Steve doesn't know who threw the first punch. Hell, he doesn't even remember what they're fighting over. One minute they were yelling at each other, then they were rolling around on the hard gravelly ground of the quarry the next.
He's on his back, again , Billy straddling him and wailing on him like he's a fucking punching bag. Deja vu.
Billy's punches don't hurt as much, though. Either he's holding back or Steve's face has finally gone numb.
Billy grabs Steve by the collar of his jacket and lifts him up, grabs his chin between his thumb and forefinger and roughly tilts Steve's head to force his eyes on his.
"Didn't learn from last time, did you?" Billy's eyes are alight with a fire fueled by pleasure. He loves this. Loves the sight of Steve's bruised and bloodied face, loves seeing Steve an absolute wreck. Loves it even more when he's the cause. "Still a bitch aren't you, Harrington?" He spews venom from his mouth. "A fucking pussy ."
Steve makes an attempt to shove Billy away, only succeeding in pushing him back a few inches. The sudden movement forces Billy to change his position, however, putting his knee right between Steve's legs so he's only sat across one of his thighs now. Steve tries to take advantage of that, too, lifts his leg to knee Billy in the groin, but just ends up pushing up against his crotch. And…
It may be the brain damage affecting his nerves or whatever and making him feel sensations that aren't really there. But ... It feels like…
Billy is hard .
Or he's got a gun in his pants.
Or it really is the brain damage.
The subtle hitch in Billy's breath when he presses his thigh against him tells him otherwise.
Steve laughs. Gives Billy a bloody, wicked smile. Billy is clearly caught off guard by this, his sneer faltering and his grip on Steve's jacket loosening.
Steve takes the opportunity to flip them over, pushing Billy into the gravel with his weight and pinning both his hands. Steve's ass gets a good feel of the definite hard-on in Billy's jeans.
"You get off on this, don't you? You got some sort of weird violence kink?"
Billy practically growls at him, shows his teeth like some feral dog backed into a corner. He wrenches a hand out of Steve's grip, reaches up to grab a fistful of Steve's hair and pulls hard .
Steve doesn't have time to stop the moan clawing up his throat before it escapes his lips. It's not a moan of pain. It's a moan of desperation . He wants Billy to pull harder .
Okay. Maybe Steve gets off on this too.
Billy's sneer returns, wide and mean. "Why don't you take a look at yourself, huh? You like it when I rough you up, Harrington?" He tangles his fingers further into brown strands, grabs them at the roots. Steve has to bite his tongue to hold back a whine.
"Don't turn this around on me," he huffs. "You're the one with the boner."
"Really?" Billy reaches down with his other hand to cup Steve's growing erection in his jeans, making him gasp. "Pot calling the kettle black."
Billy snorts at Steve's puzzled expression. "Dumbass."
Steve is yanked forward by the hand in his hair, Billy meeting him halfway with his lips.
Billy kisses a lot like he fights. Wild, and brutal, and with a fiery passion.
He bites at Steve's bottom lip with sharp teeth, licks at it gently when it starts to bleed. There's a spilt in Billy's own lip, from when Steve landed a good right hook before being tossed to the ground. It must've opened again from the sheer ferocity with which Billy's mouth meets Steve's.
They kiss in a whirl of teeth and tongues, licking and scraping and biting . If anyone was watching they would probably assume the two were trying to kill each other in the most erotic way possible.
Blood drips from between their lips. Steve feels like a shark, frenzied by the taste of it as he laps at the inside of Billy's mouth. He tastes of metal, and smoke, and a hint of beer.
Steve could get drunk on it. Probably is drunk on it, considering the way his head spins when Billy pushes him back to sit up. The whine Steve lets out when their mouths part is almost pathetic, and under normal circumstances he would be embarrassed. But his face is throbbing and his dick is hard. There's other things on his mind.
Like Billy's hand pulling on his hair. The hardness of his cock. Which Steve is currently sat on.
Fuck , he is unbelievably horny.
"Billy..." His voice is breathless, wet and raw.
"C'mon, Stevie. I know you're probably a desperate whore, but I'm not doing anything out here. It's cold and there's rocks digging in my ass."
"What? No! You can't just bust my face up and then leave me high and dry!" Desperate whore... He certainly sounds the part.
"I'll bet dollars to doughnuts you're anything but dry, princess. And don't get your panties in a twist, I didn't say I wasn't gonna get you off."
"Okay? Hop to it then." Steve emphasizes his point with a wiggle.
"God, you're such a spoiled fucking brat."
"Your fault, for giving me what I want."
Billy rolls his eyes and shoves Steve off of him. He stands with a stretch, walks to the driver's side door of the Camaro without another word.
Steve follows him like a puppy on a leash.
Billy sits down in the driver's seat and pushes it back as far as it goes. Looks expectantly at Steve, who's waiting by the car door.
"Well?" Billy holds his arms out. "Did you wanna fuck or not?"
Obviously , Steve doesn't say.
"In your car?"
" Yes , in my car, where the fuck else? Against a tree? Didn't know you were that much of a freak, Harrington." Well, he's not opposed to the idea, but that's something for a later time.
"What's wrong with my car?"
Billy's smile is devilish. "With what I'm gonna do to you? Might ruin the upholstery."
Steve would've collapsed, the way his knees just gave out on him, had he not caught himself against the door. "Okay," he manages to keep his voice from wavering. "Where– Where do...?"
"Right here." Billy leans back further in his seat and pats his lap. "Saddle up, cowboy."
As hot as that sounds, it seems sort of... impractical? If that's even the right word? Hell if Steve knows.
"Both of us aren't gonna fit in your front seat. Do you know how long my legs are?"
Billy releases a long, annoyed sigh. "That's why I pushed the seat back, don't worry about your fucking giraffe legs."
"And your car is so short, I'm gonna hit my head on the ceiling."
"Then I'll lean the goddamn seat back? Jesus Christ, Steve, just get in , already. My dick's so hard it's gonna burst out of my pants any second and you standing there isn't doing anything to help."
" Fine , alright."
Steve climbs in on top of Billy with a bit of struggle, accidentally honking the car horn with his ass a few times before he's sat, somewhat comfortably, on Billy's lap. The space quickly becomes cramped when the door closes, however. The center console digs into Steve's left thigh, and the top of his head is about a millimeter from hitting the ceiling, despite the fact that he's hunched over. It actually does hit the ceiling with a thud , when he straightens his back.
"Ow! See? I told you."
Billy reaches down and tilts the seat all the way back, so he's laying down and Steve's gangly body can sit properly without him having to fold himself all sorts of ways. "Is that enough room for you, my liege?"
Steve stretches out like a cat. "Plenty."
Billy gets right to it, makes quick work of Steve's jeans, popping the button and pulling down the fly like he'd done it a million times. He then grabs at the waistbands of both Steve's pants and briefs with an eagerness akin to that of a child unwrapping a present, and yanks down till they're about mid thigh.
He looks at Steve's newly exposed dick like a miner who just struck gold. " Damn , Harrington. No wonder they called you a king." He touches the tip with a too-gentle finger, pupils growing impossibly larger when a string of precum sticks to it. "I was right. You're wetter than the goddamn Pacific, babe."
Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to feel bashful or embarrassed. He just hums and cants his hips forwards in search of more friction.
And Billy doesn't give it to him, the bastard.
One of his hands grabs at Steve's ass while the other lifts up to his own face. Billy takes his middle and ring fingers into his mouth without pause, looks Steve right in the eye as he licks and coats them with his saliva. He makes sure to get every inch of his fingers, around them and in between with obscene flicks of his tongue. It's mesmerizing.
Finally, Billy removes his soaked fingers from his mouth and moves to put them between Steve's legs before Steve stops him with a hand on his wrist.
"Woah, what are you doing?"
Billy stares at him, incredulous. "I gotta open you up, Einstein."
"With your spit ?"
"Well I'm so sorry, your highness ," Billy puts on a fake posh accent. "I've neglected to fluff the pillows and lay out your selection of only the finest oils in all the land. I suppose it's off with my head, then. Take me to the guillotine."
"You don't have to be so sarcastic, asshole . It's just kinda... gross." Nevermind the fact that they were practically drinking each other's blood like vampires in a romance novel just a few minutes prior.
Billy rolls his eyes so hard they might fall back into his skull. "Steve. I swear to God , if you complain one more time I'll kick you out and you're gonna have to jack off at home."
"Okay, okay. Sorry." Steve lets go of his wrist.
Billy's slick fingers reach between partly spread thighs until they press right up against Steve's rim, rubbing slow circles there. He quietly gasps at the feeling. The fingers press harder until the tip of one breaches his entrance, all the way to the first knuckle. Steve hums, wants more , but refuses to beg.
Billy pushes his finger in further, down to the last knuckle before pulling nearly all the way out. He does this over and over, in and out, agonizingly slow, until he eventually adds the second finger. The stretch is pleasant. Steve can feel his muscles relaxing.
"Good, Stevie. You're doing so good." The praise sends a warm wave of something like contentedness through Steve's body, rolling over him like calm water. The words are a stark contrast from the usual brash and catty things he says to Steve. Steve doesn't look too hard at why the sudden shift affects him like it does.
Focuses on the sensations inside of him instead.
It's oddly soothing. He could probably fall asleep like this, Billy's fingers languidly thrusting in and out of his ass like it's a Sunday afternoon and he's got nothing better to do. Then Billy crooks his fingers just right and makes Steve gasp , sends him falling forward to muffle his moans in Billy's leather jacket.
" Fuck , right there," he whines into Billy's chest. Feels his cock kick and leak between them.
Billy hits the spot again. "Right there, sweetheart?"
" Mm-hm ," Steve nods vigorously, his hair falling into his face.
He can feel the rumble of Billy's chuckle as he lay his head across his chest.
Billy decides then to pull out both of his fingers. Steve can feel his hole clench around nothing, makes a weak noise at the feeling of emptiness.
Steve can't see what Billy is doing at this angle, only hears a lewd wet sound. Before he can lift his head up for a look, thick fingers push right back inside him, joined by a third this time. The stretch isn't just pleasant this time. It's fucking amazing .
Steve lets out a series of gasps and whimpers as Billy continues to fuck him open. He's constantly brushing against that sensitive spot now, refusing to hit it directly. Teasing him.
Steve might come just from this. But he doesn't want to. He wants more . Billy seems to get the memo when Steve starts to push back against him.
"You want more? You ready for my cock, babe?"
" Yesss , you bastard ."
Billy pops the button on his own jeans, pulls them down just far enough to get his dick out.
And it's... It's big , to say the least. Steve's seen his fair share of hard cocks, and honestly, Billy's takes the cake . He doesn't want to inflate Billy's ego any further though, he's pretty sure it would blow up if he did. So he does his best to hide his reaction. Apparently he's successful, if Billy's semi-annoyed, semi-disappointed look is anything to go by.
"What? Got nothin' to say, princess?"
Steve shrugs. "It's a dick... Sure would be nice if you fucked me with it."
Billy rolls his eyes for the third time that night. "Alright, turn around, dickhead."
Steve does, with plenty of struggle. It's especially difficult with his pants around his thighs. He gets there eventually, with no help from Billy, thanks asshole . Facing the windshield now, he's still sitting in Billy's lap with his legs folded on either side of Billy's thighs. Billy tilts the seat back up, until he's sitting upright again.
Strong hands hold on to Steve's hips, adjust his position a bit. "Sitting nice and comfy on your throne, King Steve?" Billy says with a mocking tone.
Steve doesn't give him a response. God, he's so fucking annoying.
Behind him, Steve hears Billy spit, followed by a slick wet noise. " Gross , dude."
"Hey, it's either my spit or nothing at all, which would you prefer?"
"I don't care , man, just fuck me already."
"I'm getting to that you bossy bitch. Fuck. Have a little patience."
"Maybe if you weren't so goddamn slow–" Steve's bitching is cut off by a surprised yelp when Billy roughly lifts him by his hips and sinks him down on his cock, the blunt tip of it sliding right in.
Steve's got basically no time to adjust to the girth before Billy just fucking drops him, impales him on his cock, makes him scream . It's an odd mix of pleasure and pain, not like anything Steve's ever felt before. He kinda doesn't hate it.
His breathing gets faster as his body tries to accommodate the girth inside of him. Billy is kind enough to pet him through it, making shushing sounds as he grazes his lips across the back of his neck. He's about as soothing as a cactus, but the sentiment is appreciated.
After a few minutes the pleasure fully overtakes the pain. Steve experimentally grinds his hips a few times, feeling just how deep inside Billy really is.
"Okay, I'm ready," Steve breathes out.
"Better get to movin', then."
"Huh?" Steve turns his head slightly to look at Billy from the corner of his eye when he hooks his chin over Steve's shoulder.
"Gotta teach you a lesson. Work for what you want. I can't keep spoiling you."
" Ugh , you motherfucker." Steve still does as he's told, though. Braces himself against the steering wheel with both hands, lifts his ass off Billy's cock so the tip is just barely in before sliding all the way back down.
It's a lot of work. Steve can already feel the sweat building at his forehead. He moves again, lifting up and then sliding back down.
The pace remains steady, at first. Steve moves his hips around as he slowly rides Billy's dick, searching for an angle in which he'll hit that sweet spot again. Billy helps him out a bit with that, pushes Steve more forward against the steering wheel while he pulls him back by his waist. Steve sinks himself down again and moans way too loud when the head of Billy's cock hits the spot dead on .
Steve moves with more enthusiasm at the new angle, gradually picks up the pace.
"Look at you, bouncing on my dick like a trampoline," Billy whispers into his neck. "Who knew you'd turn out to be such a cock hungry little slut?"
Steve's knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel. He tries his best not to let Billy's words affect him, but he says such filthy things.
"Is that what you are? You a cock hungry slut, Harrington?"
Steve finds himself very ready to agree, so he bites his tongue and rests his forehead against the wheel to keep himself from admitting something he shouldn't. Billy isn't discouraged, though.
"You take cock so well, babe. Bet you do this all the time, huh? Go to some rager, lure in the captain of the football team with those Bette Davis eyes of yours, take him to the bathroom and make him pound you into next week."
Steve's eyes roll back into his head as he rides Billy fast and rough. He's so fucking gone, he barely registers that the loud, high pitched ah, ah, ahs are coming from him . It's a good thing no one comes to the quarry anymore, otherwise they definitely would've been caught by now.
"Fuck, you're so loud. You'd probably wake up the entire neighborhood if I fucked you in your bed."
Steve gets a little self conscious and tries to muffle his moans with his hand. Billy takes it away almost immediately, puts it back on the steering wheel and traps it with a firm grip.
"Don't get shy, princess," he squeezes Steve's hand. "I wanna hear you. You sound like a goddamn pornstar."
Steve is leaking like a broken faucet. Part of him wants to reach down and stroke himself for a bit of relief, part of him doesn't have the energy for it, focusing so hard on fucking himself. And the largest part of him just wants to see, out of curiosity, if he can come just on the cock inside of him. So he doesn't touch himself, keeps his hands firmly where they are on the wheel.
Billy's hands move to put a bruising grip on Steve's hips. "Shit, Steve, you're so fucking good at this. So fucking good at riding my dick, like you were made for it."
And there it is again, that warm feeling he felt when Billy praised him earlier. It goes to show just how messed up Steve really is, when being told that he's good and that he's doing good makes him feel like... this . And it's Billy , of all people, telling him this. He's fucked.
"Gonna fucking ruin you. Football captain is gonna feel like a cheap knockoff when I'm done with you."
Steve may be totally blissed out, but he hasn't lost his brattiness. "Don't act like you're doing any work, here," he says, voice breathless.
Billy laughs behind him. "What, you getting tired already? I'll help you out, babe."
He reaches up with his left hand, threads his fingers through Steve's hair gently before grabbing it to pull Steve off the steering wheel. Steve is drawn backwards by his hair, until his back meets Billy's chest. Billy loosens his grip on Steve's hair and hip, brings his hands down to lift Steve by the backs of his upper thighs.
"Might wanna grab onto something."
"Wha– ah! "
Billy's hips snap up to meet Steve's ass, making him scramble to reach behind and grab a hold on the head of the seat. Billy is relentless , thrusting his cock into Steve almost twice as fast as Steve rode him. Railing him.
They might be ruining the Camaro's suspension with how much they're making the car bounce. Steve doesn't give a shit, it's not his car. Billy doesn't seem to care much either, since he doesn't stop or slow down at all. If anything, he's moving even faster .
"Gettin' close, pretty boy."
Steve lets his head fall back against Billy's shoulder and whines out his next words. "Don't pull out."
Billy's hips stutter, but he doesn't slow. " What ?"
"You heard me."
"Weren't you just bitching about me using spit as lube?"
"Yeah? And now I want you to come inside me. People change, Billy."
" Fuck , okay."
Billy's nails dig into Steve's thighs as his thrusts grow sloppier, even more eager than before. Steve's own nails are definitely leaving scratches on the leather of the driver's seat. Billy will be pissed when he notices. Maybe he'll find Steve and bend him over whatever surface is nearby. Y'know, as a punishment.
Steve can feel Billy tensing against his back, hears him let out a low grunt as his cock pulses inside of Steve, fills him with a scorching hot liquid.
It's so fucking good , Billy as deep inside of him as he can go, spurting his come all over Steve's walls. Leaving his mark. " Fuck ," Steve whines.
The wave of Steve's own orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks, his body clenching and his vision going black at the edges. He comes so hard, so forcefully that some of it actually hits his cheek. Unfortunately for him, he's still got his favorite jacket on. Didn't have half the mind to even consider taking it off before starting all this. Too late, now. It's got blood and dirt and come all over it. He'll stain treat it when he gets home.
Billy wipes Steve's cheek clean with his thumb. Brings it to his mouth and licks it , like the disgusting bastard he is.
Steve's gone boneless. Every muscle in his body is lax. He probably couldn't move if he tried. "Holy shit ."
After a while of basking, both of them start to go soft. Steve figures it probably isn't very comfortable for Billy, still being inside him. So with great effort, Steve lifts himself off Billy's lap, his dick sliding out with a filthy slurp.
Come starts to drip down his thighs. Steve's already done enough damage to the interior of Billy's car. Out of pure generosity, Steve pulls up both his briefs and his jeans before he rolls himself over to the passenger side. The feeling of come leaking out of him and seeping into his briefs is as gross as it is incredibly hot. Kinda like Billy.
Billy looks like he's still caught in that post orgasm haze. "Why haven't I fucked you before?"
Steve lolls his head to the side to look at him. "'Cause you're a coward. And you've got an ego the size of the Empire State. Maybe you didn't want to hurt your pride. Maybe you thought that doing so would mean you'd have to admit something to yourself and you weren't ready for it. Maybe you knew that I'm way out of your league. Maybe you–"
Billy laughs, genuine. "I fucking hate you."
Steve laughs with him. "Ditto."
"We should do this again sometime."
"Oh yeah. Totally."
Hopefully next time they'll be able to refrain from beating the shit out of each other beforehand.