#nb!steve

For Steve

Commission for @cherrydreamer, thank you so much for your commission and your idea! 💕

Read on ao3

-

“Oh damn .”

Steve smiled bashfully, looking down at his feet, wrapped up in silk.

He had gotten a new set today, pretty lace panties matched the garter belt perfectly , stockings clipped in and held high on his thighs.

The bralette was see-through, but the lace on the trim matched everything else.

“Gimme a spin.” He turned around for Billy, throwing him a sultry look over his shoulder.

The panties were cut high on his ass cheeks, and he knew the straps of the garters framed his ass just right . He had checked in the mirror.

Billy was just about salivating as Steve turned back around, walking slow and sexy back to him.

“Jesus, Baby. I’ll never get tired of you dressin’ up all pretty for me.”

Billy grabbed him around the waist, tossing him onto the bed, pressing his body over Steve’s.

And Steve loved sharing this with Billy, loved that Billy got such satisfaction from his outfits , his makeup , but something didn’t sit right with Steve.

Maybe it was the dressin’ up all pretty for me .

It wasn’t for Billy.

It was for Steve.

Read on Ao3

-

Steve didn’t know what to expect when they got on location.

They loved being a model, felt so comfortable in front of a camera, had even gotten to do some runway work for New York Fashion Week this year.

But the issue, is that they only get work as a male model, where they’re expected to be hyper masculine and all macho.

It’s the fucking worst.

But their agent had gotten them this shoot, promised that it wouldn’t be like the last one, or the one before that, or the one before that.

They took a deep breath before entering the building.

“Hi, Steve Harrington, checking in.” The woman smiled at them, tapping on her phone.

“Great, let’s take you through to hair and makeup. Mr. Hargrove will want to speak with you before you begin.” She led Steve through to the warehouse.

Steve had never worked with Billy Hargrove before, but his name preceded him. He was known for beautiful shoots with models way beyond Steve’s recognition and caliber. Shooting campaigns for high end designers.

“So, I was never informed what campaign this is for.”

“This is for Mr. Hargrove’s personal portfolio. He chooses to freelance various projects he believes in.”

“Wait so, this is like, just for him?” She pulled Steve aside.

“He’s putting together an art book, but do not tell anyone you heard that. He’s going to announce it in a few months. Limited run, all that. You’ll be getting a share. He feels paying models is extremely important.” Steve just nodded, they’re eyes big.

“Sorry, how did I end up on this project?”

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove is a fan of your work. Asked for you by name.”

Steve was in hair and make up now, being ushered into a tall chair. The woman, probably Mr. Hargrove’s assistant, took off again.

Steve closed their eyes, figured they would be getting a light foundation, maybe some contour to sharpen their jaw, that kinda thing.

They zoned out, just let the makeup artists do their work.

“Steve Harrington. Good to meet you.” Steve opened their eyes, was met with The Billy Hargrove.

“Mr. Hargrove, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve a very big fan of your work, especially on the most recent Dior campaign, those images were beautiful.”

“Oh, call me Billy. And I loved your work with Jonathan Byers. I think that was about three years ago, now? I’ve been trying to make arrangements to work with you since those were published.”

Steve furrowed their brows. Those pictures featured Steve in a lot of makeup, and lingerie in most of them. Billy was studying their face.

“Have you done their hair yet?” Steve’s eyes were wide.

That was the first time they hadn’t been misgendered on a job.

“No, Mr. Hargrove.”

“If you can make it look like they just have it now, I like the kinda of, wild thing that’s happening. And maybe make the gold a little bolder. I really like the look.”

Steve hadn’t washed their hair in a few days, usually the hair artists would wash it before they began anyway.

Billy smiled at them one last time before leaving again, and Steve got a look at themself in the mirror.

Their eye makeup was a pretty ballet pink, gold glitter packed onto their eyelids. Their face was contoured to look feminine, the way the did their own makeup.

When they finished with hair and makeup, they met Billy in wardrobe.

He was flicking through a rack of clothes.

“Hey! You look great.” Steve flushed.

“So, what are you comfortable in? I’m looking to explore humanity in all forms. I’m working with artists that inspire me through their realities. You’re pretty much the top of that list.”

“Wait, I’m not following.”

“Your gender identity and expression, the way you wear your body in the most authentic way possible. I’ve seen your work. Those images with Byers are so beautiful, so much moreso than anything else I’ve seen of yours. Your confidence exuded through the image more than anything I’ve ever seen. It was inspiring.”

“So, you’re gonna let me do this my way?”

“Of course. I’m showcasing you, whatever that means.” Steve nodded at him once.

They began rifling through the clothes, making a pile of things they liked, what they thought would look good with the makeup.

“And I’m pretty much comfortable with anything.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“Nudity?”

“If you want.”

“Could that cause you any dysphoria, though?” Steve blinked at him.

“Jesus, that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that on a shoot.” Billy’s smile slipped.

“Seriously?” Steve shrugged. “Not even with Byers?”

“Well, I mean, that doesn’t count. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I was just getting into modelling, and him into photography, so that was kind of to build up both of our portfolios at the time. I did my own hair, makeup and costuming.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“But apart from working with a close friend, you’ve never been asked about dysphoria.” Billy said it as a statement, like he was trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“And it’s funny, because I usually get dysphoric in menswear shoots, but most people hire me as a male model.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Steve.” They shrugged.

“It is what it is. Not a lot of gender noncomforming or just straight up not cis models in the mainstream. There’s a few, don’t get me wrong, but not many, and very few household names. I just figured I need to be versatile for now, and eventually, I’ll have enough of career I can start making demands. Taking up space.”

“Still, it sucks that you gotta pick and choose like that. You should be able to just, do what you want.”

“That’s easy to say, mister photographer.” Billy smiled bashfully. “Look, thank you for taking time to research me and know what I’m all about. This experience has already been a lot better than most of my other shoots.” Billy clapped them on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re my muse. I’m just excited to be working with you. I’ll leave you to get changed, we’ve got some wardrobe assistants standing by if you need help.” He swept out of the curtained off area.

Steve decided to begin with a light blue slip dress, matching silk panties.

They had help getting into the gold chunky heels, and made a bit of a show of walking those few feet to set.

Billy was staring darkly.

“You look beautiful.” Steve grinned at him, taking a seat on the white settee.

Billy was very easy to work with.

He let Steve take some liberties, try a few things out, and would direct from there, telling Steve how to adjust their body.

Steve felt in control, felt beautiful and confident. 

Steve had taken off the slip, was posing in just the blue panties, now sitting on a windowsill, the New York skyline behind them.

Steve stood up, and dropped the little panties, kicking them away. Billy nodded, still looking behind the camera.

“Beautiful, Steve.”

They stood in nothing but the heels, had been given a piece of fabric to drape around their body, or not if they so pleased. Steve held it aloft, looking at the camera with their best bitchy I’m above you look.

Billy had them do the same with six other outfits, slowly strip out of them throughout the shoot.

The set was closed, only a handful of people in the room with them as Steve languished around.

Billy nearly lost his damn mind at an image of Steve, their back to the camera, in nothing but red pumps, sitting in a middle split on the windowsill.

“You’re a fucking genius, Stevie. Gorgeous!”

It was hours before the shoot had finished, and Steve was given a plush robe and a latte.

“Steve.” Billy jerked his head towards the table in the corner, Billy’s cameras and laptop sitting on top of it.

Billy pulled another chair up to the table, let Steve sit on the first one.

“I just want to go over the shoot with you. You can pick the shots you like the most, and we can see which ones are right for my project. I’m publishing an art book. I’m sure Miranda already told you, she tells fucking everyone.” He had loaded the images from the day onto the laptop.

They clicked through them, sitting just the two of them, everyone already having left for home.

“Oh, wow.” Billy had stopped on an image of Steve with the large piece of gauzy fabric. It was draped over their shoulder, put hung to the floor, doing nothing to cover their body. “Look at your face. This is what I was taking about. The confidence, you just exude don’t fuck with me energy. It’s beautiful.”

Billy would often do that, point out minute details in Steve’s body language or facial expressions and explain the ways they were captivating.

And it made Steve feel captivating.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Steve was far too aware of how close Billy’s face was to theirs.

“I really felt it today. Thank you.”

“You are ethereal. I’m not kidding.” Billy’s eyes flicked down to their lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Steve sighed when Billy kissed them, just a light press of his lips to theirs.

“I’d like to see you again. Cook you dinner? Or take you out? You pick.” Steve sat back.

“Like a date?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna date me?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you wanted to work with me?”

“I wanted to work with you because you are so beautiful it’s inspiring. I want to date you because on top of all that, you’re kind, and sweet, and driven.”

“Um, yeah, then. I’ll go on a date with you.” Billy beamed. “But I don’t put out on the first date, and just because you photographed me naked does not mean you get to fuck me anytime soon.”

“Oh, of course.” He looked serious. It made Steve melt a little.

“And I’d love it if you cooked for me.”

“Then my place. Friday. Seven o’clock. Wear something nice. I may not be able to resist photographing you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sweet Talker. I’m allergic to bell peppers and I think mushrooms are gross, so steer clear.”

“Drat. There goes my idea for mushroom stuffed bell peppers.”

“Darn. Looks like we can’t go out, then.” Billy laughed.

“I’ll text you my address. And my house will be properly de-mushroom and bell peppered for you.” Steve smiled.

So, um, not sure what this is, but I listened to the song and thought it was pretty sexy, so, uh, stripper au.

Ao3

-

Billy didn’t mind Steve’s line of work.

They were dancing long before they met Billy, and they loved the club, felt so powerful and beautiful when they were stripping.

Plus, it was good money.

They would come home with piles of tip money, and be so giddy they’d give Billy a free lap dance before bed.

And Billy loved coming to Steve’s club, would get a table right near the stage, empty a few thousand dollars out of their joint bank account just so he could have something to toss at Steve.

They would smirk at Billy, working the pole while giving him sultry looks, then drop to the floor of the stage, crawling over to Billy, and making a real show of shaking their ass in his face, letting him shove dollar bills that will just go right back into their joint account the next bank day.

Billy had posted up at his preferred table, ordered a few drinks from the scantily clad waiter.

He was staring at his phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram while he waited for Steve.

The lights dimmed, making Billy perk up.

“Alright, everyone! Give a warm welcome to Bambi!”

And there was Steve, in platform Pleaser heels and lingerie.

The song began, Steve had a rotation of several they liked.

Billy had seen them all. But he loved this one.

I'm selfish, I know. But I don't ever want to see you with him.

They started rolling their body to the slow beat, making dark eyes at Billy, his stack of crisp bills.

I'm selfish, I know. I told you, but I know you never listen.

Billy sipped his drink as Steve began walking forward, grinding against the pole, lifting themself up on it to do a few artful spins.

I hope you can see the shape that I'm in. While he's touching your skin.

They slid down the pole, landing in a split, tossing their head back.

He's right where I should, where I should be. But you're making me bleed.

Billy raised a few bills, made Steve grin.

They crawled over to him as the chorus began. They smiled coyly at him, coming up on their knees, pushing their hips forward, let Billy tuck a few dollar bills into the waistband of their panties.

They sank back down.

“Hi, Baby.”

“Havin’ a good night, Sugar?” Steve licked their lips slowly, seductively.

“Better now that you’re here.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout a private dance then?”

“Well, you can pay fifty bucks for one after this, or, you can wait till I get home and I’ll give you an extra special dance.” They had leaned back down on their knees, putting their ass up in the air, circling their hips, keeping the other patrons intrigued.

“Maybe I’ll wait, then. Get one ‘a those special dances.” Steve grinned, lounging out onto their back, opening their long legs in a middle split.

Billy tucked a dollar bill into the top of their boot, just to make them laugh.

They crawled away, dancing for a few of the other patrons, accepting dollar bills with a gracious smile.

They stood back up, rolling their body some more, feeling over their body.

Tempted, you know. Apologies are never gonna fix this.

Sometimes the people Billy worked with at the garage, asked him how he was okay with Steve being a stripper.

He’d always say that first of all, watching Steve dance was sexy as hell. Second of all, what Steve chose to do with their life, their career, was none of Billy’s business.

But he wasn’t always that way.

He used to get jealous, watching other guys look at Steve like that, like they want them. He would be filled with white hot rage when he thought about Steve giving private dances, grinding on strange guys’ laps.

And in the early days, he and Steve had fought about it, had yelled at one another and Billy had said it feels like you’re cheating on me! How do I know you’re not fucking these guys! and Steve had said I’m not quitting a job that I love for anyone! Learn to trust me, or get the fuck out of my life! and so Billy had pulled his head out of his ass.

I'm empty, I know. Promises are broken like the stitches.

He knew it was an act, the way Steve would flutter their eyes all sexy at the men in the club, knew it was real by the way they would laugh and cry and smile and be weird and flutter their eyes all sexy at Billy.

Billy got the full range of Steve, and these assholes at the club only got Steve bleeding their tip money.

I hope you can see the shape I've been in. While he's touching your skin.

Billy watched some patron trail a wad of cash down Steve’s body, shoving them into his panties.

He thought about what he was gonna buy Steve with the money pressed against their dick, the money that come Monday morning would be in the account they both had cards for.

Maybe he’d get them a nice ring.

Maybe he’d get them a promise with that ring.

You’re not bothering me! I love writing requests and stuff for y’all. And you are super fucking valid, just btw.

-

Steve poked Billy’s stomach.

Billy tried not to move his face, tried not to smile.

Steve poked him again.

“Bill, I know you’re awake.”

He didn’t move.

Steve huffed.

Billy felt their warmth disappear from his side.

And then all the wind was knocked out of him as Steve flopped right on top of him, just let their full body weight slam onto him. 

Billy opened his eyes, glared at them. They smiled so sweet at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Baby. Thanks for such a sweet wake up.”

“You’re welcome.” Billy wrapped his arms around them, closing his eyes again. Steve slapped his chest. “No! Don’t fall asleep! You promised you’d take me to the beach today.”

They had arrived late last night to San Diego, just checked into their hotel and curled up together.

“The beach’ll be there for another hour or two.” Steve began flopping on top of him violently.

“Wanna go to the beach.”

“Oh my God. Fine! We’ll go!” Steve was off him in a flash, rushing off to the bathroom.

Billy took a deep breath, rolling his eyes as Steve started their happyhappyhappy playlist, super fucking loud.

Billy rolled dramatically out of bed, plastered himself to Steve’s back as they brushed their teeth. He took the toothbrush out of their hand to brush his own teeth with it.

“That’s foul, Bill.”

“Forgot mine.” Steve rolled their eyes.

They scampered about, packing a bag for the beach. They tossed Billy’s SPF 15 sunscreen in with their own SPF 50.

They got dressed fast, started trailing close behind Billy, just chanting beach beach beach beach.

Billy led them out of the hotel, Steve tucked under his arm.

Their hotel was a short walk from the beach, and they stopped on the way to get iced lattes. Steve took a lot of pictures of the two of them.

“Okay, Sweet Thing. Hop on my back, and close your eyes.” Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “C’mon. Trust me.” They sighed dramatically, but got on his back all the same.

Billy piggybacked them all the way to the edge of the water.

“Open your eyes.”

Billy heard them gasp.

“Oh wow.”

Steve had never seen the ocean before.

Billy had tossed their bag on the sand a ways back, so he kept walking into the water, stopping when the waves were batting at his chest.

“You ready?”

“For wha-” Steve shrieked as Billy dunked them both in the water, holding Steve’s legs tight to his waist. He came back up, Steve spluttering and coughing. He shifted them around until he was holding under their ass, face to face.

“Coulda warned me.”

“Nah. Wanted your first time in the ocean to be a surprise. Now you’ll never forget it.”

Happy Pride!

Here is a link to my post about Harringrove for BLM, and here is a link to Writers/Artists Against Police Brutality

Here’s also a link to the Masterlist of Harringrove for BLM coutesy of @harringrovetrashh

Thank you all for organizing, participating, and donating.

-

There is an instance where Steve gets misgendered, not by malicious intent, but it still happens, so take care of yourselves, don’t read if that could harm you.

-

“I think I’m a girl.”

This revelation wasn’t totally shocking to Billy.

Steve loved pretty things. Could be found more often than not jamming around in a little skirt, lots of makeup. So Billy just said

“Okay, Baby. Then I love my gorgeous girlfriend.”

And that was so sweet and all, but to Steve it still didn’t, it felt just as bad as boyfriend.

“Actually, maybe not.”

-

“I think maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

They were in Steve’s bed together, Steve laying practically on top of Billy.

“What makes you say that?”

“Parts of me feel like I’m a girl, and parts of me feel like I’m a boy. But all of me hates both of those options. I mean, I love looking like a girl, but when you, when you said girlfriend, Bill that felt just as fucking bad as boyfriend. I think I’m broken.” Billy shifted around until Steve was looking right at him.

“You are not broken. You are beautiful and amazing and confused. But you are far from broken. There’s more in the world than girl and boy. You can be anything, anyone.

“Back in California, I knew all kinds of people. I had friends all along the trans umbrella. I had a friend who was a trans guy, but preferred presenting for feminine. I had androgynous friends that presented however they pleased. I had friends who identified as no gender, or all the genders. I had a friend whose gender identity would change on any given day. Gender is fucking fake, and if you’re not comfortable with whatever you were assigned at birth, make something new for yourself.”

“I think that I’m somewhere in between. Not a woman, but not a man.” Billy grabbed the notbad next to Steve’s bad, drew a horizontal line across it.

“So basically, think of gender as a spectrum. Over here you’ve got women. This includes trans women, who are women that were assigned male at birth. One the other side you’ve got men, which includes trans men. In the middle, you’ve got nonbinay folks. Nonbinary is an umbrella term that just means these people live outside of man and woman. This includes agender people, who have no gender, and people who identify as more than one gender, like bigender or pangender. All along the scale you have people who are genderfluid and genderflux, whose definition of their own gender may slide along the scale at any given moment. You also have people that identify as demiboy, or reversely, demigirl, people that only identify partially as boy or girl, respectively. There’s also the idea of being transmasc, or transfem which are people who were assinged a gender at birth, but identitfy more with the other, without completely identify themselves as trans. So a person assigned male at birth who doesn’t consider themselves a transwoman, but more comfortably identities with feminity as a concept.”

He held out the drawing to Steve.

“There’s also different pronouns, and this isn’t even touching the intersex scale. Gender is so fucking whack, Sweet Thing.

“There’s a lot of different ways to play with it, and each person is so different. You can identify one way and present in a way that isn’t stereotypical to how you identify. And no one can tell you you’re wrong. Because you’re not.”

Steve was studying the drawing with wide eyes.

“Pronouns?”

“Like how I was assigned male at birth, and identify as male, so I use he/him pronouns. People along this scale can use whatever pronouns feel best. Some people use they and them so that they aren’t being gendered, and there are other gender neutral pronouns, like ze/zir and ve/ver.”

“But I mean, they is like, it’s plural.”

“Nah. They has always been used as a gender neutral pronoun. Plus, if it feels best, it can mean whatever the fuck you want it to.”

“So I could, I could like, be a them.”

“If that feels good.”

“Use it for me. Let me see.”

“Okay, um, I was laying in bed with my significant other, Steve and they were asking me questions about gender identity and expression. Afterwards I made them a cup of tea and cuddled them all night.” Steve’s eyes opened back up.

“Bill, that’s, fuck, that’s it.”

“They?”

“They. That felt, it felt good. I didn’t, I don’t even know.” Billy squished them tighter to himself.

“I’m glad, Baby.”

“So, does that make me nonbinary?” Billy just looked at them.

“Does it? You tell me, Sweet Thing.”

“I think so. Nonbinary. So like, maybe transfem? But I think I would be more agender”

“If that’s what’s true. You can call yourself nonbinary and leave it at that, or you can take as many labels as you feel fit. It’s your identity. Fuck with it as you see fit.”

Steve was worrying their lip.

“And you don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I’m not, not a guy.” Billy pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“‘Course I don’t min. You’re still you. You’re gender doesn’t matter to me at all. As long as you’re happy and comfortable and safe. That’s what matters to me.”

-

Steve needed to tell the party.

They spent so much time with the gaggle of kids, and kept getting fucking misgendered. Not that it was their fault, they didn’t know Steve was using different pronouns now.

“Look, I know those little Gen-Z’ers aren’t gonna care. I mean they see me in makeup and dresses and shit all the time, but this feels, big.” Billy was driving them over to the Byers’ place where all the kids were waiting. “But, but what if they take it wrong. What if they just think I’m this confused girl or something. Or they say I need to make up my mind.” Billy reached over to grab their hand.

“If they do, I’ll punch ‘em out. One by one. Fuck them kids.”

But they all took it so fucking well, it was actually anticlimactic.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t conform to a gender binary.” Dustin hadn’t even looked up from their campaign as Steve fucking came out. “But like, thanks for telling us. And trusting us. You’re pretty brave I guess.”

Steve rolled their eyes.

“Thanks. You’re all so sweet and sensitive. I was shitting myself on the way over, and none of you are even fazed.”

“Yeah, I saw this coming.” Lucas rolled one of his dice.

“Do you want to do it again? We’ll all pretend to think you’re disgusting and call you a freak or something. Would that be better?” Mike had a challenging look on his face. Steve just slumped into the couch.

“No. Whatever. It’s fine.” They were actually pouting.

“What, you wanted like, a Lifetime movie moment? Where we all cry and say that we love you regardless and pretend we literally all didn’t see this coming?” Mike rolled his eyes.

“I mean, a little pomp and circumstance would be nice. Accepting myself and coming out to you all was a bunch of breakdowns in the making.” Dustin threw himself dramatically onto Steve’s lap.

“Oh! Oh, Steven! My sweet dear loved one! This is shocking news! But my love for you will never crumble! If anything, it is fortified!” Steve just laughed and shoved Dustin off their lap.

“Brat.”

-

“Can I just get a cheeseburger and fries?” The peppy waitress was twirling her ponytail, batting her eyes at Billy like Steve wasn’t right fucking there.

“Of course. Anything else for you?” She pat her eyes. Billy just blinked at her, completely dead-eyed. He gestured to Steve.

“Sorry, Girl. Didn’t see you!” She tried to laugh it off. Steve’s blood went cold.

“I’ll get the same please.” Her eyes widened at the sound of Steve’s voice, still deep, still masculine, despite the light blue dress, the pretty makeup.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get that right out for you boys.” She shot away, embarrassed. Steve let their head fall onto the table.

Billy ran his fingers through their hair.

“Two for the price of one misgenderings.” They muttered into the table. Billy was gently scraping his nails into their scalp. “That was like getting kicked while down Jesus.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I’m sorry I can’t totally understand how shitty it makes you feel.” They sat in silence for a moment until Billy tugged on their hair as the waitress approached with their food. She set it down cautiously.

“Could we get some ketchup, please. And they’re gonna want mustard.” Steve smiled weakly at him, they way he overemphasized using they.

“Um, of course. Anything else?”

“Could you grab them another water?” It was just less than half-full, but Billy couldn’t be stopped.

The waitress just blushed, filling Steve’s water and placing ketchup and mustard on their table with a little enjoy.

“Bill, she didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but she still did. And I wanted you to stop feeling invalidated.” Billy shoved the burger in his mouth.

Okay, this was like, 325 followers ago so I think it’s safe to say this one is OLD.

-

Steve was sitting in front of their full length mirror, artfully putting on their make up.

Billy was sitting pressed up behind them, his chin hooked over their shoulder.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“I’m using a little bit darker of a shade to contour.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m basically making the shape of my face look different.” They were swiping on the slightly darker makeup along their jawline, under their cheekbones.

“Oh.” Billy just watched as they blended the makeup. “What now?”

“I’m setting it with powder so that I don’t like, sweat it off our anything.” They picked up one of the makeup bags, rifling through it for brushes. “What colors should I do?”

“For your eyes?”

“Yeah.”

“I like it when you do purpley ones. Makes your eyes look real pretty.” They smiled at him in the mirror, shifting to kiss his cheek before moving back to their makeup.

They began blending different shades of deep purples. Billy watched as they layered colors around different parts of their eye. They put a little gold glitter in the inner most corner, made everything really come together.

They took out a thin little brush and a little pot of black.

“Eyeliner?”

“Yep!” Billy held his breath as Steve swiped it on, made it look so fucking easy.

“And then you put the eyelashes on?”

“Which ones should I do?” Steve had a collection of them, all immaculately kept in their own little cases.

“I like the big ones.” He pointed at a pair of good sized fluffy ones.

He watched Steve glue them on, shaping them on their eyes with one finger before brushing on mascara.

“Is that all?”

“No, I still gotta do my lips, and then highlight.” Billy kissed their shoulder once, watching as they lined their lips with a light peach, filling in the lines with a matching lipstick.

They shooed him back for a second to spray something on their face.

“What’s that do?”

“It’s setting spray. Just makes sure nothing moves or melts.”

They took a shimmery white powder, dusting it along their cheekbones, their nose and upper lip. Billy coughed and spluttered when he inhaled some of the excess in the air, making Steve laugh for a moment.

“Okay. All done.” They finished blending the highlight powder below their eyebrow, looking at their face from different angles.

“Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.” They bat their long eyelashes at him, smiling demurely in the mirror. “Is it bad I just wanna fucking ruin it?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

“Sorry. Just horny.”

“When are you not?”

“Not my fault I’ve got the most gorgeous fucking s.o. on God’s green Earth.” Steve shoved him a little.

Nb Steve heyyoooo.

I LOVE burlesque, I think it’s BEAUTIFUL.

That being said, there’s actually v little burlesque in this lol

-

It’s not that Billy’s job was difficult for him, it’s just that he sometimes had a hard time focusing on what he was actually supposed to be doing.

He had been working at the theater for close to a month now, had gotten a hang of tending bar quickly, making sure the patrons always had fresh drinks and any finger snacks they could want.

He had found the old theater accidentally, scouring the city for any help wanted after the restaurant he was busing tables at closed for good. Billy had waited tables, had been a bus boy, had worked construction, had done just about everything to scrape up some money. The theater paid him enough to cover tuition and his share of rent for the dingy apartment he shared with three other guys.

He was good when the girls were dancing. Could stay focused on making drinks, liked to watch solely for the objective beauty in their bodies, their movements, but when the lights in the club went just a touch dimmer, and when the final performer took the stage, Billy was useless.

He didn’t know much about the performer, had only crossed paths with them a few times as he brought water back to the dressing rooms after the show. Knew their stage name was Bambi, that they had long lean legs and big dark eyes.

Billy knew that when they danced, he couldn’t pull his eyes away.

They wore the most beautiful delicate lingerie, kept to pastels and off-white, would dance and slowly pull of garments. They would come off the stage, interact with the patrons of the theater, sometimes allow strange hands to pull off a silky stocking, or sit on a random lap to unhook a bra.

Sometimes they would use the large silks, would climb them, twist up in them until they were luxuriating above the stage. But Billy’s favorite was when they used the Lyra, the suspended hoop to dance.

They knew exactly what to do with their body as they took the hoop, kept it in one hand as they stepped about the stage, would let their weight go, suspending on the hoop for a moment to swing to the other side of the stage.

They would climb into the hoop, would writhe into poses and positions, send expensive looking garments to the floor below them as they twisted their body elegantly above the crowd.

Billy was staring as they spun the hoop, upside down and holding onto the bottom of it, long legs open in a split, and he dropped the fucking jar of maraschino cherries.

The music was loud enough to cover the fucking crash of breaking glass, but Billy flew to clean up the mess, hands shaking as they gathered up broken glass.

By the time he had thrown most of it away, the performer was gone, the closing number beginning.

He continued cleaning up the huge fucking mess as the patrons were ushered out, as the lights were turned on.

He was scrubbing at the sticky patch when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He whipped around to see Bambi, still in stage makeup, ut wearing a chunky sweater and black sweatpants.

“You didn’t bring us water today.” Billy rolled his eyes. This brat really thought Billy had nothing better to do than to bring ice water to performers? That he really didn’t have his own duties? “I’m so sorry, that sounded rude. You just do it every night, and I was worried.” They were avoiding Billy’s eyes, fidgeting with a glass on the bar top.

“Nah, that’s okay. You want a water?” Billy was already scooping ice into a glass. Bambi slid into a stool as Billy placed the full glass in front of them.

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to sound pushy, I just always wait for you. Most of the girls have gone home and you didn’t come by. Thought maybe you had gotten hurt or something.”

“Just a made a giant fucking mess back here. Was too distracted by your dancing. You’re real talented.” Their cheeks went red.

“Um, thank you, Billy.” Billy furrowed his brows. Bambi just pointed at the black name badge pinned to his shirt, his name spelled out in elegant cursive.

“Forgot about that. What’s your name, then?”

“Steve.” Billy laughed.

“Really? I was expecting some ethereal name, like something from Greek mythology or the Bible or some shit.”

“Steven is about the best my Indiana republican parents could do.” Billy snorted a laugh, made Steve smile nice and wide at him.

“So that’s where you from? Indiana?”

“Small town outside of Indianapolis. Haven’t been back in years. Ran as far as I could once I came out.”

“How long you been here?”

“In this city? about five years. Here? Close to four and a half. I used to do makeup backstage until some of the ladies taught me how to dance.”

“I like watching you. You’re a  beautiful dancer.”

“I always notice you watching. You don’t watch the others like you watch me.” Billy leaned on his elbows over the bar top, making himself eye level with Steve.

“The others aren’t as gorgeous as you.” Steve went a deep shade of red, leaning back to sip their water, ended up choking a little bit in the process. Billy laughed, throwing them a wink as he went back to cleaning the cherry mess.

“Do you need help?”

“I got it, Sweet Thing.” Another little splutter. Billy grinned to himself. “Although, you did cause this whole mess. You were just so fucking perfect up there, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, ended up dropping cherries everywhere.” He gave one last wipe to the now spotless floor, tossing the towel in the dirty bin for washing.

He grinned at Steve, looking like a pretty little deer caught in headlights, really living up to that stage name.

“I guess you’re just too sexy.” Steve’s breath hitched, their face going so fucking red, Billy could swear he felt heat coming off of it.

“I, um, are you, can I have your phone number?” Billy reached for a napkin, writing his number and signing it with xx Billy.

“You better use that. I’ll be waiting for your call.” They laughed nervously, downing the rest of their ice water before grabbing their bag from the stool next to them.

“Or, you know. We could always just skip right to the date.”

“What you got in mind?”

“Drinks at my place?”