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teenagefuckboys · 2 years

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Listen, listen, I read this post from @wixterirox about Billy snorting a line off Steve’s stomach (which was then made Better) and I could not get that shit out of my head so here’s this spicy thing enjoy

(tw: drugs and alcohol)

Steve is high.

Totally, definitely high.

And he thinks that might be the only reason that what’s going on doesn’t set off any warning bells at all whatsoever. He smoked two joints that Billy rolled for him, tightest shit he’s ever had.

(That’s what Billy says about him too: “tightest hole I’ve had, baby, sweetest piece of ass, goddamn”.)

Steve is on cloud fucking nine, baby. Absolutely floating. High enough to eat a star.

They had gone to a movie earlier. As they were walking back to the Camaro to take Steve home, Billy asked if Steve wanted to have a night to fuck around and get high together. Steve couldn’t say no. And although Billy had been more treating himself to expensive liquor from Steve’s dad’s cabinet, he had to wonder if Billy had something else planned.

Steve is high enough that he can’t totally remember how they got back to his bedroom but he doesn’t care.

And now. Now. He’s—God. Fucking hell. He’s laid out on his bed. Hideous plaid sheets—that his mother picked out, Jesus Christ—under him, white shirt under that jacket with the red stripes (the one Billy saw in his closet a few weeks before and said “honey, why haven’t I seen you in this?” And when Steve saw it again, he just had to pull it on) riding up his belly just enough.

But he does know how he got Here. This situation. This moment. Can never say to no Billy when he gets pushed towards his bed.

Billy, shirtless (who expected more), hovering over him with a little baggie of white powder. “Can I?”

Steve gets confused for a second. What’s Billy asking for? “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, just not on the carpet, okay?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Billy shakes his head and smiles like a vampire spotting someone with a paper cut. “It won’t get on the carpet.”

Steve knows vaguely what’s in the bag. Coke. He’s never done it, was too scared to. Now that Billy is shaking it back and forth over his eyes, he kinda wishes he had. Just to know. “Where’s it gonna go then?” He pouts a little, feeling like maybe Billy is making fun of him.

Without warning, two golden tan, ringed, warmwarmwarm hands shove his shirt up to his chin. Slowly, one hand drags down from his chest, pinky brushing over a nipple and comes to rest on his stomach. Placed, fingers spread wide, right above his belly button. Billy licks over his bottom lip, mouth open like an absolute d-bag, and asks, “how ‘bout here?”

Ah. Hm.

He’d be a fucking liar if he said he didn’t get turned on at the thought. Imagining in his swirling mind, thin white lines along his belly, Billy kneeling between his thighs—maybe pressing one against his crotch—snorting the powder off his skin. It shouldn’t be hot. It should be concerning. It isn’t.

“If, if you want to. Yeah. Yeah, you can.” Steve is panting now, somewhere he can vaguely feel it. The pure concept of Billy snorting lines of coke off him like he’s some two-bit whore? Yeah, way hotter than it has any right to be.

Billy smiles wider, white and brilliant and heartstopping and he’s yanking at Steve’s white shirt. “Off. Get this off.”

They messily manage to sit up, Billy pulling relentlessly on the shirt and when Steve manages to wrangle himself out of the shirt and his jacket, Billy stops him. “No, no,” he scolds, “keep the jacket.”

Befuddled, Steve pulls the jacket back over his shoulders, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. “Yeah?” He asks, a little uncertain, if not a little shy.

Billy licks over his lips again, eyes trailing down Steve’s chest like a wolf sizing up a rabbit, “yeah, baby.”

Laying back carefully, Steve splays over his pillows, arms coming up to rest haphazardly over his head. Billy’s hands go to squeeze his waist. “Where’s your daddy’s credit card?” Billy asks, baggie still pinched between his first and middle fingers, hands on a narrow waist.

Steve frowns. “My wallet?”

With a short nod, Billy reaches the hand without the bag under Steve’s ass, grabbing his wallet from the back pocket. He may have copped a little feel as he went. “Gotta have something to cut these lines, honey. This’ll be perfect.”

He flicked through it, grabbing the black card and tossing the wallet on the night stand.

Billy is almost methodical about it.

The credit card is caught between his lips. The baggie is opened and about a third of the contents are sprinkled onto Steve’s bare stomach. The feeling of the powder tickles a little, but mostly makes all the blood in his head rush below his belt.

Billy is kneeling now, both of his knees spread obscenely as he uses them to push Steve’s thighs open. Taking the card from his mouth, Billy starts glaring down at the powder and separating it into smaller piles. Despite having had a few drinks himself, Billy seems completely confident in what he’s doing.

“Have you, uh,” Steve starts shakily, “have you done this before?” Have done this with other boys? Is what his still sometimes-insecure brain is really asking.

Billy eyebrows draw together in concentration as he taps the black plastic card against the little piles of snow. “Once or twice.” He admits easily. Then bright blue flicks up to bloodshot brown with a smirk, “but never on a serving tray as pretty as you, Angel.”

It makes Steve blush. He doesn’t even know why. Billy calls him pretty and princess and Angel and sweet thing all the time. But something about this hits him a little differently.

“You want a line?”

Steve jerks his eyes up from the white rails on his skin, they’re only a few shades off from the same color. “Huh?” The question registers. “No. No, it’s yours.” Whether it be the coke he’s talking about or something completely different, Steve stands by the sentiment.

Billy’s.

Steve watches, some kind of entranced, as Billy dips down. One finger pressing one of his nostrils shut as he, in one short inhale, draws one line up his nose.

It should be weird.

It should be a little concerning.

It isn’t. It’s so goddam hot that Steve has to force himself not to lift his hips to grind against Billy’s abs not six inches above his dick.

When Billy sits up, he releases a short exhale, back of his hand pressed below his nose. His eyes are shut blissfully, and when he opens them, Steve feels like he’s been set on a buffet table.

But they look back down at the other three lines and see the mess left behind. Something wasn’t working out right. Steve was pretty thin as of recent, so his stomach caved in a bit. The other lines were blurred together, just a mess of snow on skin.

Despite seeming to enjoy himself, Billy frowns. “Nah,” he says to himself. “We’re gonna try somethin’ else.”

Steve says nothing, just watches through his floaty high as Billy grabs the credit card again and scrapes the blow off Steve’s belly and back into the bag.

“Turn over for me, honey.” Billy coaxes, one hand pulling Steve’s hip to encourage him to roll onto his stomach.

And he doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s half-hard, being able to grind against the mattress isn’t really a loss on his part.

When Steve gets onto his front, he lets his legs spread a bit to give his dick room to breathe. Without warning, Billy reaches under him, unbuttons and unzips his jeans, before hooking his fingers under the waistband and in one good yank, pull his jeans and underwear to sit under the curve of his ass.

“Hey—“

Billy shushes him, “this okay?”

Steve was a little caught off-guard, but he’s not mad. By now, his bare cock is rubbing against those appalling sheets, and it’s exactly what he needed. “Yeah,” he slurs against the fabric under his cheek, “yeah ‘s good.”

“Good,” a purr against his temple before a kiss lands there.

A weight, of Billy kneeling close behind him, spreads Steve’s thighs apart. Pushed as far as they can go while still trapped in his jeans. It’s then that he feels that soft powder fall onto one asscheek. And. Oh. Yeah, okay.

Softly, the credit card taps out three lines onto his ass. At least, it feels like three? Maybe it’s two? Four? Steve doesn’t care, but he does kind of wish he could see what was going on.

Oh, fuck. Maybe. Maybe Billy won’t use the whole bag. There could be a next time. Maybe the next time he can convince Billy to do it across from Steve’s full length mirror. They can set it up against the wall parallel with the bed. And Steve can watch as Billy—

Fuck. Billy is actually snorting lines of coke off his ass.

The whole thought just truly clicked in his mind.

It sends a shockwave of pleasure through him, and Steve tries absently to roll his hips against his mattress when a warm hand plants itself firmly against his back.

“Don’t move.” Billy commands.

Immediately, Steve stills.

“Don’t mess up my lines, sweetheart. Or I’ll have to do it off your sheets and not you.”

And that? That just sounds like a personal offense. Steve calms but can feel himself throbbing where he’s trapped between his bed and his own body weight.

He can feel but he can’t see, as Billy’s nose is pressed against his skin and inhales another line. A soft sigh of an exhale is let out towards the ceiling. “So good, baby.” Billy praises quietly, one hand stabilizing himself on Steve’s un-lined asscheek. “Just a little longer, yeah? Be patient a little longer and I’ll give it to you so good.”

Steve can’t swallow the little whimper that crawls up from his throat. Yeah, that sounds fucking awesome.

Billy leans forward, closer to him and presses his clothed cock right up against the underside of Steve’s balls. He’s hard.

“Two more, then I promise, promise baby, I’ll give you what you want.”

Steve tries to quell his shudder and the jerk of his hips, but nods, bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

Billy backs away with one parting grind, hand keeping Steve still. “Be good, Angel.” He reminds gently.

If Steve isn’t getting fucked so hard he cries after this, he’s going to feel so cheated. “I’ll be good.” He assures, letting himself relax against his bed.

Another line gets drawn up off his skin.

Steve is leaking like a goddamn faucet.

A short, quick bite pinches on his ass. And when he jerks, Billy squeezes the same cheek hard. “Last one.” A quiet sniff pulls the last of the snow up.

Steve can’t help it. As soon as he’s able, he starts to squirm. Hips pressing down and back and forth on his sheets. Billy drapes himself over Steve’s back. Both of his hands come up to lace his fingers with Steve’s and press his hands down into the bed.

“Wanna know the best part of this, sweetheart?” Billy breathes into his ear, heavy cock resting against Steve’s bare ass.

“What?” Steve whispers back, now caught between the mattress and powerful hips.

One strong roll of the hips has Steve’s eyes rolling back into his head and breathing out a moan. “I can go all fucking night with you, honey.”

#shit dude #uh yeah #couldn’t stop thinking about it #so I made it happen #tw // drugs #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove #bottom!steve Harrington #it worked for this premise

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