#manwrre

i feel like he’s one of the few people who truly acknowledges and remembers that billy’s actually younger than him?? and younger than he looks in general. outwardly, he kinda gets it— billy’s a bit above average height and has honed his body into something solid and firm. his voice carries and his attitude is reinforced by his ability to pack a freaking punch, so yea, he knows what it looks like. he knows what it feels like.

but even when billy’s all wound up and angry, all steve sees is a boy who’s had to be anything but himself for as long as he’s been alive. he sees a boy who hasn’t had anyone in his corner ever since his mom died and has been forced to fight all of his battles alone; without the comfort of support or solace.

and this remains true, even after starcourt, when billy is admittedly more vulnerable; even when he’s back on his own two feet and his sonofabitch father intends on making his life a living hell. and steve remembers the hell that billy had been put through that night—how cold he had been in his arms and logically, threatens the beat the shit out of neil hargrove.

okay, he doesn’t but he does remind him, rather pointedly, that he knows “hopper, the chief?” just to watch the smug expression bleed off of the older man’s face. he takes advantage of neil hargrove’s terse silence and helps billy pack most of his things evenly into the camaro and beemer.

and living away from neil does wonders to billy. he’s a little bit shyer, a little softer but it’s much like a child who’s been gifted this wonder and is waiting for the other boot to drop.

everyone still anticipates the blonde’s sneering and spitting but he’s the only one looking for the barely perceptible shake of his hands. he’s the only one who knows, privately, that billy’s only storming out because he’s staving off hot tears.

so when the party comes over to steve’s house for game night and billy makes himself scarce, steve knows it’s because he’d rather disappear, than possibly face their rejection or be the root of their discomfort.

he understands that billy knows how important time with the kids is for him; how much he adores them. and as the night goes on, steve realizes just how much he’s missed having them around at his. he’s glittering, gleaming— happy.

that is, until their game runs a little too late and eventually, steve hears footsteps padding downstairs.

he’s not the only one that does, though and there’s a pause in their shouting, as everyone’s heads swivel in the direction of the noise.

and there he is, halfway down the stairs and rubbing at his eyes.

billy’s pretty and groggy and steve can just barely make out how sleep-swollen his cheeks are; how soft and sweet he looks. god, he’s so in love with him. he wants to kiss him so badly— “what’s he doing here?”

and that’s all it takes for the smile to get wiped off of steve’s face. his expression shutters and he can feel it happen, knows he must look furious. “you—“ he points a finger at mike and hikes it over his shoulder. “kitchen, now.”

there’s a different kind of silence now in the room and steve doesn’t even look at billy to see exactly what his face is doing in response right now, not when he’s too busy staring mike down. and poor mike, he’s still indignant and defensive about it all as he splutters out a, “but we were all thinking it,” which just makes things worse.

but i mean, steve’s his first boyfriend, right? his first real, holding hands and not just sneaking around in questionable places to makeout kinda boyfriend. they freaking live together for christ’s sake and yet, every time he notices the silent ‘i love you’s that steve seems to leave him, he’s left a little shy and a little stripped bare. a little stupefied and blushing and head over heels.

like, steve’s always touching him?? in whatever way. if they’re out in public, he’s bumping his shoulder against billy’s and walking close enough that their arms brush. and when they’re with the party, he’s guiding billy into the space with a hand hidden at the small of his back or one beneath the diner’s table, on his thigh. his mouth is always just a touch too close to billy’s face when he leans forward and his lips, practically touching billy’s ear whenever he’s being snide or particularly funny in secret.

headcanon is billy just being obsessed with steve’s nose.

like objectively speaking, billy knows that his boyfriend is the hottest thing that hawkins has got to offer. and he’s not short on things to be appreciative of when it comes to steve, at all.

he adores the fact that every inch of steve is dotted with some kind of beauty mark. takes pleasure in the fact that he can spend long hours mapping them out. and his boyfriend has got that midwestern paleness going for him and just flushes so easily that it makes billy sick with want.

his body is also lean from all of the running around with the kids and the sports that he plays and billy imagines putting his tongue on him.

and his arms are the stuff of billy’s wet dreams. he’s always so close to asking steve to put him in a headlock and screwing him stupid. like, face down on the bed and steve’s familiar weight pinning him immobile. useless.

overall though, steve’s leggy, right? he’s just the tiniest bit taller than billy but proportionally so different. steve’s all legs and he’s long and slender where billy’s thick. which means that he’s freaking hung; the biggest thing that billy’s ever had inside of him and he knows it too because whenever they fuck, he teases him about it.

he’s all soft crooning, “c’mon, baby. you can take it, just like that.” when he’s bottoming out inside of him and the ache of pleasure-pain makes billy whimper all embarrassingly.

or he’ll give billy this smug, little look and will stroke where his rim’s stretched around him, “look at you, sweetheart— does that feel good, baby? you’re so pretty and loose around me.”

but the thing that drives billy insane and i mean, absolutely fucking feral, is steve’s nose.

long and sloping, like the rest of his boyfriend.

billy also wants it inside of him, like the rest of his boyfriend and he makes him aware of it so very often.

especially when steve wears his stupid reading glasses. the ones that are always sliding down the bridge of his nose and just resting on the slight crest of it. like, billy is a goner and steve knows it. he doesn’t even put up a fight when billy just ambles unto his lap or steps into his space when he’s wearing them and kisses him.

no, steve just gives him exactly what he wants because he’s a good boyfriend.

and because he’s a good boyfriend, he eats billy out like it’s no one’s business. opens billy up with his tongue and doesn’t mind when the blonde fists his hair or anything. no, the freak just groans and buries his face deeper between his thighs because steve goes down on him, the same way he does everything else; passionately.

he lets him ride his face and his nose, goddamnit until he’s all slick and sopping and billy’s so over sensitive that he’s in damn near tears. and when he does finally cum, steve doesn’t let up or anything because he loves having him all blissed out like this. nope, he wraps his arms (those freaking arms) around billy’s waist and thighs and holds him in place til he’s overstimulated and his voice is cracking

and people would be quick to see billy as the symbol of war but can you imagine him as the goddess of love, beauty and sexuality/pleasure?

billy, whose heart takes up all of his strength— brought forth from the phallus of a cruel, tyrant of a father; a jealous and greedy being, who would sacrifice his child for his own gain.

billy, who crested beneath the moon on that faithful night, with a cowl of sea foam. who is held at birth for the first and last time, by the only mother he has ever known.

who blesses the women of cyprus with easy births and the children, with unyielding adoration. who councils young lovers and grants carnal satisfaction to the inexperienced and uncertain.

billy, whose favor is called upon at the beginning of one’s life by pain-stricken, young mothers in the early hours of the morning. his name is whispered again, at last, by those with their lives behind them; the invocation, a prayer for their loved ones on earth and their dying breath, the offering.

who, in return, is adored by the people of cyprus because why wouldn’t they be reverent at the sight of him?

with his golden mane of sun-bleached curls and eyes, the color of pafos’ waters. billy, who stands tall and firm and strong; a pillar for them to lean on.

who is quick to offend but easy to please. a sometimes ill-tempered, little thing. a jealous thing, who craves the feeling of being wanted and the intimacy, of being understood.

their fickle dove,

their valiant protector,

their god,

billy;

the revered.

and then, steve? as ares? my god.

this pillar of unbridled strength and faith within war—the spirit and essence of battle. stubborn and firm but so very just and passionate. he is brushed off as being cowardly and yet still, is the first to be called upon in moments of panic.

the god of kings and rulers and conquerors.

an untamable creature who has been bred for nothing but war and yet, does not fight the way that he falls; does nothing to soften the blow of love and has no armor strong enough to protect his heart in the face of it.

and like sex and war, love and hate, the blood spilled by virgins and enemies— the lines between steve and billy blur and meld. it’s hard to discern just where one ends and the other begins. they are one being, one entity; different sides of the same coin.

plato would later say that mankind was crafted in their likeness; four arms, four legs and a head with two faces.

born to be,

fated from the beginning of time

don’t ask me why but i have this THING where headcanon? my headcanon? is that billy just loves jewelry.

i fully believe that he had pendants upon pendants and chains and links of gold (real or otherwise) that he’s collected while growing up. maybe it was something that his mom did with him as a kid ie. they’d go to thrift stores and all of these little, rundown antique places and spend hours there— just looking for the prettiest things.

and if they were lucky, they’d return home with necklaces and earrings and other trinkets. and she’d string together the shiniest, most beautiful ones and give them to him; to her sweet, summer child. she’d press a kiss to his forehead and his cheeks and hold him close and they’d spend the rest of their time together showing of their purchases and doing try-on hauls.

and the necklaces? they were all dazzling in their own right but billy’s favorite one was a golden pendant, the size of a quarter and engraved with a semi-wonky ‘w’. his mama had found it hidden in the dingy back room of some store and in her haste to get them home, hadn’t even bought a chain. instead, she’d reached for the one around her own neck ( a delicate, long line of looping oooo’s) and had presented them to her boy.

and as he got older, his little collection only grew more or more; seashells and shark teeth, saints and angels, hearts and stars and butterflies. and of course, it pissed neil off to see him wearing them but his mom would only shoo him off and coo over all of billy’s newest additions.

in her absence, however, he’d begin hiding them from neil and tucking the shoebox of treasures into all sorts of nooks and crannies ( beneath loose floorboards and inside the fluff of his mattress).

but in the instances where he’d slip up and forget? in the moments where he’d get caught? neil would do his damndest to remind billy of just how much he looked like his ‘whore of a mother’ and that she, herself, couldn’t escape his violence.

the first time steve sees him wearing his necklaces, (all layered against the curve of his neck and dazzling atop his sun-kissed, freckling skin) he’d promptly lose his mind. i mean, just stop functioning like a human being and stare at him. he’d dream of kissing the hollow of billy’s throat and running his fingers over the odd shapes and letters. he’d splay his hands out across billy’s chest and take the ‘w’ into his fist— warm with evidence of a day spent in the sun. drink in the sight of billy beneath him. savor the blue of his eyes and the heat behind his smile. and think,

‘god, he’s beautiful.’

‘he’s bright and blinding and i can’t look away.’

‘he’s it— all i’ve ever wanted. he fills me with something so sweet, so warm.’

s w e e t , s w e e t ,

s u m m e r c h i l d

Title: 💫 heaven at your fingertips 💫

Rating: explicit content

Word Count: 3,055

Tags include: trans male character billy, alternate universe - college/university, domestic boyfriends and afab language while describing genitalia.

•

Despite what anyone with working eyes and a brain might think, Steve doesn’t actually hate his job.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to entertain the thought— everyday at a campus coffee shop is rough— but he doesn’t dislike it. His hours are pretty flexible and his coworkers are all great. There’s an endless amount of staff drinks allowed on a single shift and Steve’s allowed to bring home as many leftover doughnuts as he wants. His boss and the owner of Bean’d, Todd, isn’t really around to micromanage them but whenever he does pop in, Steve feels lucky enough to be there despite the minimum wage paycheck.

So hate it, he does not.

Not even on the worst days when he’s spread thin and exhausted. Not even on a brutal day like today. The shittiest day that he’s had in a while, he thinks, stepping out of the rundown elevator and unto his floor. The fact that he’s practically home doesn’t even seem to help. If anything, the distance between the elevator and his front door seems longer than usual as he walks. His shoulders are heavyset with eight hours of tension and his feet ache so deeply that the dusty, burgundy of the hallway’s carpets look comfortable. Perfect for a seat. Or a nap.

He doubts his neighbors would mind if he just settled there for the night. Mr Stewart might pretend to be pissed but Mrs Maulkin, who lives next door, is just about the sweetest, little lady. She pinches his cheeks and always goes on and on about him getting more sleep. Once, she’d even watered their plants when he and Billy visited the kids back in Hawkins on break so yeah, she’s pretty neat.

Ideally, she would probably prefer if he didn’t get said rest on her welcome mat but he wasn’t going to be picky. His shift had just about driven all of the pickiness out of him. Whacked it out of him with a broom sometime between the morning rush and the midday rush or maybe, it was between the evening rush and clean up? Point is, it’s been beaten out of him.

Above his head, the yellow bulbs blink almost lazily and he reaches for his keys. He swings the lanyard around his finger almost idly and eyes the peeling, black paint of the apartment numbers.

505……506…….507…….508……509…….Ah.

He unlocks the door, shuffles inside with a sigh and for a second, just stands there. The scent of home surrounds him immediately and some of the day’s weight falls at his feet as he flicks the lights on in the small walkway. He hangs his backpack unto the hook shaped like a little guitar that Billy seems to like so much. Grabs the brown, greasy bag of donuts that Billy also seems to like so much and toes his shoes off.

“Bee, I’m home!” He nudges the pair of kicks out of sight with socked toes and blindly tosses his keys into the nearby bowl. Catches a whiff of himself. Pauses. Almost keels over. All in that order.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gags aloud.

Beneath the cloying scent of artificial syrups, powdered sugar and dozens of iced matchas with oat milk and brown sugar foam, is the usual sweat and grime of a long day. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror either, to know that his hair is all flat and ugly beneath his cap. too.

He needs a shower and a nap and some food and really, just his fucking boyfriend. Again, all in that order but it’s been a long week of barely seeing each other with finals and the usual shifts so he knows that he’s only gonna cover number five on that list before passing out.

“Billy?” he calls again, flipping the main lights on.

The action casts a soft glow across their little, one bedroom apartment.

Fully furnished and equipped with a couple of leaky faucets and chipped wallpaper but theirstheirstheirs. A year ago, she was all they could afford on their meager savings in California but now, she’s home. Steve studies his social work on the bedroom floor and Billy stocks their shelves with books about anatomy. They cook dinner together on most nights in their dingy, little kitchen, watch trashy horror in the living room and spend every night wrapped around each other.

“I brought donuts again. We were outta the pistachio ones so I got glazed and no, Sam didn’t make them this time.”

He pads across the living room, not a trace of his boyfriend in sight and dumps the paper bag on the counter. He’s convinced that Billy might be asleep— it’s been a long week of exams and Steve cracks the door to their bedroom open, fully expecting the room to be shrouded in darkness,

only to pause.

To take it all in.

Because oh.

Steve can’t help it— he’s drawn to the sight of too naked legs and too smooth thighs. Can’t focus on anything but the way that Billy’s hand disappears between them. Can’t wrap his mind around anything other than the fact that Billy is very much awake and very much touching himself in front of him. In the flesh.

There’s a lot to take in.

Billy’s naked from the waist down and facing the doorway; his legs spread to reveal the pink of his pussy as he thumbs across his clit. Steve’s gaze lifts then, up his bare, little waist and to the thinning material of Billy’s tee shirt, which is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing. He zones in on where the worn, blue material fits snugly across his boyfriends chest,

swallows,

and then meets the amused blues of Billy’s eyes.

Billy, who doesn’t dare hide the heat in them or the intent behind his smirk.

“Hi, Stevie.” he purrs, predatory. Like a shark that’s just smelled blood. “Crazy day?”

The lowness of his voice sends a jolt of heat down Steve’s abdomen; one that settles at the base of his cock all hot and heavy. And in response, Steve’s shoulders drop, his body relaxes and the day’s toll leaks out of him. Sludging. Lethargic.

God, he’s easy.

“Uh huh,” he mutters, unintelligibly, at first. Then, snaps out of it enough to flash Billy a smile.

“Funnily enough, I actually think it’s about to get crazier.” He shuts the door behind him and steps closer. His gaze only stray for a matter of seconds to catalog everything about Billy in this moment. The navy blue of their sheets beneath the blonde. The handful of books on their bedside table. Billy’s hair all tied up into a loose bun. His pebbling nipples. His wet, hot cunt and the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching himself.

“Yeah? I wonder why.” the blonde drawls, quirking a brow.

“Dunno, think I’m about to get laid or something.” He’s teasing and Steve loves it.

“Or something,” Billy mocks, rolling his eyes but Steve’s words have him biting his lip.

He’s trying to come off as unaffected but Steve knows he’s anything but. The soft curls sticking to Billy’s forehead, damp with sweat and all, let him know that this has been an ongoing endeavor. God knows how long Billy’s been pleasuring himself— dripping like this; his cheeks flushed a pretty scarlet, eyes dark and lips an almost mottled red. Bitten plump. Half-parted in pleasure for a beat too long whenever he speaks.

Steve doesn’t have to pretend. He doesn’t want to hide the urgency that he feels or the effect that Billy has on him, so he tugs his shirt up over his head before tossing it aside.

He crosses the distance between them in no time and crawls into the alcove between Billy’s thighs oh so easily. Steve thinks, yes and finally and this is exactly where he belongs when he’s got Billy under him. He thinks holy shit, you’re lovely when his boyfriend stares up at him with wide, dark eyes and pulls him closer by the loops of his belt. Simultaneously, Steve lifts one of Billy’s golden thighs upupup around his waist and lessens the oxygen between them with a kiss so hot that the air around them feels supercharged.

He loses himself in the soft give of Billy’s lips and nips at his cupid’s bow with an impatient noise. Beneath him, Billy opens up like a black hole; this consuming, taking thing and Steve licks into his mouth all too eagerly. The blonde’s answering moan is breathy and high and Steve laps at every slick crook with his tongue—to taste, to feel, to map out and to claim. Beneath him, Billy’s hips jerk to life just as Steve becomes breathless with desire and blindly, he seeks purchase in the rough material of Steve’s jeans. The soppy, wet heat of his cunt seeps through to Steve’s skin as Billy rides his thigh.

“Stevie— please, I need you to fuck me.” Billy gasps into his mouth.

Steve takes advantage of this and busies himself by stamping kisses across the curve of Billy’s jaw and throat and neck. He sucks pretty, purpling bruises into the golden skin there and ruts down against his pliant, waiting body. A taste so distinctly Billy explodes on his tongue; clean and citrusy and tangy and Steve loves it.

Steve groans deeply, “Yea, sweetheart? You missed me?”

“You try being celibate in an apartment with your hot ass– ah, boyfriend for two weeks. A perfectly timed breeze could’ve had to creaming my fucking pants at the quad today,” Billy hisses and Steve can’t help it, he laughs.

“A breeze, baby? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch,” the amusement is palpable in his voice. He knows that Billy must sense it, even with his eyes closed because then, they aren’t. They aren’t and Steve is forced to meet those dark, dark eyes and trace the expanse of Billy’s flush from his cheeks, all the way down his chest. And without another word, he’s undoing his belt; his fly coming undone and everything. He shucks off his jeans and underwear in one swoop and wounds a hand around his chubbing cock.

It’s hot and thick in his too dry palm but the contact sends a surge of crackling heat up his spine.

He sees Billy’s attention shift. Feels his cock throb as he does that thing; the one where he tongues at his lower lip and his gaze flits between Steve’s and his cock almost thoughtfully. And his mouth is suddenly dry as he follows the subtle quivers of Billy’s stomach. Watches it dip and swell and hears his intake of breath because all the while, the blonde’s hips never exactly cease. They just slow into deep, core aching figure eights until he can’t take it and he’s reaching between their bodies for Steve’s cock.

Billy’s touch is warm but callous-rough and feels like heaven around him. In thanks, Steve winds his fingers into the blonde’s curls to steady himself, while Billy uses the precum at the head of his cock to jerk him off hard and fast. The pace has him fucking into the tight ring of fingers with a choked off moan, “Fuck– oh.”

Billy’s smug. He knows this because the demanding slide of his fist slows and well, he says as much. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna bust a nut the minute I get my mouth on you. That’s gonna make it even more embarrassing,”

“Brat.” Steve spits but he’s smiling and scooting up so that his thighs bracket Billy’s head.

“Pushover.” Billy laughs, genuinely pleased and swallows Steve’s cock into his mouth with a wet noise.

The sudden too hot, too wet of it punches an aggressive exhale out through his nose,“Holy shit, fuck” and he grabs unto the headboard while Billy makes easy work of him.

Billy sucks the head into his mouth with a practiced ease that makes Steve weak in the knees and melts all of the fight right out of him. It’s all familiar but Steve will never get used to this. Will never fail to be amazed at how well Billy takes him; unyielding as he tongues at the sensitive underside of Steve’s cock and groans around him in a way that liquifies his fucking mind. It takes everything in him not to shout when Billy hollows his cheeks and instead, his grip grows tighter in the mess of blonde curls until he’s sure it hurts.

“You’re so fucking good at this, baby. So pretty,” He cradles Billy’s cheek, only to be rewarded by a hint of teeth across the thick vein that Steve favors, near the crown.

Billy moans around the cock in his mouth and Steve’s brain collapses in on itself like a dying star. When he speaks, his voice is a low, warbled thing, “Waited all day just to suck me off, I bet. Just to put that mouth to use, huh, sweetheart?” And then, Billy pulls away to slap the leaking, ruddied head against his tongue for Steve to see. He lets it sit there. Lets the precum pool sluggishly on the pink of it and stares up at him in a way that makes Steve feel like coming home. God, he’s so close.

“C’mon, baby. I wanna cum but I’m gonna do it inside of you,” Steve grabs at his jaw affectionately before shifting sideways and falling onto his back invitingly. It takes everything in him to stay there.

He swats at the curve of Billy’s ass as he moves and swings a leg over to bracket Steve’s hips, ignoring his grumbled complaint of ‘being too lazy’. The next part comes easily, however. Billy doesn’t waste any time before he’s sinking down on his cock in a swift, decisive motion; his pussy opening up around Steve with the tiniest bit of give.

And then everything clicks into place.

Billy’s cunt is slick and he makes the prettiest sight on top of him but Steve doesn’t move. He’s trying his damndest not to and ignoring the flex of his thighs as his pelvis seems to ache with need to just do something. But he doesn’t move because Billy loves this. Billy needs this moment, so he waits. He watches as Billy holds himself tightly and he adjusts to the sheer girth of Steve— his palms lying flat against his bare chest and his hips moving in shallow bursts.

“Oh,” Billy breathes out before sitting up and slamming himself down on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, there you go,” Steve growls and plants his heels deeper in the mattress with every thrust. He grabs at Billy’s hips and at his thighs, brushing his fingers across the curve of his ass where stretch marks color the skin liquid-gold against bronze. Rivulets like the rings of Saturn. Like Billy’s his entire world and here lies the proof of it.

The thought sends a possessive thrill through him and his grip on Billy’s ass turns bruising. Tomorrow, Steve will nip and suck more galaxies into it but for now, he tries to mold a place inside of him with his cock; deep and hard until he finds the place that makes Billy howl and stiffen.

“Steve— right there, right there, right there. Don’t stop fucking me, please,” He cries, shifting until Steve swears his cockhead nudges against the damn near opening of Billy’s womb. And he knows that Billy feels it too because he flinches, as if surprised, as if the pleasure is tinged with pain but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

“C’mon, baby. You can take it, don’t run.” he croons, forcing Billy to do some of the work; to rut back against his cock and envelope it whole and that’s exactly what he does. The blonde’s thighs flex with the strain of working himself open but he takes it so fucking well and Steve loses himself in the suctioning grip of Billy’s cunt. Closes his eyes and swears there are universes being created behind his eyelids. Star by star. Space dust by space dust.

“You were waiting for it, right? Wanted it so badly, gorgeous boy,” he chokes out, needing to let Billy know just how badly he’s got him.

The sound Billy makes in response is winded, all the same and then oh so pleased as he drops his hips into a slow, dirty downward grind. It’s miasmic and Steve feels the sloppy mess of Billy’s pussy against his abdomen and pulsating around him.

“Oh my god— Stevie, I’m gonna cum. Oh please, I’m gonna cum,” he ruts against Steve’s cock in these half aborted, little circles and Steve is equally as devastated by the constant bursts of pleasure and pressure.

The heat in his gut is building just as quickly. It’s a dangerous, tumultuous thing that expands past his groin and into his gut. He feels it in his hips, in his chest, at the back of his mouth and behind his teeth. It’s so close that he can taste it and he meets Billy halfway with the next few thrusts, plunging deeper into him, as if to say, ‘you feel it too, right?’

He’s whispering a mantra of, “Yea, baby? Right there?” and these desperate, half chewed off variations of Billy’s name.

And so many things happen within the next second that Steve can barely keep track of them. Billy muffles a moan between his teeth, whining all high at the back of his throat as he nods. He fucks himself on Steve’s cock with a restless abandon that comes from chasing his own orgasm. And Steve thinks, his womb. Billy’s fucking womb. He must be in it. He wants to knock him up so bad that it’s dizzying. So bad that it’s earth shattering and gravity defying. There’s the build up of white, blinding pleasure and then— the string snaps. Billy’s cumming around him with a shout and Steve’s fucking his cock into him without reprieve; thrusts long and drawn out as they ride the wave together.

He cums for so long and so hard, that Steve thinks he might have passed out a little. When he comes to, Billy’s cunt is still milking him dry and the blonde is plastered to his chest in his own, little world. Boneless but sated.

At that moment, the weariness in his bones hits him all at once and he winces. Shifts a little beneath Billy’s full weight but stamps a kiss to his forehead nonetheless. Billy grumbles into his sweat slick chest before pressing his lips there in return and brushing his mess of hair out of his eyes.

“So… donuts?” And Steve snorts.

“Yeah, donuts. I can’t believe we just screwed and that’s what you’re worried about.”

Billy’s answering smile is wicked and travels straight to Steve’s heart, “You knew who I was before you dated me so now you’re stuck,” and he’s smug about the fact.

His amusement is short lived as Steve’s softening cock slips out of him, alongside the mess of cum and Steve rolls them unto their sides. “Only because rent is killer in California but as soon as I make it big?”

Steve pats his cheek and yawns, “You’re outta here, hot stuff.”

Billy doesn’t fight him, though. Doesn’t argue that they can afford somewhere a little bigger now or that he’s pulling in more money than Steve is at the mechanic’s shop. He doesn’t point out that Steve’s been saying that almost everyday for a year and yet, still brings home his favorite donuts and will cuddle Billy for as long as he’d like after his shift because he misses him.

He doesn’t say it but Steve knows. He feels it in his chest the same way, too and thanks God and the universe for giving him a little bit of the sun and stars to hold; to keep with him forever.