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Billy knows he’s fucked up. That he’s an asshole. Doesn’t make him stop what he’s doing right now.
He drove all the way to Steve Harrington's house to rile him up, to blow off some steam. They exchanged words, cocky and sure of themselves, trying to outcool each other. It leads to this.
Harrington is breathing hard and ragged, lip split and jaw already purpling. He looked at Billy from under his brows and wiped the blood away in slow motion, not flinching when the back of his hand connected with his swollen lip.
“That all you’ve got?” Steve asked, almost too easy.
Billy felt his blood get hot, making him feel alive for once. His mouth stretched into an ugly smile: “The Princess can take more, can she?”
“Don’t fucking call me that”, Steve says, annoyed. A win for Billy.
Billy stalks Steve like a predator and round and round they go. Steve looks at him, those goddamn big brown eyes and that stupid floppy hair.
“Like what you see?” Billy taunts, as a familiar defense. He’s not a queer, a faggot, he’s not, he is not.
“I’m not the one that’s hard,” Steve notes and nods at Billy’s crotch.
The overwhelming shame washes over Billy. And then the anger flares, and he’s on Harrington. Steve is prepared, he catches Billy in a tight grip and they fall to the ground, trying to rip into each other, leaving their mark, anything, anything, anything.
Steve is on top of Billy and it's unusual, he is superior to Harrington in power but he is tired from getting beaten into a pulp by that piece of shit of a man he calls his father.
Billy pants as Steve pins him down and he wants to cry, for a moment, being at the mercy of another and having lost, if only for a moment.
“Can dish it out but can’t take it?” Steve laughs and it’s high-pitched and manic.
And the rage makes Billy do the unthinkable. He grinds his pelvis to Steve’s ass.
Steve lets go like burned and Billy is on top of him in a blink of an eye.
“Don’t tell me that pretty boy is a virgin? No real man to pop your cherry in this shithole of a place?” Billy leers. He’s mad, he has to be, to be doing this. Steve could ruin his reputation, and shatter everything he has built for himself in Hawkings.
Steve is flushed: ”Fuck you.”
“No, you,” Billy hisses near to Steve’s face. He can taste the other one's breath, its beer, and the crisp copper of blood.
It seems that Steve is mad too, for he does the unthinkable. He smashes their mouths together in an ugly parody of a kiss. But a kiss nonetheless.
Billy slots their mouths together and bites Steve’s lip, making it bleed again. Steve lets out an ‘ah’ of pain and Billy takes it as an opportunity to slip his tongue in.
Steve’s mouth is hot and wet and damn if it doesn’t make Billy even harder. He grinds his hard-on against Steve’s crotch and Harrington moans, letting Billy taste him.
And then Billy remembers, they’re in public. Anyone could see. He grabs Steve’s hair and man-handles the other one to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” Steve pants, eyes glassy.
“We’re not going to fuck here”, Billy promises and Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly. Billy’s eyes trace the movement and he licks his lips, mouth suddenly dry.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go”, Steve says and walks into the house that is lit.
Nobody’s home. It’s weird, it’s too much room. But Steve just throws a look in his direction and walks upstairs and Billy has no time to hesitate.
When they get to Steve’s room’s door they are again at each other. They are pulling at each other’s clothes, biting and kissing and licking.
Steve falls to the bed and Billy is on him again, slipping his tongue into the other one’s mouth. Steve answers in kind, nipping and licking.
Billy grips Steve’s hair and rumbles: “I’m going to fuck you, Harrington.”
Steve goes pliant in his grip and moans.
Billy’s mouth runs off without his mind as he continues: “I will make you forget anyone and everyone. The only thing you’ll be able to think is me.”
Steve exposes the vulnerable flesh of his neck and Billy bites it. Steve whines and rubs himself against Billy, hands weak and gripping at his biceps.
“You like that? To be taken like a bitch in heat?” Billy lets his voice be on that side of mean but Steve just grins.
What they are doing is not something they could tell their friends about. It’s fucked up, just like Billy, it’s not something anyone would be able to understand. Or at least that’s what Billy thinks.
Billy slaps Steve: “Answer me when I ask you a question!”
Steve’s pupils are dilated and holy shit, he’s getting off on this on a whole other level than Billy, and maybe he’s not the one fucked in the head in this scenario after all.
“Yeah. Yeah, um, I want you to fuck me. To make me forget”, there’s something that Billy doesn’t want to acknowledge, some deep dark thing there, so he just unbuckles his belt.
Steve is working his zipper with clumsy fingers and then Billy feels the cool air on his cock. He shimmies out of his jeans without grace.
Steve’s mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes are glassy once again. He licks his lips and Billy thinks he wants to make that lip bleed again, but he wants the blood on his junk.
“C’mere,” Billy says.
Steve scrambles on the bed to get up and sinks to his knees.
He looks up, eyes so big, and oh, how pretty he looks bruised up and his.
“Suck me”, Billy’s hoarse.
Steve is clumsy at first, clearly a first-timer, but Billy doesn’t mind, funny enough. Steve takes him, licks the head, and sucks the length into his hot and wet and tight mouth. Billy groans.
Steve goes nose to the pubic bone then, something no one has ever done before to Billy. He has seen it porno of course, but to have the visual and feeling is something else, Steve’s eyes looking through his lashes, and throat constricting around Billy’s cockhead.
Steve gags and backs off. He dives in for more and Billy grabs his hair and presses Steve, forces the throat open, and fucks his face so that Steve tears up and gags, drooling.
“Like that, Princess?” Billy coos and Steve smiles with a mouthful of dick. Billy likes it, and wants it seared into his mind.
Steve has kept his hands on the sides of Billy’s thighs, leaving half-moon marks of his nails behind. He still has his boxers on and he is humping the air in little jerks, trying to get any kind of friction but not getting any. Billy could tease Steve about that but he doesn’t. Doesn’t want to.
Billy’s had enough, he yanks Steve off of his dick and Harrington keens at the loss and Billy shushes him. He bends down to kiss Steve and can taste his precum on the other’s tongue. Steve’s lip is a mess of spittle and blood, it’s delicious.
“Let’s get you on the bed, Princess,” Billy is almost tender and Steve doesn’t say anything, just lets Billy maneuver him on the bed, on his back.
”What a pretty picture you make,” Billy says and yanks Steve’s boxers down. Steve sucks in a sharp breath when the erection springs free.
“Fuck,” Billy says and he’s wrecked, working both of them in his hand, comparing size and thickness.
Steve is flushed to his chest and he throws his head back. Billy presses against him, hot skin on skin, working them in slow jerks. He kisses Steve’s bruises and love bites.
Steve says something but Billy is almost too lost to hear it.
“What?” Billy asks, dazed and confused.
“Fuck me,” Steve shudders in Billy's hand and clearly has to hold off to not come.
“Okay, okay, I’ll… Do you have anything to make it easy?” Billy is suddenly nervous. He wants it to be good, he wants to be Steve’s first and best. How ridiculous.
Steve digs for a lubricant from underneath his pillow and Billy wants to whistle. But he’s too horny to do that.
Instead, he slicks himself and his fingers. He props himself on his elbows and kisses Steve’s thigh, licking his lips in anticipation, and looks at Steve.
Steve is fisting the sheets in his hands when Billy slips the first digit in. And even though he wants to make it good for Steve he can’t stop himself from hurrying, just a little.
One finger becomes two. Billy avoids the prostate he knows is there because if he goes too hard now Steve will be sure to come too soon. And he wants to be the one Steve thinks about when he jerks off.
There are three fingers now and Steve is letting out almost mewls of pleasure. Billy has never heard a man sound like that, so desperate.
“C’mon Harrington, don’t come yet. If you do, I’ll still fuck you,” Billy threatens.
“Fuck you’re hot,” the little praise makes Billy go from fucking hard to weeping.
Billy cages Steve with his body and helps the other one spread his legs good and wide and tilt his hips. He has to grope himself to ensure that he is slick enough, and Steve wriggles impatiently.
“Say if it’s uncomfortable,” Billy says and nudges the opening with his cock. They go slow, inch by torturing inch, Billy kissing Steve and Steve panting raggedly.
When buried inside, Billy doesn’t move, just stays there and kisses Steve, and Steve kisses back. They hold each other in a tight grip but before Billy can start to think about the implications of that Steve moves his hips and God if it isn’t perfect.
Billy holds Steve’s hips in a vice-like grip, wanting to bruise, to mark. He pulls back and slams back in and Steve, Steve just moans and scratches at Billy’s back, scrambling for purchase.
Billy starts a rhythm, angling for that little bundle of nerves. He finds it, and Steve shouts, gripping Billy and Billy smirks: “There it is. I’m gonna make you come on my cock, Princess. Wanna be your best.”
Steve just nods and his lashes are sticky with tears. Billy knew it could be overwhelming to have your prostate played with but this, this is something else.
Steve anchors his feet against Billy’s buttocks and whispers in Billy’s ear a little: “Please.”
That has Billy so dangerously close, that he kisses Steve to make him shut up. He keeps fucking into Steve’s body that is tight as a violin string, ready to let loose.
Billy can feel the familiar pressure building in his stomach and he says, desperate: “C’mon Steve, I’m so fucking close. Please.”
Steve bites into Billy’s shoulder and comes when Billy’s hips stutter and hit his prostate one last time. Billy thinks he blacks out a little and Steve just lays there underneath him, quiet and still.
The moment of truth, Billy thinks. Will he bolt or will he stay? What would Steve think? That he’s a faggot if he wants to?
“Stay,” Steve sounds tired and sated but also on edge.
“Got nothing better to do,” Billy mumbles and thinks that Steve too, is fucked up. He just doesn’t know how yet.