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"'M not a fucking girl , Harrington." Billy practically growls.
His hands are in Steve's hair, fingers twisted at the back of his head. His blunt teeth are biting at the soft skin of the hinge of Steve's jaw, feet planted on the outsides of Steve's knees.
Steve hums, tipping his head back into the sharp tug. He runs one of his hands from where it was pressed to Billy's sternum, up to his elbow where his arms are raised up and twisted behind Steve's head.
He likes Billy like this.
All stretched out, his spine pressed to Steve's chest, curve of his skull cradled on Steve's shoulder. His shirt is unbuttoned, (a quest that had Billy laughing with the amount of times Steve fumbled over those red plastic buttons) and the short sleeves are straining over the flex of Billy's biceps.
He bucks his hips up, grunting and swearing low in his throat. Steve presses an open mouthed kiss to the side of Billy's head and tightens his hand around the base of his dick.
The tight denim of Billy's jeans are yanked open barely wide enough for Steve to fist Billy's cock, jagged teeth of the zipper scraping his wrist. Billy's heels are digging against his knees, teeth finally finding purchase in his skin, the tendon just below his pulse point.
"Don't be fuckin' spiteful." Steve chastises, squeezing his dick on the wrong side of tight. "Just shut up and take it."
When Billy lets go with a small grunt, Steve goes back to thumbing that sensitive spot under the head of Billy's cock, dragging his nails down his bicep. The lube slicking his fingers is almost uncomfortably hot as he pumps his hand slowly, dipping down to Billy's balls and back again.
It's not the first time he's been in Billy's room, Billy's bed, Billy's shitty, loud music filling the space where his punched out groans don't quite reach. The window is open, a barely there breeze skating over Billy's skin.
Steve can feel the tension in Billy's body, a slight arch of his back to keep his ass flush with Steve's hips, a tremor in his arms where they bracket Steve's head, as he tries not to fuck into Steve's hand.
"Good, you're so good." Steve murmurs, kissing his face. Billy's cock is an angry red, the head weeping as it slips in and out of the tight circle of Steve's fingers. "A little longer. Think you can hold off a little while longer?"
Steve can't see his face, just where blond hair is sticking to sweaty forehead, the open pant of lips. "Billy, baby, I'm talking to you."
"Steve." Billy gasps, head tipping back. Steve runs his fingers over the bared skin, fingers the jut of his jaw, over the bump of Adam's apple and drips into the hollow of his throat. He feels down Billy's chest, kissing his face again, lips hitting the side of his freckled nose.
"Look at how wet you are. Better than a girl, baby." Steve coos, his fingers pale and long around Billy's cock. Steve doesn't wait to see if the blond is looking, just thumbs the head of his cock, smearing precum over the hot skin.
He kisses anywhere he can reach, his own hips rocking against Billy. Steve never noticed how tight his own jeans are, his cock straining against them, bordering on painful until Billy grinds back hard.
But the feeling is soothed over by the tug of Billy's fingers in his hair, the butt of the blond head against Steve's jaw.
"Stop- wait, Steve! I'm gona cum, please- Steve." Billy's voice is shakey, desperate. "Stevie, please."
Steve thumbs over a stiffened nipple, feeling the goosebumps rise under his palm as he pinches the nub between his fingers.
He listens to Billy sob out his name once more before licking over his cheekbone, tasting the damp, tear-salty skin before working Billy's cock faster.
Steve hums. Billy's shoulders tense further, fingers twisting harder in Steve's hair. His breath is coming in strained little pants, Steve can hear him swallow down his sobs.
"Shh, it's okay." He soothes, ducking down so he can whisper close to Billy's ear. "C'mon Billy, baby."
Billy's beautiful when he comes, all tanned, tense muscles, blinking through wet eyes. His cheeks go this gorgeous pink and Steve's cock aches in his jeans just thinking about the lax smile Billy's mouth stretches into.
"C'mon baby."
Billy's hips thrust up into Steve's hand, choking a little on his own spit. Steve breathes in deep, letting the small of hairspray and smoke and whatever cologne Billy wears fill his nose. Billy's head lolls for a second before snapping up, the back of his head hitting Steve's jaw as he spills over Steve's fingers.
Somewhere, Steve dimly notes between the sharp pain and the warmth soaking through his skin, the cassette tape is clicking in the player. Billy slumps heavily on Steve's chest, knees splaying out and breath heaving in his chest.
Steve's head hits the wall. Between the shitty plasterboard and Billy's skull, his head hurts, eyes filling with sharp tears.
"You fuckin' headbutted me!" Steve hisses, cock throbbing in his jeans. Billy makes a breathless sound that could have been a chuckle.
"Shouldn't have been so close to me." Billy grins. Steve frowns, licking his lips and tasting blood. He gives Billy's softening cock a final, tight tug before yanking his hand out and smacking his wet palm over Billy's cheek.
"Hey- Woah, unnecessary!" Billy splutters, back arching off Steve's chest, grabbing at his wrists to keep Steve from touching him.
Steve laughs, the frustration welling in his chest soothing just as quickly with the stretch of Billy's pink lips in a grin.
"Well, actually-"
The front door slams, cutting Steve off. Billy tenses in his lap, his fingers tightening on Steve's wrist.
"Harrington, get out." Billy murmurs, warm mouth close to Steve's ear.
Then he's gone, jumping up and shucking his arms out of his shirt and pulling on a grey hoodie. Steve tries not to gape at the tanned skin, the roll of Billy's shoulders.
"Yo, quit being fuckin' queer. Get out!" Billy hisses. His eyes are wide, panicked, grabbing Steve's wrist and shoving him bodily towards the window. There isn't time to appreciate Billy's flushed cheeks, the slight trail of drool in the corner of his mouth.
Distantly, despite it coming from the hallway outside Billy's room, Steve hears Mr Hargrove call for Billy to help with the groceries.
Steve wipes his sleeve down Billy's face, smiling a little as he clears off the cum, smearing the tear tracks into his skin. "Move your ass!"
"Baby, okay." Steve says quietly, pressing a kiss to Billy's cheek and swings a leg over the window ledge. He can feel the blood pooling from his split lip, threatening to drip down his chin.
There's a knock on the door and Billy says, "Just a second, now coming!" and grabs Steve's shoulder, shoving him out of the window.
"Bills, it's okay-"
"Get the fuck out and don't you dare come back." Billy's nails dig into Steve's neck, breaking the skin with a barely contained wince. Steve staggers a little when Billy shoves him away.
"Don't ya wana see me again?"
Billy seems to freeze. Steve swallows nervously, fingers still tangled with Billy's. There's something akin to vulnerability in those blue eyes, he knows because he can feel the same thing in the slightly shaking curve of his own smile.
"What, and miss out on the worst lay in Hawkins?" They share a small, fleeting chuckle (because Billy's such a goddamn liar), before Steve presses his lips to Billy's knuckles and lets his hand drop.
Billy glances over his shoulder, the banging on his door never letting up. He grabs Steve by the jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks as he kisses him hard.
Steve barely has time to kiss back before Billy's shoving him away, still hard and aching. Steve's blood is smeared on Billy's lip.
"Get outta here, Pretty boy." And Billy's shutting the window, flicking the catch shut and heading to the door. Steve watches him wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, shoulders visibly tensing as Billy braces himself before reaching for the deadbolt.
Steve's mouth tastes like metal and he ducks out of view.
His erection has dulled down now, pressing the heel of his hand to the damp spot of his jeans. Steve makes his way to the Beamer at the end of Cherry Lane, licking his lips.
He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and his eyes half close, knees shaking a little when the smell of sweat and the tacky feeling of cum meets his skin. He thinks of the smear of blood on Billy's skin, and wonders if it's too fucked up to think about licking the other boy clean.
And if he jerks himself off, hunched over in the driver's seat, head pressed to the steering wheel, sweater sleeve shoved between his lips, that's his business.