house call (pizza boy!steve harrington x sorority girl!reader)
summary: thursday night at the sorority house and you order a pizza— it happens to be delivered by none other than steve harrington. high school’s golden boy, all washed up and cocky but you’ve been waiting for this.
wc: 3k ish
cw: 18+, SMUT, alludes to feet stuff kinda but really he’s just repressed and easy, loser boy steve, sorority girl reader, sub steve, overstim a little bit.
steve harrington hated thursdays.
too many drunk kids with too little cash. too many delivery bags that reeked like melted cheese sticking to his jeans, his skin. too many fake “thanks, man” before the door slammed in his face.
but this was the last one of the night. the big white sorority house on the corner lot, porch light blazing like a spotlight, music faint through the windows. a couple girls laughing loud enough to carry down the street.
he sighed, slouched lower in the driver’s seat. he could already picture it: a gaggle of girls squealing over free breadsticks, calling him “pizza boy” like it was the funniest thing in the world. maybe someone would tip decent, but probably not.
he pulled the visor off and tossed it into the passenger seat, running a hand through his hair. the thing flattened it weird, made him look even more like the loser he already was, and no way was he walking up to a sorority house looking like that.
steve caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. shadows under his eyes, stubble coming in uneven. he stretched a grin across his face anyway, something cocky, something familiar. it looked tired on him now, but it was better than nothing.
grabbing the box, he jogged up the steps, shaking out his shoulders like he was about to walk into a party instead of a transaction.
he lifted his fist to knock, but the door was already opening.
and there you were.
not what he expected at all—no mob of girls, no squealing. just you, leaning against the frame, calm and smug, magazine tucked under one arm like you’d been interrupted. your eyes flicked down at him, then at the pizza, then back at him.
and fuck, you were smiling.
“uh, hey,” he cleared his throat, holding the box out like a shield. “large pepperoni? extra mushrooms?”
you cocked your head, lips twitching. “guess so.”
your eyes dropped lower, not to the pizza, but to the small, half-cracked name tag clipped crooked to his polo. he’d forgotten it was even there.
your voice softened, teasing like a knife sliding in. “wait.. you’re steve. like steve harrington? from hawkins high?”
his stomach dropped, but he kept the grin fixed, too slow to stop the way it faltered at the edges.
you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning innocence, like you weren’t already pulling the ground out from under him. “you don’t remember me, do you?”
he opened his mouth—closed it. rubbed the back of his neck. “uh… i—look, i went to school with a lot of people.”
“mmhm.” you took the box from his hands, brushing his fingers just enough to make him jolt. “i knew it would be you. it was always you.”
his throat went dry.
and the worst part?
you were right.
he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to pin down your face, your voice. the smug way you said his name made it worse—like you knew exactly how off balance he was.
“sorry, i—uh, i can’t quite place you,” he admitted, scratching behind his ear, a sheepish laugh puffing out of him. “we had… what, chem together? or history?”
you shook your head slowly, still smiling like you had all the cards. “it’s alright. i’ve changed a lot since then.” your eyes flicked over him, deliberate, slow. “but you… certainly haven’t.”
the look on his face twitched, stretched tighter. that one stung, and you wanted it to.
steve cleared his throat, redirecting fast. “so, uh—total’s $14.76.” he tapped the box lid like that settled it.
you sighed, patting the tiny front pockets of your denim shorts, the fabric straining around your hips. his eyes followed without meaning to, throat bobbing.
“damn,” you muttered, fingers coming up empty. “i forgot the cash.” you turned, tossing the words over your shoulder. “come in, i’ll grab it.”
and just like that, the door swung wider.
steve hesitated for a beat—every warning bell in his head going off—but the sway of your shorts as you disappeared deeper into the house drowned them all out.
he stepped inside.
the door clicked shut behind him, muffling the thrum of bass from upstairs. the front room was dim, quieter than he’d thought a sorority house would be on a thursday night. just two girls tangled up on the couch, giggling into each other’s shoulders, eyes flicking toward him as he walked past.
an unmistakable whisper followed him—hushed and sharp—but he couldn’t catch the words. heat crawled up the back of his neck anyway.
you didn’t wait, padding barefoot down the hall, and he trailed after you, pizza box balanced awkwardly against his chest like a shield.
the kitchen was bare, countertops scattered with half empty water bottles and a lone box of cereal. you tugged open a drawer, rifling around like you weren’t in any hurry.
“so,” you said over your shoulder, light and casual, “what’ve you been up to? after high school, i mean.”
he huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck again. “uh… you know. this and that. been, uh, busy.”
“busy delivering pizzas?” you teased, turning just enough to catch his flinch before he covered it with a smile.
you finally pulled a few bills free and pressed them into his hand—three crumpled fives. your fingers lingered a beat longer than necessary.
“keep the change,” you chirped, eyes bright. “so… what are you up to after your shift?”
he glanced at the cash, then back at you, sheepish. “this is my last delivery. so, uh… not sure.”
your grin widened, bubbling over. “oh! you could stay. hang out… catch up.”
the words landed like bait, and you knew he’d bite.
got it—his mouth saying “casual” while his body is screaming desperate. here’s the next beat:
“hang out, huh?” he leaned back a little, trying to look nonchalant, thumb hooking into his pocket. the smirk was there, practiced, easy.
but his other hand flexed uselessly against the pizza box, knuckles tight. his weight shifted forward like he was ready to follow you anywhere. his eyes flicked past you, quick, toward the hallway, like he was already imagining what “hang out” meant.
“yeah, i mean… i could stick around for a bit. no big deal.” his voice cracked on “deal,” just enough to betray him.
you caught it. you caught everything—the tension in his shoulders, the way he kept glancing at you, then away, then back again like he couldn’t stop himself.
you bumped your hip against the counter, tilting your head. “c’mon. my roomie’s out tonight. i was just gonna watch a movie.”
his mouth opened, closed. he dragged a hand through his hair, like he needed to reset the whole act.
“a movie sounds cool” he repeated, lips twitching.
but the way he swallowed hard, the way his chest rose quicker than before—yeah, his body told a different story.
you swung the fridge open, bent at the waist to dig through the bottom shelf until you emerged with two cold beers clutched in your hands.
“carry the pizza, would you?” you asked over your shoulder, breezy like you hadn’t just invited him to stay awhile.
“yeah, sure,” steve muttered, tucking the box under his arm. he followed you up the stairs, heartbeat loud in his ears, the sound of laughter and music from behind closed doors fading the higher you climbed.
your room door pushed open to reveal something warm and soft—string lights tacked along the wall, an unmade bed piled with pillows, a small tv balanced precariously on a dresser. you set the beers down on your bedside table , then hopped onto the mattress with a practiced little bounce, crossing your legs.
patting the space beside you, you grinned. “well? come sit.”
steve set the pizza on the nightstand and sank down onto the edge of the bed, trying to act casual, like this wasn’t the first girl’s room he’d been in for a long time that actually made his stomach twist with nerves.
but fuck—he couldn’t not look at you.
your shorts were small enough to make him sweat, denim straining around your thighs, the frayed hem brushing smooth skin. his gaze lingered too long at your ankles, bare and delicate, before tracing upward—the soft curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, the line of your stomach peeking when your top shifted.
then higher still: the swell of your chest, the slope of your shoulders, the column of your throat.
you leaned back on your palms, grinning at him like you knew exactly where his eyes had been.
steve licked his lips, dragged his gaze over to the tv.
he hoped to hell he wasn’t reading this entirely wrong.
you shifted suddenly, pushing up on your knees, the mattress dipping beneath you. steve froze as you crawled across the bed, close enough that the air changed, his chest tightening.
you leaned over him to reach the nightstand, cracking both bottles against the edge of the wood with an easy flick of your wrist. the hiss of carbonation filled the room.
you lifted one to your lips, tilting it back for a sip. his throat bobbed watching you, your mouth wrapped around the glass opening. then you scooted back toward him, pressing the very same bottle into his hand.
“here,” you said lightly, eyes sparkling.
his fingers brushed yours when he took it, lingering. he swallowed, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt.
“so, uh..what movie are we…?” his voice caught, cracking in the middle. he cleared his throat. “what movie are we watching?”
you smirked, settling back with your own beer. “heathers.”
he blinked. “heathers? i haven’t seen it.”
“one of my faves.” you sipped again, watching him over the rim. then, tipping your bottle toward his nike’s on his feet, you added, “take your shoes off, steve. come get comfy. i can’t eat this whole pizza by myself.”
your grin was playful, flirty—light on the surface, but weighted underneath.
and steve’s stomach flipped, because every word felt like an invitation.
his shoes ended up in a heap by the door, legs stretched out on the bed like he belonged there, though he didn’t feel like he did. you’d settled in beside him, not touching, but close enough that the heat of your body reached him.
and you smelled good. not perfume exactly—something softer, cleaner, something that curled right under his ribs.
he, on the other hand, was suddenly hyperaware of himself. the faint tang of grease and cheese clinging to his shirt, his skin, his hair. the hours of sweat from running deliveries. it made him sit a little stiffer, arms tucked in like that would somehow contain it.
you didn’t seem to mind.
a couple slices disappeared in silence, the tv flickering with bright color neither of you were really watching. steve took a sip from the bottle you’d handed him, trying to look relaxed, trying not to flinch every time your thigh shifted just an inch closer.
then you broke the quiet.
“so…” your voice was casual, but there was an edge of something else in it. “whatever happened to that girl you used to date in school? still with her?”
he froze mid chew, jaw tightening before he forced himself to swallow.
here’s steve’s reply—fumbling, defensive, and a little raw, with you keeping the upper hand:
“uh, nancy?” he wiped his hands on a napkin, suddenly too aware of the grease on his fingers. “nah. that… that ended a long time ago.”
you tilted your head, like you were piecing him back together from a distance. “huh. thought you two were gonna get married or something.”
he let out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “yeah, well. people thought a lotta things about me back then.”
you sipped your beer, eyes lingering on him over the rim. “so no girlfriend?”
“no,” he said too quickly. then, softer, “no. just me.”
his hand flexed against the blanket, restless, like he didn’t know what to do with it. he risked a glance at you, bracing for pity, for judgment.
but you just smiled—sweet, knowing, a little wicked.
and that made him squirm worse than anything else.
halfway through the movie, the pizza box sat abandoned on the floor, one corner soaked dark with grease. your bottle was nearly empty, his long since drained. the glow of the tv painted the room soft and flickering.
you’d shifted sometime during the last reel, stretching out more comfortably across the bed. your legs crossed, ankle sliding over shin, until your bare foot brushed lightly against his knee.
steve went stock-still.
just a touch, casual, but it lit him up in places he hadn’t felt in a long time. he told himself not to move, not to react—but his pulse jumped, and he knew you could probably hear it in the silence.
“you alright?” you asked finally, voice lilting, innocent like you didn’t know what you were doing.
his laugh came out tight. “yeah. fine. why?”
“you’re stiff.” you nudged his leg again with your toes, playful. “loosen up, harrington. you act like you’ve never hung out in a girl’s room before.”
his throat bobbed, mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide between a grin or a grimace. “not—like this.”
you smiled, slow, leaning back on your palms, foot still resting lightly against his jeans. “what’s different about this?”
he didn’t answer right away. his eyes dropped, betraying him—ankle, calf, the arch of your foot pressed against him like a secret.
“everything,” he muttered, almost too low for you to hear.
your grin widened.
you uncrossed your legs just to recross them the other way, deliberate, your foot dragging slow up the side of his calf before settling back on his knee.
“everything, huh?” you echoed, like you were tasting the word. “you’re awfully red for just hanging out, harrington.”
his jaw clenched, eyes flicking to the tv and back to you, quick and guilty. “it’s, uh, it’s warm in here.”
“mhmm.” your foot flexed against his thigh, nails grazing denim. “that’s it?”
he swallowed, throat working hard. “yeah. that’s it.”
but his body told on him—the shallow rise of his chest, the way his hand fisted in the blanket like he needed to anchor himself.
you tilted your head, lashes low, voice soft with feigned curiosity. “you’re not nervous, are you?”
he huffed a laugh, broken around the edges. “me? no.”
you shifted, leaning into his space, your foot still high on his thigh. he froze as your breath brushed his ear, the faintest graze of your lips against his skin.
“steve,” you whispered, fingers sliding through the soft strands at the nape of his neck, making him shiver. “wanna know a secret?”
his pulse jumped. “uh—sure.” it came out rough, too eager.
your smile curved against his ear. “i’ve always had a crush on you.”
he blinked, head jerking toward you, but you were already pulling back just enough to watch the disbelief flicker across his face.
“since high school,” you went on, voice syrupy. “and since you started delivering pizzas here once a week? at the start of the fall semester.” your fingers tightened lightly in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. “i’ve just always wanted to get close to you.”
the words poured straight through him, heat flooding low and fast.
he shifted, trying to hide it, but there was no disguising the way his jeans tented under the blanket, cock stiffening the longer you spoke.
you caught his glance downward, the shame in it, and your grin sharpened.
“guess i finally got what i wanted,” you teased.
and his body betrayed him again—thighs tensing, hips twitching like he couldn’t help himself.
your hand slipped from his hair down to his shoulder, then lower, settling warm and steady on his thigh.
steve went rigid.
your fingers traced lazy circles through the denim, inching higher, just millimeters from where he swelled against the fabric.
he tried to keep his breathing even, but the moment your nails dragged lightly upward, the sound tore out of him—low, broken, a moan he couldn’t catch in time.
his head dropped back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight.
you tilted closer, lips brushing the corner of his mouth but not quite giving him what he wanted. your words purred against his skin.
“don’t you wanna kiss me, steve?”
his eyes shot open, glassy and desperate, chest heaving like every bit of composure he’d been clinging to had just slipped right through your fingers.
he groaned, the sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest, and before you could smirk again he was moving.
“fuck.. c’mere—“ he breathed,
his hand shot up to cup your jaw, the other finding your waist, and then his mouth crashed into yours. messy, sudden, like he’d been holding back for hours instead of minutes.
you tasted the beer on his tongue, the faint salt of pizza, the desperation he couldn’t hide anymore. his kiss wasn’t smooth, wasn’t practiced—it was hungry, teeth grazing your bottom lip, a little too rough, like he was terrified you’d pull away.
you didn’t.
you let him devour you, your fingers sliding higher on his thigh, brushing deliberately against the bulge straining his jeans. he groaned into your mouth, hips jerking before he could stop them.
“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, breath ragged. “you’re—god, you’re gonna kill me.”
you shifted suddenly, swinging one leg over his lap, settling down on him with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips.
steve’s breath caught sharp against your mouth, hands flying to your waist like he couldn’t help himself. the hard line of his cock pressed hot against you through his jeans, and he groaned at the contact, head dropping back against the wall.
you kissed him again, slower this time, dragging it out, your tongue sliding against his until he was panting. then you tangled your fingers into his hair and tugged, hard enough to make his head tip back, throat bared.
the kiss broke, a string of spit catching for just a second before snapping.
you leaned over him, lips hovering at his jaw, your voice low and sweet and devastating.
“god, steve,” you murmured, tugging again so he gasped. “you get this hard just from kissing me?”
his hips bucked beneath you before he could stop them, a choked sound ripping out of him.
“fuck—yeah, i—” he stammered, eyes blown wide, hands clutching at you like he didn’t know whether to hold you still or beg for more.
you smiled against his skin, sharp and knowing.
“poor guy,” you taunted, and tugged his hair again just to hear him moan.
you didn’t kiss him again right away. not this time. instead, you rocked your hips down over his lap, slow and grinding, the hard ridge of his cock trapped beneath you.
steve bit back a curse, his head thumping against the wall, hands clutching tight at your waist. you dragged yourself over him again, denim rasping against denim, heat building sharp and fast between you.
“jesus,” he groaned, bucking up without meaning to, trying to chase the friction you gave him.
you rewarded him with another kiss—messy, wet, your tongue sliding into his mouth, swallowing the noises he couldn’t stop making. he kissed back like a man starved, sloppy and frantic, moaning every time you shifted against him.
your hand tangled in his hair again, tugging his head back so you could trail your mouth down his jaw, down his throat. his chest heaved under you, his hips rutting up clumsy and desperate, grinding hard into the pressure of your body.
“please,” he rasped, the word falling out of him like he hadn’t meant to say it. “fuck, i-i need to feel you.”
your laugh was low and delighted against his neck. “can’t be patient?”
his eyes squeezed shut, a whine catching in his throat when you rolled your hips again, slow and mean.
you leaned back, peeling your shirt over your head in one smooth motion. his gaze snapped down, mouth falling open, his hands automatically reaching for you.
then you hooked your thumbs into your shorts and slid them down, tossing them aside until you were straddling him in nothing but your underwear, bare skin burning against his jeans.
steve’s breath stuttered, eyes wide and glassy. “holy fuck.”
you pushed against his chest until he leaned back, then set to work on him—fingers at the hem of his polo, tugging it up, exposing a line of hair trailing down his stomach. you kissed your way down that path until you were crouched between his thighs, his eyes huge as he watched you.
your mouth pressed over the bulge in his jeans, warm and wet through the fabric. steve jolted, a strangled noise breaking out of him.
“shit—oh my god.”
you grinned against him, then pulled back just enough to breathe the words. “you know… i heard rumors about how big your cock was back then.” your fingers dragged down the button fly, teasing. “didn’t think they were true.”
you yanked his jeans down in one swift move, the denim peeling from his thighs until he was left in nothing but his straining briefs, the outline of him obvious and obscene.
his face burned crimson, a helpless groan spilling out when your nails skimmed the waistband.
you only kissed the bulge once more—soft, taunting—before climbing back up his lap, settling on him again with your chest pressed to his, your smirk inches from his mouth.
“guess i was wrong,” you whispered.
his cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, pressing hot against your stomach as you settled back onto his lap.
he groaned the second you shifted over him, the sound guttural, his head falling back against the wall.
you reached between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around him, stroking slow as you rocked against him. his cock slid against your bare skin, the head smearing precum over your belly, and the sight of it—thick and desperate against you—made your grin wicked.
his chest heaved, a broken whimper catching in his throat.
you leaned close, lips brushing his ear. “fuck, stevie… you’re so hard for me. just from me sitting on your lap like this?”
he groaned again, hips jerking up into your fist.
“you wanna know how many times i fantasized about this?” you whispered, teeth grazing his earlobe. “every time you walked by, every time yoi smiled at me—wanted you to bend right me over. make a mess of me. now look who’s getting used.”
“god—fuck,” he gasped, his hand clutching your ass, nails biting into your skin.
you stroked him harder, dragging his cock along the slick heat between your thighs without letting him inside. “you’re pathetic for it, you know that?”
his moan was strangled, desperate, head tilting back as if the words alone were undoing him.
“all mine to play with tonight,” you taunted, licking into his mouth when he pulled you down to kiss him, your fist still working his cock between your bodies.
after a few more sticky strokes— you guided him to your entrance with a lazy drag of your fist, the leaky head of his cock slipping between your folds. he hissed through his teeth, every muscle in his body going tight as you slicked him up with the wet spill of your pussy.
“baby, jesus christ—” steve groaned, voice rough and shaky.
you only smiled, tilting your hips to tease the head against your clit before sinking down, slow, until the thick stretch of him worked you open inch by inch.
“oh, fuck—oh my god,” he gasped, head thumping back against the wall. his hands flexed on your waist like he didn’t know whether to hold you steady or pull you down harder.
you took your time, sliding lower until he was seated deep inside you, your walls fluttering around the heavy pulse of his cock. the twitching was immediate—his whole body shuddering, cock jerking inside you like he couldn’t handle the heat of it.
“so fucking tight,” he babbled, cheeks flushed bright red, eyes squeezed shut as if that would keep him from embarrassing himself further. “oh my god, it’s.. fuck—it’s been so long, you don’t..”
you leaned forward, fingers tangling in his hair again, tugging until his eyes snapped open, glassy and wild.
“so long?” you echoed, rocking your hips slow, letting him feel every inch drag through your dripping cunt. “you mean no one’s fucked you in a while, stevie?”
he moaned, pitiful and sweet, bucking up into you without rhythm. “n-not. not like this, not.. oh, god—feels too good—fuck, i can’t.”
you smirked, rolling your hips again, grinding down so your clit rubbed against his pelvis. “poor baby. all washed up, delivering pizzas, and you still get lucky enough to end up under me.”
his breath hitched, chest heaving as he tried to keep up with the pace you set, hands shaking against your ass.
“yeah,” you whispered in his ear, squeezing tight around him just to hear him gasp. “you’re lucky. so fucking lucky i’ve wanted this cock for years.”
he whined, high and wrecked, the sound tearing out of his throat before he could swallow it down.
your smirk only widened as you snapped your hips down harder, your pussy clapping wetly against him. the obscene sound filled the room, mixing with his gasps, his moans, his stuttered curses.
“fuck, fuck, fuck..” steve babbled, hands flying up to grip your hips like he couldn’t stop himself, like he had to hold on or drown. his nails dug in deep, but it didn’t slow you—only spurred you on, bouncing rougher in his lap until your wetness coated his thighs.
“oh my god.” his voice broke, forehead dropping to your chest. “too good—too fucking good.”
you tangled a hand in his hair again, jerking his head back so you could watch his face. his cheeks were flushed scarlet, sweat glistening at his temples, mouth slack with the prettiest, most pathetic sounds spilling out.
“look at you,” you taunted, grinding down cruelly, milking every twitch of his cock inside you. “can’t even keep it together, huh? been so long since anyone touched you, now you’re about to lose it in five minutes.”
“no—fuck.. please, d-don’t stop.” he gasped, his hips jerking helplessly up into you.
you laughed, breathless but wicked, riding him harder, wetter. each thrust dragged the thick head of his cock against that spot inside you, and you let out a sharp moan, clutching at his shoulders for balance.
his eyes rolled back, his whole body trembling. “god, y-you’re soaking me—fuck, you’re so wet, i can feel it dripping.”
“that’s ‘cause i like it, stevie,” you whispered against his ear, clenching down hard around him. “like your cock splitting me open. always knew i would.”
he choked on a moan, babbling nonsense now—“oh god, oh my god, feels so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop”—as you bounced rougher in his lap, puffy cunt swallowing him down again and again until the bed creaked beneath you both.
“fuck—fuck, i can’t—” steve stammered, hips stuttering up into you. his cock twitched hard inside, pulsing thick, and you felt the warning shiver roll through his body. “gonna—god, i’m gonna cum.”
you slammed down on him harder, silencing his whimper with your own sharp gasp. your pussy clenched around him, wet and messy, but you didn’t stop—you couldn’t.
“yeah?” you panted, nails digging into his shoulders as you bounced, chasing the ache blooming hot and desperate between your legs. “gonna cum already? so fucking pitiful for me, stevie.”
“please,” he gasped, his voice cracking. his face twisted, red and wrecked, his fingers clutching your ass like a lifeline. “please, i can’t—”
you leaned down, lips brushing his ear as you ground against him mercilessly, dragging your clit over his pelvis again and again. “you’ll take it. you’ll cum for me and you’ll fucking stay hard ‘til i’m done. won’t you?”
his broken whine tore through the room, and then he was spilling, cock jerking deep inside you as hot spurts of cum filled your cunt. he cried out, thighs trembling beneath you, body shaking like he couldn’t take it.
but you didn’t stop.
you kept grinding, kept slamming down on him, using the sloppy wet slide of his cock and his cum spilling out of you to push yourself higher.
“oh, fuck—” you moaned, chasing it now, rolling your hips with ruthless precision. “god, steve—just like that—don’t you dare fucking go soft on me.”
he whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his whole body shuddering under the overstimulation. “oh my god—please, please.. baby. it’s so much.”
“i don’t care,” you hissed, clenching down hard, cunt milking every twitch of his cock. “you’re gonna make me cum, stevie. gonna fucking ruin me like you should’ve years ago.”
the words broke into a cry as it hit you, pleasure tearing through your stomach, your thighs quaking as you ground down one last desperate time. your pussy fluttered around him, soaking him, squeezing every last drop out of his overstimulated cock until your vision blurred.
you collapsed against his chest, gasping, the both of you drenched in sweat and slick. his heart pounded wild under your cheek, and his cock twitched weakly inside you, still stuffed full.
both of you panting like you’d just run a marathon, sweat cooling on your skin, his chest heaving against yours.
steve was trembling, muscles shot, arms wrapped weakly around your back like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.
“holy shit,” he whispered, voice shredded. his head tipped back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, hair sticking to his damp forehead. “i think you just… fucking killed me.”
you smirked against his throat, kissing the slick skin there. “don’t be dramatic, harrington. you’re still breathing.”
he let out a shaky laugh, the sound half broken, half relieved, like he couldn’t believe it actually happened. his cock twitched feebly inside you, overstimulated and leaking, but you didn’t move. you liked the feel of him there, the way his whole body still reacted to you even when he was wrung out.
“you’re insane,” he mumbled, but his hands slid up your spine like he never wanted you to get off him.
you just hummed, smug and satisfied, and let your cheek rest against his chest.
and that’s when it hit—an eruption of noise from the hall. shrieking, howling, laughter bubbling like champagne. someone’s voice loud and slurred—“shotgunnnnnnnnn!” followed by another round of cheers and stomping feet.
you giggled, breathless and glowing. “guess the party finally made it back here.”
steve groaned, dragging a hand over his face, still flushed bright red. “oh my god. i haven’t done a walk of shame in ages.”
you tipped his chin up with a finger, kissed his swollen mouth soft and taunting. “they’re gonna be pleased to see it.”
and you stayed right there, still wrapped around him, listening to the chaos outside while you both caught your breath—your secret little victory carved out in the middle of the noise.
