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Steve scratched at the label of his beer bottle, listening to his cell phone ring. Idly, he wondered if Billy might finally give up, after this try. He’d called three times already.
The phone went quiet, leaving Steve alone again in the silence of his dark house. It was eerily still without the ringing, no sounds but Steve’s breathing and the ticking clock on the bookshelf. He’d been sitting on the couch for a while, sort of zoned out, staring at the Edward Hopper painting that had hung on the wall since he was a kid.
Steve knew he should get up and do something. Go for a walk. Smoke some weed, maybe, to change his mood around. Hell, maybe even call Billy back. But anything other than taking small, steady sips of his beer felt impossibly hard.
The phone started ringing again, interrupting his catatonic state. He stared at the blue Nokia, watching it light up, and considered throwing it across the room.
It had been a mistake, letting it slip to Billy that his parents would be out of town. He didn’t want him here. Didn’t want him in his space. Didn’t want to see him, to have to look him in the eye and pretend everything was cool. He didn’t think he could manage that tonight.
But Billy had always been a stubborn fuck. He was like a dog with a bone, when he got a whiff of something he wanted. And he’d sure as shit found something he wanted. Not Steve, necessarily. But the empty Harrington house, and the well-stocked liquor cabinet that came with it. He probably wouldn’t say no to the blow job he’d more than likely be able to coax out of Steve, either. Chances were, he’d just keep calling. Over and over, until Steve lost his fucking mind.
Screw it, Steve thought, then scrambled to pick up the call before it could cut out again.
“What the fuck do you want,” he said, annoyed to be talking, huffing through the receiver.
“Who pissed in your beer?”
“I said: What do you want, Billy?” Steve wasn’t even sure why he was asking. He already knew why Billy was calling.
“I thought we were gonna party.”
“Ha,” said Steve. He’d thought so, too. Right up until yesterday.
“So, can I, like, come over?” And Billy really had a lot of nerve.
“I’m not really in the mood.”
“C’mon man. I already—I told my dad not to wait up.” Steve hated that he knew Billy now. Because he heard that little catch in Billy’s voice, and he knew what it meant. Billy couldn't go home tonight, whether Steve let him come over or not.
Steve sighed again, and ran his fingers through his hair. When had Billy fucking Hargrove’s problems become Steve’s problems too?
“Jesus Christ, Billy. Alright. Come over, man.”
It was stupid that Steve went and took a shower after they hung up. He figured he had about ten minutes, twenty max, before Billy got to his place, so he kept it quick. Focused on the parts that counted. He scrubbed at his balls, and wondered why he even cared. It’s not like Billy ever did.
They'd been hooking up for a while now, and it had been fleeting and fast every time. In the back seat of Steve’s car, more often than not, out by the quarry or parked off some gravel road. Panting breaths, jeans unzipped and pulled halfway down their thighs, lights off, fast and furious and desperate not to get caught. No time to be offended by funky smells or cramped muscles. No time for much at all, besides blowing their loads.
Steve hated it. He had always liked what came after—the cuddling, the holding each other and breathing each other in. Had always missed it with Billy. Had been craving it more and more, each time it was missing.
Inviting Billy over into his empty house had seemed like such a smart idea at the time. He’d brought it up after the last time they hooked up, while the jizz was still drying on his stomach. Billy had agreed easily, laughing, and made some joke about stealing all of daddy Harrington’s expensive scotch.
But later, after they'd spent twenty minutes driving down country roads back into the subdivision where Billy's car was, when they were fully dressed and not touching each other, Billy seemed different. Strangely on edge about the whole thing.
“They leave Friday morning?” he confirmed, still sitting in Steve’s front seat, a block down from his Impreza. He was staring straight out of the windshield in front of him, refusing to meet Steve’s eye.
“Yep,” Steve replied, doing his best not to sound too eager.
“Could I, like, stay all weekend?” Billy’s voice was weirdly strained when he asked, like he was afraid of what Steve would say.
Steve stared at Billy, trying to figure him out. Not that he ever really managed to understand what was going on inside of Billy’s head.
He was surprised Billy would want to spend that much time with him, if he was being honest. Billy always kind of seemed like he had one foot out the door. Then again, there was a good chance Billy just wanted to get away from his dick of a dad for a couple of days.
So Steve nodded. “Sure,” he said, carefully indifferent. “If you want.”
“If I want?” Billy replied. He turned to look at Steve, and Steve thought maybe he’d given Billy the wrong answer.
“I mean, that sounds fine.”
Billy kept looking at him, like he was trying to read his mind. Steve hoped he couldn’t, because it would be embarrassing if Billy knew just how excited he was at the prospect of spending the whole weekend together. Especially if Billy was just using him for his empty house.
“Fine,” Billy said, finally, when he was done staring Steve down. “Whatever. See you later, Harrington.” Then he was gone, out the passenger door, swaggering down the road.
Steve shrugged off Billy’s weird brusqueness, too caught up in the way his stomach fluttered at the idea of him and Billy all alone in his house. Billy was always weird like that, anyway.
Steve spent the next week fantasizing about what he and Billy would do. About drinking beers naked in the hot tub, spending all day in bed, eating chips and playing Xbox and getting high. He kept wanting to talk to Billy about it, to share the plans in his head, to ask what he wanted for dinner on Friday. Steve’s mom would leave him some money. They could order in pizza if they felt like it.
But he kept putting it off. Billy didn’t like them seeming too friendly at school, and was weird about using ICQ or answering Steve’s calls. So Steve just waited, hoping Billy would reach out.
Steve finally gave in on Friday afternoon, when he still hadn’t heard from Billy. He tried calling his cell phone when he got home from school, then sent a text a little while later when he didn't answer and didn't call back.
“r u coming over 2nite?” he typed out carefully over T9, holding his breath as he hit send.
Billy never replied, which shouldn't have been a surprise considering Billy didn't text very often. He was on a pay-as-you-go plan and cheap as fuck. It still sucked, though.
Steve stayed up til midnight, just in case, then shut off all the lights in the house and went to bed. When he woke up the next morning, he felt raw, rubbed open, and his head pounded from the way he’d held back his stupid fucking tears the night before. He felt like an idiot. Billy was always making him feel like shit, and he kept letting him.
So he made a resolution. He was done with Billy. Whatever this thing had been between them, it was over.
He felt anxious all day. Channel surfed, puttered around, survived mostly on cereal and the cold cuts his mom had left in the fridge. Thought about doing his homework, then cleaned his room instead.
When night fell, he found himself sitting on the couch, wondering when he'd become such a loser. Like, he knew when. He just hadn’t gotten used to how fucked up he was, these days. He opened a beer, and had a conversation with himself about how it was a bad idea to get drunk on his own. He still hadn’t quite won that argument when Billy started blowing up his phone.
Four calls. Four calls, and he was picking up. It was pathetic, really, how quickly Billy managed to break down his resolve.
—
Steve’s skin was still damp from the shower when the doorbell rang. He jogged down the stairs, zipping up his jeans on the way.
It wasn’t fair how good Billy looked on Steve’s front porch. The yellow glow of the porch light made him look like an angel, even in his ratty-ass track pants and hoodie. Billy always looked good, though. That was, like, his defining personality feature.
“You gonna invite me in or what?” he said, when Steve just stood there with his arms crossed.
Steve shrugged, then moved out of the way so Billy could come inside. He led him down the hall into the living room, before collapsing onto the couch. He didn’t want to look at Billy, so he sat there, picking at the frayed edge of the hole in his jeans, waiting for Billy to speak.
“You pissed at me or something?” Billy finally asked, after a long moment of silence.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t fucking know, Harrington. I don’t remember doing anything that would set you off, but I can sure as shit smell the PMS coming off of you.”
Steve looked up, ran his hands through his hair. He was probably making a mess out of it. On a normal day, Billy would rag on him for it, call him a parakeet or something because of the way it tended to stick up. On a normal day, Steve would be happy for the tease. Would smile softly and try to ignore how hard his heart was beating, just because of Billy's attention.
But Billy didn’t say anything. He just looked at him, all intense, like he was trying to figure him out. He seemed totally clueless. Like blowing Steve off the night before hadn’t even crossed his radar as something he should feel bad about.
If Billy didn’t get that, Steve wasn’t going to tell him. The last thing he needed was Billy knowing he’d spent most of the weekend acting like a big, dumb baby about it. It was a casual thing between them, anyway. He wasn’t supposed to care.
“Don’t worry about it, man. I’m just in a shitty mood,” he said, instead of explaining.
“Well unshitty it. You're being a downer.”
“Sure, Billy. Thanks. I'll get right on that.” Steve sounded pissy and sour, even to himself. But he couldn’t have helped it if he’d tried.
For a moment, Billy seemed to hover on the edge of anger, like he might pick up Steve’s tone and say something shitty right back. But he took a deep breath, and his face shifted, and suddenly he was smiling, all crooked and playful. “Bet I can help,” he said, looking up at Steve through his long, dark eyelashes.
Then Billy was dropping down onto the carpet and crawling up between Steve’s knees. Steve almost wanted to stop him. Not that his dick wasn’t already starting to perk up at the way Billy’s fingers were tracing up his thighs. But it wasn’t what Steve wanted. At least not yet. He was still pissed, and the whole point of the empty house thing was that they could take their time. Hang out, drink some beers or whatever first. Billy had barely been there five minutes and he was already on his knees.
Still, Steve let him unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. Lifted his ass so Billy could get them off. Did nothing when Billy got ahold of his dick and jerked him until he was fully hard. He hated himself, just a little, for the way he gasped in anticipation when he felt Billy’s breath on his skin.
Billy was really good at giving head. It was one of the fundamental problems in Steve’s life. He had other problems, too. Like the constant fear that interdimensional monsters would start crawling around Hawkins again. But that was more of an intangible issue. Billy, on the other hand, was right fucking in front of him.
Steve spent the first half of high school trying to sweet talk girls into sucking his dick, after getting his first blow job at fourteen and losing his mind over the hot, wet heat. He’d been pretty successful at it, too. Got to have a reputation as a bit of a player, before Nancy came along.
So he knew what he was talking about when he said that Billy was good.
It was mostly because he was so enthusiastic about it. Most girls—even Nancy—treated giving head like a bit of a chore. But Billy fucking loved it. Sucked Steve down like a starving man at a buffet. Looked up at Steve from where he was kneeling between his legs on the living room carpet, cheeks red and spit dripping down his mouth, then closed his eyes and swallowed til he choked.
And really, how the fuck was Steve supposed to actually end things, when Billy went down on him like that? Like, who in their right mind would actually walk away from head that good? So maybe it was his stupid feelings that were the actual problem. If he could just learn to keep them in check, everything would be fine.
It only took a few minutes before Steve started to feel his balls tighten. Billy was really going for broke tonight. Like he was competing with himself to see how fast he could make Steve come. Steve thought about trying to hold off, just to be a dick, because he didn’t want it fast like this, and he was sort of pissed Billy did. But Billy would probably make him pay for it later. So he went with it, rode the wave, and blew his load down Billy’s throat.
Billy swallowed every last drop, kept sucking until it got to be too much and Steve had to push him off. Then he leaned back, wiped his mouth, and pulled down his pants. He was tenting something fierce in his boxers, and he held Steve’s eye as he reached for himself. Steve watched, mesmerized, as Billy jerked himself off. As his dick, fat and red, spurted all over his hard abs.
Steve swallowed down the sight. Billy was so hot it hurt. Steve knew he’d be jacking off to the memory of it later. It was so rare that he got to properly see Billy like that, all panting and fucked out. They were always hooking up in the dark. Normally, he couldn’t see shit.
Maybe telling Billy about the empty house hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all.
“Did I manage to turn your mood around, sunshine?” Billy asked through his grin, once he’d caught his breath.
“Not sure,” Steve said, even though he was biting back a smile. Fucking Billy. “You might have to try again.”
“Give a man a breather. Jesus, Harrington,” Billy said, but he was laughing. Then he stood up and grabbed a wad of Kleenex from the box Steve’s mom always kept on the coffee table.
“Want to get high?” he asked, once he was done wiping himself down.
Steve nodded, then stood up and pulled on his jeans. He’d been sort of worried that Billy was about to leave. Now that he was here, he really didn’t want him to go.
—
Billy was kind of shit at rolling joints. He was always too impatient to do it right. The joint he’d brought burned badly as they passed it back and forth, standing on the flagstones in the backyard. Steve was only a little stoned by the time they stubbed it out, but he didn’t really mind. He felt sort of wired, anyway, just from having Billy nearby.
Steve was high enough that the stars looked extra pretty, at least. It was a nice night. Still cold, but finally warm enough to be outside in just a hoodie. Steve tipped his head back, looking at the clear night sky.
“Where’s the Big Dipper?” he asked, because you could normally see that one, couldn’t you?
“Literally right there, dummy,” Billy said, grabbing his skull and turning it just a little bit to the right. It should have felt shitty, how Billy called him dumb, but Billy’s fingers were gentle on the back of his head. He kept them there, softly scritching at Steve's scalp.
Billy could be indulgent like that. He knew Steve was weak for having his head scratched, so he just, like, did it sometimes, without Steve having to ask. Even Nancy had never done that. Steve didn’t really understand why Billy did.
“Oh yeah,” Steve said, afraid that talking would make Billy stop. “Do you know any other constellations?”
“Shit, I dunno. Orion, I guess. I think that’s it over there.”
“Cool,” Steve said. “I wish I knew them better.”
“Me too.”
Billy’s fingers had travelled to Steve’s neck now, and were touching him just right. Squeezing gently, working out the tension that was always in Steve's shoulders, these days. He kind of wanted Billy to keep going forever. But the longer they stood there, the more the April night’s chill settled down on his bones. It made Steve shiver, and that was all it took to make Billy’s hand disappear.
“Shit,” Steve said. “It’s getting cold. You want to go in?”
Billy shrugged. “If you want.”
Steve didn’t really want. He was worried they’d settle into their normal sort of routine. Posted up by the TV, playing Xbox, just two dudes being dudes.
“Or, there’s the hot tub,” Steve said after a moment, feeling more nervous than he should have, considering Billy had just had his dick down his throat.
“I didn’t bring my suit.”
“I wasn’t really...planning on wearing one,” Steve said, looking at Billy with his eyebrows arched. He’d thought that much, at least, should have been obvious.
Billy laughed, bright and loudly into the night. “You trying to get into my pants?”
“I mean, you already got into mine. So.” Steve felt his cheeks heat up as he spoke. They didn’t normally talk about hooking up so head on like that, unless they were in the middle of doing it. Normally, they just talked in stupid euphemisms, like ‘do you want to go for a drive?’ or whatever.
But Billy just laughed again and nudged him softly on the shoulder. “Lead the way.”
So Steve went around the corner to turn the heat up on the tub, then brought Billy inside so they could collect towels and beer.
“Be careful with this,” Steve said, handing a bottle over to Billy once they were back outside. “My dad’s so fucking anal about having glass out here.”
Billy accepted, then pretended to almost drop the damn thing. It made Steve’s heart drop through his stomach, envisioning the brown glass smashing on the concrete. His dad was so fucking weird. He turned a blind eye if Steve snagged a few beers out of the garage, but god forbid he break a bottle.
“Ah-ha,” Billy said, jostling him, joking. “You should see your face.”
“Dick.”
“I’m just playing.”
Steve should have been pissed, but Billy shot him one of those special smiles of his that made him weak in the knees. Like his whole focus was on Steve. Like that smile was just for him and no one else.
So Steve let it slide, then got Billy to help him pull the cover the rest of the way off the hot tub. It smelled of chlorine, and sent white wisps of steam into the cold night. Steve dipped his fingers in to check the temperature. It felt good, so he shook his hand dry and started pulling off his clothes. He stripped all the way down, leaving his blue plaid boxers for last.
Billy wasn’t far behind. Steve only got a quick glance at his nakedness before it was disappearing under the white foam of the tub. He settled in across from Steve and leaned back, taking a big glug from his beer.
“This is pretty sweet,” he said.
Steve just shrugged. He didn’t really use the hot tub very often. Tommy used to twist his arm about going in, back when they were still hanging out. And he’d used it with Nancy a few times. But mostly it didn’t feel worth it, since his parents would get on his ass about checking the chlorine levels or whatever if he used it too much.
But being naked with Billy in it was nice. Knowing he could reach out and touch and not encounter any fabric was enough to have him chubbing up again, just a little.
Steve was halfway through his beer when he started to feel Billy’s toes on his leg. He didn’t say anything about it, just kept talking, pretending Billy’s foot wasn’t creeping up higher and higher towards his thigh. He spread his legs, though. Let him in. Let him discover the way his dick was already mostly hard again from the way Billy was feeling him up.
He let out an embarrassing squeak when Billy’s foot started rubbing up against him properly. Billy just smirked and kept at it, effectively killing the conversation and replacing it with the sound of Steve’s heavy breath.
“Fuck,” he groaned out, then grabbed at Billy’s leg and pulled him close.
Billy went. And suddenly, Steve found himself with a lapful of hot, naked boy. It was sort of overwhelming, because they’d never been properly naked together before. Which was weird, when Steve thought about it. For the first time, he got to fully indulge in the wide expanses of Billy’s silky skin, in his broad chest, his trim waist, the surprising plushness at the inside of his thighs. They’d been doing it all wrong, until now.
Billy was hard. He was grinding down on Steve, and Steve could feel him, hot and rubbing against his stomach and dick. Billy’s tongue was in his mouth, lapping at his neck, and fuck, Steve’s head was spinning. The hot tub and the weed and the beer and Billy’s warm breath were making him feel all kinds of high.
He ground back against Billy. And god. He wanted—They’d never fucked before. He’d never even tried, never thought for a second that Billy would let him. But he couldn’t help but picture it now, with the way Billy was moving on him, naked ass so close to his dick.
“You’re so hot,” he breathed, tracing a hand down Billy’s back and grabbing at his ass. Billy seemed to like that. He kissed him deeper, more ferociously, as Steve squeezed his hand. His fingers were dipping, just a little, into Billy’s crack. Maybe. Maybe Billy was thinking about it, too.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” Steve whispered, pulling away from Billy just long enough to get the words out.
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Yeah.”
They scrambled out of the tub, butt naked and shivering in the cool spring air. Steve made them stay outside long enough to put the cover back on, Billy teasing him for being uptight the whole time. But Billy helped clean up, scooping up their empty beers and placing them carefully on the counter, far away from the edge.
—
Billy’s hair was damp when Steve spread him out on his bed. It made the little blonde hairs around his face spring up into soft, frizzy curls. He looked almost pretty like that, with his bright blue eyes. Steve bit his lip to stop himself from saying something about it.
Billy was laying back against the pillows, so Steve climbed on top of him, pressed up against Billy’s hot skin. Then he bent down and kissed him, long and deep. He could feel the hot iron of Billy’s boner against his thigh. Billy was rubbing it against him, and Steve was grinding right back.
Jesus, it felt good.
Steve could have kept going, could have come just like that. But he hadn’t forgotten the way he’d been feeling in the hot tub.
He grabbed at Billy’s ass and rolled them over, so they were laying on their sides. Kept grabbing. Noticed Billy didn’t stutter when Steve’s fingers dipped into his crack again. Billy just kept rubbing up against him and kissing him deep. So Steve kept squeezing, kept letting his fingers wander.
“Have you ever…?” Steve started, then stopped, afraid Billy was about to deck him.
“What?” Billy asked, still humping up against him.
“Like, done anal?”
Billy stopped moving then, and looked up at Steve, right in the eye. “Have you?”
Steve had tried once, with Nancy. Had sort of tried to poke back there in the middle of having sex with her. She’d pushed him away, and told him in no uncertain terms that it was never, ever, going to happen. It hadn’t stopped Steve from sort of obsessing about the idea, though.
“No,” he said, honestly, completely unsure whether that was the answer Billy wanted to hear.
“Me neither.”
Steve’s hand was still on Billy’s ass. His fingers were grazing against his hole. He moved them, just a little. “Do you want to?”
“You want to, like, what? Fuck me?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, looking Billy right in the eye.
Billy paused for a moment, then nodded. “Fuck it,” he said. “Sure.”
—
Steve didn’t really know what he was doing. But he’d Googled it a bit. Knew enough that you couldn’t just stick it in. He pushed Billy back onto the bed, then climbed up between his thighs, bending them back so he could get a better view.
It left Billy exposed. He stayed like that, letting Steve look, and it was sort of incredible because Steve would have been squirming in that position. But Billy was a badass, and didn’t seem bothered at all.
Steve poked at Billy with his thumb, and watched as his body gave way, just a bit. The skin was dry, so he collected some spit on his fingers and rubbed it in. It was intriguing, watching the way Billy’s body responded to even that little bit of pressure. Sort of amazing, actually. But he knew he’d need to do a bit more to be able to get his dick inside.
More spit. More spit was probably good. So, without thinking too hard, he pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his tongue. It just seemed easier, like it would be faster. He wasn’t at all prepared for the way Billy shuddered when he made contact.
He froze for a second, thinking maybe Billy didn’t like it. But Billy pressed back against him and moaned, legs still spread wide. So Steve kept going, assumed it was probably the good kind of shudder.
Steve had just wanted to get Billy wet. But it was cool, the way those tiny muscles gave way, the more Steve tongued at him. Steve kept going, kept pushing his way further in. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. It was so fucking hot having Billy’s body relent to him like that.
Billy seemed into it, too. He was rocking back onto him, jerking at himself, and Steve thought maybe it was time.
“Hang on,” he said, then clambered over Billy to get to his bedside table.
Steve had gone to the drug store earlier in the week to pick up some condoms and lube. He’d spent most of the day feeling stupid about it, but now it felt like sort of a genius move. Even though he wasn’t sure if they really needed condoms. It wasn’t like Billy could get pregnant. But, like, STDs existed. So. Probably condoms were good.
Steve crawled back between Billy’s legs, then pumped himself a few times before tearing open the condom package and rolling it on. He felt oddly self-conscious as he did, knowing that Billy was watching him. Knowing they both knew what was about to happen.
“You ok?” he asked, before doing anything else.
Billy closed his eyes for a second, swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Jesus.”
Steve clicked open the KY bottle, then squeezed some of the cold, slick liquid out onto his fingers. Billy shuddered a bit as Steve rubbed it onto him, but didn’t otherwise react. Although he did let out a quiet grunt when Steve pushed a finger inside of him. It was weird how easily it went in. How much more relaxed Billy was than when they’d started.
Steve squeezed more lube out, rubbed it onto the latex covering his dick, then took a deep breath. He couldn’t quite believe Billy was letting him do this. Then he grabbed ahold of himself and sought out Billy’s hole.
It didn’t quite work. He kept pushing, but it wouldn’t go in, until finally Billy gave him a light shove on his shoulder. “Check your aim, man,” he said.
He sounded gruff, annoyed, and Steve really, really, didn’t want this to be bad for him. So he thought for a minute, then grabbed Billy’s thighs and tugged him to the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor, looking down at Billy, splayed out and waiting for him. All taut muscles and messy waves and blue eyes. He was the hottest person Steve had ever boned, or would be, if Steve could just figure out how to properly get his dick inside.
He bent down and kissed Billy. Relaxed a bit when Billy kissed him back. He ran his hands up Billy’s thighs, pushing his bent legs back towards him. The angle looked better. Billy’s asshole was right there. So Steve grabbed himself again, lined up, and pushed in. He gasped out a strangled breath when he actually sank inside.
“Fuck,” Billy groaned, and Steve froze. Billy was biting his lip, and his boner was down to half-mast.
“Shit, do I need to stop?” Steve asked, hoping that Billy’s answer would be no. He was barely inside of him, and he was already losing his mind with how good it felt.
“Nah,” Billy said, breathing out hard through his nose. “It’s just intense. I can take it.”
“K,” Steve said. “Fucking pinch me or something if you want me to get out.”
So Steve kept going, slowly sinking deeper as Billy took long, ragged breaths. He stopped when he bottomed out, letting Billy get used to him, find his bearings.
“You gonna fuck me or what?” Billy asked, when Steve had been still for more than a moment.
“Shut up,” Steve said, then bent down and kissed Billy. Just once, softly on the mouth. “I’m moving.”
Billy was silent and still as Steve started bucking his hips. Like he was afraid to breathe. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he started pinching at his nipple, hard. And Steve—he was drowning in how good it felt, but he really, really wanted it to be good for Billy, too.
“Are you liking this?” he asked, and Billy let out a breath.
“Uh. Could we, like, try more lube?”
“Of course, man,” Steve said, and pulled out carefully, gingerly, before groping around in the sheets for the KY.
He squeezed out probably more than he needed. He was careful, tender, when he rubbed it inside of Billy, first with one finger, and then two. Billy seemed to like that, so he kept at, slowly fucking Billy with his hand.
“Fuck,” Steve said, watching Billy buck into it. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”
Billy seemed to be really getting off on it now, was letting out strained little gasps as he moved. Reluctantly, Steve pulled his hand out, then found the KY again. He squeezed more onto himself, figuring it was better to be over-generous, after the way Billy had asked.
Billy seemed so much more relaxed when Steve pushed back inside. He moaned from the back of his throat, breathing hard as Steve bottomed out.
“Is that better?” Steve asked.
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Yeah. Fuck.”
And yeah, it really was fucking better. Billy was moving with him now, breath hot and hard against Steve’s ear. For a while, that’s all there was. Just the two of them, gliding together, sharing breath.
God. Steve felt—It had never been like this with Nancy, with any of the girls he’d been with. He’d never felt someone match him like this, almost fucking him back.
Why the hell had they never done this before?
Steve had a goal in mind now. He wanted to make Billy come. Because Steve really needed to come, and he needed Billy to come first. So he kept fucking him, hard and steady, like Nancy had always told him she liked.
“Jerk yourself off,” he told Billy, whispering in his ear.
Billy did what he was told, started jacking himself in time with Steve’s thrusts. Steve backed up a bit to give him space, and the view from up there blew his mind. Billy looked so good, all lost in pleasure.
He watched as Billy’s pace grew more frantic, as his face scrunched, until finally his hips started stuttering. Steve fucked him through it, watching Billy spew hot, milky jizz onto his chest.
And thank fuck, because Steve didn’t really think he could have held off much longer. Billy came, and then Steve was coming too, filling the condom inside Billy’s ass. Steve was amazed, sort of, at how hard he was coming, considering it was his second orgasm of the night.
“Jesus,” Steve said, pulling out of Billy, carefully.
He stood up and looked around on the floor, then picked up one of the damp towels they’d used for the hot tub. He wiped Billy down with it, clearing away the cooling jizz from his skin, trying not to think about the load of laundry he’d have to do before his parents got home.
Billy was quiet when Steve joined him on the bed. Steve put his arm out, not quite around Billy, just sort of loosely laying on his leg. He hoped Billy might curl into him, but he didn’t. Only let Steve touch him for a moment before he started to fidget.
“I’m nasty,” he said. “Can I take a shower?”
Steve didn’t really want Billy to get out of bed yet, but it would have been a dick move to say no. So he led Billy down the hall, got out another fresh towel, and then went and collapsed back onto his bed. Waiting.
Billy took a long time in the shower. Too long. Five minutes turned into ten turned into twenty. And Steve kept lying there, feeling worse and worse for every second that ticked by. He stared at the wall and felt suddenly, stupidly lonely.
He was almost asleep by the time Billy came back. Or maybe he was just completely zoned out. That happened to him a lot, lately. Either way, he jumped a bit when Billy started to speak.
“Can I, um, crash here?” Billy asked, from where he was standing just by the bed.
Steve couldn’t really explain why that hurt. It was just—Like, duh, of course Billy could crash. Steve had been expecting it, hadn’t really even considered that Billy might leave. He’d felt so in sync with Billy when he was inside of him. Like Billy got it. And now, Billy was acting like they were barely even friends.
“Ya,” agreed, monosyllabically, because he was annoyed, but he wasn’t going to kick the guy out.
“Thanks,” Billy said, then Steve felt the bed dip as Billy crawled up behind him.
Steve hoped for a moment that Billy would come close, maybe spoon him or something. But he didn’t, and the gap he left between their bodies felt like it was a mile wide.
Steve could hear the sound of Billy breathing behind him. They lay like that for a long time. Steve thought maybe they’d just fall asleep that way, awkwardly. And then in the morning, Billy would leave, and Steve would have no idea where they stood.
But then, in the dark room, Billy spoke. “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” he asked.
“No,” Steve said. He didn’t feel mad. Just sad, mostly. Because it was clear to him now that he couldn’t keep doing this. That he had to end it, and that it would hurt when he did.
“You’re acting weird.”
So are you, Steve wanted to say. “Just tired,” he said, instead.
“You gonna tell me why you were pissed in the first place?”
Steve said nothing for a long time. Just stared at the wall, at the dull, grey patch of moonlight that filtered in from his window. It flickered a bit with how the trees swayed in the wind. “What happened to you last night, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought—You were supposed to come over, weren’t you?” Steve couldn’t have explained why he felt so panicked when he spoke. Maybe because he was sure this was the thing that would break them.
“Was I?” Billy said, and he sounded so surprised that suddenly Steve was angry all over again.
“What the fuck, Billy. Yeah.” Steve was sitting up now, looking down at Billy. “We made plans. You said ‘Can I stay all weekend?’ and I said ‘Yes’ and then you didn’t show and didn’t even bother to let me know you weren’t going to come.”
“Oh,” said Billy. He sounded defeated, which was not a way Steve had ever heard Billy sound before. “I thought I was, like, cutting you a break.”
“What?”
“You were all ‘I guess, if you want to, Billy,’ ‘If you really need to, Billy.’ Like, I can tell when I’m not wanted. Jesus.”
“I—” Steve started, then found himself at a complete loss for words, the wind utterly gone from his sails.
Carefully, he reached out and touched Billy on the naked skin of his shoulder. Billy flinched away, but relaxed into the touch when Steve tried again. “I actually really wanted you here.”
“Then why the fuck were you acting so shady about it?” Billy was vibrating, somewhere between angry and sad.
And Steve couldn’t really say anything about that. Because he had been acting nonchalant about the whole thing, on purpose, and it had seemed like such a smart idea at the time. It seemed so stupid, now. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said, because that was the truth.
“Don’t say shit like that about yourself.”
“I am though,” Steve said. He was curling towards Billy now, playing with his hair, and Billy was still stiff, but letting him. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I was really looking forward to it.”
“I wish I’d fucking known that. I hung out with Tommy last night, and had to listen to him go on and on about the Colts like I give a shit.”
Steve didn't mean to laugh. But Billy had just described half of Steve’s high school experience, he really didn’t miss those days at all. “Sounds brutal,” he said. And then he continued, softly, almost whispering. “I wish you’d known that, too. I was really bummed that you didn’t show.”
“Shit,” Billy said. “This is stupid.”
Billy relaxed then, curled back into Steve, slotted their legs together. His face was buried into Steve’s neck, and his hand was running up and down Steve’s back. It made Steve feel brave. He thought maybe Billy would listen, if he tried to explain.
“When I was with Nancy,” he started, after a moment. “I was, like, really in love with her. And she knew it.”
Billy pulled back at that. Stared at him, brow all crinkled, like it always was when Nancy came up. But he seemed to get that Steve had a point he was trying to make, so he waited patiently, hand resting on Steve’s waist.
“I thought she felt the same way, but as it turns out, she wasn’t really into it,” Steve continued. “She broke up with me because of it, and it made me feel like such a loser. And I just. Don’t want to ever feel that way again.”
“I don’t get what that has to do with me.”
Steve thought that it should have been obvious. That it was clear he liked Billy so much more than Billy liked him. Because Billy always clammed up when Steve touched him when they weren’t hooking up, always got so stiff when Steve did anything that hinted that he cared. But they were talking about it now, so he figured he may as well lay all of his cards on the table.
“I'm really into you, Billy,” he said, sort of holding his breath.
Billy was quiet, staring past Steve, over his head at the wall. It would have made Steve feel like an idiot for admitting how he felt. Except. Except Billy was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, kept moving his fingers, all gentle and soft.
“You get so weird when I’m nice to you,” Steve said finally, when it was clear Billy wasn’t going to say anything at all.
It took Billy a long moment to reply. “I don’t really know how else to be,” he said finally, still refusing to meet Steve’s eye.
“Should I just, like, never be nice, then?”
“No,” Billy said, shaking his head, still touching the back of Steve’s neck, so delicately. “That’s stupid. I know I’m fucking weird about it, but that’s just. It’s a me-problem, you know?”
“Not really,” Steve said, because he was still pretty confused about where their conversation was actually going.
“Fuck,” Billy said, then he closed his eyes, buried his face in Steve’s neck. “I'm really into you, too.” Steve could feel each word punctuated by little puffs of Billy’s breath.
“Oh,” Steve said. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s because you’re dumb.”
And Steve couldn’t help but laugh, because—”I thought you said I shouldn’t call myself shit like that.”
“You shouldn’t. But I fucking can.”
It was weird Billy-speak, but Steve sort of thought he understood what Billy meant. So he put his hand on Billy’s cheek and pulled him up, so he could kiss him on the forehead, the cheek, the mouth. Billy kissed him back, lips soft and tender in the dark.
They lay together, just breathing, for a long time, until Billy fell asleep on Steve’s chest. And Steve thought, at least for now, that it was enough.