#loveweekifao

[draculcid]

@harringroveweekoflove HWOL February 12, 2021. Day 3: Celebrity AU

celebrity au?

[ezra-starkiller]

I Can See You Eyeing Me, Too

prompt fill for harringrove week of love:​ day 1! – sexual tension || pool sex || neighbors au

this content is rated E and is intended for adults only

warning for (consensual) voyeurism, canon-typical violence, canon-typical homophobia/homophobic slurs, and brief allusions to child abuse (nothing graphic)

–

Steve has heard plenty of rumors about his neighbor and classmate, Billy Hargrove. Especially just after Billy had moved into Hawkins with his family, Steve had a habit of following those rumors around. Or maybe his ears just perked up any time someone said the guy’s name – which was often, because no one was immune to the Billy craze. It was something even Nancy noticed, this near obsession Steve had with his rival. In retrospect, he thinks it’s actually part of the reason she broke up with him, aside from the big one – her not being in love with him and all. In any case, Steve knew better than to believe everything he heard about Billy. And he never partook in spreading the salacious stories Hawkins gossips seemed to conjure up on a daily basis:

“Did you hear about what Billy did to Sandy? Well, apparently he drove her out to Lover’s Lake, and let’s just say the fish musta gotten an earful…”

“I heard from someone that Billy sunbathes by his pool in the nude. D’you think it’s true?”

“I saw Hargrove getting pretty handsy with Tanya at the game the other day…”

For the most part, Steve only smirked at these rumors, never asking for details or acting intrigued in the least. As far as anyone else was concerned, Steve was Billy’s sworn enemy, so why would he care, anyway? He was okay with letting people think like that.

Besides – if Billy ever sat out naked by his pool, Steve would absolutely be the first to know of such a thing. Even the thought of that whole scenario lights a fire underneath him...

But the rumors that excited Steve the most were the ones that were harder to come by. Usually they were whispered in careful voices in less-traversed parts of Hawkins High, in dark corners of the Hawk, or underneath the football bleachers during second period:

“I heard the new kid is from California, and that he likes to suck dick.”

“Is it true that you caught Billy looking at Steve Harrington in the showers?”

“I think Billy Hargrove is queer, but you didn’t hear that from me…”

Hearing those kinds of things sent an undeniable thrill through Steve, but when he came across stories like these, he had to assess who they were coming from and those people’s intentions for spreading them. Sometimes, he knew, people shared these stories with no cause to harm Billy or his reputation. Other times, though… Steve could tell when people intended to harm Billy with their fabrications. It was easy to decipher, especially when an f-slur was peppered in or they called Billy “a queer” instead of simply “queer.”

Even against his better judgment he found himself interjecting at times, like when Lionel, the captain of the football team, tried to spread the lie that Billy came onto him in the showers at the community pool. Steve had been standing with Robin in front of Lionel and his buddies in the lunchline when they heard him jeer, “Dude, I swear. That guy’s worse than a bitch he’s so hungry for dick!” And that was the comment that broke Steve’s cool demeanor he was trying so hard to maintain.

He had scoffed out loud, turning to Lionel’s idiotic face to say, “Man, that is such bullshit.”

The smile on Lionel’s face slowly faded. He squinted at Steve, eyes flickering between him, his equally bewildered friends, and Robin, who was hissing, “Steve. Don’t…”

“Yeah, Steve,” Lionel said, stepping closer to Steve. “You should listen to your girlfriend instead of eavesdropping on private conversations.”

“How is it a private conversation when the entire goddamn cafeteria can hear you?” Steve asked him, suppressing the urge to just punch the asshole in his teeth. “Maybe you should lower your voice before you go spouting stupid shit like that.”

Lionel laughed and glanced back at his friends. “What, you don’t believe me about Hargrove? You should know best, Steve. It’s your dick he wants most of all.” Lionel smirked at him.

Steve didn’t take the bait, just tilted his head and said, “Huh. Looks like you’ve got something in common then.”

When Lionel swung, Steve ducked just in time. By that point, almost every head in the cafeteria was turned toward the commotion. Everyone watched Steve’s fist connect with Lionel’s jaw, and the way his little minions helped him up and out of the cafeteria against his will as he screamed about how Steve would “pay for this.” Steve wasn’t scared; Lionel was one infraction away from being suspended, and he wouldn’t sacrifice his position on the football team for anything. Plus, the guy couldn’t land a punch to save his life.

Steve was still buzzing with adrenaline when he followed the principal out of the cafeteria and into his office. He didn’t care when he was suspended for a week. Robin had called him later that same day: “Honestly? That was kind of cool of you.”

That was a rare occasion, though Steve knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if need be.

Steve didn’t know why he was so protective of someone who made it a point to not be his friend. Of the few interactions they’ve had, Steve counts only one where they had an actual conversation.

Once the Hargrove-Mayfield family had completely moved in by December – once all of Susan Mayfield’s expensive art pieces had been safely transported and installed, with Neil Hargrove’s small yet impressive collection of sports cars neatly lined up in their massive driveway – they had the Harringtons over shortly before Christmas, as any decent neighbors would.

Of course, by that point Steve had already met both Max and Billy. In fact, his and Billy’s fists were well acquainted with each other’s faces. But it was Steve’s first time being properly introduced to their parents.

He immediately disliked Neil Hargrove. The minute he stood in the man’s living room, shaking his hand and forcing a smile, he decided something wasn’t quite right with him. He didn’t like his beady eyes or the way he ordered both Max and Billy around, barking commands like a drill sergeant or some shit. When Max helped Susan bring their guests’ coats to be hung up, Steve’s mother made a comment about what a polite young lady she was. Max had pulled a face and quickly found Steve’s eye. He gave her a sympathetic smile. He hated this just as much as she and Billy did.

Susan was friendly enough, though she seemed unreasonably nervous throughout the entire night. But her new husband – Billy’s father – made Steve stand on guard all during dinner and afterward while they were sat in the parlor. Max had joined her mother in giving Mrs. Harrington a tour of their enormous house, so Steve was stuck with his father, Billy, and Neil. Billy hadn’t said a word to Steve all night, aside from a stilted, “Hello” which he was forced to say anyway.

Steve remembers, though, how Susan had innocently asked them, “You two have met, correct? Gosh, pretty soon you’ll be best friends!” Billy’s wide eyes met his for one brief moment and the night of their fight played in Steve’s head.

In that one instant he recalled how he’d pinned Billy to the floor the month prior, and how Billy had thrashed underneath him to no avail. And he remembered feeling Billy get hard against him just before Max stormed over and stuck a needle in his neck, effectively sedating him. He remembers how a thrill shot through his body, shocking and confusing him.

Steve would never tell anyone, especially because, after they both realized what was happening in the half second it took Max to get to them, Billy looked terrified.

So it was his secret to keep, as were the new feelings Billy was spurring on inside of Steve. One moment had Steve questioning his whole sexual identity.

And so he didn’t blame Billy for ignoring him, but that didn’t make the night go any easier.

Despite his efforts at not finding Billy wildly attractive, Steve couldn’t help but stare a little while Billy leaned forward in his seat, chatting with Steve’s father about college. Billy looked bored as ever and Steve became silently frustrated with his refusal to speak to him or even look at him. He dug his fingers into the sleeve of his cashmere sweater and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Steve amused himself when he noticed that Billy’s shirt was buttoned up – it’s likely he was instructed to dress modestly for the occasion, and the thought almost made Steve snicker. That is, until he noticed the way Billy tensed up when his father clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, all but insisting Billy boast to their guests about his academic and athletic prowess.

Neil ended up doing it for him, anyway.

“Straight ‘A’s all throughout high school back in California, and I’m sure he’ll continue that trend here in Indiana. Isn’t that right, Billy?” Neil looked at his son expectantly; Steve watched the exchange like a hawk.

“Yeah,” Billy agreed weakly after a moment. His eyes passed over the faces pointed toward him before settling on a faraway wall in the next room. “Of course.”

Steve’s own father decided to chime in then. “Well then, Billy, if you’re as good as your father says, you might just be able to tutor Steven here.”

Steve felt a pit open up in his stomach at his father’s words. It was his turn to stare at the floor and hope it would open up to swallow him.

“Academics are, ah,” Steve’s dad forced a tight smile, “not Steven’s strong suit.”

Any other parent might have followed that up with, “but he does excel at…” But that’s all Steve’s father had to say. No, Steve told himself. Any other parent wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

Whatever Neil Hargrove said after that was lost on Steve, who was swiftly numbing himself and drowning the conversation out again. However, he was pulled out of his head when Billy stood and said, “We can start right now. My books are in my room.”

Steve glanced between his own father and Neil, who was grinning at Billy in a way that made Steve’s skin crawl. Nevertheless, he stood right up and followed Billy upstairs to his room, no words exchanged between them. Just the soft padding of their socked feet on the plush carpet.

Billy swung the door to his room open, allowing Steve in first. “Where the magic happens,” he grumbled flippantly.

Steve noticed that, while the rest of the house was pristine with clean edges and muted colors, Billy’s room actually looked lived-in. It was a bit messy, a couple of boxes sitting at the foot of Billy’s bed still unpacked, some clothes strewn about. But it smelled faintly of cologne and the vanilla candle Billy was lighting. There was proof of a real person living there.

Billy set the glowing candle on his bedside table. And that’s when Steve made the discovery that would inform their relationship moving forward.

He stared through Billy’s window only to see his own bedroom window facing back.

“Wow. Our rooms face each other,” Steve noted aloud, unsure of what to do with this information that was swiftly breaking his brain. He walked up to the window and looked into his room from what would be Billy’s perspective, his heart frozen in his chest once he saw that not only could Billy see into his space, but that his bed was in perfect view. And Steve wasn’t always diligent about shutting his curtains…

“You’re just now noticing that?” Billy asked him, smirking.

“Well, yeah.” Steve was struggling with words a little bit. All his brain kept supplying was the feeling of Billy getting an erection underneath him, and now this. Jesus Christ. “I didn’t know it was your room. You’ve known?”

“The whole time. You look real cute when you’re asleep, pretty boy.” Billy threw him a wink and turned from the window. Steve swallowed, not knowing what to say, and then just chuckled. Billy was kidding. At least, he guessed that Billy was kidding.

“You smoke?” Billy asked him when Steve had nothing else to say, ignoring Steve’s astonished state entirely.

“Huh?” Steve was a bit off-kilter. He saw the pack of cigarettes Billy was turning over in his hand and breathed, “Oh. Yeah.”

Billy offered him one and he graciously accepted it, placing it between his lips. After lighting his own, Billy leaned into Steve’s space to do the same, bringing the smell of his cologne with him and when it hit Steve, he felt this strange rush of warmth spread throughout his body. He did not move his eyes away from the flame Billy was holding because he didn’t know what he’d do if he saw Billy’s eyes up close. Probably something dumb. He sort of wanted to soak in Billy’s smell, but instead he blinked, considered reality and mumbled, “Thanks,” before taking a long pull from his cigarette.

Billy just nodded gruffly and moved over to the window, sliding it open while they smoked in silence. The cold seeped in, but Billy didn’t seem to mind; he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up his muscled arms. When he turned back to Steve, there was a dazzling smirk on his face.

“Your dad’s an asshole, dude.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, I know.”

Steve was quiet for a moment before he said, “Hey, no offense, man, but your dad isn't much better. Honestly? I hate him.”

Billy startled Steve by laughing. Hard. It would probably be more accurate to call it a cackle. Steve watched him with wide eyes. “Yeah, me fuckin’ too.”

So. Just the one conversation, and all they really did was shit on their fathers.

Only, the discovery Steve made that night about his room looking right into Billy’s own threw him. They quickly learned that the other was very bad about shutting his blinds.

Something transpired between them in March. Billy had appeared in his own bedroom out of Steve’s peripheral, and Steve glanced reflexively and took a double take because Billy was freshly showered and shutting his door behind him and dropping his towel and Steve was still staring. Before he could even process what he was doing and how invasive it was, he was dragging his eyes up Billy’s body to meet his gaze and found him staring right back. And Billy smiled a little, then winked. Like the completely charming asshole he is. Steve hated it, but he smiled back and silently watched Billy get dressed. Because Billy let him watch.

After that, it only got worse. Or, better, rather. The warmer weather brought out their confidence, apparently. Plus, talking with Robin about his newfound desires definitely helped Steve to not feel so confused or scared anymore.

One day in April, Steve blatantly stared at Billy through their windows while Billy was working out. Billy was all sweat-slick and panting, his arms bulging while he did pushups, and as if that wasn’t hot enough, Steve’s mouth dropped open a little when he caught sight of a tattoo on Billy’s arm. He thought briefly of the muffled yelling he’d heard coming from Billy’s house a few nights before, and assumed Neil Hargrove was displeased with his wayward son’s new ink.

Steve left his room before Billy could finish and see him gawking. Not that he would mind; Billy did the same all the time, and Steve found it exhilarating.

By May, they were sort of friends. They spoke to each other whenever they were passing by outside their homes, nodding to the other in the hallways at school. Even called the other on the phone when they were sat in their rooms, just shooting the shit. Flirting, even. Sometimes they’d push their windows open and Billy would smoke and listen to Steve babble on about college and his future and annoying Scoops Ahoy customers.

One morning before work, Steve made a cup of coffee and didn’t realize until it was too late that he was all out of sugar. He scoffed to himself – his parents were never around to buy groceries, so this one was on him. But he couldn’t go without coffee. He’d been up late talking to Billy and his eyes were drooping while he stood at his kitchen counter.

He did the only logical thing he could think of, which was to prance up to Billy’s front door and ring the bell. Both Neil and Susan were at work, and Max was likely off gallivanting around with the rest of the party, so Steve was prepared to have Billy answer the door. He was not prepared to see him all sleepy and disheveled and grinning while his eyes roamed up and down Steve’s body.

Steve smiled crookedly. “Hey neighbor. Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”

Billy hummed, obviously enjoying the sight of Steve in his sailor uniform. “You sure can.” And if Billy’s tongue swiped out over his bottom lip before he turned to go to his kitchen, and if Steve’s eyes tracked the movement intensely, then that was between them.

He led Steve inside. Steve liked walking behind Billy because he had a perfect view of the way his hips swayed as he walked, his bare feet padding across the tiles in his kitchen.

“Heard you kicked Lionel’s ass,” Billy mentioned out of nowhere, throwing a grin over his shoulder at Steve. Something about the look in his eyes made Steve think Billy knew more than he let on.

Steve swallowed. “Someone had to do it. The guy’s a total douche.”

Billy guffawed. “That’s putting it lightly.”

Billy handed Steve his container of sugar and then nodded once, slightly. “Thanks,” he told Steve, not looking him in the eye.

Needless to say, Steve thought about that interaction the entire rest of the day. And his coffee turned out delicious, too.

–

Billy doesn’t make anything easy for Steve, whether he knows it or not. In early summer, he washes his father’s cars in the driveway in nothing but a tiny pair of Hawkins PE shorts. He’s soaking wet, suds smearing over his pecs as he stretches his body out delightfully for Steve to gawk at before he goes to work. It’s so ridiculous and Steve is so affected that he’s twenty minutes late to Scoops Ahoy, and Robin immediately figures out why.

And, no, Billy does not sit out by his pool in the nude, though he might as well. Steve can barely go for a swim if Billy’s also outside without getting goddamn heart palpitations from the sight of him alone. It doesn’t help when Billy wears his sunglasses and conceals his gaze even though Steve can feel his eyes on him. He doesn’t shy away from the attention.

And now it’s sweltering July and they’re both graduated with paying jobs and sitting on their respective pool decks. Robin is with Steve, who is sneaking glances at Billy like always because he is, unfortunately, irresistibly handsome. He’s lucky Robin doesn’t mention how cute his yearning face is just to embarrass him.

Billy is spread out on a tanning chair, supine and golden and Steve wants him so bad he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Luckily, Billy’s friend and fellow lifeguard, Heather Holloway, seems to know exactly what to do. She sits up from her position on the chair beside Billy, peeking over the neat hedges at Steve and Robin.

Robin notices her and waves. A smile breaks out across Heather’s face as she raises her shades off her eyes and nods at Robin before pushing her glasses to the top of her head and saying something to Billy. Steve watches, amused, as Robin’s eyes go wide when Heather gets up off her chair and saunters over into Steve’s yard.

Heather pauses at the edge of Steve’s pool and speaks to them over the water, grinning radiantly. “Care for some more company, sailors?”

Steve watches Robin gape a bit, presumably at the fit of Heather’s polkadot bikini, before snapping back and saying, “Of course! Tell Billy to come on over.”

And then it’s Steve’s turn to get all silently flustered when Billy walks over coolly, lifting his own glasses from his face. He’s looking at Steve, as per usual.

“Ahoy,” Billy quips and plants himself beside Steve.

It’s not lost on Steve that he and Billy only end up face-to-face because of Heather and Robin, who promptly begin to flirt.

“How come I never see you hanging around at the pool?” Steve hears Heather ask Robin. “I mean I know you’ve got Steve’s place to hang out at, but…” Heather shrugs and smiles kindly at a dumbfounded Robin. “It could be fun.”

Whatever Robin says to that is lost on Steve, though, because Billy is asking him, “How’s the weather over here?”

“Peachy,” Steve replies, his eyes locked on Billy’s own. “Pretty hot. Nothing unbearable, though.”

Billy hums and Steve can’t breathe for a minute because Billy’s eyes travel down the whole length of Steve’s near-naked body. Instead of shying away, he brings his arms up and links his fingers behind his head, casually allowing Billy a better look.

“Damn right it’s hot,” Billy nods and then smirks. “You need me to lather you up with some sunscreen, pretty boy?”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs as his throat works to squeeze out some kind of witty remark, but he’s cut off by the sound of a shriek followed up by a splash. He turns his head in time to see Robin jumping into the pool and causing a spray of water to wash over Heather’s laughing face.

And then he’s being lifted out of his chair by strong arms and he barely gasps out an, “Oh my God” before Billy is carrying him to the edge of the pool and tossing him into the cold water. When he comes up for air, Billy is bent at the waist, cackling like a maniac. His heart thuds in his chest and it’s not just from adrenaline.

Billy dives into the water gracefully and the four of them hang out all afternoon, until Robin has to leave or else her dad will chew her out for being late to dinner with his new girlfriend. Heather offers to drive her home, and Billy shoots Steve a knowing look.

The sun is setting by the time Billy gets up out of his tanning chair and stretches.

“Gotta go cart Mad Max around. What’s fuckin’ new,” Billy rolls his eyes, but Steve knows it’s full of affection. Then he looks at Steve carefully. “She’s staying at El’s house this weekend. And, uh, Neil and Susan are visiting Susan’s family in Indianapolis. Got the whole house to myself.” Billy walks farther and farther away with each sentence, moving slowly. He pauses and drawls, “See you around, pretty boy,” before darting his tongue out to wet his lips and then turns to retreat into his own house. He slips his shades back onto his face.

“See ya,” Steve calls out after him, his throat dry. His skin is flushed red and it can’t be solely from the sun. Billy turns at his backdoor, giving him a two-finger salute before disappearing inside.

Steve sits in silence for a moment, drinking in a couple more moments of sunshine, the pool filters humming in the background, birds chirping lazily. He sighs, melting into his seat. A smile splits his face in two.

–

It’s late when Steve is sitting in his den, eyes glazed over as he watches some nonsense on TV. The glow of the television illuminates the windowed room with a strange light, and so he almost misses the movement of his neighbor’s backdoor swinging open and then shut.

His eyes dart from the screen to Billy’s back patio, where Billy’s darkened form slinks onto his pool deck. He has a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

And then the towel is dropped and Steve understands why Billy didn’t turn any of his outdoor lights on. Because he is one hundred percent naked. Steve’s never been happier to have his parents gone all the time.

Billy sits at the edge of his pool, letting his legs dangle in the water before he eases his whole body inside. He disappears underwater and Steve stares stupidly until he resurfaces. With his mouth agape, Steve watches intently while Billy floats on his back. His eyes slip down to get a look at his dick and… any lingering doubts he had about his sexuality are instantly smashed to pieces.

Billy stays in the water for a couple more minutes and Steve has to squint to make out the lines of his back as he ascends the pool ladder. Billy has a nice ass, he notes. He’s been sure of that for months. He can’t go much longer resisting him, especially when Billy is so obviously inviting his attention.

When Billy wraps himself in his towel and steps back into his house with a lingering glance up toward Steve’s room, Steve waits only a minute or so before scrambling to grab the phone and dial Billy’s number.

It rings twice before Billy picks up. “Hargroves,” he answers and his voice only stirs up that warm feeling pooling in Steve’s gut.

Steve wraps the cord around his fingers, tight. “Are you trying to flirt with me? Because I gotta tell ya, I like your method.”

Billy chuckles. “Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker. You’re just distracting.”

“I only do it for you, sweet thing.” At that, Steve presses the heel of his palm into his thigh and exhales slowly. “You in your room? I don’t see you.”

Steve swallows. “No. Be right back.” He hangs up abruptly and practically sprints through his dark house, taking the stairs three at a time to get to his bedroom.

He picks up his phone off his bedside table and dials Billy again, leaning against his window. Billy hardly lets the phone ring once.

And then he sees Billy in his room. Sitting on his towel with his legs spread wide, still gloriously naked. Billy leans back on his bed, smiling as he cradles the phone.

“I had a feeling you’d be into that.” Billy lifts a brow at him.

“And I had a feeling you would be the type to skinny-dip.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. You should do it more often.”

Billy grins triumphantly. “You should join me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What do you mean?”

Billy is silent for a moment, considering his words. “You talk a big talk, Harrington–”

“Steve.”

Billy’s face goes a little soft at that. But then he smirks again. “Steve. But I want you to prove it.”

Steve’s been drinking in the sight of Billy’s naked body the whole time, though when he says that, his eyes are glued to where Billy’s fingers twitch against his knee. Steve’s eyes follow the movement of Billy’s fingers across his thigh until he’s touching himself. He doesn’t do more than tease his fingers over his cock, which Steve can see is beginning to fill out. Billy inhales shakily over the phone and the sound makes Steve’s eyes snap to Billy’s as he asks, “How?”

“Strip.”

Steve nearly drops the phone. He’s getting hard in his pants and Billy can tell, he knows, so he sets the phone down on his bed and does as he’s told. He strips for Billy, starting with his shirt. He doesn’t try to make a show of it – just moves to get naked as soon as possible, though he does quite enjoy the feeling of Billy watching him, stroking himself at the sight of Steve’s body.

When Steve pulls his boxers off along with his shorts, Billy lets the phone rest against his shoulder as he bites his lip, eyes darkening at the way Steve’s cock curves up toward his belly, already so wet at the tip.

Steve sits on his own bed, mirroring Billy’s position, and takes the phone in his hand again. “Is that enough proof for you?”

Billy snickers and it turns into a hiss when he swipes a thumb over his slit. “I’m gonna need a little more evidence.”

Steve digs his nails into the meat of his thigh to suppress a loud groan when Billy starts jerking himself off with no urgency. He nods, mostly to himself, before finally touching his own cock. Then, he does groan. Billy smiles wide, his eyes glinting through the window.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Billy’s easy words send a spike of arousal through Steve’s body, causing him to tense and squeeze his dick for a moment.

Eyes squarely on Billy’s cock between his spread legs, Steve wonders if Billy is using lube, or if he’s just using his own precome to slick himself for his hand. Without a whole lot of thought, Steve licks his palm to make the glide of his hand a little smoother in lieu of using lubrication, of which he does not have any. Billy sees this and quirks his brow minutely.

Sexually speaking, Steve has had a dry spell for the past couple of months, and he usually only masturbates in his shower where he can bite down on his knuckle and quiet the sounds he makes. But this thing between him and Billy… he’s going to need some lube. A lot. But there’s nothing he can do about it right now except whine because, evidently, his saliva gets the job done well enough.

And then, transfixed, they watch each other jerk off, their gasps and moans delivered right into the other’s ear through the phone.

“I thought you,” Billy starts and then sighs, hips bucking up into his hand. “I thought you were just… nice. Didn’t know you were gay.”

“‘M not,” Steve corrects hoarsely. He presses a thumb to the base of his cock and bites back a moan when he hears the slick sounds of Billy’s hand on his dick over the phone.

“No? Aren’t I a man?” To make his point, Billy grips himself tight and hisses through his teeth, a bead of precum leaking from his slit. It catches the light, Steve notices. He swallows.

Steve nods. “Y-you are, yeah.”

“Do you want me?”

Steve groans, his orgasm so close already. But his throat won’t work. He slows his hand on himself.

“Steve.”

“Yes,” Steve breathes. “But I’m not lying. I’m not gay.”

Billy tilts his head and is quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Are you bi?”

Steve blinks a couple times, then nods slowly. Somehow, this feels more intimate than getting naked for Billy.

“Good,” Billy smiles at him. Steve’s chest swells. Good. “Me, though? I’m gay, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Steve laughs, which is not something he typically does while he’s touching himself but he’s enjoying it immensely. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on Billy – yet – and sex with him is already so new, and different from what he’s used to, and good. They get lost in the sight of each other for a while. “Good,” Steve breathes eventually. “That’s good.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Billy says in a rush. “Steve, fuck.”

Billy’s hand speeds up on himself and his eyes squeeze shut for a moment.

“Are you gonna come, Billy?”

Billy nods wordlessly, face scrunched up in an expression of bliss as he chases his orgasm.

Steve is positively thrilled. He’s speaking before he knows how to stop. “Did you think I was nice even when I had you pinned to the floor all those months ago? Is that why you got hard underneath me?”

Billy moans and thrusts into the circle of his fist. “Jesus Christ, yes!”

“I’ll bet it’s only because you wanted me to hold you down and fuck you like that, huh?”

And then Billy is just babbling his name, his hand losing its rhythm as he strokes himself in earnest.

“Do you still want that?”

“Yes, Steve. I want that.”

“Me too. I think we can have something arranged, then.”

Billy nods with his eyes closed and then cries out, his cock spurting come across his fingers and belly as he reaches his climax. In his sex-filled mind, Steve thinks about how he wants to lick it from between Billy’s legs until he cries. He switches positions after enjoying Billy’s show, now desperate to get himself off as well. He lies on his back with his heels pressed to the mattress, turning his head so he can still keep eye contact with Billy.

He lets the phone rest near his turned head, thrusting up into his hand and lifting his hips off the bed. “Billy,” he whines, the pressure winding up tight in his belly. He stretches one leg out so Billy will be able to see his dick when he comes. He alternates between stroking himself hard and fast, and gently squeezing himself at the base of his cock. He doesn’t try to muffle the noise he makes because Billy appears to eat it up.

“C’mon, baby,” Billy’s voice is deep and low through the phone, a comforting sound. “Come for me. I know you can.”

And that’s it for Steve. He groans, low and guttural, the tight knot of desire at last breaking open as he feels the warmth of his release splatter on his stomach. Billy curses at the sight.

Once his hips are through spasming in aftershocks of pleasure, Steve looks at Billy with heavy-lidded eyes. He always gets sleepy after an orgasm.

“That take a lot out of you?” Billy teases, cleaning himself up with his towel.

Steve can only flash him an exhausted grin.

Billy stays on the phone with him until he falls asleep, which doesn’t take long. When he wakes up, it’s morning and he groans at the thought of having to go to Scoops Ahoy. He sees Billy sprawled out in his bed, asleep. Still naked and relaxed. Steve smiles to himself.

–

That night, Steve doesn’t hesitate to strip out of his work uniform, scattering his clothes through his house in a trail to his backdoor until he’s only in his underwear.

He feels confident, right up until he’s outside in the open. His hands pause on the waistband of his boxers once he reaches the edge of his pool. He almost loses his nerve, and then he hears a door shut.

He’s not surprised to see Billy walking toward him through the grass, sporting his red swim trunks. They smile uncontrollably at one another.

“You’re not naked,” Steve accuses.

“Neither are you. But I can help with that.” Billy’s earring catches the moonlight when he grins innocently.

Before he knows what’s happening, Billy is pulling Steve’s boxers to his ankles and shoving him backwards into the pool with a wild cackle. Steve’s mouth is open in laughter when he lands, water filling his nose and causing him to gasp and sputter when he resurfaces. He kicks his underwear off and then feels something hit his face before he can wipe his eyes. Billy makes a splash by jumping in after him.

When he does open his eyes, he sees that it’s Billy’s swimsuit that hit his face. He watches Billy come up for air right in front of him.

Billy spits water at Steve’s face, and then it sprays everywhere when Billy can’t help but laugh.

“Asshole,” Steve pants out between his own laughter.

“Come here,” Billy says and Steve is already lunging at him.

Billy grabs Steve’s face with both hands and kisses him firmly on the mouth. Steve sighs against his lips, his hands easily finding Billy’s waist in the water and pulls him closer until their bodies are pressed together. They stand like that, the water just above their hips in the middle of Steve’s pool.

They part and, like this, Steve notices that he is just slightly taller than Billy. Billy, whose eyes are so soft and dark as he looks back at Steve. He wraps his legs around Steve’s hips and lets himself be carried into the shallow end.

Steve turns around and backs up until his ankles hit the steps into the shallow end. He sits with Billy in his lap, only his ass submerged now as the rest of their bodies stay above water.

Once they’re settled, Billy tries to move things fast but Steve slows him down so they can both enjoy it. After getting the green light, Billy goes to immediately wrap his hand around Steve’s twitching cock, but Steve grabs his wrist, stopping him. He brings Billy’s hand to his mouth and kisses the tips of his fingers. Billy watches, his mouth parted in what can only be called awe.

Gradually, Steve coaxes Billy into another kiss; Billy likes kissing with tongue, Steve learns fairly quickly, which is great. Steve enjoys a lot of tongue as well, only he likes to ease into it. So he pulls away, holding Billy’s face in his hands. He leans in again and kisses Billy with a soft, closed mouth, simply pressing their lips together. Billy follows Steve’s lead, melting into him. Steve takes his time to nibble at Billy’s bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and suckling gently, a hushed whimper spilling out of Billy’s mouth.

Slowly, Steve sneaks his tongue into Billy’s mouth, making him gasp. Billy’s hands snake up Steve’s body and settle on the back of his neck. Billy moans, his fingers clenching in Steve’s hair and tugging, which riles Steve beyond belief. He grunts at the sensation and soon they both throw all finesse out the window – they’re just licking into each other’s mouths eagerly, and Steve gets hit with this filthy idea. He fixates on Billy’s open mouth, glistening and red, and brushes his own open mouth over it. Sure enough, Billy’s tongue lolls out to chase Steve’s mouth, but Steve uses the opportunity to close his lips around Billy’s tongue and sucks on it. He swirls his own tongue around Billy’s, tasting him, and nips playfully at the tip before releasing it from his mouth, a string of spit connecting them for a moment longer. Billy is panting feverishly with wide open eyes. He looks awestruck.

Billy’s legs tighten around Steve’s hips. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve rasps out in agreement. He’s fully hard now, though, and no longer cares to take things slow because Billy is dripping pre onto his stomach and it’s making Steve absolutely insane. That, and the heavy weight of Billy’s body on top of him, his thick thighs straddling him. It’s all making Steve lightheaded. “Turn around.”

“What?” Billy asks, genuinely confused.

“Just – trust me.”

Billy looks at him for a second before nodding. He kisses him once again and lifts himself off Steve’s lap, turning around.

Steve pulls him back down into his lap, only this time Billy’s back is to his chest. Billy quickly catches on, helping Steve get his cock between Billy’s thighs with a moan.

“Here,” Steve says, already out of breath. He guides Billy’s arm to curl around the handrailing. Billy is solid and warm, soft in all the right spots. His body is truly remarkable and Steve cannot wait to explore every inch of him once they’re in an actual bed together. He shivers at the thought of letting Billy do the same.

He gazes at the bulge of Billy’s bicep when he lifts himself slightly, Steve’s dick sliding between his thighs. When Billy eases back down experimentally, they both groan at the way Steve’s cock grinds against Billy’s balls.

Steve stretches his legs out so Billy may do the same, and once they’re comfortable they fall into an easy rhythm. The comforting cacophony of crickets and cicadas surrounding them muffles their labored breathing. The water laps gently at Steve’s thighs with each movement.

They don’t speak much after that aside from the occasional sigh of the other boy’s name.

“Not gonna last long, baby,” Steve says, the pet name coming out so naturally.

Billy laughs breathlessly. “Same.”

When Billy squeezes his thighs just a little tighter around Steve’s dick, he groans from the back of his throat. “Jesus Christ, Billy.”

“What?” Billy asks innocently.

Steve forgets how to speak for a minute when Billy shoves his ass back against him, Steve’s cock smearing precome all over Billy’s perineum and balls. He grips one of Billy’s thighs hard, the other tightening around his fingers on the railing.

“‘S just,” Steve slurs, knowing he’s going to come all too soon. He’s speaking nonsense. “You’re cool, is all.”

“Cool?” Billy snickers and pushes his ass back into Steve again.

Steve moans helplessly. “Shut up.”

“I just think it was an interesting word choice.”

“You’re right. I should’ve said annoying.”

Billy flicks water back at Steve, splashing his face. Steve just smiles and presses a kiss into Billy’s back, making him shudder in his arms.

Steve brings both his arms to wrap around Billy as he feels his orgasm nearing. They’re lying out across the steps, moving frantically now. He sees Billy’s head dip forward to watch as Steve’s cock bobs between his legs.

“Steve,” Billy whines, growing more and more fervent. “Please touch me.”

Billy doesn’t have to ask twice. Steve wraps a careful hand around Billy’s weeping dick and strokes him a couple of times, already growing used to and fond of the feeling. He wants to lick up all the sounds Billy is making, wants him to sigh and pant right into his mouth. Another time.

Billy comes with a broken moan, melting back against Steve’s body. Steve can’t do more than thrust his cock between Billy’s trembling thighs a few times before he’s also coming. He covers Billy’s softening length with his release, grunting quietly.

They lie like that for a while, catching their breath. Eventually Billy turns his head, smiling expectantly at Steve, who doesn’t hesitate to kiss him despite the awkward angle.

“You still owe me for that cup of sugar,” Billy rasps out like the little shit he is.

Steve snorts, which makes Billy wiggle his eyebrows at him, and soon they both just devolve into a fit of giggles.

“We should probably get up soon,” Steve says; he could fall asleep right here. “My ass hurts.”

Billy lets out one of his uninhibited cackles, the sound rising over the noise of the night and echoing, it seems, throughout their stupid posh neighborhood. Steve realizes that he loves Billy’s laugh. He wants to make Billy laugh like that all the time.

–

Steve’s heard plenty of rumors about Billy, but he knows infinitely more than the people spreading those rumors ever will. For instance, he knows that Billy listens to music almost all of the time at a much higher volume than he should. That Billy is a voracious reader. He knows that Billy acts a lot tougher than he really wants to for many reasons – reasons that Steve is slowly beginning to unravel. He knows Billy is a good brother to Max, despite his trying to hide it. He knows, firsthand, that Billy is a good boyfriend, too. A great one.

[prettyboyporter]

Take Me Home Tonight || E || 6.5k || future fic || teacher AU || School Dance (Prom) || intercrural || Blow Jobs ||  gym teacher Steve, English teacher Billy || written for harringrove week of love 

Snippet: 

“Is it true that he kicked your ass, coach?” one of the basketball players asked Steve as Steve made the team run drills. “Mr. Hargrove seems like a real badass.”

“No. Not one word of it. And just for that you can do another lap,” Steve said with a smile.

Suddenly Billy appeared in the gym door as if summoned. “Don’t take one extra step, Brown, I 100% kicked Harrington’s ass and would do it again!” he shouted from across the room.

“Yeah?” Steve placed his hands on his hips, suddenly feeling alight with the possibility of a challenge. “Come on Hargrove. One on one. Lose that tie and we’ll see who's ass gets kicked.”

Billy smiled and stared Steve down as he pulled off his tie, threw it to the side of the court, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. A chorus of “Oooo!”s all erupted from the players.

[magniloquent-raven]

What Is It I Feel

Harringrove Week of Love: Day 2

Love Potion || Over-stimulation || Mythological Creatures AU

Rated: E

Read on Ao3

“Shit, Billy are you alright?!” Steve is pale, Billy notices, he always goes pale. Purses his lips and stares, a thousand things hiding behind that expression that Billy can even begin to name. He looks oddly human like that. Worried. 

Fussing, like Billy’s one of his damn kids. 

He snorts, and adjusts his grip on his side. The drying blood on his knuckles itches, and he tries to focus on that rather than the searing pain lancing through him every time he inhales. “Yeah. Clearly,” he grunts. “You gonna let me in, or what?”

He sways, shoulder knocking against the doorframe, and Steve’s hand shoots out to steady him. 

“Yeah. Shit. Yeah, sorry, I—come—come here.” 

“That’s the plan, baby.”

Steve rolls his eyes, flushing. He’s had his tongue up Billy’s asshole but he still blushes like a goddamn virgin when Billy runs his mouth outside of the bedroom. 

He pulls Billy inside. The movement jostles torn skin, but before he can complain Steve’s lips are on his, hot and insistent. 

Billy kicks the door closed behind them as Steve leads him further into his apartment, a hand on the back of his neck, never breaking their liplock for more than a moment to breathe. 

And, god, Billy’s kissed a lot of people, but Steve is by far his favourite. He takes his time, even now, when his poorly-concealed anxiety makes his hands shake, fumbling with the buttons on Billy’s shirt, and Billy smells like acrid, greasy smoke and monster guts. He kisses Billy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

It’s a lie, of course, but one Billy is happy to let himself fall for, over and over again.

Steve’s mouth drops to Billy’s neck, goes right for the spot behind his ear that makes his knees go weak, pulls a groan from deep in his chest. The jolt of pleasure washes away small aches, the bruises on his knuckles, shallow scrapes up his shins. 

He grabs the front of Steve’s shirt, and pushes him back onto the nearest surface. Which turns out to be his bed, thankfully. He falls with a soft thump, and Billy is in his lap the second his ass hits fancy cotton.

“You’re going to ruin my sheets again,” Steve complains, squirming under him, but not pushing him off, instead grabbing his hips and leaning up to seal their mouths together again.

Heat coils in his gut, the familiar syrupy feeling of arousal warming him through. Steve tastes like honey and open air, sweet, clean. Billy’s had pixies before, and they always taste a little earthy, but Steve is...different. Better. The first time Billy tasted him he nearly drained him dry. It’s a miracle Steve still fucking talks to him, let alone lets him feed. 

Billy pulls back a hair, just enough to respond. “Buy better sheets then, rich boy.” Steve stares up at him silently, eyes still hazy from their liplock. He blinks. Furrows his brow.

“Pretty sure blood and monster guts would ruin any sheets,” he responds after a second, and his gaze flickers down, to Billy’s bare torso, the gashes and smears of ichor. “What were you even fighting this time? Shit.”

Billy buries his fingers in Steve’s hair, and tugs his head back, looking him in the eye. Steve goes hazy again, and he whines when Billy tightens his grip. “Do you want to talk,” he leans in, til his lips brush Steve’s, their breath mingling, “or do you want to fuck me?” 

His ribs ache, even the short break was enough for his pain to resurface. He needs more, and he needs it now. 

“Shit, yeah, sorry.” Steve’s fingers skim the least battered part of his torso, gently, as he reaches up to slip Billy’s shirt off. 

The touch makes him shiver. “Hurry up, before I die in your lap.”

Steve sighs. It’s a quiet thing that Billy doesn’t have time to analyze because Steve’s fingers drop to his belt buckle, and his lips brush Billy’s jaw, and suddenly Billy has better things to focus on. 

Like Steve’s nimble fingers, making quick work of his zipper, dipping below his waistband to push his jeans down, pressing into his shoulder-blades when he flips their positions, guiding Billy onto his back so Steve can pull his pants off the rest of the way. They hit the floor somewhere near the doorway, flung across the room once Billy’s finally free of them. 

“Quicker than last time,” Billy laughs breathlessly.

Steve huffs, “You’d think someone whose life depends on people getting into his pants would wear ones that are easier to get into.”

“Now where’s the fun in that.” 

He looks good in those jeans. And Steve looks adorable when he’s struggling to peel them off, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, brow furrowed with intense concentration as he grapples with the wrinkled denim bunched up around Billy’s knees. It’s a win/win situation. 

For Billy, anyways. Steve always acts like these jeans are the bane of his existence. Like Billy doesn’t know exactly how often Steve stares at his denim-clad thighs.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning over to grab lube from his nightstand. “Getting to this part quicker, numbnuts.” He waves the near-empty bottle pointedly. 

“Pff, whatever,” he scoffs as Steve coats his fingers, taking his goddamn time about it. “Are you gonna get to it or not.” Billy squirms, his bruises throbbing, sheets catching on half-scabbed cuts on his back. He spreads his knees and raises his eyebrows. 

A spike of arousal washes over Billy. Steve’s arousal. It was a low simmer before, like sitting next to a space heater, but this hits like the heat coming off a forest fire. Billy closes his eyes and breathes it in. Relishes it. How it smells. Like the salty musk of Steve’s sweat-slicked skin, but sweeter. How it tingles under his skin. Washes away the ache in his muscles. A warm bath has nothing on this.

He inhales it slowly, relaxes back against Steve’s soft cotton sheets. 

“Yeah,” Steve says after a beat, voice low and rough. He clears his throat. 

And he gets to it. 

In the beginning Billy kept track of how many times Steve let him feed. Kept a tally in his head. He’s not sure when he stopped counting, but he couldn’t tell you now, how many times they’ve done this. 

More times that Billy expected. Less than he wants. 

Enough that Steve’s fingers are as familiar as his own.

He’s sure and capable, massaging Billy open with practiced ease. It’s not long before Billy’s sweating and panting, fisting the sheets at his side and feeling stronger for it. Every time Steve brushes his prostate, every time his arousal spikes when Billy moans, every thrust of dexterous fingers, it all feeds the heat building in his belly. The warmth washing over him, spreading to his limbs, tingling in his fingers, mending his body. 

The bruises are fading, he knows, he can feel the pain melting away, every time he tenses, jerks, breathes deep, it hurts a little less. 

“Steve,” he groans, feeling out blindly with one trembling leg. His foot lands on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve. Fuckin—fuck—get your dick in me—god—right now.” 

He vaguely registers mumbled cursing and fabric rustling, Steve moving up, warm between his thighs. His fingers slide out. The tip of his cock brushes Billy’s lube-slicked hole, slowly. Always so slowly. Always careful. 

Billy lifts his head a fraction to glance up at Steve, kneeling between his legs. He’s got his hand around his cock, guiding it, and he’s watching Billy’s asshole like it contains all the secrets in the universe. His lips parted, brow furrowed under the bangs flopping across his forehead, and his gaze so focused. 

He takes Billy’s breath away.

And then he does it again, with a gentle thrust of his hips. 

Billy’s head falls limply against the sheets, his whole back arches. The stretch hurts just a little, Steve inside him, the wrent skin along his ribs tugging as he writhes, faint, throbbing pain, but it’s nothing compared to the pleasure. 

Steve’s palm caresses his side, skimming the cuts still slow to heal. “Okay?” he asks. 

Suddenly very aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the shallow breaths he takes while Steve’s warm hand moves with him, Billy exhales through his nose, deep, slow, eyes shut, and he nods. 

“Billy, I need you to say it.”

The soft tone makes him shiver. “Yeah,” he sighs. “C’mon, pretty boy,” he taps Steve’s ass with his foot. “Fuck me.”

Steve snorts. “Alright.” He leans down, carefully rearranging their legs, and propping himself up on his palms. Their chests brush, and Steve kisses his collarbone. “C’mere,” he murmurs. 

Heart racing, flipping, tripping over itself, Billy tilts his head up, and seals their mouths together. He tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close as he starts to move his hips. 

“Billy,” he moans against Billy’s lips, “You need to—ah—take more.”

The realization is like an ice cube slipping down Billy’s throat. Steve’s right, he hasn’t directly fed enough. Just fucking isn’t going to cut it, but…

God, part of him just wanted Steve to kiss him because he wanted to.

He takes more. Breathes Steve in. Honey and sweet grass and syrupy summer heat.

His side knits together, skin closing up, and he gasps, groaning into their kiss. It’s always a weird feeling, but the aftermath is pure fucking bliss. The pain is gone. There’s nothing but the slow drag of Steve’s cock in him, the press of his chest, thick hair scraping Billy’s newly healed skin, his hands, his mouth.

Billy’s dizzy with it all, the rush. The heat. 

He whines, as Steve’s hips snap, over and over, into him, skin against the back of his thighs, it builds, and it builds, and then the fizzing, sparking heat comes to a head. He arches, mouth open in a silent scream, his vision whiting out. 

Through the haze, he feels Steve start to pull out. He wraps his trembling legs around Steve’s waist, holding him in place, heels digging into the soft curve of his ass. “Keep going,” he growls, still panting, boneless, barely able to keep his legs up. 

Steve stares down at him, his mouth slack. 

He keeps going.

There isn’t a single scratch on Billy anymore. He’s taken as much as he needs to. But he still wants. Wants more. Wants Steve. The way his cock drags over that sweet spot over and over, sending sparks tingling up Billy’s spine, feeling the heat of him everywhere. 

He keens, loudly, head thrown back when Steve pushes in to the hilt, grinding his hips slowly, purposefully. The sparks catch, burn, Billy lights up with it, feels it in his throat. 

A soft touch to his chin makes him jerk, whine, and he blinks up at Steve through a blur of tears. Steve’s fingers caress up his cheek, palm cupping his jaw, brushing away damp curls stuck to his face. 

The touch is fleeting, but he feels it etched into his skin even as Steve fists the sheets, hands bracketing Billy’s head, not touching him anymore but close enough to tease with the warmth radiating from him. 

Steve picks up the pace, shallow thrusts drawing trembling, punched-out groans from Billy’s lips. His head is swimming, vision going spotty, tears rolling down his temples as he arches, squirms, whines under Steve’s touch. 

‘Til his hips stutter, breath hot in Billy’s ear, one long, gasping moan vibrating between them as he spills into Billy and collapses, boneless on top of him.

His softening cock slips out of Billy, leaving him with an absurd pang of loneliness and come dripping down his asscheek.  

The room goes quiet but for their ragged breathing. Steve wiggles a little, his forehead sticking to Billy’s shoulder, hair tickling as he moves. 

“Mm,” Steve hums, “I kissed it better?” 

Billy chuckles quietly, and his hand moves of its own accord, fingertips tracing up and down Steve’s spine. “Yeah. Good as new, baby.” 

Better than, in fact. He’s buzzing with borrowed life, glowing with it. Feels like he could run a marathon and still have energy to spare. 

Steve nuzzles into his neck, breath ghosting over Billy’s rapidly jumping pulsepoint. “Glad I’m better than a bandaid,” he murmurs. 

And...it’s time to go. This is about as much as his heart can take. Feeling good and having Steve draped across his chest and whispering adorable nonsense in his ear is not a good combo. Puts him at risk of saying something really stupid. 

He slips out from under Steve.

Sex always makes Steve tired, but especially when Billy’s had to feed on him like this. Which is a blessing, really, this way Billy doesn’t have to see the puppy-dog eyes follow him out the door. And Steve doesn’t get to see how much he hesitates. How fucking hard it is to tell himself it’s better this way. 

As he shuffles to the edge of the bed Steve’s hand waves vaguely in his direction, grasping at air as he grumbles, half-asleep already. It’s cute. And breaks Billy’s heart a little.

He brushes his fingers through Steve’s hair, pushing stray locks off his forehead. A moment of weakness, but Steve probably won’t remember, so...it’s fine. 

“Thanks, pretty boy,” he murmurs, before he pulls away completely.

He really should shower before he leaves. He does sometimes, and this was a particularly messy job—Steve’s sheets are definitely ruined again. But he can’t stand hanging around Steve’s apartment another goddamn second, surrounded by pictures of him and the people he actually cares about, soaking up even more of his scent...it’s already going to linger because of the stupid little stunt he pulled while they were fucking, he doesn’t need to wash with Steve’s products too. 

So, he pulls the crusted remains of his clothes back on and slips out the door, thanking the damn gods that it’s dark out and he lives nearby.

He’s hanging out at Hop’s grimy dive bar the next day when shit hits the fan. 

Really, his life has just been a series of shitstorms, bu this is different. 

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, too early to be drinking, Hop said, but he gave him a beer anyways. There are a few other people milling around, there usually are. This place is never actually empty. Perks of being the only bar in the area that caters specifically to fae.

Billy’s about halfway through his beer when something collides with his side, slopping his drink all over the counter. 

“Hey, what the fu—Steve?” 

He’s clinging to Billy, his face smushed up against the bare skin of his chest. For once Billy kind of regrets how few buttons he does up, Steve can definitely hear his heartbeat right now, and...well, he’s feeling exposed suddenly.

When he looks up though, that’s when Billy realizes something is definitely wrong. When he looks up with blown pupils, and rosy cheeks, and that dumb lovestruck look that used to make Billy break shit when he saw Steve aiming it at Nancy. 

“Steve, are you—”

Their teeth clack together, and Billy jumps back, wide-eyed, skittish. 

“Billy,” Steve whines, “Lemme…” His hands are clumsy when he cups Billy’s cheeks and tries to kiss him again.

Billy pushes Steve away, plants his palms on Steve’s shoulders and shoves. “Harrington, are you fucking drunk? What the fuck,” he snaps, spooked, voice cracking. 

Big, pretty brown eyes go all gooey, sad, red-rimmed like he’s going to fucking cry. Billy’s never seen Steve cry. 

Not like this anyways, he’s seen him gag on dick and tear up but this is different. Way different. This is very much not something Billy knows how to handle. 

“Billy, why don’t you love me?” 

Neither is that. 

He can’t even begin to answer that question. For so many reasons. So, so many. 

He knows Steve is a clingy drunk sometimes, but this is...not him. Can’t be him. It has to be some kind of spell. Potion. Any number of weird curses could’ve fucked with his head. 

Steve’s bottom lip trembles, and his hands go to his elbows, hugging himself. 

And suddenly Billy’s too distracted to do his damn job and think of a solution, because watching a tear dribble from the corner of one of Steve’s ridiculously beautiful doe-eyes is gutting him in ways he didn’t expect. He’s literally held his own guts in his hands before, and it turns out he’d rather do that again than go through this.

“Hargrove, what the hell did you do?”

Billy damn near jumps out of his skin. For a big dude Hop is sneaky. Or Billy’s just very distracted right now.

“Nothing!” he snaps, only sparing a glance for Hop, to glare at him, before his gaze is dragged back to Steve. Who’s also glaring at Hop.

“Don’t yell at him,” Steve squawks, still sniffling, apparently unbothered by Hopper and Billy gaping at him. “He doesn’t like it. And I don’t like when he’s sad.”

What.

It shouldn’t make his heart flutter but it does. And he mentally slaps himself. Turns to Hop. “Has he had anything to drink today?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“S’far as I know, he just got here, kid.” 

Billy rubs his forehead. “Okay, well, someone needs to call Buckley.” 

A few hours later, Billy is poring over dusty old books in the back room, Steve plastered to his back. Besides the fact that Steve’s hair tickling his ear is very uncomfortable, it’s...nice. The heat of him, the strong hands slipped under his shirt and pressed to his belly, the way being bracketed by his thighs makes Billy feel…

No. Nope. 

He can’t get anything done like this. His heart in his throat. His pulse stuttering every time Steve hums or rubs little circles into his skin, or smells like home, and—fuck. But he can’t tell him to get off, because every time he pulls away, or asks Steve to sit somewhere else, Steve gets all weepy, which is equally fucking distracting.

“Dingus, what the hell did you get yourself into now?” Robin yells before she’s even in the room, barging in a moment later looking like a grumpy freckled storm cloud, her eyes widen when she spots Steve. 

“Hey, Robin!” Steve crows in Billy’s ear. “Wait, why are you mad? Did I do something wrong?” 

Billy doesn’t have to see the sad little pout to know it’s happening. He feels it in his soul. Without thinking, Billy skims his fingers across Steve’s knuckles, covering one of his hands with his own. “No, you didn’t. She’s not mad at you.” He glares at Robin pointedly. She raises her eyebrows.

Steve sighs, melting against Billy, nuzzling his shoulder, and Robin’s eyebrows climb even higher. “Mm...I love you,” he murmurs into Billy’s shirt. 

It’s the fourth time he’s said that. Always so casually, gentle and earnest, and it lances right through Billy every goddamn time. Reaches in and grabs ahold, a warm grip around his heart, only to crush it a second later. 

He grinds his teeth. 

“So, uhh,” Robin’s staring at the ceiling, chewing the inside of her cheek. Her face is doing something weird. “What seems to be the problem, then?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Billy grits out, and gestures vigorously, to himself, to Steve’s arms around him. “He must’ve gotten hit with...some kind of fuckin’, love spell—” he spits the word like a curse, “—or whatever the fuck. And detection spells are your area of expertise, so get on with it.”

Robin blinks at him. Opens her mouth. Closes it. “Would it kill you to say please.”

It takes her far too long to get the spell ready. Especially considering Hop has everything she needed right here in the bar. Paranoid bastard calls the trunk in his office an emergency stash, but there’s enough shit in there to run a whole other damn business. 

Point is, Billy sits around for far too long waiting on Robin to mash some herbs together and do an infusion ritual that takes five goddamn minutes. He’s pretty sure she’s dragging her heels on purpose.

Maybe he should have said please, this is torture.

An eternity later, Billy manages to pry Steve off of him without making him cry, and gently pushes him towards Robin. “Steve, c’mon,” he murmurs when he pulls away and gets a wide-eyed pout aimed at him. He aches. Everywhere. But the only thing worse than having to deal with Steve’s disappointment is dealing with Steve’s affection and knowing it isn’t real. “Just. Go. Let her do her thing, please.”

Steve furrows his brow. “Fine. You know I can’t say no to you,” he sighs.

Billy did not know that. And that brings up some terrifying and uncomfortable questions, actually.

He watches Steve cross the room. The dejected slump of his shoulders, and the way he fiddles with his hair. When he sidles up to Robin she shoots Billy a look he can’t read. She leans in to have a hushed conversation with Steve, before she presses a steaming mug into his hands. 

The whole thing doesn’t sit right.

He stands, suddenly, restless and feeling suffocated in the cluttered room. He doesn’t say anything, or even look at Robin and Steve before he walks out. 

“Hop,” he calls, collapsing into a rickety chair at the bar. “Hop, I need to be drunk right now.” 

Unfortunately, he is not drunk. And the longer it takes Robin to explain what she found out, the more he wishes he was. 

What he’s getting so far is that Steve is, in fact, experiencing some kind of magical influence, but it…feels too organic to be something a person cast. Doesn’t have the structured web of energy and intention that a curse or a spell would have. Which means no guidelines on how to break it, since it’s something naturally occurring he stumbled into. No quest to fulfil, objects of significance to provide, just...waiting it out. 

But if they figure out where and why it happened they might be able to figure out a way to speed up the process. 

And Robin is being very unhelpful on that front. 

Apparently her detection spell only told her that there was magic present, not what kind. Which smells like bullshit to Billy. He has no idea why she’d lie and it’s pissing him off.

He rolls his eyes skyward as she circles her fifth attempt to waffle an explanation. “Isn’t this the exact detection spell you used last week?” he snaps, hands flying outward in annoyance. “The one that let me track down that grimy little imp selling counterfeit luck charms? Because your stupid little cup of tea told you everything I needed to know. So why isn’t it this time?”

Her mouth snaps shut, and her gaze flickers to Steve, who’s sprawled in a seat at the bar, elbows propping him up. He’s nodding vigorously and chatting about something with Hop, who looks like he’s three seconds away from an aneurysm. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Hargrove...listen,” she pauses, pursing her lips, and collapses into a nearby chair with an aggrieved breath. “You’re terrible at handling emotions.”

“What.” He blinks at her, and then crosses his arms. “What’s your fucking point?”

“See, this, right here is what I’m talking about. I’m trying to protect my best friend, okay?” 

“From what exactly?”

“You. Dumbass.”

And that, like a punch in the damn gut, stops him in his tracks. Knocks the air from his lungs. He thought they’d moved past this. Thought he’d paid his dues, earned a little trust. 

Apparently not.

“Robin, I wouldn’t…” he whispers, voice breaking. “I—”

She waves a hand, cuts him off, shaking her head. “Hargrove...shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve been feeding off him for months and haven’t hurt him.” 

“You know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that. Besides, I’m his best friend, remember? I always know who he’s sleeping with. He’s not exactly a vault of secrets.”

Billy glances at his boots, hiding a smile. “True.” When he looks back up she’s got her eyes narrowed, and he doesn’t like the thoughtful little wrinkle between her brows. “Do I have something on my face?”

She drums her fingers on the table. Stares at him a little longer in silence. “Hm...You know what. Promise me something.”

“...What.”

“Promise me you’ll let him down gently.”

“...What?”

“You obviously care about him, I just...he’s had his heart broken enough, okay? The magic, the shit muddling his brain right now, it’s...compelling him to tell truths. Basically, he has no filter right now.”

That can’t be right.

It was supposed to be something like...he had cupid blood spilled on him and it made him all affectionate and clingy, and he latched on to Billy because they had sex last night. And it was all just some fucked up lust-clouded mix-up. And it would wear off in the next 48 hours and Billy could go back to pretending he was just fucking Steve for practical reasons and Steve could go back to having good sex with no feelings involved. 

“He...Robin, I don’t understand,” Billy says faintly. He feels lightheaded. Like he’s not getting enough oxygen. Like the room is suddenly too small. He’s not looking at Robin anymore. The only thing he can see is Steve’s back, Steve’s profile, his lazy grin and exaggerated hand gestures. He’s still talking to Hop, none the fucking wiser, and…

Billy’s knees give out and he falls into the nearest chair. 

“What’s so hard to understand,” Robin replies scathingly, seemingly unaware of Billy’s internal crisis. “He gets attached way too easy. It’s not his damn fault, alright, so be nice. Maybe wait until this shit wears off, it’ll probably be an easier conversation when he’s not, y’know, all impulse no control.”

“But,” Billy’s breathing is starting to come in choppy bursts, his eyes stinging. “He can’t love me.” 

“Wha—holy shit, Hargrove, are you alright?”

“No,” he grits out, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard enough that he sees stars. He turns away from Robin, trying to get his breathing under control, trying to stop the embarrassing flood of tears threatening to fall. 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jolts, head snapping up, some defensive, biting comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to tell Robin off, and—

It’s Steve. Staring down at him with soft brown eyes, a concerned tilt to his mouth, his brows, the goddamn expressiveness of his face hits Billy in the gut when he remembers that this is all Steve. Steve with no filter. Steve letting himself care, letting himself show it.

A whine escapes Billy, unbidden. 

“Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “Shit. I’ll just...I’m gonna go.”

Neither of them look at her, or acknowledge that she’d spoken. He hears the faint rustling of her standing, footsteps as she walks away. Continues to look up at Steve, transfixed.

“Billy?” Steve takes a hesitant step towards him, his voice gentle. 

“I didn’t know,” Billy says quietly, still blinking back tears.

Steve pulls up a chair, drops right next to Billy’s and sits down. Their knees are touching. “What didn’t you know?” He puts a hand on Billy’s thigh.

“Have I...Steve, have I been…” He exhales slowly, staring down at Steve’s hand. “I’ve been hurting you, haven’t I?”

“What? No! You wouldn’t—”

Billy shakes his head, “No, I mean…” He turns to face Steve, puts a hand on his chest, over his heart. Steve blinks at him, mouth slack. “I’ve been fucking with your head. This whole...arrangement. It’s been shitty for you, hasn’t it.”

“I…” Steve’s bottom lip trembles, and he catches it between his teeth. “I hate waking up alone afterwards. And there are times when it feels like it’s real for you too, when you call me baby, and—and sometimes, when I’m inside you, the way you look at me...It makes it harder to remember that it’s just an arrangement to you. Makes it harder when you walk away after, ‘cause I started to hope, and then...”

“And then I go and throw that back in your face, yeah. Fuck, pretty boy, I’m so fucking sorry.” His fingers tighten into a fist, bunching the front of Steve’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know,” Steve assures him, hurriedly, covering Billy’s hand with his own. “It’s not your fault. I fall in love too easy.” Billy’s hand twitches at the casual acknowledgement, his heart stuttering. 

“But…” Billy chews his lip, deliberating. There’s a twinge of guilt when he considers taking advantage of the truth spell, but he’s burning up inside, he has to know, “Why me? I hurt you. I’m not...good. I still don’t get why you even let me into your bed let alone your heart.” 

Because maybe Steve’s just kidding himself. Maybe the things he’s saying are things he just...thinks are true. Maybe talking it out will show both of them that it wasn’t real after all.

“You are, though, Billy. Good.” Steve shuffles closer, his expression open and earnest, brows pinched a little with sadness. “You care, so much. You don’t want people to know because it scares you, but you do. You’re always trying to push people away because you think being close to you is some kind of horrible thing, but it isn’t. You’re protective and loyal and strong, and I love you, because you make me feel safe, and I...should I keep going? Billy?” His hands come up to cup Billy’s face, gently, wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Billy opens his mouth to respond but a hiccuping little sob is the only sound that comes out. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t...I don’t know how to fix it. Billy—”

He cuts Steve off with a kiss. A brief, chaste press to his lips, wet with tears. Steve freezes. Blinks at him, eyelashes fluttering a little. 

“What...what was that for?” he asks quietly.

Breathing ragged and shaky, Billy exhales slowly, trying to calm himself enough to speak. “Steve—” His voice breaks. He swallows. Tries again. “I thought you would never feel the same, and I was trying to settle for what I could get,” it all comes out in a rush, jumbled together and an octave to high. 

Steve’s jaw drops.

But the floodgates are open now. Voice strained and thick with tears, he continues, “I’m so—so fucking sorry, I didn’t—I couldn’t—I always left afterwards because it would hurt too much to stay. Thinking it didn’t mean anything to you. ‘Cause I was—I always—I always fuckin’, wanted more, and—”

The air is knocked out of him when Steve collides with his chest. Arms circle his waist, and Steve tucks his nose into the crook of his neck. His breath stutters, catches, and Steve’s hold tightens. 

And when he speaks he’s muffled by Billy’s shirt, quiet and tentative, wavering, “Billy please tell me this means you—”

“Yeah,” Billy responds immediately, burying his face in Steve’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut. He wraps his arms around Steve, pulling him close, as close as he can. “Yeah. I do.”

Steve’s sigh is warm, humid against his skin, as he melts in Billy’s embrace. “Can you…” he sniffles. “Can—can you, like, say it, um. Please?”

Heart in his mouth, Billy presses his lips to the top of Steve’s head. He feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, like his pulse is going to break his ribs, like a thousand different things are crashing around in his head as he scrambles, still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that this is actually happening. 

“I love you,” he says softly. Whispers into Steve’s locks of chestnut hair. Puts it out there where he can’t take it back. Can’t pretend it away. Feels like ripping his whole damn heart out and letting the world gawk. A lot scarier than three words should be. 

But it’s worth it for the way Steve looks up at him, jostling a little in his haste to lift his head. The shine in his eyes, surprise parting his lips, but elation overshadowing it by far. 

“I didn’t—Billy, you—I wasn’t sure if you’d say it, I—Billy,” he stammers, a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You do? Like. Really, for real?”

“Yeah, pretty boy.” He bites his lip, a smile inching its way across his face. “So fucking much.”

“Oh my god,” Steve blurts, laughing a little, and he dives forward to kiss Billy. Their teeth clack together. Again. But this time Billy chuckles wetly and doesn’t pull away.

The second try goes much smoother. 

And the third. 

Steve is sliding into his lap, tongue slipping past the seam of Billy’s lips, when Hopper yells from across the room, “Hey! Not in my bar!”

They spring apart. 

Billy forgot they weren’t alone, and judging from Steve’s deer-in-the-headlights stare, so did he. They both dissolve into slightly hysterical giggles.

“Are you two done working your shit out now, or…?” Robin sidles up while they’re wiping away the wetness from their faces, eyebrows raised at the both of them.

“I, uh,” Billy glances at Steve. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs makes his heart flip, and he grins. “Yeah. I guess so?”

“Can we work on Steve’s weird magic issue now, then,” she asks flatly, unimpressed.

Steve shakes his head. “Nah, I want Billy to take me home and fuck me.”

Billy chokes on his own spit, however the strangled noise that escapes him is drowned out by Robin’s horrified yelp. “Eeugh! Hargrove, take your damn boyfriend and get out of here, I’ll figure this out myself!” she cries, throwing her hands in the air and turning on her heel.

“Heh…” Steve chuckles softly, looking down at his hands. “Boyfriend.” He glances up at Billy. “Are we boyfriends now? I wanna be. And we’re in love, so. We should be.”

It’s going to take Billy a while to get used to that. All of it. 

He hooks an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him close, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his forehead. “Makes sense to me, baby. Now,” he ducks his head, looking Steve in the eye, his own dancing with mirth, “You heard Robin, we gotta get outta here and see about gettin’ you everything you wanted from me.” 

Billy’s phone is ringing.

He groans, and reaches across Steve’s back to grab blindly for the offending device. Takes him a few tries, but he manages it without having to sit up. 

“Yeah?” he mumbles into the receiver, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes.

“It’s Robin. Is Steve still all truth-whammied?” 

“Uh,” Billy glances to his left. “No idea. He’s asleep.” 

“What about—you know what, actually, I don’t want to know what the last thing he said was. Nevermind.” Billy grins at the ceiling. If she’d asked he would’ve told her, but she’s right, she would have regretted it. “I just wanted you to know I figured it out.”

“...Congrats?” Billy scratches his stomach. Waits.

“Damn right. I’m a goddamn genius,” she somehow sounds both annoyed and smug. Which Billy respects, honestly. “He’s a pixie, Hargrove. Y’know all those legends about faeries not being able to lie?”

“Yeah, they’re all bullshit, aren’t they?”

“Yes, dingus, obviously, but they had to come from somewhere, right.”

“Would you cut to the chase, Buckley.” 

An irritated huff crackles through the phone. “Chimera blood. It makes pixies loopy if they roll around in it. I don’t know where he would’ve come into contact with it, but—”

“Uh.” Billy rubs his forehead. “I do.”

There’s a pause. “Explain,” she says icily. 

“Don’t be like that, it’s not like it hurt him.” Doesn’t stop Billy from feeling guilty anyways, but he doesn’t need this crap from her too. “I killed a chimera the other night. But I got all busted up, so I had to...visit Steve. And there was a lot of fluid exchange, so—”

“Gross, dude, alright, I get it.”

“Do you? You don’t want me to go on? Because I can—”

“No!”

“Are you sure? I could tell you exactly how much—aaand, she hung up.”

He puts his phone back, and jumps when Steve moves under him, his hand coming up to wrap around Billy’s waist.

“Robin called?” he slurs, still half-asleep.

Billy relaxes, letting himself drape across Steve’s chest in an inelegant sprawl. “Mhm.” 

“She figure it out?” He blinks a couple times, still squinting, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Yeah...about that. Uh. Chimera blood?”

Steve furrows his brow. And then Billy watches the realization dawn on his face. “Ohh. Oh. Okay.”

“It was my fault,” Billy grimaces, eyeing Steve carefully.

“Mm.”

His fingers trace aimless patterns in Billy’s skin, and his demeanour doesn’t change. 

“It wore off, didn’t it.”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Guess I gotta ask if you’re mad at me then.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot upward. “What? No.” He pushes a few stray curls back into place, eyes roaming Billy’s face. “Were you ever going to tell me you loved me?”

“I—” He stares, trying to read Steve’s weirdly mild expression and having very little luck finding anything useful. “Probably not?” he says eventually, hesitant. 

“Yeah, I probably wasn’t gonna either.” He smiles small, his eyebrows pinched. “But then I got all,” he wiggles his fingers at his own head, “And now here we are. And I’m happy to be here. So. I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” Billy blinks. “Yeah, that’s a fair point.”

Steve grins. “Just don’t poison me again, please.”

“No promises.”

“Asshole. I love you.”

“Just my asshole?”

“No, your mouth too.”

“...Dick.”

“Also that.”

Billy rolls his eyes, grinning ear-to-ear. “I love you too, weirdo,” he snickers.

His heart warms, basking in the sunshine of Steve’s responding smile as he leans in for a kiss.

[inthelonelycoolbeforedawn]

Inspired by @harringroveweekoflove prompt “Pool Sex”. 18+ only. This is my first time participating in HWoL, and this is only a drabble, so if it doesn’t belong here or I messed up the tagging or something I’m sorry!

*****

Hawkins' community pool is the closest Billy's getting to the beach this year.

The pool has one advantage over the ocean, at least. Steve Harrington sometimes shows up with Max and her nerds. He shoos them off and flops down on a lounge chair under an umbrella, in sunglasses and tiny swim shorts that Billy dreams about.

One day Steve catches him staring and stares back. Staring turns to shoving turns to groping turns to fucking after the pool closes.

Sweaty and sticky afterwards, Billy realizes the pool has one other advantage over the ocean.

Sand gets everywhere, after all.

[edith-moonshadow]

Cross-Stitch to accompany Chantilly Lace for the Harringrove Week Of Love Day Six Stockings/Pantyhose.

Chantilly Lace [AO3]

Chantilly Lace [Tumblr]

Steve wished he’d learned about lingerie a lot sooner in his life, he felt like there was something special that only he knew about. Every time he moved he felt his trousers rubbing against the stockings enhancing their silky feel and the tug of the straps made him feel that little thrill of constriction that he enjoyed so much. The panties added a whole new dimension as they hugged him in a way that his normal underwear didn’t with a little scratch from the lace and the pleasure of knowing they were there was helping him cope with all the people he had to talk to. They felt like a perverse security blanket comforting and exciting at the same time. He looked around to see if anyone would miss him then walked around to a secluded space at the end of his garden, he just needed a few moments alone.

“Hello, Princess.”

Steve shivered slightly as he felt Billy’s hot breath against his neck then turned to glare at him.

“What do you want Hargrove?”

Billy walked right up into Steve’s personal space just like he always did, a smirk on his face. Steve held his ground as Billy devoured him with his eyes then placed his hands on his hips right over the garter belt making Steve’s skin tingle under his fingers. He started running his fingers over his hips and Steve was sure he could feel the garter belt through his clothes and he felt his face heat. Billy leaned down and breathed against his ear.

“Hiding something, Pretty Boy?”

[lestats-louis]

title: no use i just do  snippet of my first ever harringrove week of love  fic contribution. read the full ficlet here. 

rated: mature (mainly for mentions of sex) 

It had been two weeks since Billy broke things off and Steve spent most of that time thinking about it.

He thought about the last time he kissed Billy, how his lips were sticky from the chapstick he bought at Melvald's. Which made Steve want to get Billy some quality shit. The kind that you wouldn't find in Hawkins, that tasted like fresh strawberries. There Steve was, king of Hawkins High, attached to an influential family, and all he wanted to do was spoil a pretty Californian boy.

Steve could picture them skinny dipping on the night of graduation. All wrapped up in each other like he was finally someone new. Not just the asshole who broke hearts, but the guy who was changed. All because he had someone who made him want to be better. Someone that wasn't picture perfect like Nancy or overly eager to be with him for status.

[hannahhsolo]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

for @harringroveweekoflove 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Heather Holloway Additional Tags: Youtuber!Billy, Twitch Streamer!Steve, Twitch Thot AU, harringrove week of love, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Influencers, steve harrington is a brat, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve sucks at video games, this is a whole mess, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff Summary:

“Big shout out to BnzazaBxch” there was no way in hell he had said that right, “ for the gift sub to Bambiiiisasexgod23!” Steve grinned at his camera, and went to high-five it. “And double high five for that username, Bambiiiisasexgod23! Flattery will get you everywhere.” Steve lifted his bedazzled coffee cup to his lips and took a sip of his iced vanilla latte, giving a little more face than might have been necessary to the camera. Predictably, the chat blew up.

 Billy Hargrove thought Bambiii was everything that was wrong with the internet.