It's a slow, lazy night tonight. The two boys are sitting on opposite ends of the couch in Steve's living room, drinking and watching reruns of Charlie's Angels.
Billy's halfway through his second beer, only a little buzzed, not quite drunk just yet.
Steve opts to drink wine instead of beer, something about how it's healthier and how it pairs better with cheese.
Billy points out how stupid that is because 1) who cares how healthy it is it's fucking alcohol, and 2) Steve isn't even eating a fancy foreign cheese, he's eating Kraft Singles.
"Cheese is cheese, Billy," Steve says before popping open his bottle of red wine and fucking guzzling the whole thing down in about twenty seconds.
Which. Billy shouldn't be surprised. Steve used to do keg stands, of course he knows how to chug. But still, actually watching him do it, Billy's impressed. And maybe a little turned on, but he'll just ignore that. "Christ, Harrington, where'd you learn how to do that ?"
Steve smirks at him, wipes the red droplets from his chin with the back of his hand. "My mom. She can do it in fifteen." He pops up from the couch then, makes his way towards the kitchen. "But don't worry, I'll get there eventually," Steve says, looking back at Billy and tossing a wink over his shoulder before he disappears into the kitchen.
What the hell was that about? Was he trying to– to flirt ? Of course not, right? Maybe Billy imagined that wink. He's probably more tipsy than he thought.
Steve came out of the kitchen a couple minutes later with a giant bag of Twizzlers. He tosses them on the table, then flops his entire body down onto the couch, laying his head right in Billy's lap. If Billy's brain was functioning properly, he probably would've pushed Steve right onto the floor. But he's just... Surprised. So Billy let's Steve lay his head where he wants while he just stares at the TV screen, trying to focus on literally anything other than his lapful of Steve's soft brown hair.
"Want one?" Steve asks, holding up a Twizzler. Billy grunts a yes, takes it from Steve without looking away from the TV. Farrah Fawcett is kicking some guys ass.
"Why are we watching this?"
"Because the chicks are like, super hot, dude," Steve says, like it's obvious. Billy pulls a face, which Steve catches because he's looking right up at Billy. "You telling me you wouldn't let Kelly Garrett karate chop you in the face?"
Billy risks a look down. "She's not really my type."
A smile spreads across Steve's face. "Course not," he says, and that kind of scares Billy because, like. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? "Fine. I've seen this one like ten times, anyway." Steve grabs the TV remote, surfs the channels for a while until he finds something he must like.
When Billy looks up from where he was following along the line of Steve's jaw with his eyes, Knight Rider is on TV. "That's better. You like this show, Harrington?"
"I love this show," Steve says around a Twizzler. "Everyone's so sexy."
"Do you only watch shows because you think the people in them are hot?"
"Yeah, dude. I mean am I wrong? Have you seen Micheal Knight?"
On the TV, David Hasselhoff cruises around in that kick ass car of his. He initially told himself that he only watched the show for the car, but he can't lie to himself. Hasselhoff is a stud . "Yeah he's kinda hot."
" Kinda hot? Dude, I used to dream about him railing me in the front seat of KITT, like, every night."
Billy almost chokes on the Twizzler in his mouth. "You what ?"
Steve ignores the question, turns his head to look straight into Billy's eyes. Steve's own are a rich brown, like dark chocolate. Pupils blown wide. He's got a blush rising high on his cheeks. Drunk as hell. "Come to think of it," He's saying, glassy eyes fixated on Billy. Steve raises up on his elbows, getting closer and closer to Billy's face. "You look a lot like him."
Billy does nothing but stare, frozen in place. Then Steve bites on the other end of the Twizzler hanging in Billy's mouth, never breaking eye contact.
This is a pretty odd situation, isn't it? Here Billy is, completely at a loss while Steve unabashedly flirts with him. Oh, how the tables have turned.
Steve takes another bite of liquorice, moves closer a few inches, then another. Anticipation is building somewhere within Billy. Just another bite, a few more centimeters and the very thing that he's wished on stars for, tossed coins in fountains for, fucking blew dandelions for, will come true.
Steve is so, so close.
Then, with a cute giggle, Steve falls back down almost dramatically, his head landing on Billy's thigh. "I'm so fucking drunk," he laughs. Steve stretches and sprawls himself out over Billy's lap, brings both of his knees up, lays one hand between Billy's thigh and the back of his head, and the other...
The other slides down, over his stomach. Reaches further down. Billy's eyes follow it subconsciously, then widen almost comically when he notices the tent in Steve's shorts.
Steve's hand just goes right for it, the heel of his palm pushing down hard against his bulge, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a relaxed sigh.
Billy's eyebrows raise high on his forehead. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?" Billy asks, his voice awfully calm despite the rapid beating of his heart.
"Getting myself off, what's it look like? All this talk about Kelly Garrett and Micheal Knight has got me horny as fuck . I'm not just gonna ignore my dick, not when I'm this wasted."
Billy gives him one of those 'uh, hello?' looks. "I am right here."
Steve gives a half-hearted shrug. "Okay? I don't mind an audience. I put on a hell of a show," he says with a wink.
His hand slides past the waistband of his shorts to grip his hard dick. "Just go somewhere else if you don't want to watch." Steve strokes himself once, lazily, looking up at Billy, and Billy feels himself getting cotton mouth.
"But you do want to watch, don't you, Tiger?" Steve asks, biting his lip. Something in Billy's chest flutters.
If his mouth wasn't dry before, it's turned to the fucking Sahara by now. He takes a long swig of beer, partly to relieve the dryness, mostly because he feels like he's not nearly drunk enough for this. He tries to act casual, nonchalant when he asks, "What are you talking about?"
Steve rolls his eyes almost playfully. "C'mon. I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid, Billy. I've seen the way you look at me." The hand inside Steve's shorts starts to pump at a slightly faster pace, but probably still too slow to be satisfying.
Billy is fully aware that he hasn't exactly been subtle. Really, how could he be subtle when Steve is the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on? But still, he can't just flat out admit that he's got heart eyes for the guy. So.
Deny, deny, deny. "What do you mean?"
"Ugh, Billy, come on . You're no fun when you're all flustered," Steve says with a pout. "Play with me, like you always do."
"... What ?"
Steve giggles. "Yeah, you said that already. Here, lemme give you some encouragement." And then he's lifting his hips up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his shorts while giving Billy this sultry look. He pulls his shorts down, slowly like a striptease, all they way down to mid thigh...
And his hard cock springs out, slaps obscenely against his stomach.
Billy can't help but laugh at the surrealness of it all.
" Biiillly. " Steve begins to tease himself, runs a finger up the length of his dick, circles it around the head. "Please?"
And then Steve gives Billy those puppy dog eyes that are quite literally impossible to resist. Billy's really not even sure what Steve is asking him to do, but he knows he can't pass up this opportunity. Not when he's waited so long for something like this. Not exactly like this, but pretty close.
So Billy snaps himself out of his stupefied state and gathers up every ounce of filthy, filthy desire and want and need that he's had reserved for Steve since the moment they met, and lays it all out right in between them.
He tongues at the inside of his cheek and rakes his gaze up and down Steve's body, making Steve shiver. "You really turn into a total slut when you're drunk, huh?" Billy asks, making his voice deep and gravelly.
Steve nods vigorously, bites his bottom lip and rolls his hips up into his fist. There's a dopey smile on his face, like he's absolutely delighted that Billy is playing along now.
"Yeah? You like it when I call you a slut, Stevie?" Billy brings his hand to Steve's hair and threads his fingers through it, scratches lightly at his scalp like he's petting a cat. And it makes Steve purr .
"Love it," he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed. "You can join in too, y'know."
Billy feels his own cock jump and leak in his sweatpants. He's not even sure when he got fully hard, was too focused on Steve's little show to pay much attention to himself. With his other hand, he reaches down and palms himself, his hips twitching at the contact.
"Gonna show me what you're packin', Tiger?" Steve asks, with a heat in his eyes that melts Billy from the inside out, turns him to a puddle.
"You wanna see that bad?"
"I mean, it's only fair, right? I showed you mine."
"You gotta get up off my lap, first."
Steve doesn't move very far. He scoots over, just a little, so that his head is closer to Billy's knees, and looks up expectantly.
Without any further hesitation, Billy pulls the band of his sweatpants down, just enough so that he can get his dick out. When his length is released from the confines of his pants, it bobs forward and taps Steve right on the nose. Steve goes crosseyed from staring at it.
"Holy shit ," Steve breathes.
"Well?" The hand Billy's still got buried in Steve's hair tightens it's grip. "I showed you. Were you just planning on gawking at it, or–"
Billy cuts himself off with a gasp when Steve, without warning, tilts his head and licks at the leaking red tip of his cock.
"Mm," Steve hums. "You taste even better than I imagined." His eyes flutter closed as he smears Billy's precum over the flat of his tongue.
"You imagined this? Imagined putting your mouth on my dick?"
"Among other things, yeah." Steve says, then goes right back to licking at the cock right in front of his face, like he's getting paid for it. He flicks his tongue at that spot just under the head, and fuck , it feels amazing .
Steve looks absolutely wanton with his eyes closed and his tongue out, a blush high on his cheeks, practically writhing as he picks up the pace with his own hand, working himself faster. He's panting hard, hot breath hitting Billy's cock.
It really shouldn't be enough, shouldn't get him anywhere close to the edge. Even though it feels good , there's hardly any friction, and it just shouldn't be enough . But it's Steve . And knowing that it's really Steve, not just some fantasy version of him that Billy's created in his mind, completely works him up.
He's so fucking close, it's almost embarrassing. His hand tugs even harder on Steve's hair. "Fuck, babe, you're gonna make me come."
Steve smiles with his tongue out. "Yeah?" Then he's taking Billy into his mouth. Or, at least as much as he can at the awkward angle, which is really just the tip and an inch or two. But regardless, the wet heat of his mouth feels like heaven , and Steve barely gets the chance to hollow his cheeks before Billy's shooting off in his mouth with a low groan, covering that pretty pink tongue with come.
Not even a second later, Steve makes a high pitched noise and squirms , his own cock spurting ropes of come over his chest and staining his shirt.
They spend a minute or two just basking. Billy eventually tucks himself away, the chill from the AC making his crotch feel frozen. Steve reaches for an empty beer bottle on the coffee table, raises up just a bit and spits in it.
"Thought you said I tasted good."
"You do," Steve puts the bottle back on the table and cuddles up to Billy's torso. "But come and wine don't mix very well in my stomach."
Billy pinches his brows together in thought. "So this has happened before? You get horny from drinking too much wine?"
Steve hums sleepily in response.
Billy just chuckles, goes back to petting Steve's hair instead of pulling on it. "Stevie, you absolute whore... You should drink wine more often when we're together."
"I'll be sure to buy the good kind."