Work Header

put down your hands ('cause i see you)

Work Text:

december 31, 1984

The mixtape is exactly an hour and 18 minutes long. By Billy’s calculations, he’s played it for at least a day and a half since Steve gave it to him a week ago.

It’s playing in the car. While he lifts. On his stereo, almost too quiet to hear, right next to his bed when he’s supposed to be asleep. 

He loops it over and over, flipping it the second the last song on one side runs out and starting the other, because the thing is, once he turns it off? He’s gonna have to do something about it. And that’s fucking terrifying. 

Billy fucking hates being scared. There’s some shit he can’t control, but he’s had years of practice to shove all of Neil’s bullshit down when he leaves the house, and when he’s out in the world all he does is chase the stuff that’s too much. Shit that scares people who are too pussy to enjoy it. He plays more rough than the rest of the team combined, picks fights for the thrill of not knowing what he’ll get, chugs from a keg longer and speeds faster and flirts harder than anyone else in this stupid town. He was the first of his friends in Cali to get a fake ID and used it to get a skull tat when he was 15. Didn’t even care about the grimy studio or that the lines were a little wobbly, ‘cause the apprentice was hard up for practice and let the fake slide.  He’s always been a punk shit who lived for a thrill and made sure everyone knew it.

So he doesn’t really know what to do, now. Never got like this with a girl before. The tape’s still playing but he’s gonna have to get out of the car in a few minutes when he gets to the party at Kimberley’s, and Harrington’s probably gonna be there, and Billy’s hands are shaking. The tape has so many fucking love songs on it, and Billy doesn’t even skip the ABBA track. He pulls up across the street from the bright house where it looks like someone’s already blowing chunks outside, an hour before midnight’s even hit.

He sits there for a while with the engine off, turning his keys over and over in his hands. Smokes a cigarette. He’ll go inside in just a minute. 

Then something bangs on the passenger side window and Billy just about jumps out of his skin. He turns and Harrington’s dumb face is plastered right up against the glass, and he yells through the closed window, “Lemme in!”

Billy can’t help rolling his eyes, and leans over to pop the handle. Steve slides in and smiles at him, says hey , asks to bum a smoke the way he always does like nothing’s happened at all. Like nothing changed in the past week that rocked Billy’s world sideways and shook up his guts.

Billy stares at him, then taps a cigarette out of the pack for him.

“Thanks,” Steve says, and takes a drag. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. How was Christmas?”

Billy looks away and shrugs. “Y’know. Some primo happy families acting from Susan and Neil. My old man runs outta steam pretty quick on that one, though.” 

Steve snorts. “Yeah, in what, thirty seconds?” Billy’s not really sure how he feels about that one. No one gets to talk shit about his family except him. Except Steve knows, and Steve is Steve , and he’s not asking about Christmas because he thinks it was a good time for anyone.

Billy just shrugs again. They’re quiet.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” asks Steve, and Billy looks at him. 

“Party’s no good?” he asks.

“Nah,” says Steve, opening the door a little to flick the end of his smoke onto the road. Closes it with a snap. “Pretty boring.”

“Yeah, okay. Where to?” Billy asks, then turns on the ignition, and realizes too late that the tape is still blaring from before he cut the engine. It’s that AC/DC song. The one they listened to that night Billy felt like a creep and touched Steve’s face, just cause the moonlight looked so goddamn pretty on him. Billy shoots his hand out and hits the stop button, and it’s silent. He doesn’t look at Steve.

“I dunno, I just wanna hang out with you,” Steve says, and, God. Billy’s fucked. 

They end up driving around for a while, nothing on the stereo, and it’s quiet until Steve says, “So, uh. You listened to it?”

Billy nods, says “Yeah, a whole bunch,” before he can stop himself. He looks over and Steve’s grinning. “Cool.”

Billy pulls up to a stop sign, about to turn right, but then - “Let’s go to my place,” Steve says. Billy doesn’t have to be told twice, and he peels left out of the wrong lane. 

“Your folks ain’t home?” he asks, and Steve snorts. “Course not. They left again at, like, two on Christmas Day. Guess that’s all they could stand. Got some fundraiser galas or some shit to do in New York.” 

Billy has the insane, intense urge to take Steve’s hand. Maybe it’s not that insane. Maybe like, ten percent less insane, now. He still doesn’t, but it takes effort.

They get to Steve’s place where all the windows are dark. There’s a light on in the kitchen when they open the door, and Steve flips on all the lights on the way to the den where they always sit on that same too-soft couch, the only old thing in the Harringtons’ entire stupid mansion. 

“Want a drink?” Steve asks, and yes, obviously, Billy badly needs a drink or ten. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and Steve rummages through the bar cabinet next to the stereo that they’ve been working through for months now. His parents don’t give a shit about much, especially that. He grabs some nice bottle of bourbon and takes a healthy swig, passing it to Billy as he sits down on the couch. 

They’re close but not touching. It’s too quiet again. Billy drinks.

“So, um,” Steve says, and trails off.

Billy takes another swig. “So what?”

“So, you listened to it.” Steve fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve. “Did you, uh, did you like it?”

Billy’s getting scared again and he’s pissed about it. He looks at his hands. “Yeah, numbnuts, ‘course I did.”

Steve clears his throat. “It’s fine if you didn’t. Like, it’s not a big deal.” His voice is shaking, just a little bit, and Billy tears himself away from staring down at his hands to look over. Steve’s staring at the floor, his jaw clenched, picking at his thumbnail the way he does when he’s real worked up. Sometimes makes himself bleed the way he goes at it, doesn’t even notice. Steve’s a real neurotic dipshit sometimes.

Steve’s scared. 

Billy feels like a major asshole all of a sudden. He’s freakin’ out over here but he hasn’t done a single thing. Meanwhile Steve’s gone ahead and shown his hand, made him a fuckin’ sappy gift that laid it all out clear. Brought him over where Billy could easily just ignore him, or beat him up for pulling some queer shit. He’s probably been stewing this whole week just as much as Billy has. 

Steve’s stepped out to the edge of the cliff, and the least Billy can do is join him there. Seems only fair. Billy Hargrove’s no pussy.

He takes a deep breath, then shifts so he’s close to Steve, closer than he should be. Closer than friends get. He takes Steve’s hand and holds it with both of his, rests it on their knees. “Um. I liked it.”

Steve looks at him suddenly with those bigass Bambi eyes. “Really?” he says, like it wasn’t obvious, like he didn’t know Billy would fuckin’ die over that hour and 18 minutes of Steve being cute. Billy nods, and Steve is real close to him, his gaze shifting from Billy’s eyes to his mouth, and Billy can’t remember the last time he felt this on edge with someone. He guesses it makes sense. This thing has been building for a long time, if he’s honest. Months. They’re only holding hands but Billy’s lightheaded, warm all over. He can hardly remember to breathe cause he wants so goddamn badly, his whole body yelling at him to get closer, closer , the air thick with something about to happen, and, and then he’s kissing Steve Harrington .

He’s kissing Steve Harrington, and Steve’s kissing back. Steve’s hand is on his face, cradling his jaw like he’s something sweet. Steve’s fingers are combing through his hair and holding on, tilting his head so Steve can kiss him deeper. Steve’s moving, swinging a leg over so he can sit on Billy’s lap and get even closer. “Is this, is this okay?” Steve asks, and it’s so much better than okay that Billy can’t even, he just nods and pushes at the collar of Steve’s jacket till he shrugs it off and it falls on the floor. He runs his hands down Steve’s sides, looks at him as he tucks his fingertips under the hem of his t-shirt and traces Steve’s stomach, his hips, the small of his back. Steve’s smiling at him like he’s just done something real good, and Billy’s stomach is flopping around like crazy as he tilts his head up to kiss Steve again. 

They make out and Steve’s tongue is in his mouth and Billy’s hands are up his shirt and God, he can feel Harrington getting hard through his jeans the way they’re pressed so close together. He’s fucked girls before like this, with them sitting on his lap just the way Steve is, and it’s one of his favourite things to do with them. He feels kinda weird thinking about girls now, though, and it’s not the same. Then Steve starts kissing down his neck and licks his collarbone, and he’s not really thinking so much anymore at all. 

He’s not scared anymore, either. Just exhilarated, like when he’d see a wave coming that was taller than he was used to, and at the last minute he’d figure it out and end up on top, surfing in toward the shore. And this? It's almost better.


march 1, 1985

It’s been almost two weeks since they’ve been alone. 

Steve’s parents decided it was time for their semi-annual attempt at playing house in Hawkins, and came back from Malta for an entire excruciating ten days. Plenty of time to remind Steve that he’s not quite what either of them like to think he is when they’re gone. He’s a little too laissez-faire, no drive, doesn’t even have another girlfriend after all this time since he let that classy Wheeler girl get away. No one gets into Stanford Business without real hustle, Steven, and God knows he’s not very academic. He’s fallen behind on college applications, but his dad knows a few people in admissions and reminds him yet again that the Harrington name means something, son . They’re picture-perfect, passive-aggressive WASPs, and more than once, Steve almost picks a fight with Dustin via walkie about some comic book thing he doesn’t get, just for the relief of having someone yell exactly what they think at him.

He was closer to what his parents wanted, once, but then life got in the way. Barb and the pool and Nancy and Jonathan happened. The kids and the monsters happened. Billy happened. Steve isn’t the same, now. He’s rougher around the edges. Softer, too, in a way that makes his dad tense up and stare when he thinks Steve isn’t looking. Billy says sometimes that Neil has a sixth sense for queer shit, can sniff it out and make it into a reason to kick his ass when Billy’s doing nothing but existing in his skin, and that’s starting to feel too familiar.

When they finally leave, waving politely from the driveway, the painful tension in Steve’s shoulders starts to ease just a bit. But still -

Billy’s been under his dad’s thumb for days, even after Steve’s alone in the house again. One of the moods Neil gets in, totally unpredictable and just a way to throw his weight around, Steve thinks. Billy’s been home with Max, or home grounded for no reason, or home after Neil takes his keys for the night just because, and Steve hates knowing that Billy’s trapped in that small house with an ugly, simmering threat. The best nights of his dumb little Hawkins life are when Billy stays over, because he told Steve once that he never sleeps well at home, he’s always on alert, and then had promptly passed the fuck out on Steve’s chest. They woke up the next morning and hadn’t moved an inch, either of them. 

So he waits, and worries, and tries not to worry because Billy always tells him to quit fucking worrying. 

It’s Friday night when the phone rings and Steve has a feeling, and when he picks up it’s Billy.

“Hey. Are your folks gone?”

“Yeah, they’re gone. Can you get out tonight?” Steve asks, holding his breath until Billy answers.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” he says, sounding rushed but not scared. Like he’s in a hurry to get the fuck out before Neil changes his mind. “Said I’m going to a party.”

“Okay,” Steve says, softly, “see you soon,” and Billy hangs up, and Steve has butterflies, suddenly.


They’re never alone at school, is the worst thing. They’re in class, or in the hall surrounded by people, or at lunch with Byers and Wheeler always there, or on the court followed by the packed locker room. They have one class together, English, and Billy sits just in the right position to watch Steve chew on his pen. It’s kinda pathetic when that’s what gets him hot these days but. It’s torture. He’s jealous of a pen. 

They overlap just a little on Tuesday when they’re picking up their respective preteens, just barely enough time for Steve to scan the empty parking lot and hug him. Not even trying to kiss him, not taking that kind of a risk when Billy’s already on thin ice and anyone could see, but just holding him for a minute. It’s the best minute of his whole goddamn week, better even than his stolen minutes in the shower when he jerks off thinking about Steve’s pretty mouth on him. 

Finally. Finally.

Max is sleeping over at El’s and Neil’s had enough beer to make him chill out a little but not enough to get him raging, so Billy takes his chance. He’s out the door in ten minutes flat, keys in his pocket. As he pulls out of the driveway he exhales with relief so strong he wants to fucking cry or scream or both. When he gets far enough away, out of Neil’s orbit, he pulls over to the side of the road. He tousles his curls carefully in the rearview mirror, thinking SteveSteveSteve as he puts in the earring he left hidden in the glovebox and undoes the top three buttons of his shirt. He winks at himself in the rearview and then floors it to Loch Nora, cranking Scorpion on the way. 

Billy won’t be caught dead, like, running to Steve’s side or some shit like a lovesick girl. It’s only been a couple weeks. But his breath is coming more shallow as he parks, and he doesn’t linger, tossing his cigarette butt down as he walks up the steps. And then he gets to the door and Steve’s clearly been waiting there because he opens it without Billy even knocking, and he looks hot and happy to see him and Billy can’t fucking breathe, just pushes Steve inside and kicks the door closed and shoves him against the wall and then he’s gasping into Steve’s mouth, Steve’s hands all over him like they don’t know where to settle first, Billy holding Steve’s gorgeous stupid face in his hands and kissing him and kissing him and kissing him while Steve tugs him closer and lets out this fucking little whimper that’s the hottest goddamn thing Billy’s ever heard in his life.

“Hi,” Steve breathes against his lips, pulling back just enough to lean their foreheads together.

“Hey,” Billy whispers back. 

“Miss me?” Steve asks, and Billy huffs a laugh. “You wish, Harrington.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and shifts, brushes his lips along the angle of Billy’s jaw, kisses the skin just below his ear. “I missed you too, asshole.”

Billy smiles wide at nothing, letting his body relax into having this. Steve kisses his earring, traces the shell of his ear with his tongue, and Billy gets goosebumps. Shivers a little and presses his thigh between Steve’s legs. Hopes Steve’ll rub up against him, and is pleased when he’s right. Steve hums with pleasure and leans his head back against the wall and Billy can feel him hard through his jeans, his hips moving oh so slowly, grinding against Billy’s thigh. He opens his mouth against Steve’s collarbone and tastes his skin, licks a trail right up his neck and bites just to hear the oh Steve lets out when it stings, and God, he needs it. Needs more than anything to get Steve naked and get him shaking, make him hoarse on Billy’s name, on Billy’s cock in his throat. Needs Steve in him, and the thought makes him hot, lightheaded. 

“Come on,” Billy says, tugging at Steve’s shirt as he makes himself step back. “Take me upstairs.”


He’s pretty sure Billy’s not hurt. Nothing noticeable, anyway, no obvious bruises he can see or places that make him wince when Steve can’t decide where to grope him first. 

It’s good, ‘cause Billy likes having marks left when he asks for them, and Steve loves to leave them. Loves knowing he’s the one who gets to stake some sort of claim. That Billy wants to be claimed by him. And right now Billy looks delicious, sitting lazily on Steve’s bed, his legs spread and the curve of his dick fully visible in his jeans. He palms himself and squeezes, smirks, and then Steve can’t help himself. He drops to his knees in front of Billy and pushes his hand away.

“Let me,” he says, and bows his head, mouthing at the denim and fumbling Billy’s belt open, his hands trembling. He gets the zipper down and his nose into the trail of hair underneath, where Billy smells hot and masculine and like a sexy asshole who fucking colognes his dick. He yanks Billy’s jeans down and groans at the sight of Billy’s cock springing free and laying hard and thick on his belly. Steve is basically Pavlov’s dog; his mouth waters as he lays open-mouthed kisses at the crease of Billy’s thigh and bites the soft, soft skin there. And then he looks up and Billy’s staring wide-eyed down at him, that smug little smirk gone, just looking at him.

Steve holds his gaze and slowly drags the flat of his tongue all the way up Billy’s cock from root to tip. For a moment Steve kinda feels like a dumbass imitating shit from a Penthouse, but Billy gasps and grips the duvet and says “oh, God, Steve,” in this soft voice, and suddenly Steve’s hot all over and he’ll do anything, anything at all to keep hearing Billy say his name like that. So he slowly circles his tongue around the head and sucks it into his mouth, bobbing just a bit on the tip as it gets wetter and wetter, dripping precome. He’s drooling around it and takes it deeper, pushing it to the back of his throat as Billy gasps and threads his fingers into Steve’s hair, just holding him, feeling his head bob. And then Billy’s hips start to move as Steve works his mouth, getting his hand where his lips can’t quite reach, and Steve thinks about what he must look like, on his knees for Billy, choking a little on the fat head of Billy’s cock as he slowly fucks Steve’s mouth, and he moans, getting impossibly harder and wetter in his jeans.

Billy curls into him for a long minute, and then touches Steve’s face, pulling him off by the hair. “Come here,” he says, and Steve shifts his weight, moving up to drape himself over Billy and kiss him sweet, tracing Billy’s bottom lip with his tongue and then biting it real quick, just a bit. They kiss, and Billy hooks Steve closer with his leg, arching up into Steve’s body. Billy is here, warm and close, and Steve can’t possibly get enough. He reaches between them to try and undo his belt but can’t get it one-handed, so he sits up and tugs off his shirt.

“Take your clothes off,” he says, and Billy does, already half-undressed so he’s quick about it. He watches Steve just narrowly avoid tripping on one leg of his pants as he gets them off and laughs at him a little, then gets back in close the moment they’re both naked, pushes Steve down onto the bed and settles on top of him. Steve’s hands are immediately everywhere again, petting his biceps, trailing down to brush his nipples, settling on his hips.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, just to watch Billy start to blush. It’s honestly delicious. “Missed that pretty face.” Billy rolls his eyes.

Steve squeezes Billy’s frankly incredible ass, digs his fingertips in. “And the rest of you, too. Pretty all over.”

Billy’s more pink now, a flush spreading to his chest. “You gotta say that shit?” he asks, looking down. Steve reluctantly takes one hand off the curve of Billy’s ass and touches his face, tips his chin up so he’s looking at Steve again. 

“You tell me to lay off and I will. But I like sayin’ it.” 

Billy looks at him for a long moment, bites his lip. “Fine.”


He never knows what to say or do when Steve says this shit. Fucker talks too much all the time but Billy can hardly stand it when he starts getting all sweet when they’re in bed. Constantly telling him he’s pretty, calling him sweetheart or baby. He hates it, but he guesses he’s getting used to it. Something deeper in him will sometimes admit to liking it, kinda, especially when they’re real into it and Billy’s not stuck in his head anymore. That’s the part that feels like it crumbles whenever it thinks about Steve saying that shit to someone else. That’s the part that’s calling the shots, and will never tell Steve to stop. 

Instead, he kisses Steve real deep and grinds his dick against Steve’s hip, leaving it damp with sweat and the pre leaking from him. Steve’s hands are on his ass again, squeezing as he rolls his hips up, and Billy spits in his hand and reaches between them to grab both their cocks. Steve moans into his mouth as they rub against each other, Billy gripping them hard and twisting his wrist, and fuck, he feels like he could do this a million times and it would never, ever get old. 

Steve mutters “Fuck, baby,” and kisses him open-mouthed and hot, thrusting into Billy’s fist. Sometimes, Billy likes nothing more than to lean down and suck Steve’s cock for just a minute, get him nice and wet before he jerks them off together and makes Steve come all over himself. But tonight he has other ideas, the shit that kept his mind busy all week. The shit that makes him nervous as hell but turns him on even more. He still lives for thrills, and this feels like a big one. 

He slows his hand and then lets them go, pulls back to look at Steve. He’s flushed and his hair is all wild already and his eyes are dark as he looks back.

“Um,” says Billy. 

Steve runs a hand up and down his thigh. 

“I want, uh,” Billy says, and stops.

“What do you want, baby? Anything.” Steve looks up at him all soft, just waiting for whatever Billy’s going to say. He’s always fucking like this, always kind and patient with Billy’s shit. Never makes him feel like a freak. He doesn’t know what to do with it, sometimes.

He takes a breath. “I want you to fuck me.”

Steve goes wide-eyed. “Oh. Are you sure?”

Billy nods. “Been thinkin’ about it all week.” Steve’s still staring at him but it’s with an edge of excitement now. He touches the small of Billy’s back and rubs up and down just where it curves into his ass.

“Goddamn. Tell me. What did you think about?” 

Billy can feel his face getting warm. “Thought about riding you.” He leans down so he’s pressed close on top of Steve, his face hidden against Steve’s neck; that makes it easier. “Thought about last time when you had three fingers in me, and I, I wanted more.”

“Oh, God, baby,” Steve says, his voice unsteady. He drags his nails up Billy’s thighs and squeezes his ass in both hands. “You were so good. Came so fucking hard on me I thought my fingers were gonna snap off.”

Billy bites his neck. “Shut the fuck up.” Steve laughs, then starts moving his hands again, dipping his fingers between Billy’s cheeks and gently stroking up and down over his hole. 

“I wanna give you more. Wanna feel you come on my cock this time.” 

Billy shivers, pushing his hips back and up against Steve’s fingers for more. “Christ, yeah, me too.” It’s fucked up how desperate he gets for it, how quickly. He shifts over to kiss Steve and they make out for a while, hot and kinda rough as Steve presses harder, circling his hole with one spit-wet finger. Eventually Steve pulls back, breathless, his lips shiny and pink.

“Can I, can I eat you out?” he asks.

They’ve only done it once before and not for very long, just to try. Billy’s still kinda unsure about the whole, like, etiquette of sex with a dude. It’s definitely not something any girl’s ever tried, and it felt pretty good, but he doesn’t want Steve to do it just ‘cause he feels like he should or something.

“Yeah, um, if you want,” he says, and Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, obviously I want to, it’s like the hottest thing ever, but do you want it?”


Billy nods, and Steve grins and says “Okay, flip over, c’mon, c’mon,” like he can’t wait. And then Billy’s on his hands and knees with his forehead against the pillow, and Steve’s kissing and biting the curve of his ass, and then Steve’s tongue is hot and wet on him and fuck, yeah, okay, it’s good. Steve lays kisses onto the skin behind his balls and licks up, trailing the tip of his tongue around Billy’s hole and then licking right there over and over, softer at first and then with more pressure as Billy moans, pressing back into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve seems to have a thing for making Billy a mess and getting him wet, or maybe eating ass just makes his fuckin’ pervert mouth water. Regardless, Billy can hear him sucking and kissing all around the sensitive rim, and trembles a little as he feels Steve spit on his hole before pushing , and then his tongue slips in and it’s so fucking intense it makes Billy’s head spin. He makes an embarrassingly high-pitched sound into the pillow because Steve is fucking him with his tongue . Slow, deliberate. Filthy. Making little noises like he’d be moaning too if his mouth wasn’t busy. 

Billy’s losing his mind and time goes a little funny for a while, narrows down to just his arms trembling as he holds himself up, his thighs tensing, grinding back against Steve’s mouth to get more. Eventually Steve pulls away just far enough to ask, his voice rough, “You want my fingers, baby?”

Billy wants more than that, but the way he’s feeling, he’ll take anything Steve offers. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Gimme, c’mon.”

Steve laughs softly, reaching over to grab the lube out of the nightstand drawer. “There’s no rush,” he says, pressing a kiss to the curve of Billy’s ass as he uncaps the lube and pours some onto his fingers. “Gonna make you feel good.” He’s petting Billy’s hole with his wet fingers and Billy moans, then half shouts into the sheets as Steve sinks one finger in. 

“Then I want you on top of me. I wanna see how you look when I’m filling you up, just how you want it.” Steve’s not even trying to sound sexy, is the thing. He’s just talking, just telling Billy exactly what he’s going to do and why. It’s hot as fuck. Steve’s finger rocks in and out, gentle, all the way, and when he adds a second, Billy feels himself settle. Just feeling.


By the time Steve actually gets inside Billy they’ve been at it for almost forty-five minutes, and Billy is the most gorgeous thing Steve’s ever seen in his entire life. 

Sometimes when he tells Billy how beautiful he is, it’s coming from a place in him that feels sweet, almost innocent. But it’s not quite the same kind of sentiment now, when Billy’s sweating and gasping into the duvet, gripping it so hard his knuckles are white, fucking himself open and wet on Steve’s three fingers and then moaning softly when they’re taken away. It’s more of a desperate need to take care of him, to take him, to bury himself in Billy and refuse to let him out of bed until he’s limp and trembling.

So Steve eventually grabs a condom from the bedside drawer, sits back against the headboard and looks at Billy expectantly as he opens it and rolls it on. Billy’s breathing hard, still bent over on the bed, but when Steve tugs at his hand he moves. Throws a leg over Steve and takes Steve’s cock in his hand so he can get it in just the right spot. Holds Steve’s gaze as he sinks down slowly, so slowly, his face going slack and astonished. Steve’s taken aback too - he knew it would be tight, would feel different than it does with a girl, but it’s so intense it makes his head spin and his cock throb. His body aches to buck his hips up and get all the way inside Billy right now, take it all for himself, but he’d never forgive himself if he gave Billy less than what he deserves this first time. So he lets it happen, and puts his hand over Billy’s where it’s resting on his chest. 

Eventually, Billy’s fully seated on him, his head tipped back, a trickle of sweat crawling down his pec. Steve licks gently at his nipple and kisses his chest, shoulder, whatever’s in reach.

“You good, baby?” he asks softly, and Billy lets out a shaky breath. “God. Yeah.” He shifts his hips just a bit, starts to figure out how to move, and they both groan. Billy’s looking down at him with wide blue eyes, biting his lip as he slowly rocks his hips, and it hits Steve all at once that he’s inside Billy Hargrove, that he gets to have this. He hugs Billy in close and kisses his neck, breathes him in as he runs a hand all the way down his spine to where they’re joined.

“Fuck -” Steve gasps out as he feels, traces a finger all around where he’s buried in this boy, and can’t help rolling his hips upward just a bit. “Oh,” Billy breathes, “yes,” and Steve does it again, suddenly on fire with the idea of filling Billy up as deep as he can get. He presses up and in, again and again, holding Billy tight and mouthing at his collarbone while Billy lets out these soft, throaty ah, ah sounds every time Steve bottoms out.

“How does it feel?” Steve asks. “Is - is it okay?”

“Oh, God,” Billy says softly, “it’s so much. So good, Steve, fuck,” and he pushes his face into Steve’s neck. Murmurs into his skin, “You can - harder,” and Steve wants to give this boy everything. He plants his feet and pushes up just a little harder into that gorgeous tight heat, snapping his hips, setting the rhythm that draws little moans from Billy every time he’s in deep. 

“Good?” Steve says, and feels Billy nod, so he lets himself shift, hook his hands around Billy’s shoulders to hold him tight and pull him down onto his cock. Billy gasps, his moans louder and shifting higher in pitch as Steve fucks him. 

“Feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” Steve’s brain is fizzling out, clouded with pleasure and heat and want . There’s a sense of possessiveness, too - something more immediately to do with wanting to come all over Billy’s pretty face or watch it leak out of him when they’re done, but also something to do with wanting him to stay, wanting to keep him safe. He feels wild with it, grips Billy harder and bites at his shoulder. 

“Don’t want anyone else to do this. Want you to be all mine,” he whispers fiercely, and Billy shivers. “That okay? Can I have you, baby?” 

Billy’s trembling, breathing hard into Steve’s neck, and it occurs to Steve that Billy’s usually way, way more talkative in bed. He shifts to get a better look, moving so he can see Billy’s face. “Hey,” he whispers, and Billy sniffs, not meeting his eyes.

“You can’t just - say shit like that, Harrington,” Billy says, his voice unsteady, and swipes roughly at his face. Steve follows his hand, draws his thumb across Billy’s cheek where’s it’s damp. Oh.


It’s already intense and overwhelming, and Billy’s struggling to keep himself from totally unraveling with the pleasure and the fear. It’s a little thrilling and a lot terrifying, being here, in Steve’s lap, in his bed, in his house. Staying here, with Steve inside him, whispering shit in his ear that’s designed to break him in two. Seeing him. And then he asks Billy can I have you, as though Billy wasn’t already stupid for this boy, as though he wasn’t already fucked up about the whole situation, and Billy’s shaking with the effort of keeping it together but the hot tears burn behind his eyelids and Steve knows, he’s not that fucking oblivious.

“You can’t just - say shit like that, Harrington,” he says, hoping he sounds fiercer than he feels wiping tears from his face and studiously staring at Steve’s shoulder. Steve touches him gently, cradling his face in one hand. He’s still fucking inside Billy and it feels amazing and it’s too much and Billy’s just - he - 

“Too much?” Steve asks, soft as ever, too much patience that Billy knows he doesn’t deserve. He sniffs again, tries to clear his throat.

“Yeah. I don’t know. Just - it’s a lot. And you know already, you don’t have to - make me say it.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment, and Billy chances a look. He looks puzzled.

“I don’t - I don’t know,” he says hesitantly. “Tell me, what should I know, I don’t wanna fuck it up-”

“Of course I’m fucking yours, Harrington,” Billy snaps, and fuck, he can feel the tears welling up again, it’s too fucking much and it’s humiliating, but apparently something in his body feels differently because he still wants to be closer, presses close to Steve as he says again “I’m yours, you gotta know,” feels his cock throb as he says it, “why else would I be here, you think, you think I let anyone do this? I never did this before, ever, fuck.” He’s full on crying again, sniffling, and Steve doesn’t judge him, just says “oh, oh baby” and thumbs away the tears from his cheek. He kisses Billy, pulls away a fraction of an inch, just enough to say “God, okay, I -  thank you, now I know, I - fuck,” and then kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, holding onto him so tight.

Billy lets it happen, lets himself be kissed, and then tucks his face back into the curve of Steve’s neck where he feels a little less exposed. Steve’s fingers are carding through his hair and he feels his breathing slow, bit by bit. Something in him feels a little calmer. Feels like maybe he doesn’t have to try so hard.

Eventually he says, muffled, into Steve's shoulder - "c'mon, thought you were fucking me, Harrington," and Steve snorts.

Billy really loses the thread then, unravels completely as Steve starts moving in him again. Steve grabs his ass with one hand and cups the back of his head with the other, sucking on his neck as he plants his feet again and starts fucking Billy in earnest, hitting him just right. He feels it in his thighs, his dick, his throat, everywhere. He hopes Steve leaves bruises all over him, handprints and bite marks. Wants to take them home and keep them.

Steve whimpers into his skin, then, and whispers “I’m close, fuck, want to feel you,” and Billy wants desperately to come on Steve’s unfairly beautiful cock, so he gets a hand between them, starts jerking himself off roughly. Steve looks down at him fucking his fist and moans, and Billy gets three, maybe four more strokes in before he feels it. “Steve,” he whispers and then can’t make a sound, his whole body locking up and releasing in slow motion as he comes, spurting all over his hand, his belly, Steve’s chest. He chokes on a moan as the aftershocks roll through him, as Steve keeps pounding into him saying “So good, so good for me,” and then cries out, his hips pulsing as he presses deep, deeper and comes inside Billy, into the condom. The tension slowly ebbs and he lets his head fall onto Steve’s shoulder, the two of them breathing hard, and finally Billy isn’t thinking anymore. Would let Steve call him anything, in this moment.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve says, “that was - God, was that okay? You okay?”

Billy turns so he’s still resting his weight on Steve, but he can peer up at Steve’s face. “I’m fucking fantastic,” he says, and feels Steve relax. 

“Okay. Me too. That was so fucking amazing, jesus christ, you’re amazing,” Steve says, and Billy smiles a little into his skin. Steve’s sappy as fuck, knew he would be after that. He sits up and winces a little at the weird, sore, empty feeling of Steve slipping out of him, then flops over onto his back so Steve can toss the condom and grab smokes from the bedside table. 

They lie there, Steve’s head pillowed on Billy’s chest, legs tangled up in the sheets, and the moonlight filters through a gap in the curtains. The house is quiet the way Steve’s house is always quiet unless they’re making noise.

Then Steve turns to look up at him. He looks hesitant. “You know -” he says, then pauses. Billy raises his eyebrows.

Steve takes a deep breath. “I’m yours too, you know that, right?” It’s silent, and he presses on. “Sorry if that’s too much again. I just, um, want to make sure that you know. I’m yours, or, um, I want to be. And I never did this before, either.”

Billy’s stunned for a moment. When he said that, never did this before, it just spilled out in the heat of the moment. He’s pretty sure he meant something along the lines of I’ve never let someone fuck me before, or let them keep me, or thought I might fall in love with them. He doesn’t know exactly what Steve means and he’s a little too scared to try and clarify right now. But Steve sounds...serious. He sounds nervous, and serious about it. About saying I’m yours, too

And it’s over the line of thrill to terror, but there’s something else mixed in there too. Something good. It’s nothing like living in his room with the lock on the outside, hiding pieces of himself to survive. It’s more like the free-fall of finally getting what you wanted, and now having to figure out what the hell to do with it. 

Billy’s never been one to back down. He can handle it. And Steve’s there with him now, too. 

So he nudges Steve over till they’re lying face to face on their sides, and he’s brave, and takes Steve’s hand to kiss it. “I know. I want you, too.” Steve’s smile is like sunlight and he can’t help it, he leans in to kiss him. He’s stupid for this boy, doing shit like crying in bed and raining kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead just to make him laugh.

Maybe it’ll crash and burn. He’ll ruin it, or Neil will, or Steve will decide he’d rather have a girl he can take out on real dates, where everyone can see. 

Maybe. But he’s gonna try anyway. Give it all he’s got.

Steve falls asleep, and Billy stays for a while, just lying there, holding Steve’s warm, soft weight on him for as long as he can before he has to go. Eventually he slips out of bed, gently extricating himself so he doesn’t wake Steve from his hard-won sleep. 

Before he goes, he grabs the tape from his pocket. It’s two weeks late, and he didn’t put any hearts or shit on it, but still. Maybe Steve will play it in the car tomorrow. Maybe he’ll even like it. He opens the window and shimmies out, and leaves the tape behind in his place.





side 1:

1. how soon is now? - the smiths
how can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
just like everybody else does

2. not safe - romeo void
it's hard when your needs aren't met
to do what you like and to give your best
we're not safe 
we're not safe or sorry

3. take me home tonight - eddie money
I can feel you breathe
I can feel your heart beat faster
take me home tonight
I don't want to let you go 'til you see the light

4. because the night - patti smith
take my hand as the sun descends
they can't touch you now
can't touch you now, can't touch you now
because the night belongs to lovers

5. talkin’ bout my baby - joan jett & the blackhearts
let me tell you 'bout my baby
how he touches me
he kisses sweeter than sugar
he makes my heart beat faster, faster

6. crazy on you - heart
and you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine
my love, the pleasure's mine
let me go crazy on you

7. show me - pretenders
you with your angel face
keep the despair at bay
send it away, and
show me the meaning of the word

8. ceremony - new order
avenues all lined with trees
picture me and then you start watching
watching forever, forever
watching love grow, forever

9. i’ll be your mirror - the velvet underground & nico
please put down your hands
'cause I see you
I find it hard to believe you don't know
the beauty that you are

10. please, please, please let me get what i want - the smiths 
for once in my life
let me get what I want
lord knows, it would be the first time


side 2:

1. photograph - def leppard
oh, look what you've done to this rock 'n' roll clown
oh oh, look what you've done

2. dipping low (in the lap of luxury) - zz top
I'm a good mechanic, I'll go over you in style
dippin' low in the lap of luxury

3. just like paradise - david lee roth
one night ain't enough for me
boy, hang on tight and don't let go
this must be just like livin' in paradise
and I don't want to go home

4. i will dare - the replacements
how smart are you? how dumb am I?
meet me anyplace or anywhere or anytime
now I don't care, meet me tonight
if you would dare, I would dare

5. drop dead legs - van halen
drop dead legs, pretty smile
hurts my head, gets me wild

6. still of the night - whitesnake
in the still of the night
I will be sneakin' 'round your door
in the still of the night
ain't nothing gonna stop me now

7. clean cut american kid - ill repute
I’m a nice guy I’m so polite
I turn the other cheek I never fight

8. rebel yell - billy idol
what sets you free, I need you here by me, because
in the midnight hour, he cried more, more, more
with a rebel yell he cried more, more, more

9. promise - violent femmes
you know that I want your loving
but my logic tells me that it ain't never gonna happen
and then my defences say I did't want it anyway
but you know sometimes I'm a liar...

10. the flame - w.a.s.p.
turn up the flame your hips are fire
you're so hot I got to try ya
show me the spot and I'll hit the mark
baby I got the gasoline and you got the sparks