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Steve’s not entirely sure how it happens. How, that is, he ends up at a Halloween party a few blocks away from his apartment filled with about a hundred people he doesn’t know and maybe fifteen he does dressed in. Well. This. 

This being a leather dog collar and a pair of booty shorts that say ‘bitch’ across the ass and a crop top hoodie that says ‘I’m a dog’ across the front. Robin had sewn floppy little ears on the hood. It wasn’t even a dare. Steve had just been wandering around Target with Nancy picking up more face wash and paper plates and about thirty dollars worth of shit he had had no intention of buying when he walked into the store when all the candy corn and pumpkins and the overwhelming amount of orange literally everywhere had finally made a lightbulb come on.

‘It’s almost Halloween,’ he’d said with a bit of wonder. Hadn’t even really noticed. Busy as hell. 

‘What gave it away?’ Nancy asked, not even glancing at him.

‘I don’t have a costume.’ 

She did glance up at that. ‘Go as an exhausted college senior with a full time job.’

‘Well that’s no fun,’ he’d said, and then wandered off to try to find some inspiration. 

The crop top was right there on the main aisle in the women’s section. Steve’s not entirely sure, like, why it exists, but he’s not disappointed about it. The rest of it came together pretty quickly (and cheaply) after that. 

So anyway, that’s how he finds himself drinking jungle juice out of a red solo cup looking like the twenty-two-year-old-man version of Karen Smith, animal ears and too much skin, bada boom, costume. I’m a dog. Duh. 

It goes over fucking spectacularly, really. People like it. He gets woofed at few times. 

‘Can’t fuckin’ believe you dressed up as a slutty dog,’ Robin says, coming out of nowhere, looking him up and down in that vaguely judgy way that means she loves him. 

‘Who says I’m a slutty dog?’ Steve asks. He’s totally a slutty dog.

‘It says ‘bitch’ on your ass.’

‘That it does.’


‘I mean, sure. Yeah. I’m going outside, you wanna come?’

‘Oh, god yes. This party sucks.’

‘It doesn’t suck, you just hate people.’

‘I don’t hate people,’ Robin says, and Steve grabs her hand and holds on tight as they weave through the crowd of people to the back door. She sighs once the cool October air hits them. ‘I just don’t want to be around them.’

‘And yet here you are.’

‘And yet here I am,’ she says, scowling about it. ‘Heather likes parties.’

‘Aww,’ Steve says, and lights a smoke. Heather’s good for Robin. Just crazy enough to get her to loosen up a little bit, and clingy and caring enough that Robin believes her when tells her she loves her. She’s fun. Steve likes her. ‘And where is your better half, anyway?’

Robin sighs and lights a joint. ‘Last time I saw her she was betting a couple leather jackets she could beat them at pool.’

Steve grins. ‘I like her.’

Robin sucks in a hit. ‘She’s alright,’ Robin gets out, all choked around the smoke she’s holding in.

They get stoned. Finish the joint off. Steve’s feeling pretty fucking great by the time Heather turns up and throws herself at Robin and nearly knocks them both over as she jumps on her, wraps her legs around her waist and her arms around her neck and laughs breathlessly as she peppers kisses all over Robin’s face. It makes Steve happy even though he’s for sure about to get ditched. 

He gets ditched. Doesn’t blame them at all. 

He’s back in the kitchen taking tequila shots with a kinda cute girl dressed as Jessie from Toy Story that he vaguely recognizes from maybe an English class a semester or two ago when his neck heats up and his belly flips over because-

‘Who’s dick do I have to suck for some decent liquor around here?’

Steve spins around. Billy’s wearing a leather jacket over bare skin and jeans so tight Steve can see the outline of his dick. He’s got a pair of cat ears peeking up out of his curls. 

It’s a good look. Then Billy spots him and this grin that makes Steve a little nervous and a lot horny kinda lights up his face.

He doesn’t have Billy’s phone number, hasn’t found him on facebook. Doesn’t know a damn thing about him. Doesn’t even know if he goes to the school. What he does know is that Billy’s mouth is fucking heavenly. He knows what Billy sounds like when he comes with Steve’s dick in his ass. He knows that Billy shows up to most of the parties Steve shows up to, and at most of those parties they end up making out on the porch or fucking in the bathroom or doing body shots off each other on the coffee table in the living room and then when the sun comes up, or sometimes before, Billy disappears or Steve does and that’s that. Billy’s great. Billy’s his favorite. 

‘Steve Harrington, as I live and breathe,’ Billy says, getting himself in Steve’s space and reaching around him to pluck the bottle of tequila off the counter. 

‘Hey,’ he says. Grinning. Can’t help it - his night has just improved immeasurably. 

Billy rolls his eyes, smiling that funny fond little way he does sometimes, and looks off over Steve’s shoulder. ‘Hey, he says. Where they fuck have you been all night?’

He says it like Steve shoulda been anywhere other than where he was. Like he was supposed to be. Like Billy was looking for him and not finding him and like he’s happy he has but like Steve’s in a little bit of trouble for not being found sooner, and all of it is really working for him, honestly.

‘Been around. Shoulda looked harder I guess.’

Billy swigs the tequila and then leans in until Steve can feel the heat of him. ‘Feisty tonight, huh? Fun.’ He leans back, looks Steve up and down. ‘What the fuck are you supposed to be, anyway?’

Steve cocks an eyebrow and points to his shirt. He’s really not sure how much clearer he could possibly make it. 

Billy’s grin takes on a distinctly predatory edge. ‘That so.’

‘Woof,’ Steve says, and Billy barks out a laugh. Then he hooks his finger through the ring on the collar Steve had forgotten he was wearing and drags him in until his mouth is up against Steve’s ear.

‘Be a good boy and heel, then.’

Which, like. Really fucks Steve up. Makes his head spin with how fast all the blood leaves it to fill his dick. It’s good shit. Billy’s good shit. Doesn’t even turn around to make sure Steve’s following him as he weaves his way out of the kitchen and through the living room and up the stairs to a bedroom that doesn’t belong to either of them, which for some reason just makes Steve hotter. 

That good boy was really fucking something. Steve kinda wants it again.

Once Billy’s got the door closed and locked he gives Steve another once over. Approving. Pleased, maybe. ‘Not so feisty now, are we?’


‘Ah ah ah. Since when do dogs talk?’

Well, shit. Steve shuts his mouth. Flushes hot. 

‘Down, boy.’

Embarrassment washes over him like a prickly-warm wave. There’s a part of him that rails against the idea, against even considering it. It’s weird. Super uncomfortable. 

It’s also really fucking hot, somehow. The part of him that hates the idea and finds it humiliating and degrading isn’t enough to win out over the part of him that wants it. Might even be the same part. He’ll have to unpack it later, when he’s got more brain cells available for the task.

Billy looks like he’s starting to get disappointed, and Steve hates that even more. He goes to his knees. Billy’s grin lights up the room. ‘Good boy,’ Billy says, sounds really pleased, drags it out a little. He snaps, points at the floor right at his feet. ‘Now come.’

Steve swallows, ducks his head and closes his eyes for a second, lets the shocky hit of embarrassment spike and settle. He’ll have to crawl. Like a. Like a dog. 

‘Stevie,’ Billy says softly, kindly. He’s the only one that calls Steve that, ever. Steve looks up at him. ‘Come on. Come.’

Steve takes a deep breath, then drops onto his hands and crawls across the floor. He’s drunk and kinda stoned and humiliated and way, way too turned on and it’s not particularly graceful, but he hears Billy’s hitched little inhale just the same, and it gives him courage, fortifies him a little bit. It's fucking him up good, all this. Billy kinda looming over him, looking down at him as Steve settles back on his heels, knees inches from the toes of Billy's boots. He feels jittery and out of it as he takes a wobbly breath and looks up.

‘Do you want to stop?’ Billy asks. Gives him an out. 

He shakes his head.

Billy smiles at him, puts a finger on his chin, drags it down his throat and hooks it through the ring on his collar again. That in itself is enough to make his breath stall out in his chest, but then he tugs, pulls up until Steve's up on his knees, chin tipped up, straining a little because Billy's relentless, collar digging in at the back of his neck. His dick throbs and that checked out fuzzy too-turned-on feeling gets, like, more. Billy leans down, so close Steve can feel his breath on his lips, heart beating quick as hell about it. Steve licks his lips, and Billy's eyes flick down to watch. He's smiling. Steve's, like, way too fucking warm. Thinks he might burn up.

Billy just. Stares. Makes Steve squirm. He can't help it.


Billy gives his collar a sharp tug, almost pulls him off balance, gives his cheek a little tap. Not a slap. Not quite. Makes Steve's blood burn anyway.

'What did we talk about?'

His cheeks are on fire. His ears too. Everything gets so much hotter, shocky shame and spinning arousal. He feels, like, chastened. The skin of his cheek is tingling. The bad dog goes unspoken, but Steve fucking feels it in his bones and it's so overwhelming that it pulls a little whine out of his chest. He wants to stop this. Wants to put up some degree of protest about it, wants to tell Billy he can’t just do this, wants to swear and sass and snap back but he can’t

His mouth won’t make the words. He can’t look Billy in the eye. His dick is so fucking hard it hurts. 

‘Eyes up,’ Billy says, firm but not mean. Not disappointed. Steve looks up, and a little knot of anxiety he had barely noticed over the burning embarrassment dissipates. Billy looks really turned on. And, like. Happy. ‘You are so fucking sweet.’

Steve physically can’t blush any harder than he already is, has been. He feels, like, shaken. Out of control. Billy pulls up on his collar again and leans down and kisses him, kisses him with his mouth open, licks into his mouth like he owns it, like he’s got every right to be there. Steve’s gotta put his hands on Billy’s legs to steady himself, to keep from just falling into him. Billy moans into his mouth, and that just gets Steve going, coaxes another little whimper out of him.

‘You want me to fuck you?’ Billy asks against his lips, and Steve sways a little with how that hits him. Like a goddamn brick. 

He hasn’t had anyone in him since the last time Billy was. Like, months ago. He nods, can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s lips. He wants it. Wants it bad. More than he realized.

Billy kisses him again, easier this time. ‘Take your shirt off.’

Billy lets go of his collar and Steve strips his shirt off, then puts his hands back on Billy’s legs. Billy buries his fingers in Steve’s hair and scratches at his scalp, makes Steve shiver, makes tingly little ripples raise goosebumps on his skin. Then Billy pulls him in, keeps going until Steve’s got Billy’s hard dick under his lips. He doesn’t need a manual, here, doesn’t need instructions. Mouths at it through the fabric, kisses it, nuzzles at it. Bumps his balls with his nose before putting his mouth around them, letting Billy feel the heat of him before working his way back up, giving the head of his dick the same treatment.

‘Christ,’ Billy says, fist tightening in his hair. 

Yeah. That’s the shit Steve fucking lives for. He scrapes his teeth over the denim gently and Billy makes this noise that just wrecks him, fist so tight in his hair that it hurts. Steve’s into that too, and Billy’s fucked him enough times to know it. Likes it when Billy uses his grip to pull Steve back and off, too. Billy looks down at him, bare chest rising and falling a little quicker, a little shiny with sweat. 

Steve’s not the only one burning, then. That’s good. 

‘Turn around,’ Billy says, and lets go of his hair, ‘hands and knees.’

Steve’s too deep in the shit at this point to not just fucking do as he’s told, really. So he turns around and does Billy one better, drops onto his elbows. Gives him his ass.

‘Oh, christ,’ Billy says, and Steve hears the sound of him getting on his knees. ‘You little slut,’ he smacks Steve’s ass, and Steve can hear the smile in his voice, the amusement. Billy runs both hands up the backs of his thighs and up the legs of his very short shorts, gets a cheek in each hand and squeezes. 

He wants to correct him, a little. Wants to be cheeky. Bitch, he’d say. Not slut. Read the package. 

He’s not supposed to talk, though. So he wiggles his hips a little instead, side to side. Doesn’t know why he wants to hear Billy say it. He’s leaning in. Fuck it. He was the one who wore a collar to a Halloween party that he was absolutely hoping to get laid at. 

Billy tugs his shorts and his underwear down his thighs, smacks his ass again. Steve sucks in a breath. 

Every time he's run into Billy he's had lube on him. Little packets of it in his pockets or something. He wonders if Billy just, like carries it around with him all the time just in case. Like if he were to run into Billy in the grocery store if Billy could just pull him into the bathroom and lock the big stall and get a couple fingers in him because he just always has a couple packets of slick in his pockets, ready. Always prepared. Like a fuckin’ boyscout. The evidence would suggest that he could. Steve's into it.

Billy doesn’t ease him into it. Rubs a little lube around his hole and then sinks a finger in, all the way in, one long steady slide. Steve adjusts quick. Not his first rodeo. Billy fucks him with it a little, not tentative.

‘Damn,’ Billy says, and Steve shifts his knees a little wider. ‘God, I forgot how fucking fun you are, shit.’

It works for him. Everything Billy does works for him. Steve shoves his hips back, meets Billy’s hand. Clenches around his finger like maybe that’ll get him to give him another. 

It works. Billy smacks his ass again, chastises him for being impatient, and then puts another finger in him. The stretch makes him groan, drop his head and work his hips back. He’s so hard. So fucked up. 

Then Billy’s leaning over him, hooking two fingers in the ring of his collar and pulling, leather dragging against his skin until the ring sits at the back of his neck. Steve’s heart slams in his chest and his dick twitches hard. 

‘Should get a leash for you next time,’ Billy says, gives his collar a rough tug as he drives his fingers deep. Fucks a cry right out of him. Christ. ‘Think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Steve closes his eyes, drives his hips back. Lets Billy wind him up more. Makes a broken little noise when Billy pushes his fingers all the way in and crooks them and rubs and rubs and rubs. 

He thinks he’d let Billy do this again. Let him clip a leash to his collar and wrap it around his fist and fuck him until he can’t speak. Knows he would. 

‘Yeah you would,’ Billy says, like some sort of fucking mind reader, ‘you’d like that. Bet you’d beg for it if you could talk, wouldn’t you, bitch?’

He wanted it, and he wasn’t wrong. It’s hot enough to make his goddamn brain short circuit a little, make his dumb dick leak as the hit of degradation gets him a little higher, pushes him a little deeper in it. It’s not really shame, not anymore. A little moan kinda bubbles up out of him, and Billy rewards him by pulling on his collar until it chokes him and digging the tips of his fingers into his prostate until he sees stars. 

He should probably get Billy’s number, maybe. 

Then Billy’s fingers are gone from his ass and from his collar and he kinda sways forward, not ready for it, and Billy smacks him again. ‘Stay put.’

So he does. Waits dead still and listens to Billy unzip his pants, the slick sound of him lubing up his dick. More of it drips down his crack and Billy shoves it in him and then Billy’s got a finger hooked through his collar again and the tip of his dick is rubbing over his hole and Steve doesn’t fucking breathe. Can’t. 

It punches a little groan out of him when Billy pushes in. It’s been a long time and it kinda hurts but that’s nothing, fucking nothing to the shocky sparking pleasure of it. The fullness that doesn’t leave room for anything else, the stretch that pushes every fragment of a thought out of his head. Fingering himself while he jerks off is nothing to getting fucked. Billy bottoms out and pulls back on his collar and he drops his belly and bows his back to accommodate it and it changes the angle enough to get another noise out of him. Billy swears. Steve squirms a little. 

Then Billy pulls out a little, snaps his hips back in hard, gets Steve good. He can’t keep quiet, out of control pinned like he is. Billy’s got him stuck, relentless pressure at his throat and Billy’s dick in him deep and he thinks he’ll probably come just like this. Won’t even need to touch his dick.

He should definitely get Billy’s number.

Billy fucks him good; hard, deep thrusts that make delicious smacking noises in the relative quiet of the room, punch broken little cries out of him even as the collar kinda chokes him, makes it a little hard to breathe. It winds him tighter and tighter, makes everything but Billy and what he’s doing to him kinda slip away. 

Billy lets up on his collar just for a second, then pulls back on it even harder, fucks into him and stays that way, hips pressed to Steve’s ass and kinda circles them there and Steve can’t breathe and Billy’s setting all this nerves on fire and he’s gonna come. He’s absolutely gonna come.

Billy pulls all the way out and slides back in, real easy now, snaps his hips once, twice, and then Steve’s done for, comes harder than he has in a long, long time, mouth open but silent because Billy’s still not letting him breathe. Billy keeps fucking him and his orgasm just kinda keeps going until Billy finally sinks deep and stays that way and lets go of Steve’s collar, kinda plasters himself to Steve’s back and wraps his arms around his waist instead. Steve sucks in air and Billy sucks in a mouthful of skin on his shoulder and puts his teeth in it. 

‘Christ, Steve,’ Billy says, lips against his skin. He slides his hand down Steve’s belly, cups his dick gently. Steve shudders. ‘How you doing, babe?’

Steve nods. He’s doing fucking great. Floating along, coming down slow. His neck feels a little raw, a little sore. His ass too, if he’s being honest, but in a different way. He’s tired and spent and sore and pretty damn content.

Billy rocks his hips, sends little shockwaves through him. ‘Use your words.’

Steve swallows, licks his lips. ‘I’m allowed to talk now?’

He sounds fucked out. It kinda turns him on. 

Billy presses a kiss to the back of his neck, just at the edge of his collar. His fucking collar. Christ.

Billy pulls out, pulls Steve’s shorts back up, tucks him into them carefully and then sits back against the wall and tugs Steve with him, kinda manhandles him until he’s got Steve leaned half sideways against his chest and both his legs wrapped around Steve’s waist. Just tangled up. It’s good. Steve puts his arms around Billy’s waist and kisses at his collarbones. Billy never got undressed. It’s way hotter than it should be. 

‘So a leash, huh?’

Billy barks out a startled laugh, cards his fingers up into Steve’s hair and tugs his head back to look at him. He’s so fucking pretty. Steve always forgets how pretty he is. ‘If you want.’ 

He kinda loves the idea, if he’s being honest. Had no idea, really, that this was anything he’d be into, but here he is. ‘Think I could get into it, yeah.’

Billy grins at him, runs his fingers along the edge of his collar, brushes his skin, gives him goosebumps. ‘You think?’

Steve nods, gets a little distracted by Billy’s mouth. Billy kisses him back and it’s so easy between them, sweet and hot and like they do this all the time. 

‘I can take this off for you, if you want,’ Billy says when they break apart, still playing with his collar. 

‘Nah,’ Steve says. ‘Leave it.’