Your heart’s on fire, that's why I'm going tonight.
Harringrove Summer Bingo 2026 @harringrovesummerbingo Prompt Fill Bingo card: Stargazing ao3 link
work count: 5k, Explicit
“So it was all fake?”
Billy straddles Steve's legs, shoving him back against the cold cement. He goes with the motion, suppressing a shiver as his shoulders hit the rooftop. Even as both are clad in their superhero costumes, his body feels rather… exposed.
The night air is warm, carrying the distant wail of sirens and hubbub from far below. The skyline stretches endlessly around them, a maze of steel and light. Between the towers, only a narrow strip of sky remains visible, a deep navy expanse broken by the blinking lights of a lone plane drifting overhead.
"Yes,” Billy says, exasperation creeping into his voice. “And I said I'm sorry, okay?"
He hovers above Steve as he speaks, leaning down every few words to punctuate with a harsh suck against the exposed skin of his neck, as though hoping persistence alone might finally win the argument for him. “It’s all sorted, so can we just forget about it for…” Billy’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, and after a second, Steve sighs, allowing the other boy to dip inside, licking and nibbling at the soft flesh. “—better things?”
Steve bites back a moan.
He shouldn’t be as turned on as he is. They're out in the open, in a place where anyone could see them. Yet when Billy grinds down, Steve's body betrays him, warmth igniting like a firework beneath his skin.
They shouldn't.
Loose grit presses against his back, and a humid, smog-choked New York breeze brushes damply across his face. Instead of grounding him, the noise only makes him thrum hotter.
Billy has always been his weakness.
Steve tilts his chin slightly as the kiss deepens. Under any other circumstance, he would have let the question slide. A tight-lipped Billy is usually something best left alone, whether he's sad, angry, or simply brooding. Steve has grown well accustomed to that fact over the years.
But he can't leave it.
Not this time.
He places a palm on either side of Billy’s chest and pushes.
It takes more effort than he'd like to admit, partly because Billy is stubborn, and partly because Steve isn't entirely sure he wants the distance himself. Billy relents with obvious reluctance, letting out a low, dissatisfied grumble as he finally eases back.
“So then t-the kid…?”
The question trails off as Billy reaches for him again, coming back to place soft, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Calloused palms brush over every inch of exposed skin they can reach, which isn't much, considering Steve has only removed his mask.
“Jamie belongs to my sister, not me.”
Billy tips Steve's chin up until their eyes meet, blue gaze wide and miserable.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I lied to you, and that was wrong. But it was the only way I could think of to get you to help me.” Steve sighs and nods, wrapping his arms around him and accepting the next mouthful of tongue.
Understanding it doesn't mean he has to like it.
The tension slowly leaves Billy’s shoulders, and for a while, they simply stay there, blissfully making out. It’s nice. They haven't really had a chance to sit down and talk through everything that happened after the whole gang-war fiasco, the fake-kid story had just been a ploy to get Steve involved, and Steve had been foolish enough to fall for it.
He still has questions.
They swirl around his mind, each one demanding an answer. He's just about to pull back and ask the next one when Billy grows restless. He nudges Steve's shoulder, encouraging him to lie down beside him and leave the conversation behind.
But Steve isn't finished.
He braces himself and refuses to budge.
Billy pauses, blinking up at him in confusion, but he doesn't pull away when Steve gently takes hold of his wrists. Instead, Steve begins tracing slow circles over the rough patches where his scent glands should be, and he must be correct, because Billy’s entire body starts to relax. The tension drains from his frame, guarded edges soften into quiet contentment as though someone has finally released a spring that has been wound too tightly for too long.
So Steve keeps going. Patient circles, gentle pressure. Until a small smile settles onto Billy’s face—easy, genuine, completely unguarded.
Steve's chest aches at the sight. He wants to keep that smile there forever. By the time he's finished, Billy has practically melted into his lap, all warmth and contentment, a soft purr rumbling beneath his breath.
Satisfied, Steve shifts his weight and flips their positions.
A little gasp of air leaves Billy's lips as Steve pins him to the floor, blanketing him beneath the broad span of his body. Reaching up, he slips a finger beneath the edge of the black mask and carefully peels it away.
Flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes blink up at him.
He knows that look well.
"Steve..." Billy murmurs, the word barely more than a breath against his ear. Steve's thumb brushes along a sharp jaw, minor stubble, before settling beneath his chin.
"You know I'd help you," Steve whispers. "No matter what."
Billy exhales slowly and nods.
His eyes drift closed just as Steve replaces his touch with a gentle kiss against skin, the feverish rosiness hidden beneath those blond curls, breathing in the scent that lingers.
Still the same.
A scent his brain could pick out through rain, smoke, sleet or a crowded city street.
And suddenly Steve feels ridiculous. He'd spent so much time fixating on the possibility, on what that meant, on every implication and consequence, that he'd missed the obvious truth staring him in the face. Billy’s scent is heady, a nectar-sweet warmth tuned to perfection, making Steve's mouth water. Unmistakable. Undeniable. But even at its richest, at its most intoxicating, it lacks the soft milky undertones that would have accompanied what Steve had convinced himself was true.
Steve internally kicks himself.
The answer had been there all along, woven through every breath he'd taken around Billy, and he'd been too distracted to notice. Too distracted to see how neatly he'd walked straight into Billy’s hands.
He'd told himself he couldn't afford distractions.
But he can't deny the place where his thoughts drift to now. Slipping somewhere far more dangerous.
To a dream.
A dream where neither of them keeps one foot out the door. Where heroes and villains, masks and obligations, and the endless demands of other people fade into the background. Where neither of them had all this distance, where smokes and flares and lies don’t exist. A dream where the greater good isn't his all.
A dream where he gets to be selfish. Just once.
His chest tightens.
Steve wants.
God, he wants.
Billy.
To wake up beside him years from now, to share a house. A home. A place where they have matching marks on their necks, matching bands on either finger and all the time in the world. Pups racing through the halls, carrying pieces of both of them in every laugh and smile that they raised together, smelling like them. Like love. For so long, Steve has convinced himself that Billy is a beautiful complication, someone impossible to hold onto for long. But now, with Billy practically melting into his arms and trusting him completely, that certainty begins to crack.
Maybe the problem isn't that Billy can't stay.
Maybe Steve has never truly let himself imagine him staying.
“You still with me?"
Steve blinks and finds Billy watching him with amused concern.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry." A sheepish smile tugs at his mouth. "Just distracted…”
Billy chuckles and eases back slightly, only a few inches, but the instinct to close the distance flares, and Steve bites it all down, the urge to reach out, to pull him back and hold him down.
His musings are cut short when the sound of a metal fly echoes, and he turns to see Billy fumbling with the zipper of his suit. The boy slides it down, slowly revealing first his collarbones and then a sweat-slicked chest. And just like that, Steve’s cock goes from half to fully hard in what feels like a heartbeat.
Sue him! It’s been a while.
His grip on Billy’s wrist tightens, voice pitching unusually high.
“Wait here?”
Billy gives him a flat look.
Steve’s face goes hot. “…Like now?”
"No, Romeo. In five years."
Steve sputters, but before he can formulate a proper response, Billy yanks the remaining zip down to his hip. The only thing his bewildered brain can latch onto is the disappearing line of fuzz down Billy’s abdomen.
Of course, he’s wearing no underwear.
His staring contest and desire to follow said trail is broken as Billy hooks one leg around his hips, toppling them backwards. Steve barely catches himself, planting both hands on either side of Billy's head before he can accidentally knock their foreheads together.
For a moment, neither of them speaks.
This close, Steve can feel Billy's eyes on him. "Having second thoughts?" he drawls, but beneath the teasing tone lies something less confident. Steve is already reaching for a retort, something equally snarky sitting on the tip of his tongue.
Then he looks at Billy properly. And sees it.
Hurt.
Uncertainty.
The same face that he made at Billy, those months ago. When he, too, was unsure on where they stood.
“Never," Steve says quietly. “Never again."
“Good”, Billy mumbles, then, trying and failing to sound casual, “Because you're not getting another chance.”
Steve laughs softly. The words are possessive, almost territorial, but the scent beneath them tells a different story. Relief lingers there, cheerful citrus, threaded through the last remnants of doubt.
Billy turns away from him and begins trying to wrestle with the remains of his costume. Steve has to suppress a snort as the other grunts in frustration, making little ‘huf-hufs’ that have the tops of Steve’s ears pinking.
"Hold still."
Billy sighs but obeys, and together, they peel the black latex, Steve complaining the whole time because who in their right mind would wear this? And Billy grumbling back, hot people, Steve, that’s who.
Once his top half is bare, Billy shivers, skin goosebumping in the breeze.
Steve reaches out a hand before his brain can catch up, drawn towards the exposed chest like a moth to a flame. He grazes a finger over one nipple, and Billy chokes on a sound, fingers tightening around Steve’s torso.
“Baby…” Steve lightly brushes the left one, the sensitive one, barely breathing. Billy leans into it.
Steve's heart aches.
Billy has always done that, always melted whenever Steve was with him; Steve’s never seen that with anyone else, like Steve was special.
After they broke up, Steve spent so long convincing himself nobody could fit beside him permanently ever again. That there would always be another emergency, another responsibility, another reason to leave.
Every cautious fling he'd tried afterwards had only taught him the same lesson. Their eyes wouldn't crinkle in the same ways Billy did, wouldn’t squint at the corners as he did, trying and failing to hide his mirth. Their laughter wouldn't carry the same notes, that playful tilt wrapped around an almost reckless brazenness that somehow belonged only to him.
Nobody looked at him like Billy.
Because they weren’t Billy.
He flicks the dusky nub.
“Fuck, Steve!” Billy’s yelp devolves into a sweet moan as Steve fondles his chest. He twists the other nipple, and Billy retaliates by snaking his arms upwards, one hand tangling in Steve’s hair while the other hovers uncertainly against his shoulder, as if he isn't quite sure where to put it.
Steve catches the wandering hand and guides it to the back of his neck, pressing it gently against the sensitive skin of his own mating patch. He doesn't do anything else. He simply looks. After a few moments, blue eyes flutter open from where they'd drifted shut, and Billy peers up at him with a small, confused frown.
Steve traces a fingernail lightly beneath Billy’s chin, leaning down until their noses brush.
“You’re so pretty, baby, prettiest baby alive.”
A flush spreads across Billy’s face. Compliments have always had that effect on him, shy, no matter how much confidence he wears everywhere else. Steve barely has time to admire the sight before Billy surges upward and captures his mouth in a desperate, eager kiss. He makes an aborted motion when Billy gives a particularly harsh tug, pushes his hips down before catching himself, but the friction is enough that Billy makes a startled keen, echoing off the tiles.
Paranoia sparks through Steve's veins. His head snaps up as he scans the rooftop like a man expecting disaster around every corner.
Nobody.
Well, obviously.
He chose this place because of that.
Even so, Steve gives the construction site one final sweep. They're perched on the highest section of a half-finished roof, cordoned off from the rest of the building. Both of their masks are off. If anyone stumbled across them now, they'd recognise them in an instant.
Steve would never admit it out loud, but he'd had a suspicion about where this conversation might lead when he'd chosen this particular spot. Some small, hopeful part of him had wondered whether billy might be willing to give them another chance.
At least the stack of sandbags blocking the only access point helps.
Satisfied, Steve turns his attention back to Billy. He leans in slightly, and their lips brush in a fleeting touch. Billy lets out a soft, contented sigh, and something warm settles in Steve's chest.
“My baby,” Steve murmurs against his lips. Billy lets out a pleased groan and ducks down to nibble on his earlobe, giving Steve another wonderful faceful of that scent, right at the source. "Fuck, you smell so good.” Billy’s scent is unlike anything else. Sweet, delicate, yet daring. Spicy when he gets frustrated, softening with flecks of honey when he’s pleased. Billy chuckles at Steve's shameless sniffing, and Steve glimpses the fresh pollen of forest blossoms.
A walking daydream.
It's a scent Steve has missed more than he cares to admit. And he'd tried to move on. Tried dating other omegas with their pleasant enough scents—roses, peonies, lavender, all the familiar fragrances that should have worked. He even tried going with some alphas, their deeper, musky notes that Steve thought he might learn to love with time.
But none compare. Billy’s scent pulls at him in a way he can't explain, alluring without trying to be. Steve is certain he could pick it out anywhere. Through rain or snow, through crowded streets and packed subway cars. Even if a hundred other scents surrounded him, he'd find this one.
But something has changed. A faint new note lingers beneath the familiar sweetness, subtle enough that Steve might have missed it if he wasn't paying attention.
Steve pulls back, nostrils flaring. Billy gives him a bewildered look.
Berries.
Ripe, nectar-sweet berries warmed by the sun and ready for harvest.
Steve presses down on the spider emblem in the middle of his suit, releasing the mechanism that holds it taut. The mesh sheds from his limbs, sliding downwards to pool at his knees, leaving him in only the garish boxers he pulled on in the morning without a second thought. He would be self-conscious, but he doesn't even have time to form the thought because Billy is all over him.
One second, Steve has breathing room; the next, Billy is clinging to him like a needy octopus, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and crowding into every inch of available space. He rubs his cheek against Steve's jaw, scenting him without an ounce of shame, then does it again for good measure.
Steve doesn't complain.
Billy’s next move is to go straight for his crotch, pawing at the bulge and letting out a low, plaintive whine when Steve holds him back.
“Billy,” Steve laughs, though his arms are already sliding around him.
It takes a few tries to actually lie them both down into a comfortable position, a lot of shuffling and grumbling from Billy’s part, but once face to face, it’s easy to slot their mouths together, like pieces of a missing puzzle, and the pair continue simply kissing until Steve’s head is spinning for air. Billy is rough, fast and desperate, constantly pulling closer and closer, until they are practically skin to skin. Steve runs his hand down Billy's exposed spine and wedges his hand into the gap between the remaining suit and his ass, gripping a firm mound in both fists. His hands drift, and he immediately notices the suspicious lack of tan lines.
“You’ve been sunning naked?”
Billy tightens his grip on Steve's shoulders. His face remains buried against Steve's neck, cheek brushing warm skin as he gives a shameless nod. "Didn't want to ruin the look," he murmurs, amusement lining through his voice.
Steve lets out a disbelieving scoff.
“As long as nobody else is getting a look.”
“Careful, Stevie, you almost sound jealous, a—ah…” Billy’s teasing is cut short; the next laugh a dirty groan when Steve digs all his fingernails into Billy’s ass cheek. He flutters a series of apologetic kisses along Steve's neck, tonguing between the divots of heated skin until finally relenting.
"Missed you so much," Steve sighs. Billy pulls them flush together, his pelvis rubbing against his.
Steve can feel everything.
The other boy's hard length presses hot against Steve, and Steve's brain promptly forgets how to function. He tries to move back, a little distance. Just enough to think.
Billy refuses. His fingers catch against Steve's back, holding him firmly in place.
"Easy! Ow!"
Steve lets out an indignant growl, more offended than hurt. The sound seems to distract Billy enough that he loosens his grip, replacing it with a thready, appeasing trill.
Much better.
He nudges against Billy’s cheek, and for a few moments neither of them says anything. They simply breathe together, amicably scenting one another.
Eventually, Steve clears his throat.
“D-do you have lube?”
Billy blinks at him. Nobody speaks for a good minute. Steve feels heat crawl up his neck. Maybe that was too much. Too fast.
"I mean, you don't have to. I just—I thought—"
Then Billy throws his head, laughing.
Steve’s face flames as he hurriedly tries to backtrack. He's halfway to pulling away when Billy decides otherwise.
The rest of Steve’s words die in his throat, replaced with a groan as Billy licks behind his teeth. They share the same breath. The same spit. Billy pulls back, and a small line briefly connects their lips before breaking. There’s a note of sickly sweetness in the air, Billy’s slick. It kicks Steve’s brain into hyperdrive, senses trained on every detail of the omega beneath him.
His trembling, heated skin, and pink, kiss-bitten lips. His scent of summer, his breath, his body, Steve wants all of it.
Billy grabs his hand, holding it in a vice grip. He does a final shimmy out of black leather, thighs flexing, and his cock springs free. Steve’s mouth instantly waters. “That's new,” he murmurs, pointing to the groomed thatch of curly hair,
“Thought I'd keep it in shape” Billy trails one finger through the perfect little triangle.
Steve really wants to get his nose in that.
He reaches out a hand, his face inching downwards, and gently grasps the shaft. Emboldened by the cut off whimper Billy makes, Steve leans further in, lips ready to graze warm skin. He stops when Billy's hand suddenly snaps out, and the blonde shivers, white-knuckling grab around Steve’s wrist, shaking his head profusely.
“I-I'm not gonna last if you do that, baby”, Billy wheezes.
He takes Steve’s hand, guiding it back. Steve’s frown dissipates the moment fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his cleft. Billy guides him further back, hips stuttering once when Steve curls his fingers, skimming his taint.
“Yeah, yes, like that,” Billy pushes his hips down as Steve runs a teasing finger over that spot again. His voice wavers high and tight, leaning into it. “C’mon, Stevie, give it to me.”
Steve keeps nodding and nodding, like a cursed bobblehead toy, his eyes zeroing on Billy's throat, as the boy struggles, biting back more sounds as his hole is ghosted over. Steve circles one finger around his entrance, feeling what he thinks is the beginning of slick. He prods at it and gasps as his fingers slip in without resistance.
“You…?”
Billy grins a sneaky, devilish grin, “You thought I wouldn't come prepared?”
Steve mutely shakes his head and cautiously probes deeper. Billy is snug and warm and velvety-soft, gripping Steve’s single index with the perfect amount of give. Billy groans, rocking back against it immediately. “Please, just fuck me already!”
“Okay, okay, baby, let me just make sure.”
Steve inserts his middle finger alongside, and Billy's hand rises up between their stomachs, gripping his own flushed cock as it drools on his belly “Mmm… keep going, that’s a good spider.”
Steve huffs, “We're doing nicknames now?”
Billy’s lip curls up in a sleazy smirk, lips opening to say something back, but Steve crooks his fingers up, exactly where he knows to find Billy's prostate, and Billy curses.
His hand finds Steve's cheek and guides him closer. “I’m ready…” he murmurs.
Steve slips his fingers out of him.
“Steve!”
Steve grips the base of his own cock through the material, gritting his teeth as his knot gives an excited kick. He lets go of Billy to rid himself of the last clothing and suppresses a hiss as the cool air hits him. It's difficult to manoeuvre with Billy constantly trying to pull him back, but Steve manages to steal a little space and rummage through the pockets of his discarded suit.
“I need a rubber baby,”
Billy wails, and Steve shoots him an amused glance over his shoulder. “Oh, I'm sorry, did you want the real deal?”
He nods, as if truly wronged, and lunges for him. Within seconds, Steve finds himself dragged right back down into the same position, “You better fuck me now, or I’ll go find another alpha and give them pups.”
Steve growls, every drop of blood pulsing towards his cock. Half his brain knows the other is only messing with him, but the other half, the hindbrained half, surges forward like it’s a challenge.
“Don't ever even think about having pups with another man, you little minx. You're mine.”
Billy smirks, like that's the exact reaction he was going for and strokes his dick lazily, parting his legs the longer Steve stares. “Alpha. Please fuck me,” Billy croons against him. “Been waiting for so long. You want to leave your omega unsatisfied?”
Your omega.
“S-so no c-condom then?” Steve stutters. One look at those lovely, thick thighs, and Steve’s reasoning has seemingly gone out the window, never to return again.
“What part of fuck me are you missing?”
Steve crawls back as fast as he can. He pulls the other close, bullying golden sun-kissed legs to open wider. The brush of his thumb against Billy's hole makes the other jolt, but quickly relaxes when Steve simply glides the pad of his thumb across. Billy’s thoroughly wet now, but Steve wants to just prolong this a little longer. Some of the translucent fluid trickles down, and Steve swipes his fingers around, collecting as much as possible to ease the slide of his own cock.
Billy watches through half-lidded eyes and moans, a long and helpless sound that Steve will remember for the rest of his days. “Now!”
Steve spits into his palm to slick himself up as a final act and throws caution to the wind. He guides himself over Billy's hole, and it’s so fucking overwhelming, it always is. Billy is loosened up, but it still takes some insistent prodding to feel him making space for Steve inside.
Steve shudders through it, leaning forward onto his hands as Billy pulls him in for another kiss. His knot pulses, drawing Steve's hips to fuck a little harder, and Billy cries out as Steve wedges himself further in.
He pushes, steady. Billy is impossibly tight, hole fluttering and clenching all around, and Steve has to pause to breathe, squeezing their linked hands in comfort. Once he bottoms out, hips flush with Billy’s ass, he has to hold himself back from continuing, fighting every instinct and impulse to not rock into him, to take and give, lest they lock themselves together too early.
“Good?” Steve asks, hoarse, and Billy’s eyes roll back as he groans, nodding, lips barely twitching. Steve circles his hips, shallowly adjusting until he nails the spot that makes Billy squirm, then goes at it, putting as much power behind each movement.
“Yes! Like that, baby right there…”
Billy’s moans are so loud, unencumbered, like he doesn’t really care who hears. It makes Steve feel hot all over, like he's halfway through a fight and running entirely on adrenaline, only this is the best fight he's ever been in. Like he’s constantly throwing the punches and kicks, and they are all landing, and even the enemy henchmen have abandoned their boss and joined his side, cheering him on from the sidelines.
“Steve, baby. Please,” Billy huffs against his cheek.
Steve sits up then, hoisting Billy’s leg up for more leverage. He's so unbelievably beautiful like this, all flushed and panting on Steve's cock, scrabbling for purchase on the grit floor. Steve can't believe how lucky he is to share this moment with him, again.
“Ah, fuck,” Billy’s eyes crack open, beautifully blue, even barely visible. “ ‘m so full…” he mumbles, throwing his head back, and Steve takes the opportunity to kiss his neck, scraping over his pulse with sharp teeth, nearing Billy’s ever elusive mating patch.
It makes Billy squirm and yelp, scraping his nails down Steve's bare back. He's probably going to leave marks, but Steve doesn’t care, if only for the thought that he can press on them later to remember this moment.
“You okay, kitten?"
“So good,” Billy moans. “So nice and big… just faster, sweetheart.”
Steve obliges, picking up the pace. There's nothing prettier than those eyes looking up at him, pleading for him.
They haven't done missionary… well, in a while. When Billy and Steve first started dating, on the days they could actually make it to bed, which wasn't often, it was usually back to front. Most of their sex life was quick, fast and hard. They'd chased each other across skylines, always fighting for the upper hand, traded barbs as civilians and as heroes. They wrestled into bed and in bed. It had worked, for a while.
But looking back, it had always felt as though something was…missing.
Steve brushes his thumb along the dampness gathering at Billy’s lash line. Tiny droplets cling there, threatening to spill over with every hard thrust he makes. His heart clenches painfully at the sight. Gently, he presses kisses along the wet tracks already marking Billy’s cheeks, only making him sniffle harder.
There was a lot more he was missing.
“I'm sorry, baby.”
A blink, and he’s met with curious eyes, fringed in ridiculous, lovely lashes.
He was beautiful. So beautiful. An angel set from above to drive him crazy.
Steve had been blind to it before, but now he thinks he could spend the rest of his life worshipping that face and never get tired of the view.
Billy opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out; his lips struggle around a sound, only half-formed pleas escaping when Steve rolls forward. They continue like that until Billy starts urging him more, until Steve picks up the pace.
He plants both hands on either side of Bily’s head fucks roughly. The sting of his thighs slapping against Billy's ass burns so perfectly along with the agonisingly slow pull of his cock into the body beneath, knot building, swelling until Billy is trembling because Steve's was burning hot against his rim. Billy’s curls have tumbled loose from their bun, brushing against the floor on every nail of Steve’s hips, his face is red, colour high in his cheeks, rosy lips mouthing the air the way he does when he’s close. His legs lock around Steve, sucking him in and locking down. Steve rumbles low in his throat, and Billy sighs, exposing his neck whilst arching into every thrust, running his hand down Steve's muscled arm.
“Baby, I'm gonna cum. I need-” Steve reaches out and speeds a hand over Billy's dick, and Billy moans so loudly like he was suddenly caught off guard, finally releases, spilling across his front, some of it shooting up to his chest, splattering over his nipples. “Oh, yes, yes!”
Steve is incredibly close, too. His whole body feels desperate, enveloped in the tight heat of Billy; it's so much, but Steve just wants to be even closer to him than it's physically possible to be.
“S-Steve,” Billy mewls, and Steve grounds flush against him.
He’s kind of surprised by his orgasm with how quickly it tears through him. His knot pops, locking them together, and he comes hard with a sudden groan, nearly falling on top of Billy before he catches himself clumsily. Billy kisses him sloppily as the aftershocks roll over him, and Steve reaches up to stroke Billy's hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“You're such a good boy,” he murmurs. “I love you.”
He mouths at the soft muscle under Billy’s lips, half out of his own mind as his balls keep emptying into Billy. He kisses his throat, his mating gland, the hinge of his jaw. “You okay?” he murmurs, soft against Billy's lips. Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s neck to keep him from straightening back up again. “Sorry if I got a bit much.”
“No, I like it,” Billy slips his tongue into Steve’s mouth, and Steve goes with it. They kiss for a long moment before Billy lets him go with a soft pop of their lips. “I missed this,” he sighs dreamily, groaning only slightly as Steve pulls out, “I missed you.”
Something flutters, beating behind Steve’s ribcage.
Ignoring the mess of clothes and come and loose gravel, he lowers himself beside Billy and lets out a quiet laugh.
“I definitely missed you.”
Billy folds himself against Steve's side, nuzzling into his neck with a contented sound. The purr rumbling from his chest is so loud that Steve can feel it vibrating through his own bones. Steve slides an arm around his waist and rubs slow circles across his back, holding him close.
“I love you, Steve Harrington.”
Steve turns his head.
Billy is already looking at him.
Not at the suit or the mask discarded somewhere nearby. Not at the hero, or the civilian, or any of the different versions of himself Steve spends so much time trying to be.
Just him.
Billy’s gaze never wavers, and for a brief second, he forgets how to breathe. Then Steve smiles.
A slow, helpless thing.
Because there is nobody else, there never has been.
Billy returns the smile before settling his head onto Steve's shoulder, and together they look out across the city.
New York sprawls endlessly beneath them, glowing gold and white against the darkness. The sky above is clear, but the city's lights swallow most of the stars before they can be seen.
Steve doesn't mind.
He glances down at Billy.
Moonlight catches in his blond hair. His blue eyes are soft and sleepy, his smile small and content.
Beautiful.
Not in the impossible way people write poems about.
Beautiful in the way home is beautiful. In the way certainty is beautiful.
In the way a future can be beautiful.
Steve threads their fingers together.
Maybe they should leave for a while.
Take a break from heroes and villains. From masks and responsibilities. Go somewhere quiet, somewhere neither of them has to save anyone but themselves.
Somewhere, they can see the stars.
He thinks Billy would like that.
The breeze picks up, and Billy curls a little closer against his side. For the first time in a while, the future doesn't feel frightening.
It feels hopeful.
And for once, Steve lets himself look forward to it.
Second entry for the Harringrove Summer Bingo 2026! I hope you guys enjoy. I'm trying to practice my smut since I fear I am not the best.
Also thank you @holy-harringrove for the advice about passages here and there and @ghostdeb for your wonderful ppt that carried half the vocabulary 🤣 Love you my darlings!! 🥰🥰🥰