#xwips

Hey hey, cat! <3<3<3<3

the halloween wip is something i intended to be a short hc like ‘blablabla what if this happened!’ and ended up becoming 4+k of terrible “unknown source of magic makes them do it” pwp in which, basically:

“On the night of Halloween something happens (demon/witch/magic book/magical experimentation going wrong) and everyone becomes their costume for the night, and Billy & Steve are, how not, stuck together, babysitting the kids "As fucking always, Harrington, because for someone obnoxious reason you've become my own personal curse" "Oh, and you say it like you were a fucking blessing!" walking them around town to trick or treat when it happens.

And this is Hawkins, where apparently has become mandatory now that something strange happens every fucking year, so both the kids and Steve are kind of living in a perpetual state of alert. And that’s the reason why they kind of-- feel it. Feel that something is wrong as slowly, slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, people begin to act weird all around them. Mummies and werewolves and demons and angels and zombies and fairies and rock stars and cats and dinosaurs and every kind of creatures swarming in the halloween night. And soon, ghosts are floating. Terrifying masks look stuck to the faces of their owners. Beasts are howling out of mouths that are not human anymore. And when green and red and snake-like eyes blink at them, looking too goddam real, they know it’s time to look for help. To run”

And OF COURSE Billy and Steve end up alone together, looking for hopper after making the kids safe, but, yk, whatever is happening that we’ll never actually get to know bc this is the most self indulgent kind of pwp is getting to Steve too, changing him into his costume, into,

“He’s begun to feel the hunger.

A fucking vampire.

"We have to hurry" and when Billy looks at him, eyes wild, chest rising and falling, Steve knows he knows.

That he's changing. That Steve's gonna become dangerous. Soon.”

And *DRUMROLL!* things happen:

“And this thing inside of Steve. It's at the verge of taking over.

“We gotta make you safe, now”

“From what?” Billy asks. But he knows. And his eyes.

His eyes.

“From me, Billy”

But Billy–

Grins. His upper lip goes up. Bares his teeth. Huffs a laugh that sounds hoarse.

And maybe Steve has been––

“This is serious. I don’t wanna fucking eat you”

Billy. Slides close. Tongue digging into the sharp edge of a canine. Head tilted. Steve’s brand new instincts kick. He’s a prey now. He’s being hunted.

“Billy?”

But Billy. He looks– rapt. Reaches out. Hand cupping Steve’s face. Thumb pressing on his upper lip, rubbing at the tender flesh under the bow, saying “No, Harrington. No” running his pad downwards along the corner of his mouth and, pulling his bottom lip down, building an expectant, anticipating kind of feeling. A hook. Between the two of them “You’ve been eating me for a long time now”

The way he's looking at him— Steve wants to follow him through the darkest of paths, make an offering out of his freedom.

“What––“

Billy’s fingertips trace the shape of his jawbone and Steve backs down. Puts some space between himself and the way Billy’s staring at his lips, getting to a sudden halt when his calves hit the edge of the couch.

“Billy. What do you mean. Billy, what's happening?"

–— blind. He realizes. Steve has been so blind.

Because Billys is wrong too. Wrong. Can see it now. Eyes of an unnatural blue. Liquid. Silver-plated.

And it’s—

Sharp. Fast. The way Billy moves. Lays his palm flat over Steve's chest. Knocks the air out Steve’s lungs with the barest of touches. Because it's way he’s looking at him, what slams Steve into the couch. Breathless when Billy follows, climbs in onto his lap and,

Appetite, Steve thinks, recognizes. Appetite in the way his lashes fall, flutter, his lips part. Apettite, in the way his breath stutters.

"Steve"

He bends forward. One hand on the back of the couch. All his weight on him, caging him. Thighs clutching at his hipbones. And Steve feels them as his head hits the headrest, Billy’s knuckles, running up the shape up his throat, guiding his head up. And he feels so thirsty. Layed down on the desert. Skinned by the sun. Nailed down under his one weakness.

The one that could burn him down into ashes if Steve gets too close.

And they're close now. Close as they've never been before.

Billy's voice has the touch of velvet when he speaks. Smooth. Sleek.

"You're my fucking curse. I told you"

BUT and this is the plot twist i didn’t realize i blatantly revealed in the working title 🤦🏽‍♂️,billy isn’t dressed up for halloween so so-- he should be ok, right? R i g h t?:

“Fuck” Billy pants, nails carving half-moons on the muscle of Steve’s shoulder blades “Holy fuck”

“Hey, can you––?“

“I was a fucking joke!” Billy cuts him off, sounding like he’s wired-up, out of breath, as if he’s feeling it too. How strong it is. This craving. To lean forward again, let himself fall back into the slide of their mouths, to wrap his body around Steve and just–– give in to whatever is doing this to them. As if he feels exactly how Steve feels “I had forgotten about it but”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck–I. Fuck!”

Billy runs his hands over his hair. His breath, when it comes out, lets his whole body trembling, hips stuttering forwards like he’s trying, but can’t. Help it. As if he needs their bodies to touch.

“Billy,” Steve says, soothing. Touches his face and Billy jolts, chest heaving up, electricity at the contact “I need you to talk to me”

Billy presses his lips together. Nods. Steve has never seen him like this. Like he’s out of cover. Nowhere to run.

“It’s like. What I felt before but it's. I could control it, Steve. But now it's pulling. It's maddening and I" His voice has lowered to the volume of a plea and he closes his eyes as if it is too much, as if whatever is happening to him is growing as fast as Steve's thirst. Becoming as unbearable. Steve runs his thumb over Billy’s cheekbone and Billy whimpers a low, lewd thing. Leans into the touch and rubs his cheek on it. Sighs like it’s such a relief. Such a relief. And then he’s. Opening his mouth and sucking at the Steve’s palm, sloppy and obscene, and Steve’s cock is weeping inside his pants head bumping against the hard leather of his belt, brushing minutely with every short breath. Doesn’t remember wanting anything like he wants this. Slide his fingers into the wet heat of Billy’s mouth. Watch, as he sucks them in.

"Hey. Easy. Easy. C’mon Billy c’monc’mon you can tell me"

But Billy is barely listening to him, panting against the heel of his palm, almost gone again.

"I wanted. God, I wanted to––” chokes off a sob. His hands wander up into the strands of Steve’s hair. Tangle in there “But wouldn’t have. Steve, I would never have. I’m so fucking scared you would––”

Steve takes his wrists. Soft. Careful. Tugs him towards him. Billy’s eyes snap open, lashes fluttering like pulled right out of a dream, and he’s so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful like this, straddling Steve’s lap, lips plump and swollen because of him, tears welling up and barely contained, gleaming like moonlight in clear a sky after a storm.

“Billy, please. I need you to tell me––“

“The costume” he breathes out, not as much a word, as a whisper. The blue of his eyes science fiction and impossible.

And Steve– he doesn’t understand. It can’t be, because Billy,

“But there’s no costume. You’re not in disguise”

“One of your minions,” he says and Steve feels the ridiculous impulse of protest, as if this is just the two of them going on about their shit as they always do, and not both of them tangled into the other, bodies shivering with the need to touch “When you came to pick us up. Dustin saw me like this and made a joke. Told him the first dumb thing that came into mind and–”

He trails off, his cheeks flush, a violent shade of red, lowers his face as if he’s so ashamed, and Steve has to press his lips together, fangs rasping at the delicate flesh inside.

And it’s not just the blood what’s making him hungry, when his fingers move down to Billy’s chin, lifts his face up. He wants to find out what the tears in his eyes taste like. Wants to relish in him. Find a way under his clothes and––

“Tell me”

“I was just joking”

––make him his. All his. And Nonono.

“Billy. What are you?”

“An incubus”

Andddd, that's TMI i know. Hopefully I'll finish it for next Halloween *crosses all fingers* bc I had such a good time writing it and isn't that far from being complete and, adashuhdsahd, I just LOVE the "x makes them do it" kind of fics but I think this was my first actual try at one?