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It’s driving him insane.

The new guy in the office is nothing more than a glorified temp, which is funny seeing as he’s about the same age as Billy and yet he’s running around fetching coffee when Billy is the one taking meetings. It’s silly, he shouldn’t even be on Billy’s radar. He’s nobody, in the grand scheme of things. Just another body in a cube, taking up space on a floor full of suits.

Listening to AC/DC on his phone loud enough that Billy can hear from the next cube down. The guy’s headphones must be from like, 2002. They’re bleeding sound while Billy is trying to actually get some work done.


He’s been sitting next to the guy for about, two weeks, and he’s already fucking obsessed.

That’s saying something. He’s not really the type to fixate on something as simple as a pretty face. But, well, he’s fucking fixated. Laser-targeted, really.

Locked on to, specifically, the guy’s massive cock.

How does he know? He isn’t a psychic or anything. He hasn’t stalked him and taken a peek in the urinals because that’s a level of desperate that he’s never going to reach.

He’ll die before he hits on a dude while he’s taking a piss.

No, he knows the temp is hung because he’s seen the way the guy has to freaking shuffle shit around in his slacks when he gets back from the bathroom and it has Billy’s mouth freaking watering.

The new guy is definitely packing some kind of Goliath in there. And Billy hasn’t had decent sex in like, almost a year. The pickings at his favorite gay bar keep getting younger and younger and the sex gets worse and worse.

Like, if he wanted to get a sloppy hand job and some super porny sex, he would have stayed in college.

He’s almost thirty. It’s time to graduate to the major leagues.

And the new guy, Steve, has a bat in his pants.

Here, batter batter.

From what he overhears and what he sees, Steve is single. And only working as a business croney because he dropped out of business school. Which, Billy thinks is pretty fucking stupid. He doesn’t look the right age to have just dropped out of college but then he sees Steve’s handwriting and it makes sense.

It looks like something a kindergartener would sneer at: a complete mess.

But then he shows up to work wearing a fucking Armani suit and Billy about chokes on the mouthful of coffee halfway down his throat.

How a college dropout can afford a suit worth at least four months of rent -- and that’s Billy’s tiny-ass, early 90’s broom closet, not some fucking exposed-brick, modern industrial bullshit -- is a complete mystery. The kid can wear a suit though. The thing is tailored and it makes Billy want to gouge his own eyes out because he can’t fucking think around it.

And then he comes out of the bathroom and does the thing.

The thing that he does, fidgeting with his sleeves, then he puts his cock down his right leg -- Billy supposes he thinks he’s being discreet but there’s no missing it. Not when you’re watching anyway.   

Billy is turning into a complete animal. The images in his head.

He’s had dreams even. Which has sad and pathetic just written all over it.

But they’re some of the best dreams he’s had in a while. Nothing like when he was a teenager and everything was just a blind haze of lust mixed with porn and some celebrities. No, this is sharper, clearer somehow. He can feel the rug burning his knees as he swallows Steve’s massive cock, holds his throat open so the guy can thrust further until Billy is just drowning in him. Spit all over his chin and lips.

He wakes up so goddamn hard that he doesn’t even have to work for it. Just a little teasing and he’s making a mess.

It’s great shit.

In theory.

But when he shows up to work and Steve looks just as edible as the day before, hair perfectly styled and his smile so fucking wide, Billy wants to call in sick. Spend the whole day getting the new, idiotic temp out of his dumb fantasies.

So that’s how he’s wound up here, half crazy over the new guy.

He’s considering taking up smoking again if it keeps him from trying to pick up Steve in the middle of the office. That’s really the last thing that he needs to do, start fucking around with someone he works with. He had sex with a coworker one time back in college when he worked at some shitty deli and that had devolved into his manhood being threatened with a meat slicer.


He’s tried to avoid that for the rest of his life.

But Steve is wearing a charcoal suit, cut so damn trim in the crotch that Billy about groaned when he saw the guy show up that morning.

Of course, the dork has already ditched the jacket over the back of his chair, even though the thing does him eighteen sorts of favors in the shoulder region. But Billy isn’t exactly hating the way he’s rolled up his dress shirt to the elbows either.

But one thing rings universal: Steve wears the fuck out of those damn pants.

They’re tight enough that there’s no way he’s wearing traditional boxers. So, of course, that means Billy is left tormented with images of Steve’s gorgeous ass in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs that cup his enormous cock in the front.

Obviously they don’t tame the beast, because when Steve stands to head to the bathroom at a quarter after ten, Billy watches him adjust before he goes.

And he feels himself getting up before he comes to the realization that he’s following.

For a hot minute, he considers sitting his dumb ass right back down and burying himself in work but then something inside of his black, little soul begs for him to just do it already.

So he follows. At a distance, because he’s not a freaking creep, despite the fact that he’s definitely following someone into the bathroom so he can, fuck, hit on them.

He’s officially a piece of shit.

Yet it doesn’t stop him. He watches Steve slip passed the heavy door, letting it swing back and forth behind him before Billy nears. Braces his palm against the paint as he thinks about what the actual fuck he’s doing before he throws the thought aside and just plows inside.

Steve’s standing at one of the urinals and Billy picks a urinal one down -- not right next to the guy because he’s not that big of a freak and really not sure what he’s going to do. He’s still formulating when he hears, “Hey.”

He looks up too fast, like he didn’t know he was there? Of course he did. He knows his reaction gives him away because he’s all wide eyes and hesitant hey until Steve looks away. Goes back to, well, pissing.

There must be something wrong with him because even that seems to be doing things for him. Just the sound of his steady stream hitting the porcelain and Billy is chewing the inside of his cheek. Praying he doesn’t start to blush like some kind of dork.

He’s not like this. He’s not the one that chases, he’s the one that is chased. Literally, he walks into any club and he’s got offers for sex before he can get a drink ordered. Billy doesn’t have to work for it. Never has. But this feels like uncharted territory because clearly he’s going to have to say something for this guy to get the inkling that he even likes him.

Steve finishes suddenly and the room goes quiet as Billy does the same. He hadn’t really needed to go in the first place but he can always manage a little bit when he needs a mental health break from work but now he’s standing there holding his dick watching the subject of his desire zip up and flush.

And then Steve reaches down and adjusts, makes a face.

“New pants?” Billy blurts without even thinking and Steve looks up, sees him watching and smiles. Friendly, genuine.

Billy totally hates how cute he is.

“Nah, Weird fit.”

In reality, there’s nothing weird about the fit. Billy’s been to tailors and the slacks on Steve’s slender hips are perfectly fitted. There’s nothing out of place except that he can’t seem to figure out where to put his dick.

“Fuck.” Steve murmurs before he finally slaps his hands on his thighs, turns towards Billy so he can get a better view of the substantial strain he’s putting on the fly, and sighs. “Does it look okay?”


“You mean, can I still see your dick?” Billy asks with a grin, meeting Steve’s eyes. And, damn him, the guy blushes.


“Congratulations, by the way.” Billy adds, because he literally can’t help himself as he zips his fly. Turns to walk to the sink. Steve follows, sorta, fiddling with his pants.

“I’ve just...gained a few pounds and now these fit all stupid.” He sighs again and Billy catches a glimpse of him in the mirror, rubbing his face with this look of utter exhaustion. “Shit, I look like a fucking idiot.”

“Not from where I’m standing.” Billy says nonchalantly, smiling. Like he does this sort of thing all the time. Telling dudes their junk looks good in their slacks while they’re standing in the bathroom.


“Really?” Steve all out cups himself and Billy wants to fall to his knees right then and there, open his mouth and beg like the eager slut he is.

It’s pathetic how this temp has him by the short and curlies and probably doesn’t even know his goddamn name. Or at least Billy doesn’t think he does.

“It doesn’t look...I don’t know...inappropriate?” Steve tries. Moves his cock around again and Billy closes his eyes as he dries his hands. Tries not to let out a groan of fucking agony.

Steve’s dick is, without a doubt, the biggest Billy has had the pleasure of meeting personally. From what he can see, and he can see quite a bit, his length is his only half of the fun. The other half is the exceptional girth on a man who doesn’t seem girthy in any other sense of the word.

No, his cock is definitely a surprise. Like the twink porn stars that are walking around with hammers.

Billy feels like he’s won the lottery and he hasn’t even won yet.

“I mean, if you have a girlfriend, she might get jealous.” Billy settles on that. Because, yeah, he just assumes someone who looks like Steve must be as straight as they come because he’s not that lucky. The man is too stereotypically cute. Big smile. Pretty eyes.

Steve wrinkles his nose, an adorable little smirk showing up on his face. “Because of your wandering eyes?”

And, well, that gives Billy all kinds of hope. Especially when Steve seems to focus on him, eyes tracking Billy’s nervous swallow. He looks downright gleeful in his entrapment.

So Billy is dangerously optimistic when he says, “Well, yeah.” The cocky bastard inside him flexes. “Hard not to look, honestly.”

And Steve isn’t really trying to hide himself anymore. His hands are in his pockets, which only works to make the bulge at the front of his pants even more pronounced. Billy can’t tell if he’s hard in those slacks, or if he’s just that big, which has him positively drooling.

Yet there’s an edge to his desire. He’s not at a club, surrounded by sluts on E who’d whip out their cocks at Billy’s command. This is work. The place with rules about harassment and unwanted sexual advances.

But there’s nothing in Steve’s body language that suggests Billy’s attention is unwanted. In fact, the way his eyes glitter says the opposite. They say come closer.

So he takes a step, licks his lip. And something in Steve’s expression shifts, goes dark with desire.

“Then look.”

That’s an invitation if Billy’s ever heard one. In a moment, confidence wells up in his stomach and he closes the gap between them. Like an animal, he pounces, one hand bracing the side of Steve’s neck as he backs him into a tiled wall and takes.

Pressing his tongue between Steve’s pliant, pink lips is easily the sweetest thing he’s tasted all week. A kiss is just a kiss, but the word doesn’t seem to fit what Billy feels against his mouth. The way Steve moans and licks at his tongue has Billy humming with pleasure. He dives headlong into the delicious heat of Steve’s mouth, using his tongue to dominate and tease.

Really, Steve is one of the best kissers he’s met in a while. He feels like a man returning to shore after being at sea for years, stepping on land and rejoicing at having something solid under his feet.

Steve is solid. Under his slim cut Armani and big, fluffy hair, he’s got a body that Billy hadn’t anticipated. His chest is firm and his arms are strong, wrapping around Billy’s waist. Pulling him closer until their hips meet and Billy lets out a small grunt.

That cock is against his thigh and he can feel how hard it is, how warm, through his pant leg. He shifts them on the wall to get a hand between their bodies, fingers seeking blindly as they kiss each other breathless.

When the pads of his fingers slide over the pronounced ridge of Steve’s cock, they both gasp. And Billy pulls away to look down, to watch himself stroke the length of it to the blunt head.

“God, you’re so big.” He moans aloud, pressing harder to elicit a hiss from between Steve’s teeth. “I want my mouth on you.”

And, well, the blush that breaks out over Steve’s face and neck is freaking hot.

“Please. Oh fuck, please.” He squirms under Billy’s touch, back writhing on the wall.

“Not here.” Billy takes a step back as he tries to reign in his control. His pulse is off the charts and his own arousal is kicking in his slacks. If this were a club, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d have pretty Steve shoved in a stall and he’d be on his knees on a nasty bathroom floor to get at the cobra in those Armani pants. But, again, not a club.

The office.

Cold reality splashes over him and he straightens his tie, catching his breath.

“You free after lunch?”

Because, seriously, Billy wants a solid hour with him if he can. He’d book a goddamn conference room if that was something that wouldn’t get him fired in about 2.5 seconds.

But he likes his job. He gets paid good money for his job, so he puts his libido aside for a fraction of a second to figure out how soon he can get Steve and his disco stick into the back of his car. Even though the parking garage is technically part of the office, he figures it’s fucking close enough.

The pretty temp nods his head, breathless, and grins like a freaking goober and fuck it does things for Billy. Makes him want to kiss him again.

So he does. He crowds him up against the wall and grinds their hips together as he catches his mouth in a kiss. Softer this time, more tasting instead of taking. He lets his mouth linger, nibbles and licks at Steve’s plush bottom lip.

“Keep your afternoon clear.” He growls against that pretty, open mouth and pushes away, strides out of the bathroom before he goes back on his word and devours Steve then and there.



Keep your afternoon clear. Like he’s going to do anything after a kiss like that? He can barely remember his password when he tries to log into his computer. Fucks it up three times before he finally calms himself down enough to get his shit together. To remember he’s only been in the office an hour or so and he has to get through the rest of the morning before it even approaches the afternoon.

But he can’t really stop grinning to himself because, shit, it’d worked.

His stupid, devious little plan -- the one he’d figured was a game he was only playing with himself -- had actually goddamn worked. On Billy Hargrove. The hottest man in the entire office.

And, honestly, there’s a reason Steve had tried so hard. Ever since the moment he’d taken the dead end job doing temp work to cover his demented phone bills, he’d noticed Billy.

It’s hard not to notice someone who belongs on the cover of GQ and dresses like he knows it. The guy oozes confidence and never looks a hair out of place. He flirts with practically anything that moves -- all the married women love him and secretly want him for themselves despite numerous attempts to set him up with their friends.

Billy is a freaking catch. Hotter than God and just cocky about it. But somehow not an asshole? If that’s possible.

He’s weirdly approachable, though Steve hasn’t been able to spit out more than three words around the guy without biting his own tongue because he sounds like an idiot. Like the one time he’d told an entire story about his roommate from school only to wind up with the dreaded question: what year did you graduate?

Of course, Billy hadn’t asked that because Steve doesn’t talk to Billy. But Billy had been filling a mug full of high-test coffee no more than three feet away when Steve had owned up to the fact that he hadn’t actually graduated from college.

Not for lack of trying. But after falling into one of the worst depressions of his life, he figured maybe he wasn’t on the right career path.

Business is fine, but it’s not for him. Especially not the kind of business his dad wants him to take over. The administrative, meeting after meeting kind of business where nothing gets done but people spend hours and make millions doing nothing.

No, Steve can’t be that person. He won’t.

So he’d dropped out of school and taken this shitty job to try and pay his bills while he secretly enrolled in the police academy. Thanks to Hopper, he has a decent shot at actually getting into the thing, despite his high school GPA leaving something to be desired. Thanks to Hopper, he knows what it’s like to be a man of action. Someone who protects people and, as corny as it sounds, serve. Protect and serve.

But until he can actually start training, until he can get his ass in an actual cadet uniform, he’s stuck playing the office game.

Which, in that moment, doesn’t seem so bad.

Not when his entire consciousness is focused on the fact that he is still very aroused and Billy is sitting within earshot and smells like sex with his stupid expensive cologne and fancy hair products. The guy is by definitely alluring and Steve is expected to just sit there? All day long?

Waiting for the moment where Billy Hargrove decides when and where he gets to devour him?

Talk about distracting.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to lock himself out of his computer and have to walk his happy ass down to the IT department to get it unlocked again. All the while, sporting a half chub that’s making him fucking crazy.

And, yeah, his pants are a little too small. They’re from his senior year of high school and like, he’s put on some weight. Most people do, really. When he can’t afford to eat the healthy shit his parents used to stock the fridge with and pizza rolls have coupons in the ads almost every week?

Yeah, he put on a little pudge.

Weirdly enough, it all seemed to wind up in his ass. Which, in turn, had made his pants fit snug around his hips and thighs and what do you know. His cock stands out like a sore thumb.

It’s always stood out, if he’s being honest. Not even bragging. He’s packing heat and he’s not exactly ashamed of it. Hell, he used to parade around the locker room with his dick swinging, just so the bigger, meatier jocks would throw compliments his way. There’s a reason they called him King Steve.

But showing off his god-given gifts at the office hadn’t been intentional.

At first.

The first time he’d noticed Billy’s gaze, he’d almost been sure he’d made it up. Or the guy just happened to be glancing over when he’d stood up or something along those lines. An accidental cock stare.

But then it’d happened again.

And Steve had started an experiment. He’d worn tighter pants, stood up and stretched on occasion and tracked the way Billy’s eyes had strayed below his belt. The way the guy’s bottom lip would wind up caught in his teeth as he chewed with intent. Like he was biting back the impulse to groan. Maybe.

In reality, up until the morning, Steve would have called his little game a fantasy. Something made up in his own head. But then Billy had followed him and their small conversation in the bathroom had turned into something straight out of a scenario in Steve’s spank bank.

And now he’s waiting. Checking the little clock on his fitbit every ten seconds. Wishing he could skip to the part of the afternoon where Billy shows up at his desk and orders him to follow.

He somehow manages to sign into his stupid PC, spends a solid beat checking the bullshit group emails that he doesn’t care about, only to see that barely a minute has passed. Then he sees it, the little notification that pops up on his Slack profile.

A message, from B. Hargrove.

You know where the Yukon conference room is?

Steve feels like an idiot when he quickly types back.

No? Is that the one by the vending machines?

Billy, thank god, doesn’t make him wait before there’s a notification that Billy is typing. And typing.

No, the one with the keycard entry. Second floor.

Steve chews on his lip, nods like Billy is watching him, even though he knows the guy is too smooth for that.

Definitely too smooth for that.

Oh okay, yeah. I know it.

Billy responds quickly.

I have a meeting until 2. I’d like to talk to you afterwards.

And yeah he can read between the lines. He’s not an idiot, he knows that Billy would be sending him eggplant emojis with raindrops if this were a private conversation but this is corporate and nothing is private.

Not really.

So he plays along, holds his breath a little to try and quell the excitement. That’s like four hours away and he can’t sit there thinking about meeting him the entire day. He won’t last a second in a kiss if he does.


He thinks that sounds casual enough. Cool. Like he’s not desperate like he definitely feels.

Look forward to it.



Two o’clock arrives faster than Steve had ever expected. Fast enough that he’s scrambling to check his hair in a bathroom mirror. Chew a quick piece of gum and like, sniff every part of his body to make sure he doesn’t smell like nervous sweats. Because he’s nervous, which is stupid. Their attraction is mutual and he’s really quite good at sex in general. But there’s a difference between spontaneously making out with a guy in the bathroom and meeting him for a quickie somewhere.

Big difference.

So he’s freaking palms are clammy when he makes his way to the second floor. Reads the stupid little plaques outside every conference room like an idiot as he searches for a “Yukon” until he turns a corner and sees Billy just standing there. Grinning at him.

Leaning against a wall with his lip in his teeth.

“Hey.” Billy calls down the hallway. Almost smug with the way his mouth keeps curling at the corner. Steve walks to meet him, shoving his hands in his pockets as he puts on his best attempt at a casual grin. But there’s nothing casual about the way he’s already hardening in his pants.


“Have a minute?” The guys steps back and opens a door, unmarked and definitely not a conference room and Steve nods, swallows down his hesitation.

He’s about to duck into a fucking closet with the office hottie. There’s almost nothing that could stop him from walking into the little dark room.

He’s barely in the space when Billy follows him and closes them in, flipping Steve around before he pins his back to the door. What little light leaks in under the door illuminates the space, but not enough that Steve can actually see the man against him.

However, he can feel him. He can track every breath Billy makes as he closes in, brushes his mouth across Steve’s cheek. Presses his lips to the corner of his mouth.

As his eyes slowly adjust, Steve is coaxed into a kiss, his body going loose with each caress of their mouths. Gradually the room comes into focus and Steve can see Billy’s square jaw, neat curls and stupidly handsome face.

“Are you nervous?” Billy asks against his lips, teasing with the just the tip of his tongue. Steve chases that mouth, catches it again in a wet kiss. Yeah, he was nervous. But this? Kissing with everything he’s got? This, he’s good at.

“Not anymore.” He breathes, tangling his fingers in the lapels of Billy’s jacket. His grip might leave wrinkles but neither of them are thinking about that. Not with their tongues tangling and their hushed moans mingling. Steve takes his time. He savors the feel of Billy against him, the taste of them together.

“Good.” Billy murmurs. “Because I want you relaxed.”

Then the guy drops to his knees.

And Steve is goddamn floored. He doesn’t even dare to breathe for a few seconds as Billy unbuckles his belt, rucks his pants down with a quick tug.

The image in front of him is so fucking hot he can’t fucking think and Billy is on a freaking mission with his boxers. Hell, he’s sucking the skin at his waistband, getting Steve so riled he’s arching his back and seeking out that pretty mouth and Billy is watching him.

Eyes up, blue and knowing. He’s licking the flat plane of Steve’s stomach and nuzzling his nose into the trail of hair from his belly button to his cock.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Steve manages to groan, absolutely hypnotized. Billy’s skin is a warm honey next to his pale stomach and the contrast against his dark lashes is ridiculous. He’s drowning in the image alone, let alone in the way Billy laughs and his breath brushes warm across his cock.

“Ditto.” He purrs. Then he opens his mouth and sucks at the head of Steve’s hard cock through his underwear, momentarily stopping the earth on its axis.

Steve has to tear his eyes away to keep from whimpering. He looks up at the ceiling, wishes like hell they were in his apartment or something so they didn’t have to keep quiet because damn he really wants to moan. He wants to fill a room with the sounds that bubble up in his throat.

Billy hasn’t even taken off his underwear and Steve has to reach down, squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming too soon.

“Oh yeah?” The guy asks, and Steve chances a look down. Billy’s working his own fly, sneaking his hand into his pants. “You wanna come already?”

Steve shakes his head.

“No.” He manages to wheeze. “No, I want you.”

Billy grins as his dick appears in hand, pink and shining in his fist. Steve licks his lips subconsciously, wondering if maybe he’ll get to repay the favor someday. If this is a one time thing, he’ll be disappointed. But it’s definitely not going to stop him from getting -- what promises to be -- one hell of a blowjob.

Billy bites his bottom lip and his hand starts to move on his own shaft, revealing more of his pretty dick. It’s substantial, large by many standards. Except Steve’s of course. He’s big. He’s really big.

Big enough that he’s been downright turned down by partners. Men and women too afraid of being fucked by him and, well, too intimidated to try and suck him. But Billy doesn’t seem to be either. Billy is eager, leaning forward to lick a long stripe on Steve’s straining cock.

It makes him groan. Not enough to make him come but enough to make him want so badly he’s dizzy. Wet and hot, Billy’s mouth is sinful through his cotton briefs. He sucks and licks and breathes and Steve squirms, cards his fingers in the neat, short curls on Billy’s head.

And the guy moans. Pumps his hand faster.

“You want my mouth?” He asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. And Steve gulps down fresh air, nods stupidly. Because there’s no way he can come up with actual words. Billy is too sexy.

It’s a miracle he can stand.

“God, yes.” He sounds pretty needy but he doesn’t really care. Not when there’s a stunning man on his knees in front of him, asking him if he wants to have his cock sucked. “I’m not above fucking begging.”

Billy grins, kisses his thigh.

“No need to beg.” Slipping his fingers into the waistband, Billy slowly drags his briefs down and Steve sighs when his cock is released. It bobs heavy, filling out steadily at his hips. “Damn.” Billy whispers before he rocks forward, mouthing at the base of his shaft. “I knew you would be hung, sweetheart, but goddamn.” He presses a soft kiss against his hip, his fingers winding around Steve’s cock. “You’re long and you’re thick.”

That makes him throb. And Billy knows what he’s doing too, Steve can tell. He’s beautiful, and sinful. And has Steve completely at his mercy.

“And this head.” Billy breathes, leaning forward before he licks at the tip of Steve’s dick.

He gasps, reaching for anything. His hands tangle in all the golden hair around Billy’s head and Steve can’t believe he’s here. Getting the best head of his life in a supply closet.

“You’re so fat, baby, I’m gonna choke on you.”

And it’s pretty damn obvious Steve likes that imagery because precome wells at his head, drips down onto Billy’s waiting tongue. He nearly sobs, biting his bottom lip to try and keep his shit together.

“You gonna fuck my throat ‘til I gag?”

Uh, fuck yeah he is. Steve all but pants, “Jesus,” before he groans, “you’re such a tease.”

Billy goddamn beams and then suddenly he’s not teasing anymore. No, suddenly Steve is biting on his own fist to keep from screaming because Billy is swallowing him down.

He immediately chokes on Steve’s length, eyes watering as he pulls back, stroking hard and fast when he comes off the tip. Steve can’t help it, goddamn it. He whines, like a bitch, thrusting his hips out because the heat and suction had felt like heaven and he wants more. So much more.

“Fuck yeah.” Billy whispers before he takes him down once, twice, and a third time before he gags again. Pulls off with a string of drool connecting his lips to Steve’s cock. “God you’re a meal, Harrington.” Then he goes back to stuffing his face like he’s starving.

Steve could die happy in that moment. Dick out, shirt untucked and shoved up his belly, pants around his thighs. He’s debauched and his dick is dripping but it’s absolute perfection.

Billy strokes him aggressively between his attempts at taking all of Steve’s cock into his throat, each time making further progress than the last. He’s persistent, moaning on his dick like he loves it and damn Steve’s pretty sure he does. He can see where the guy’s cock is leaking into his fist, making a mess on his hand.

Billy’s technique is solid, punctuated with little sucks and licks when Steve’s cock goes a little numb from overstimulation, his nerves drunk on the sensations of wet and slide. It’s like Billy knows when he needs pampering, needs to be kissed instead of swallowed.

And he always keeps eye contact. Even in those spare moments where Steve cups Billy’s face and his lids droop in pleasure, he’s always watching. Less pornographic and more intimate, it makes Steve tremble.

Not to say that he isn’t obscene. Billy puts some of the best porn Steve’s ever seen to shame with the way he opens his mouth, pulls on Steve’s hips to encourage him to thrust. It’s almost so unbelievable that Steve hesitates. He barely moves until Billy sinks his nails into the tender backs of his thighs and Steve jerks forward in surprise, burying himself so far that Billy gags and moans before Steve eases back, lets him breathe. Stares down at watering, blue eyes.

Only to have Billy pull on him again, start him on a steady rhythm.

“Jesus.” Steve praises him, carding his fingers through silky curls. “You’re fucking incredible.”

He figures maybe he owes him a fruit basket after this. A few thousand edible arrangements. He’d marry the him if he asked. Give him anything he owned if he would just get him off like this. Filthy and fucking glorious.

Turns out, it takes a lot longer than he’d figured. He’s sort of proud he manages to hold out. His balls are tight and his shaft is singing when he feels the tingling fire settle under his skin, burn in his veins. He gasps, caresses Billy’s damp cheek with a hand as he whispers, “I’m coming. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. Billy buries him deep and Steve’s knees buckle until he’s sagging into the door at his back, shooting his load down Billy’s throat. He whimpers like a teenager, already so oversensitive, his hips bucking when Billy wiggles his tongue and starts to pull back.

“Oh my god.” He breathes. “Wow.”

Billy pops off his head with a messy smile, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and winks.

“Right back ‘atcha big guy.”

It’s only then that Steve sees that Billy is still rubbing his cock, his cheeks and neck turning pink with arousal. His fist is moving fast, like he’s close. Like sucking Steve off had gotten him nearly there.

Without thinking, Steve taps Billy’s cheek, draws his attention.

“I want it.” He murmurs and then he’s kneeling down, getting on the floor with his pants around his knees. His dick still out and softening, he reaches for Billy’s cock. “I want to taste you.”

Billy makes a sound somewhere between agreement and agony and pushes himself to his feet, keeps his hand moving over his slick shaft. The other hand cups Steve’s jaw, lifts his face.

“You want my load?” He asks gently, like he’s not about to come on Steve’s goddamn tongue. “Is that what you want?”

“In my mouth.” Steve whines, shuffling closer, mouth open and greedy the way he knows looks good -- it looks fucking slutty but hot all the same.

“Shit.” Billy jerks faster, thighs shaking as he moves a little closer. “Let me see those eyes.”

And Steve knows what he’s talking about, he’s been called Bambi since he was five. But after watching Billy stare up at him with his mouth full of cock, he knows why he wants this too. He wants to see Steve looking back at him when he comes. Wants to connect to him.

So he blinks up, sticks out his tongue just a little, and the tip brushes over the Billy’s head.

Billy doesn’t curse. He doesn’t growl or grunt. He makes a sighing sort of sound and presses down on Steve’s chin as thick ropes of come spurt from his cock. And Steve moans, leans into it to catch every drop because he’s hungry for it. Thirsty for the bitter, salty taste of him.

And, also, he really doesn’t want to have to explain a come stain on his shirt.

Billy pets him affectionately, sweetly, then helps Steve to his feet. Pulls him into his arms with little effort to take his mouth in a deep kiss. One that rips the breath right out of Steve’s lungs. It feels like he spends hours in Billy’s arms, drowning in the taste of himself, of Billy, of each other.

“That,” Steve groans as he catches his breath, “was fun.”

Billy’s laugh is warm against his cheek, trailing down his jaw.

“Yeah, it was.” He breathes. “It really was.”

“Maybe we could do it again?” Steve asks, his heart beating fast in his ribs. He wants to see him again. Like, a lot. “Maybe after dinner?”

There’s a laugh against his neck, then a soft kiss, before Billy pulls away.

“You trying to woo me into bed, sweetheart?”

This time, Steve is the one that laughs. Because, yeah, he’s basically pulling out all the stops to get into Billy’s pants. To get his hands on him again, his mouth on him again. Really, anything.

But he’s also pretty damn sure he wants to see Billy again after that. And, maybe again after that?


“I’m kind of trying to ask you on a date.” Steve says softly, almost embarrassed as he pulls up his pants and tucks himself in. Billy plants a hand on the door beside Steve’s head, leans in close enough that heat bleeds through his clothes, tingling on Steve’s skin.

“You’re pretty when you blush.” Billy presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. Then grins a predator’s grin. “Fair warning, I’m not a cheap date.”

“Good.” Steve smirks. “Neither am I.”