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They're sleeping over. In Tommy's house. Steve hasn't been there since they were both, like, fourteen years old. But Billy egged Tommy into letting Steve come over.
It happens after practice in the showers. ‘Cause there's no better time to invite him along to a sleepover (which they're not referring to as a sleepover because Jesus Christ) than when they're all naked.
Billy's pretty adamant, though. Like. In that sort of bullying, sort-of-serious kind of way. All like, “C'mon, Hagan, weren't you two gals the best of friends? Don't leave the Princess out.” So. Tommy invites King Steve to tag along and hang out with the peasants.
The sleepover-not-sleepover consists of the three of them eating junk food and watching Jaws. And Billy will not quit trying to fucking scare them. Randomly turning to either Steve or Tommy and grabbing at them with a wild shout.
And it works.
Every time.
Steve spills more popcorn than he's proud of.
They keep at it, watching the sequel and everything. Billy pinches Tommy's neck whenever he catches him dozing off. Shoulders Steve before he does it, too, just to have a witness.
And, like, Steve still isn't over getting the shit beaten out of him. Like, ow. That shit hurt. Thanks. But it's sort of funny when Tommy squeals awake with a jolt, slapping Billy away.
Billy just cackles wildly while Steve turns away ‘cause he doesn't wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing he finds anything he does to be funny.
They're, like, enemies or something.
The movie continues and Tommy makes a conscious effort to keep his eyes open. Bouncing his leg. Stuffing his face. Jaws 2 plays up to the third quarter, until Tommy’s yawns grow louder than the fucking TV and Billy slaps him upside the head. “Bedtime, Hagan, you're driving me fucking nuts. Where are we sleeping?”
Tommy doesn't like sharing a bed, never has, and he can't sleep if there's anyone in his space. So, he leaves Billy and Steve to sort themselves out in the guest room.
And, honestly, it works out pretty easily. Billy offers to take the floor. Steve makes himself comfortable in the bed he's been sleeping in since forever. Things stay like that for a while. That is until Steve hears Billy bite out a curse. Then stand. And, would you look at that, the duvet is lifted.
Billy grunts, “Floor’s fucking uncomfortable, shove over.”
“Are you serious right now?” Steve is promptly pushed aside with, like, way more force than necessary. “Jesus, alright, man.”
Billy squeezes in beside him. Snug under the sheets. He's not wearing a shirt. But when does Billy wear a shirt? It's kind of, like. Weird. Having another person right beside him as he sleeps. Especially someone who's beat the shit out of him.
What if Billy kills him in his sleep or something? He's got that hair-trigger temper, after all. What if Steve snores and Billy gets pissed off enough to, like, smush him with a pillow ‘til he suffocates?
That would suck. Tommy's a pretty heavy sleeper. Didn't even wake up that time Steve gave his elderly dog a fucking panic attack when he stumbled trying to find the bathroom at 4:00AM.
So. If Billy felt like it, he'd totally be able to get away with murdering Steve, right now. Well. At least the act of it. Maybe not the whole prison time part.
Almost as if he can read Steve's mind, Billy kicks his calf. He's not wearing socks. “Quit thinking so hard and turn on your side. Away from me.” Another kick. Harder. “C'mon, Harrington, don't be such a little pussy. I'm not gonna hurt ya.”
Steve rolls his eyes. Turns on his side. Billy would've probably forced him into this position, anyways. Might as well save himself from the manhandling.
He can practically feel Billy's wolfish smile. Billy slides closer. Pressing his chest to Steve's back and wrapping a heavy arm around him. Palm splayed on Steve's stomach.
“Alright, get the fuck away from me.” Steve elbows Billy hard in the ribs.
Billy holds Steve tighter. Sort of a death grip. Rough, muscles probably bulging just to keep him in place. Always messing with him. And, like, Billy's always domineering as shit, of course this is what he wanted to do. To treat him like some sort of prison bitch for entertainment.
Steve finally settles. No point in freaking the fuck out. Billy will eventually get bored once he realises Steve isn't gonna give him the reaction he wants. Which is probably violence. That or scandal.
“There,” Billy murmurs, “Now I’ll dream that I’m fucking some hot babe instead of sharing a bed with you.”
And Steve manages to fall asleep. Somehow. Probably ‘cause Billy's tight-ass boa grip has him losing air or something.
Eventually, though, Steve stirs awake. Not ‘cause he has to piss. Or anything normal like that. Billy is still wrapped around him. Bare chest pressing on Steve's back. And.
Oh.
He blinks. Brown eyes wide. Lips parted.
Oh fuck.
Billy's hand is still splayed over Steve's stomach. Steve's own hand is resting over it. So. Their hands are touching. Which is a little intimate. It feels different from a girl. Billy's hands are rough. From weight-lifting. From basketball. From fights. And. And…
Steve has to hold back a whimper. Oh. Jesus Christ. He thinks he knows what that hard thing pressing against his ass might be. Maybe he should, like, elbow Billy in the ribs or something. The result might be another black eye. But. Anything is better than this.
Steve is frozen, feels his heart jack-rabbit when Billy groans behind him. Firm chest presses closer. Billy's fucking warm. He squirms a little, sort of trying to nudge Billy away, but that only. Like. Makes him grind his ass on Billy's dick.
And the soft sigh that follows has Steve's face two seconds away from melting. He's blushing so hot it hurts.
Fuck. This is weird. This is so fucking weird. He needs to wake Billy up before it escalates. With Steve's luck, Billy'll start humping him in his sleep like a fucking dog. Thinking about whatever ‘hot babe’ he's fucked last.
A heavy sigh against his shoulder makes him tremble, goosebumps travelling over his skin. They’re so close. Too close. And, like, it’s not as if Billy isn’t constantly on top of him 24/7. But. This is different from manhandling and roughhousing.
Steve takes in a shaky breath. He could just circle his hips back and provide some friction for Billy’s cock. Maybe release will make Billy fucking roll away ‘til he falls off the mattress or something. Still. Weird, though. For Steve to imagine himself grinding on another guy’s cock ‘til he comes. Oh, shit. He’s getting hard. Is he gay? Is that what's happening?
‘Cause, like, as far as Billy knows he's just grinding against an ass. Not a guy's ass. Just an ass. That's not really gay ‘cause there's a fifty percent chance it's not a guy's ass. Steve, on the other hand, is pretty fucking aware that Billy is a guy. With a dick. That's hard and nudging his ass and he's strangely turned on by it.
And he's barely given any fucking time to really process this whole sexuality crisis bullshit because Billy starts shifting even more until they're both awake.
“Shit,” Billy hisses behind Steve, keeping his voice down to a whisper, “Harrington?”
After a few beats, “Yeah?”
“Jesus Christ. How long have you been awake?”
“Uh. For a while.” Steve’s face is on fire. He licks his lips. Whispers, “You can stay there. If… If you wanna.”
Billy's silent. Just. Dead fucking silent. Tension thick enough to slice with a knife. Palpable. Steve's heart is pounding. Billy is still behind him. He moves, not away, closer. Lips graze Steve's ear and he shivers. Fuck.
“Are you hard?”
This might be a mistake. Maybe he should say no. Should pretend to be weirded out. Grossed out. Like. Guys doing that sort of shit with other guys. That's weird. Still. Billy asked him a question. And, well, last he checked Billy doesn't appreciate liars.
Quietly, a little meek, Steve whispers, “Yeah.”
“You don't say a fucking word about this to anyone. If you do, you're dead. We understand each other, pretty boy?” Billy barely gives Steve time to answer before he starts again, “I said-”
“I fucking heard you, Hargrove.”
Billy starts slow. Just shifting his hips forward. Grinding on Steve's ass, rubbing up on him. It feels weird. Like. Like Steve should be moving too? It's sorta hot, though. To be used in a way.
He’s breathing heavily. Heart beating fast. Billy places his face into Steve’s hair and keeps that strong arm around his front. Big palm resting over flat belly. Steve hasn't been held in a long time. This is probably the first time in, like, months he's had such close contact. Y’know, aside from getting his ass whooped.
Billy’s thrusting and pulling Steve into him at the same time. Seeking further friction. Steve circles his hips back. The way girls have done for him before. Just. Grinds back on Billy’s dick.
The resounding groan from Billy makes him dizzy. So. Steve circles his hips again. And again, Matching the rhythm of Billy’s thrusts and feeling out that hard cock with every slide.
“Fuck yeah, grind on that dick, baby. Keep going.”
It almost felt a little too intimate, the two of them alone. Panting hotly in the dark. Spooning like… Steve’s stomach flips. God. Fucking boyfriends or something gay like that.
“Still hard, pretty boy?” Billy murmurs, blunt nails raking over Steve’s happy trail. His voice is low. Masculine.
Fuck. Steve clears his throat and tries to steady his breathing. Pent up and a little tense. Finally, he nods. Billy slowly journeys his hand downwards. From Steve’s lower abdomen to the waistband of his briefs. Steve catches his wrist. “Wait. What are…”
"Calming you down. Let go."
If he does, then that's it. Billy will be jerking him off. It won't just be, like, weird grinding. Dick to ass. Facing away. It'll be Billy's actual hand over his briefs. Feeling him. Touching him. Fuck. Steve lets go of Billy's wrist, exhaling shakily.
"There we go. That's it." Billy purrs and rubs over Steve’s underwear, feeling out the shape of his dick.
Steve shivers and presses against Billy, unable to silence the little moan that slips through rosy lips. Soft and flustered. He feels so good. Billy’s hand is rough. Sure. Like he knows what he’s doing and has done it a thousand times before.
Steve presses his face closer to the pillow, hips jolting when Billy squeezes him through his briefs. Another cry. Shit. He’s being loud. Tommy’s stupid dog is gonna fucking wake up.
Billy shushes him. Continues fondling him and can feel the wetness of Steve’s cock through the confines of his underwear.
"You're leaking."
"Yeah," Steve replies weakly. He circles his ass back onto Billy’s dick. Moans when Billy thrusts forward just in time for the friction to be harsher. Billy curses behind him. Sounds strained. And that has Steve fucking dripping. That he’s the one making Billy lose his cool like this.
Billy kisses his neck and Steve jumps at first, then melts beneath the sensation. Panting with little whimpers leaving his mouth. His grinds get more erratic.
"Take these off, pretty boy.”
Steve quickly takes off his briefs. Belatedly realises he’s acting like a fucking slut. For Billy-fucking-Hargrove.
Billy rests his hand on Steve’s hip before moving it to grope his ass, feeling out the fat of his flesh. Kneading it. Steve feels his face heat up when Billy squeezes his ass cheek, thumb prying it aside to let his cock slide against Steve’s ass crack.
And, Jesus Christ, Billy must’ve, like, lowered his boxers enough to take his own cock out. Because Steve can feel the shape of Billy’s hard dick without trouble. Can feel the wet tip leaking on his fucking hole.
“Fuck,” Steve moans. Hiding his face in the pillow while he grinds back.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you."
Billy sounds amused, maintaining his hold on Steve’s ass while he begins to thrust his cock against the heat of Steve’s crack.
“You want it, baby?”
His thumb wanders dangerously close to Steve’s hole, pulling on what hair is there. Steve moans. Fuck. What if Billy sinks a finger in? Would that hurt? They’d need, like, lube. Right? Or spit?
But spit dries up too quickly. Shit. Maybe Steve can risk waking up the Hagan’s while he searches for lube in the dark like a fucking cryptid or something.
The wet tip of Billy’s cock is nudging against his hole with every thrust. Blunt head catching on puffy rim. Barely pushing in and Steve fucking moans like a whore. Nuzzling into the pillow. Biting his lips while he pants, grinding back onto Billy’s cock, trying to get more.
"Oh, God, this is so fucking weird,” Steve whines.
Billy stops moving. “Do you wanna stop?”
And. No. Fuck no. Jesus fucking Christ. No.
Steve reaches behind himself, finds Billy's bare skin and tries to encourage him to keep going.
“No, no, I want it, Hargrove.” Steve brings his hand back, lays it flat on the pillow beside his face. “I like it. I like it, keep going. Please.”
Billy slowly ruts against Steve's ass and kisses his neck. Steve moans. It feels weird. Like. Weirdly great? Billy’s got a bit of stubble and he’s not shy about biting, so those teeth nip Steve’s jaw a little. It’s different from a girl. Is he fucking gay?
What is happening.
Steve lets out a tiny moan. Billy continues thrusting into the space between Steve’s cheeks, using his grip on Steve’s waist to pull him back. Rough. And Steve tilts his head so that Billy will continue kissing it. He whimpers when it’s promptly bitten. Fucking animal.
Billy groans "That's it, good boy, isn't this nice?"
That big hand slides from Steve’s hip to his cock. Wraps tight around it, wasting no time to jerk him off, and Steve gasps. Fuck. He’s been so focused on Billy that he forgot about his own little problem.
Well, not little. Adequate problem, really. Maybe even above average problem-
Steve sobs into the pillow, like a fucking virgin girl or something, as Billy grounds into him. Rubbing Steve’s cock. His brain is pretty much off at this point. Disconnected from everything.
He’s not really aware of his cries, of his little whines, of how he’s moaning Billy’s name. Billy. Not Hargrove. But, “Billy, fuck, keep going, don't stop.”
Billy thumbs the head and slowly teases the length for a few more strokes. “Turn around.”
Steve shifts around until they're face to face. It's dark. They're so close.
And Billy shifts even closer, nudging their hard cocks together and wrapping a hand around both lengths. It's slick. Billy must've spit on his palm. Steve's panting, little cries leaving his mouth all while Billy keeps quiet. Practiced. Probably knows better than to make noise.
He's not telling Steve to shut the fuck up, though, just curses under his breath. Shifts closer. Their noses bump. Billy's so near. So fucking close.
Steve raises his hand and finds Billy's sharp jaw in the dark, smooths over cheekbone. He can feel hot breath over his lips. Electricity sparking between them.
“Obsessed with you, pretty boy” Billy whispers.
Steve could cry. He's fucking gone. Melts under the words.
“Yeah?” He whispers, soft, a little whorish. Like. God, just slutty.
His thumb finds Billy's mouth, presses onto soft bottom lip ‘til he's given entry. Billy sucks on it, jerks them off faster.
Steve is gonna come soon. Can feel his balls tighten. His stomach coiling. He pulls his thumb out. Settles it on Billy's chin. Slightly rough with stubble, masculine.
Steve tilts his head a little closer to Billy's. Noses barely bumping. And he moans when he feels Billy's tongue on his bottom lip. Opens up without any hesitation and meets Billy with a fervent, filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Groaning when the grip on their cocks gets harder.
They're making out. Hot. Heavy. Billy's sort of leading it. Kissing the way Steve's seen him kiss girls at parties.
He shivers, blanks when Billy's tugs him just right. Enough for him to fucking come on Billy's fist. For him to moan into Billy's mouth, desperate and whiny.
He drags his palm down Billy's neck, slides it down the bump-bump-bump of abs.
Billy grunts when Steve gets his hand around that thick cock. Jerks Billy off fast and a little sloppy, wrist loose. Just how he does it on himself. He kisses Billy softly, lazy with orgasm. Presses their mouths together and slides their tongues, almost teasing.
When Billy comes it's with a curse and a hand on Steve's ass, squeezing, holding him close.
They breathe heavily for a few moments. Just breathing. Well. Huffing, more like. Steve is boneless. Just a mess of limbs and floaty pleasure, high on orgasm.
He sort of wants to like. Move closer and cuddle Billy or something weird like that. Maybe hide in the other boy's neck. And Billy could, like, hold him. Wrap those strong arms around him. Hug him.
Just. Weird shit.
Those thoughts are interrupted when Billy's fingers find Steve's left nipple and give it a harsh twist. Fucking. Painful as shit. Steve yelps, gives Billy a shove on the goddamn tit. He's met with hushed laughter and, eventually, Steve starts laughing too.
"Nighty night, Princess."
"What about the mess?"
Billy grunts, "Don't give a shit."
...
"You're fucking disgusting, Hargrove."