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It's the first time Billy sleeps over. Every other time they've done this, Billy had gone home after, but this time is different. He was tired all day, and it's late, and Steve's bed is so warm.
Steve knows there's more to it. Billy took so long opening him, fucked him slow and steady. The way Billy smirks at him in bed, the way Billy nips at his shoulder while he's dozing off aftwards. Steve almost cares, but it's three in the morning and his eyes feel torturously heavy.
Billy made a lot of little promises, too. Talked dirty in his ear all night about keeping him open, ready to be fucked. Weaseling that fantasy out of Steve hadn't been easy, but ever since he'd admitted it Billy never seemed to let it go. Always talked about bending him over whenever he wanted, no matter what he was doing. Talked about fucking him open on his dick, training him to take it however Billy gave it. Steve always turned so red when Billy mentions it, no matter how unrealistic the idea. He wants it bad, even if just once. To be used, to be taken. Loves that heat-of-the-moment feeling of being had. So yeah, maybe when Billy was talking dirty, he made some promises. Told Billy he could fuck him whenever he wanted, practically begged him to. Steve couldn't possibly be blamed for that. And he couldn't be blamed for thinking about it when he fell asleep, next to Billy, face first in the pillows.
Steve's dream started slowly, warmly. He felt soaked all over his face, and his stomach, and between his thighs. Wet and sticky hands held his legs open, curled into his hair. Pushed his face down, pulled it up to hear him cry- was he crying? Crying from how good it felt, from the way he was stretched open and empty. Steve whimpered, weak, tried to beg but found his mouth heavy and slow.
"Please?" Steve said, but it came out nearly silent. A phantom hand brushed over his ass, pushed his thigh up. "Oh, Billy-"
"That's right," Billy hummed, syrupy and far away. "My Steve."
Something heavy, impossibly so, weighted itself to Steve's back. More hands, pinning him down and holding him open. One, the hottest, settled over the back of his neck. Billy's voice followed.
"My Steve," Billy murmured. His touch felt like real fire, boiling and burning a trail of fingerprints into him. His breath was scalding and humid like a dragon's, washing over him. Sharp, boiling heat between his legs made him twitch.
Clarity, paralleled with so much heat it hurt. Splitting him open, waking him up-
"Mm- ah!" Steve gasps, jerks. Billy laughs aloud behind him, malicious. Pushes in another inch and, holy shit, he's so wet it fucking squelches.
"Relax, baby, you were doing so good," Billy purrs. His voice is clear and close now, dripping with amusement. Another quick slide in and Steve cries out, feels the drool on his face. "Taking it so well, my good boy."
Sleep lifts off of him with startling quickness. Steve tries to reach back only to find he can't move his hands; Billy fucking cuffed them to the headboard in his sleep. There's a pillow propped up under his hips that his dick slides against when he moves, a slick and soft distraction as he twitches and squirms. Billy's has most of his weight on the back of Steve's neck, grounding him in the moment, while his other hand digs stocky fingerprints into his waist. From his toes to his fingertips, Steve feels like he's on fire. Hot skin broiling everywhere it touches, aching pain between his thighs where he's opening around so much.
Lube slicks the inside of his thighs, pools and drips in obscene rivulets down his perineum. Billy lets go of his hip just to slide his thumb through the mess and slip it around his hole, where they're connected. He doesn't even pause after that, just pushes a little more in, then more, rubbing his stretched rim.
"Billy, Billy, Billy," Steve chants. His words lisp a little, lagging, mouth full of drool and fabric.
"That's right. Who's fucking you?"
"B, oh god-"
"Almost," Billy says, then snaps his hips forward.
Steve shouts something that sounds a lot like 'fuck' but mostly like a prayer. Billy doesn't even stop, really, no more than enough to get a good grip and angle before he starts thrusting.
"Billy, B, fuck- Billy!" Steve babbles. There's no filter; Billy is fucking it out of him. All he can do is arch his back and feel himself ache, feel himself burn, let whatever sound he makes be forced out of him straight from the lungs. Billy knows it too, has to know it, because he digs his nails in and hisses,
"Who's are you?"
Steve's eyes roll back on the force of the next thrusts. Slow and strong and slamming into Steve. Whimpers and whines and says "yours, B- mm, ah!"
"Who owns you?" Billy pushes.
"You do," Steve says. Chokes out a moan when Billy curls his fingers into his hair. "I'm yours, I'm all yours."
"That's right, what a good boy." Billy coos. He thrusts hard, as deep as he can get. Does it again, slower, tilting just a little each time. Steve knows- can feel actually how close he's getting to his prostate, how close he is to making Steve's brain melt out his ears. "Couldn't help myself. All open and loose from last night, and you started whining in your sleep. Used extra lube since i didn't feel like stretching you again, but I'm sure you don't mind. You're my good toy, aren't you?"
Steve barely even registers a word coming out of Billy's mouth, but he nods anyway. Moans when Billy's dick finally pushing hard against his prostate, whimpers "there, there, right there!"
"So fucking tight, baby. Don't you wanna be a good boy?" Billy goads. Keeps his thrusts slow and sharp, right where it's best.
"Mm, mhm," Steve moans, nods. Wants to be everything for Billy, wants to be whatever he needs. Wants to be good, no matter how hard it is.
Except-
"Who's your daddy, baby?"
Steve flushes up, bright red. Buries his face into his arm instantly- god, he should've seen this coming, Billy has a thing for this. Paired with his thing for making Steve curl up and die of embarrassment, there's no fucking chance Billy is letting him off easy.
The hand on his neck glides up into hair, easy, and pulls, tugs Steve back so far it's actually a bit of a labor to breathe. Billy curls over him like that, rests his teeth on him and huffs hot breath down Steve's neck. Settles as deep inside of him as he can go and stays there.
"Who's your daddy?" Billy purrs. That hand holds tight, gives him no room to move.
"You," Steve says. Billy hums, grinds forward a little bit, pushes a ragged gasp out of him.
"Say it right," Billy says. Steve almost cries.
"Billy, please," Steve begs. He knows how to get Billy to stop for real, knows they've played this game before. Knows he likes it way too much to be right. "Don't make me."
"Say it right," Billy hisses. Steve twitches, tries to hide his face, but he's held up firm.
Tears prick in the corner of Steve's eyes- God, it's mortifying what Billy does to him sometimes- and he forces himself to relax a little. Billy lets him, knows he needs a second to make the words come out. He doesn't let Steve hide, that would be too easy, but he does change his grip so he isn't holding Steve's hair so tight. Instead, he slides his hand to the front of Steve's throat, under his jaw. Gives him something to relax into while still being held.
"Who, Stevie?" Billy asks, again, like Steve could've fucking forgot already.
"You're-" Steve starts, scrunches his face up and tries again. "You're my daddy, Billy."
"Damn right," Billy grins. Shoves his face down into the pillow again, palm flat over the back of his neck again and-
Steve is suddenly reminded why he puts up with this shit.
"Oh- oh-" Steve gasps, right and genuinely gasps for air, because Billy thrusts once, twice, right where it feels the best, and starts to fuck him like he's never going to see him again. "Fuck, Billy- daddy!"
Billy doesn't seem as interested in talking now that he got Steve to break. He laughs meanly, almost crazed. Fucks Steve into the stars, out of his head and far away from any sense of reason telling him to be embarrassed about the sounds he makes. All Steve can do is hold on, fists on the same wrungs of the headboard that he's cuffed to, leverage to hold himself up for Billy.
Billy, who is brushing over his prostate almost every thrust, seems hell bent on making Steve cum. A hand on Steve's thigh, pushing it up to fit Billy in him deeper. It's then when Steve realizes how hard his legs are shaking, muscles genuinely quaking with the force Billy is fucking into him. Arousal bursts through his stomach; Billy's little displays of strength make Steve's head spin and right now is no exception. Especially when Billy uses that strength to make Steve bend, stretch, arch into a positively lewd position and hold him there.
"Oh god," Steve breathes, whiny. His thighs burn with effort to hold himself up, and his stomach twitches, tense, like it always does right when he's about to cum, but it's too soon. Way too soon, too fast, barreling through him so hard he barely manages to choke out, "cumming, daddy."
"Good, baby. Let me fuck you up," Billy says. As if Steve ever had the choice. The first waves hit him just as Billy's hand reaches Steve's dick, catches his mess and uses it to jerk him off. It's sloppy and it's sticky and it blows Steve's fucking brains out to the point where he feels his eyes wet again, wave after wave burning up his core until he actually starts to squirm away, fighting, pulling himself up the bed and away from Billy's hand, Billy's dick. Pleasure broils down his thighs, already shaking, and nearly makes him collapse down onto his side- but he can't, because Billy is in the God damn way, still inside him, still moving-
"Daddy, wait, wait," Steve begs. He knows this game, knows he's fucked royally now. Billy slowed so much when Steve started cumming, fooling him into thinking he'd get a little mercy. The thrusts turn harder again now, merciless. Holding both of Steve's hips tight, Billy yanks him back from where he'd squirmed up the bed. Steve's still dripping, still riding aftershocks, but it's turning into lightning up his stomach, so hot and so electric he hears his own voice babbling, "Fuck. Please, Billy- uhn- hurts!"
"Hurts?" Billy's asks, patronizing. Bumps his prostate again just to hear Steve bitch. "Too much, baby?"
"Too much!" Steve gasps. He's shaking, leg kicking out before Billy snatches it up tight. If he could just get a breather, catch just a little break, maybe he could take it. Billy knocks against his prostate again, then again, practically fucking unavoidable in this position, and it's pushing pathetic little hiccuping cries out of Steve before he can swallow them.
"That's it. You gonna cry for me, baby?" Billy taunts. Steve blinks tears back, tries again to pull his body up the bed. Billy just follows him, lets Steve's knees slip so he's flat on his stomach and fucks him like this instead. Gets close up in his ear and whispers, "Good boy. My pretty bitch."
"Daddy," Steve sobs. No more use holding Steve's hips, Billy props himself up with one arm and slides his hand to Steve's throat, keeping his face free and open from the pillows. Slides all the way into him in one harsh movement, over and over and over. Practically fucking bounces his body on the bed. The sensation is blinding, overstimulation with sharp little strokes of pleasure as an afterthought. It's overwhelming, degrading, fucking humiliating to be used like this. Steve is pretty sure he couldn't get out even if he wanted to, if he took Billy by surprise right now and managed to fight back. That thought leaves him well and truly helpless, tears streaking down his cheeks, dick twitching into the wet comforter. He drools and cries and soaks his own face, down his neck to Billy's hand, cries out "Dad-dy, please! I can't, daddy, fuck, Billy!"
"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart," Billy hisses. He has to be close, always starts talking right before he's gets there. "Make you mine, make you stay. Love you like this. So fucking pretty, so out of your mind. All for me, right Stevie?"
"All- for you, mm, Billy, god."
"That's right, all for me. All mine. My boy, my pretty boy. Fuck. Fuck."
Billy sinks his teeth in and presses his hips hard into Steve's ass two, three more times, then stays there. Clamped onto Steve's shoulder, stifling a moan right into his skin. For a split second, Steve thinks he might actually feel Billy cumming inside of him. Like it's heavy, full, like it's so hot it's burning Steve up.
Certainly feels the teeth in his shoulder, even once they unclamp. Can feel the hot air in pants against his neck, makes him shiver. Fuck, Billy cums for forever. Rocks his hips into it, sits up and pulls out a little just to fuck it back in. Steve squirms up, a little away, but Billy just lands a hand on his back and holds him in place. Slides in and out of him, slowly, so slick and messy that Steve can feel the cum seep out, can hear how wet it makes him. Billy even has the audacity to laugh at the noise it makes when he pulls all the way out.
"Asshole," Steve mutters.
"Yeah, yeah." Billy's smile is audible, but his voice is soft. Two fingers slip into the mess, over his hole. "You wanna cum again?"
Steve's hips twitch up, into the touch.
"Uh uh. Out loud. Nicely."
"Wanna cum again. Please."
"Please, who?" Billy croons. The fingers dip in, just a little, deceptively gentle.
"Please." Steve swallows, twitches. Arches up just a little into his hand and says, "Please, daddy?"
"Mm," Billy hums. Slides the fingers in to the base, one smooth motion- crooks them on the pull back out and hits that spot dead on. Doesn't let up in the slightest, rubs firm right all the way to the edge of too much and keeps going, holds it there. Steve's whole body lights up, taught, rocketing towards another release even though his dick is twitching into sticky sheets. "C'mon, my good boy."
"Touch- touch me," Steve begs. Feels close to tears again somehow, driven so quickly to the edge. He lifts his hips, trying to fuck himself back on Billy's hand, but his thighs quake so hard that he nearly fucking chitters. When Billy doesn't make a move, he sobs, "Daddy, please touch me?"
Billy reaches between his shaking legs, palms his dick. Picks up the slick off his stomach and pulls maybe twice from tip to base and back again before Steve is spilling all over himself- crying, biting, and moaning into the pillow beneath him.
"That's my good boy," Billy says. Fucks him through it, pulls out of the way so Steve can close his legs and collapse like he desperately wants to.
Steve loses a couple seconds, after that. Billy has the key to the cuffs and unclips them, kisses the red skin. Yanks the messiest sheet off the bed out of their way, but no more than that.
Billy holds him, for a few minutes, until the sweaty skin contact gets to be too much. He rolls over, back still bumping Billy's shoulder, and curls up.
"Hey now." Billy pokes his side. "Are you going to sleep again?"
"Mhm."
"Like this?" Billy asks, but he rolls to his side too. Curls just a little around Steve. "Not too gross for you?"
"Not until later," Steve says. A moment passes, but then Billy sighs, and Steve feels him pulling a far corner of a blanket up to cover them. He mutters something about laundry, something about Steve bitching later, but it's too late. Sleep laps at the corners of his mind, a soft tide.
He hopes he has another nice dream.