucked-out moans Steve makes as he cums onto the pillow under his hips.
"Be good for me and take it," Billy pants, pushing himself up again then, fucking into Steve's tight and oversensitive body as he watches his cock disappear and reappear between Steve's cheeks, unable to help himself as he rubs the pad of his thumb over Steve's stretched rim, feeling where they're connected because it satiates that possessiveness inside of him.
"Please cum in me," Steve whines, so far gone now, his eyes glassy as he looks at Billy from over his shoulder as best he can, "Please, Billy, please..."
He always knows exactly what to say to get Billy there, always knows exactly which button to press.
"Fuck, Stevie," he groans, giving a final thrust before he's pressing himself down onto Steve's back again, feeling himself fill his pretty boy, just like he asked.
Hearts racing, they lay there for a while, catching their breath before Steve's whining about Billy being heavy.
"Too bad," Billy murmurs, pressing lazy kisses to Steve's shoulder, sweet on him now as he asks, "You okay?"
"Would be better if you kissed me," Steve whispers, shy, as if Billy wasn't just fucking him while he was asleep.
It makes Billy smile, though, and he carefully pulls out of Steve before collapsing beside him, watching the pretty boy grimace as he turns his head to the other side, his neck probably sore.
"C'mere," Billy murmurs, welcoming Steve into his arms, pressing a kiss to his pouting lips again and again, far too affectionate for what they are but he doesn't care, not when Steve's beginning to smile against his mouth.
"Seriously, though," Billy murmurs after a moment of cuddling, his hand in Steve's hair, "You okay?"
"Mhm," Steve nods, his eyes closed as he rests his head on Billy's shoulder, "I was kinda freaked out, at first, but then I remembered..."
"Mm," Billy hums, pressing a kiss to his forehead, eyeing the window and seeing the sun beginning to rise behind the curtains, "So, you'd do it again, or no?"
"Yeah," he mumbles, lifting his head and looking at Billy with a sleepy smile, "But, maybe next time we can switch?"
And Billy's never been one to deny Steve anything, so.
"Yeah," he hums, "I think we can make that happen..."
Steve's smile is as blinding as the sun and Billy loves its warmth.
