About a month ago, it was a certain someone’s birthday, and it took me that long to write this, BUT I would like to use the two weeks of being flagged as a perfectly valid excuse for no writing at all, thank you very much yes 😌
So, to dearest @jimhhawkins, You’ve already read some of this, but here’s all of it! The ending is not what I had in mind originally, but I am not in full control of where it goes; I simply follow the flow of the story and so... well, enjoy 💝
-
“Sometimes I just want to fucking punch you.”
“Then go ahead, pretty boy; hit me, if you dare.”
It’s been a few months since their “official meeting” at Tina’s party, and it is ardently clear to any one person that spends even a minute in the same room as these two, that what’s happening between them burns hotter than the sun, a blistering heat that can’t be extinguished, yet whether it’s hatred or passion is up for discussion.
Steve’s fist curls tighter. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Whatever is going on between them, both in public and in private, is painful - broken hearts and broken noses, things that they both crave for viciously, and when being friends is too dangerous, too close, a useless rivalry suddenly doesn’t sound that bad. At least it still brings them together.
Like now. The snow lies heavy on the grass surrounding the Harrington mansion, the dark woods shielding them from the rest of the world as they stand frozen here together, within reach, the tips of boots just touching.
Yes being friends would make everything too hard to conceal, the truth behind their anger would be too obvious then. So Steve dares.
And Billy laughs, bent slightly forward as red spatters across the white snow, like rose petals scattered to set the mood, and Billy is fucking laughing, maniacal and wild, as he whips up again to let the stream from his nose run uninterrupted down his lips, drip from his chin onto Steve’s winter boots.
“Better?” he grins.
The ache in Steve’s fist spreads till his hand feels restless, the urges of his heart upon seeing Billy bleed rushes down quick.
“Not yet,” his response a lurid groan of wanting, and with a hand strong at Billy’s neck, pulls him in to taste the coppery hatred, the sickly need.
Billy doesn’t punch back, doesn’t have a witty remark, doesn’t call Steve disgusting names for any of this. No, he lets his so-called rival do whatever the fuck he pleases; pulling their bodies flush, lapping up the blood, biting and pulling at his lips, grinding their growing lust together.
“God- shit, I wanna fuck you so bad,” Billy growls out with exposed canines, hungry, craving, as he grabs Steve by the jacket, pinning him against the BMW, grinding harder till denim starts to hurt.
It takes a few brutish thrusts together with Steve whining at the friction before he finds his voice again; “Get inside then.”
-
This isn’t the first time Billy’s been inside the Harrington’s home, and it definitely won’t be the last, but just like on any previous occasion, he doesn’t get to look around - no tour of the dozens of rooms, no offers of beer or food, no chance to stare at family photos that might or might not hang on the walls, all he knows of is the carpeted stairs going up, and the horrible plaid walls of Steve’s bedroom.
It’s neat and tidy as always, doesn’t really look lived in at all, more like a showroom of a model home than a teenage boy’s bedroom. At least the sheets are green now rather than blue, so that’s something.
Steve looks better in green anyways, Billy notes, as his pale, naked body lands on top of the covers, dark hair spread out on a pillow beneath, the moonlight caressing his dotted skin, perfectly highlighting the day old bruises that’s been bitten, kissed, punched, sucked across every inch of available flesh, leading in a clear and practiced pattern down to where he’s needy for attention the most.
As if they don’t have all the time in the world for this, Billy tears away his own clothes and nearly throws himself at Steve again, settling in firm between spread thighs. He kisses along the collarbone, tastes his prey’s heartbeat as he licks down his chest, nipping at oversensitive buds that haven’t had time to heal proper since last, and he can’t help but grin at the pained hiss that’s followed by a roll of hips - the leaky head of Steve’s full dick rubbing against Billy’s stomach.
“Fuck, Billy,” Steve moans with a fist in golden curls, pulling him down, demanding that he go further, oh so impatient to have those lips do what they do best.
And Billy doesn’t resist that, for as much as he loves teasing Steve till he’s on the verge of tears and begging, his own steely cock has been pulsating to the beat of his heart since Steve suckerpunched him outside.
He presses his nose deep into the wiry hair that leads from the navel to Steve’s long erection, inhaling his sweaty scent, musky and strong with just a hint of soap from the morning, to which it all escapes Billy again in a stuttering breath.
In this moment, nothing else in the world exists but the smell of Steve, the taste of Steve, the sound of Steve, as Billy lets out his tongue, wet and flat, to run up the length of his throbbing dick, base to tip, and the moans that echoes out as Billy closes his lips around the head to suck it clean of pre is like an angel’s choir to him, heavenly and desirous.
Legs tremble closed around his head, over his shoulders as he slowly sinks down, swallowing every single inch he can, gag reflex shot to hell by now from frequent use. He’d never dare admit this to anyone, especially Steve, but every day Billy thinks about choking to near death on Harrington’s cock, eager to feel it in his throat, hit against the back and leave him breathless and hoarse with a dull pain for hours to come. The weight, the taste, the touch. It might be the one thing that brings him the most shame in his life, but also the most joy.
By now he can go till his nose is buried in dark pubes, and stays there to revel in the constrictive feel of Steve’s head blocking out most air, pushing hard back against those hips that buck up, the hand in his crown keeping him down as Steve twitches in his mouth, and Billy can’t help but hum at that, enticing and deep.
“Mmh, fuck, Billy, you feel so good,” Steve moans out low, pulling at those golden curls to lift Billy up, just to push him down again.
Blue eyes vanish behind lids as they flutter closed. Billy relaxes, melts into the sheets, focuses on how the tip of Steve’s cock runs along his palate, past his uvula and into his throat where he swallows around the hard flesh.
Steve’s fingers slip loose, falling to choke the sheets beneath them, allowing Billy freedom to go faster, setting a sloppy pace, loud and obscene, spit running down his chin, his throat, a scene straight from top shelf porn if Billy were to brag about it, and the other guy can only concur - gasping out, calling Billy’s name over and over, mixed with curses of fuck and shit, occasionally praises of that feels amazing and a dozen yes’.
“I-I’m close, ah-” he moans out and lifts off of the bed, seeking more to bring him to bliss, making Billy gag at the movement - a sound that brings another deep groan out from above.
At that, Billy makes a sound that would have been of euphoria if it wasn’t muffled by a mouthful of cock, his own steely prick leaking where it’s caught between his stomach and the bed, each abusive little thrust into his mouth makes his body kick against the soft and expensive fabric.
He stills all movement as Steve bucks his hips again, fucking into Billy’s wet heat, whose eyes roll back, toes curling in a struggle to restrain himself from cumming all too soon, oh how easy he is under King Steve’s command.
And from many times before, he recognises the urgent breathing and rising volume of Steve’s elated cursing that comes with him emptying out into Billy’s throat, so deep in that not a single drop can be spilled, to which Billy gladly swallows everything that Steve offers him.
He hollows his cheeks as he moves off, gasping for air and he lets Steve’s flaccid cock slap wetly onto his stomach, who’s fighting for air all the same with an arm thrown over his face.
“We’re not done yet, princess,” Billy growls, kisses his way up abs, through the patch of chest hair, moving till his own lonesome dick rubs along Steve’s, making the brunette hiss and grab on to Billy’s shoulder, digging in fingers.
Steve bites into his lower lip, staring down at Billy as he keeps grinding them together, the soreness of being so oversensitive overshadowed by how lustful he remains.
“Y-You know where the- ah- the lube is,” he says with a wavering voice.
Billy doesn’t even have to look when he reaches for the drawer in the bedside table, proving just how often he’s done this- how often they have done this. His thumb runs along the lid of the tube, ready to flick it open any coming second, but he’s thriving - throbbing from the way Steve’s whining about the roll of his hips, how it’s just not enough, not what he brought him here for in the first place.
Then there’s a fist in his mullet, yanking him away from where he’s been sucking and biting on Steve’s neck, angling him up till their eyes meet.
“Are you gonna fuck me, or should I call somebody else?” he threatens with a frown, brows drawn together all serious.
But Billy is always up to challenge that.
“Oh yeah?” There’s no grin, no smile, just his tongue licking across his lips. “And who else would fuck you so readily?”
“I know Charles in algebra is willing to do my homework if he also gets to do me. Joe in Spanish is so eager to teach me all the right words, and he knows how to use his tongue. Or maybe Tommy Hagan, hmmm,” Steve hums in contemplation at that name, smiling because he knows what the thought of him and Tommy together does to Billy and his intense jealousy of Steve’s first guy. “It’s been a while since I let him fuck me good from behind.”
“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” Billy huffs out harsh with teeth bared, ready to bite and tear, convincing enough in his tone, but the way a jealous rage pulsates through him begs to differ.
“And what are you gonna do about that?” Steve tilts his head back, exposing his neck, daring Billy to do what he so clearly craves.
Then he’s gone, crawled away, and before Steve can even question it, he’s flipped onto his stomach, legs pushed apart by Billy’s own, now a fist in his dark hair where he’s pulled back with an all too loud moan.
“Ain’t nobody ever fucked you like I do,” Billy snarls directly into his ear.
He angles himself proper till his steely cock slick with pre-cum lands in the crevice of Steve’s cheeks. There he rocks his hips, all the way till his balls slap against Steve’s ass, then back till the tip tickles and teases to go between.
Steve breathes with elation, keening, both hands choking the life out of a pillow.
“If I ever find out you went back and fucked Hagan, I’ll beat the living crap out of him, got it?”
An ever so deeply satisfied moan and an obedient nod is all Steve can manage to respond with.
“Good. You’re mine now, and I don’t do well sharing my toys.”
The cap pops open, and Billy releases his hold on Steve to instead lube up his digits, guides the hand between them and down to mercilessly push the middle finger all the way in, making Steve’s back arch beautifully.
“F-fuck, Billy!” he calls out as his head lands heavy on the pillow, Billy’s thick finger driving in and out with fervor.
A devil’s worth of a grin cracks across Billy’s face as he listens to Steve’s moans. The lube gets tossed aside, the hand instead going down to wrap around Steve’s filling cock, making the oversensitive brunette practically cry out at the touch.
“Mmmm look at you,” he rumbles deep like a bassline, “I’ve barely even managed to swallow all of your cum and you’re hard again already.”
That one digit pushes in deep, curls at all the right spots, as is evident by the loud and abrupt, “A-ah! Shit, yes! There- God-” feeding into Billy’s self-confidence that already rests high above any other person’s ideal.
“Yeah, you like what I do to you?” He thrusts in a second finger, Steve fighting back his every sound, yet Billy feels his lust in the way he clenches and trembles around the two thick digits pumping in and out. “Mmmh, fuck you’re so tight - always such a good little hole for my big cock.”
Steve moans heavy into the pillow, trying not to sound as pliant and easy as he is in the hands of Billy - trying to keep some semblance of self-respect perhaps, keep up that wall that still separates them. But giving in with no inhibitions is so much easier.
“Gonna fill you up, baby,” Billy breathes ragged and wanton as he adds a third finger, adoring the way Steve curses all muffled. “Fuck you into the mattress so hard you won’t be able to sit right for a week.”
At that promise, Billy feels pre leak onto his fingers, slicking up the motion he consistently strokes along Steve’s long erection.
And he chuckles like thunder behind immaculate pecs. “So wet for me, princess. You’re such an eager little whore.”
“I swear to God, Billy, if you’re not gonna fuck me instead of just talking about it, I’ll hit you again,” Steve speaks as he raises up on elbows, glancing behind to watch Billy’s self-satisfied grin falter, a storm brewing in his eyes, clouding the blue skies there.
Then the hand around his throbbing dick is gone, grabbing a fistful of hair instead and shoving his face back into the pillow. Billy pulls out his fingers again, smearing the excess lube all over his own veiny cock, palming at the head as he stares at Steve’s impatient ass clenching at nothing, waiting and waiting and waiting.
“Just when I start to tolerate you, you go being such a dipshit, Harrington.”
Billy strokes himself for longer than necessary, moaning with just a slight bit of exaggeration, egging Steve on, and if his frustrated sounds are anything to go off of, it’s working.
“You only barely make up for it by being such an easy lay.”
He brings the blunt head of his shaft to the hole he’s hungering for, running it up and down the puffy ring, listening to Steve whine for it.
“I just have to look at you and you’re hard.”
Pushes in, just the tip of it, just enough to have Steve let out a long sound of annoyance, a pleading little moan as he leans back, chasing the euphoric stretching of his body, but a firm hand on his ass keeps him at bay, as Billy pulls away just a bit, before dipping in again, like he’s testing the waters, grinning at the reaction he’s getting.
And Steve knows what he has to do for it, hates it, a clear blush spreading across his pale shoulders, washing down his back.
“Billy, Billy please,” he mewls, trying to struggle against the warm palm squeezing a cheek; not in an attempt to wrestle free, but to give Billy what he’s asking for, without so many words. “Please just fuck me, I-I need your cock so bad, so so bad, Billy.”
Billy could absolutely cum from just this - hearing Steve beg like a common whore, stroking his pained erection and giving nothing more than the tip to that willing hole. All he needs is to know he’s needed like this, and he’s finished, but the pleasure of unravelling King Steve this way…
With one brutish thrust, Billy sinks into Steve with such fervor that his knees slip on the bed, spreading him further till he lies flat on top of the covers, breathlessly stuttering out pleasure of being trapped beneath Billy’s forceful weight. Every little sound Steve makes is undeniably euphoric, and Billy stills all movement to enjoy how Steve’s body takes a chokehold on his fat cock, sucking him in like he’s been missed and waited for for years.
“That what you wanted?” Billy drawls out and leans down to bite at the shell of Steve’s ear, his dick twitching and pulsating deep inside, moving his hips to draw tight circles, making the other gasp and moan mindlessly.
Steve eventually manages a hopeless, “Y-yeah,” lying limp and filled and satisfied, when Billy angles his head; turning him enough to share a kiss, to pry lips apart with his tongue, to swallow the little whines that spills as he starts a shallow and agonizingly slow pace.
“Billy, ahh…” Steve whispers, tries to catch on to the rhythm, grinding himself against the covers; lube dripping from his hole mixes with his pre cum, wetting the fabric till it’s slippery and nice against his aching dick.
Then Billy raises off of him - keeps him caught against the mattress, a warm and heavy hand on his back like an anchor, fingers spread out between shoulder blades, the other reaching up to tangle fingers in dark, soft hair, pulling there just enough for Steve’s mouth to be forced open, enabling every lewd little noise escape, moaning and keening, begging.
He pulls all the way back till the head is barely inside still, revelling in the way every muscle clings to him with desperation, watches in the darkness how pale hands strangle a pillow, feels his body tense with irritation beneath his palm. The shift of it all is immediate when Billy pushes back in- shoves his steely cock to the base and out again, loving the perfected melody of skin slapping and Steve crying out loud with the pleasure that Billy gives him, pounds him, fucks him like he’d die if he didn’t.
“Fuck, Billy,” a pathetic, needy, elated whine.
When Billy’s hand lets go of dark locks, Steve’s head lands on the pillow, his body limp and unmoving as Billy uses him like he truly is no more than an expensive toy - a favorite toy. His toy.
“Shit that’s good, arrh-” Billy rasps out.
He rakes one hand down Steve’s skin, across the dimples at the small of his back, down till he grabs a soft cheek with a firm hand, squeezing and pulling it aside to grant him a perfect view of where he fervently thrusts into Steve’s hungering body.
“Come on, get up on your knees, Harrington,” he demands with a voice deep and thrilling, as he pulls out and inches away a bit to make room for how frantically Steve shuffles to get up on his knees, ass in the air, back arched, head turned to gaze back at Billy.
Who licks his lips before biting down as he dives back in with no warning, earning him a lascivious, shocked moan. He grabs on to Steve’s hips as he fucks him with a rapid pace, digging in his fingers till it should hurt, but anyone having the pleasure of listening to Steve like this knows he’s brimming with heat. The curses, the moans, the groans, the pleas - Billy whips his head back to lose himself in it all, an endless symphony of eroticism and animalistic urges and unadulterated wanting.
“B-Billy- Billy, I’m close, ahh-” Steve can barely manage coherent speech, “Please, touch me- fuck, Billy, please!”
Fuck if hearing Steve’s mindless begging doesn’t push at Billy’s insides, waves of lust running hot like lava on the edge of spilling out, but Billy grins all wicked and chuckles hoarsely.
“Nah pretty boy, you wanna cum again, you’re gonna cum untouched,” he growls and slams in harder to emphasise his unfair statement.
Steve dares to defy, bringing his own hand down, but seconds before he’d have been able to jerk himself to completion, Billy takes a punishing grip around his wrist.
“What did I just fucking say?” there’s barely even a hint of jesting to Billy’s tone at that. “Give me your other hand.”
With no hesitation, Steve does as demanded - angles his other arm behind to where Billy wraps his strong fingers around both wrists before pressing them against his back, Billy’s whole body weight on top of it, rendering Steve completely helpless.
Helpless, powerless, completely at Billy’s mercy, skin burning where he strangles his wrists, fingers digging into his hip, a perfectly orchestrated plight that ignites fireworks; a colorful barrage with tensing muscles and a wild cry as Steve cums, feet lifting off of the mattress with the curl of his toes, the release of it all ruining his sheets.
“Holy shit- fuck- Stevie-” Billy barks out rough as he pounds vigorously till his thighs and hips stings, Steve’s body like a vicegrip around his steely cock, burning hot, slick and velvety.
It takes no more than a few brutish thrusts for him to come undone, filling up Steve’s hungering hole with all that he is; an electric charge detonating in his gut that bends him over, sweaty locks falling around his stilled face like a curtain, his entire body pulsating and throbbing as he grinds his last bit of energy against Steve’s flushed ass.
As the world returns with the cooling of his body, all to be heard is both their labored breathing, ragged gasps and wet swallowing.
Billy kisses every mole across Steve’s upper back, shoulder to shoulder, grip softening around Steve’s wrists, but neither of them pulls away. His other hand rubs soothingly at where he’s been viciously holding on for dear life.
He doesn’t want to pull out, move away, end this. This… warm feeling, limp dick buried in Steve, something else buried in Billy’s soul, his mind knows what it is yet still fumbles to unlock it. With help, perhaps, it would see the light of day sooner, but that would require for him to find the courage to reach out.
And Billy always finds himself a coward in the wake of his heart.
With a sigh that hopefully sounds more tired and satisfied than dejected and hopeless, he lifts off of where he’s been resting his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades-
When the soft and pale body beneath him twists around, Steve reaching out to cautiously grap Billy by the arm, a softness in his eyes where they meet through the darkness, and with flushed cheeks and battered breath, the request comes gingerly,
“Wait, don’t… don’t pull out yet.”
Perhaps even Billy’s heart stops with the rest of him.
“Can we… lie for a bit?”
Well that’s… something new, and the shock of it shows in the wrinkles of Billy’s brow. But when Steve gives his bicep a beckoning squeeze, gaze unwavering, Billy’s more afraid of saying no than yes.
