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[ The fangs sinking in push him over the edge. He grips tight on Billy's hair and gasps sharply as his orgasm hits, hips buckling as he shoots his load with tension suffusing him from head to toe. His hair scrubs back on the bed and he shudders a few times before collapsing back, panting like a racehorse and thoroughly loopy on endorphins. ]
[he grunts through swallowing, squeezing himself through his jeans, chasing a release that is right there, until he's bowed with his forehead on Steve's hip, hissing through his teeth as his orgasm hits him hard and fast, has his teeth grazing the meat of Steve's waist to keep his voice low.
this is - a mess. he feels dizzy, feels all of his senses overwhelmed, he could easily slip into a doze if not for the fact that he's absolutely going to have to clean Eddie up while Steve recovers. clean himself up, too - all of that requires moving, which is a real effort to do.
his eyes squeeze shut, just for a moment, while he rides out the orgasm, gets his breath back. gets his thoughts straight. ]
this is - a mess. he feels dizzy, feels all of his senses overwhelmed, he could easily slip into a doze if not for the fact that he's absolutely going to have to clean Eddie up while Steve recovers. clean himself up, too - all of that requires moving, which is a real effort to do.
his eyes squeeze shut, just for a moment, while he rides out the orgasm, gets his breath back. gets his thoughts straight. ]
[ As the pleasure ebbs into a warm wave, he nuzzles at what he can of Eddie's hair and brushes idle fingers through Billy's curls, dozing in the afterglow. He can't tell where he aches more, above or below, and it's a heady sensation that Steve finds he likes. A lot.
A soft croaky noise dislodges from his throat. ]
A soft croaky noise dislodges from his throat. ]
[ his hand reaches down to join steve's, softly petting billy's hair. further from the post-orgasm haze, he's left with the discomfort of coming in his pants like a goddamn freshman. shifting himself up and glancing to the door, then back to his two partners. ]
Much as I'd like to bask in the afterglow, babes, this was maybe not the best place to consummate whatever the hell we're gonna call this.
Much as I'd like to bask in the afterglow, babes, this was maybe not the best place to consummate whatever the hell we're gonna call this.
What, the adrenaline of giving our charming head nurse a heart attack isn’t doing it for you?
[just - give him a second. he’s enjoying the fingers in his hair, likes the soft strokes and scratches against his scalp. he does wish they were in a real bed, with less clothes
reality is, well, here. his briefs are sticky, he has the taste of Steve’s blood and come on his tongue and they might have broken their - their Steve.
reluctantly he pulls himself up - tucks Steve back into boxers and pants, pulls his shirt down to a respectable midriff length and sighs as he stretches. ] You wanna let him sleep while I wheel you into the bathroom, killer?
[just - give him a second. he’s enjoying the fingers in his hair, likes the soft strokes and scratches against his scalp. he does wish they were in a real bed, with less clothes
reality is, well, here. his briefs are sticky, he has the taste of Steve’s blood and come on his tongue and they might have broken their - their Steve.
reluctantly he pulls himself up - tucks Steve back into boxers and pants, pulls his shirt down to a respectable midriff length and sighs as he stretches. ] You wanna let him sleep while I wheel you into the bathroom, killer?
Jesus Christ.
[ Steve starts giggling to himself, louder as he tips his head back. It's so stupid that they did this here, haven't worked anything out, didn't talk first. He tugs on their hair to bring them in for brief kisses, giggling all the while. ]
This was so dumb, c'mere both of you.
[ Steve starts giggling to himself, louder as he tips his head back. It's so stupid that they did this here, haven't worked anything out, didn't talk first. He tugs on their hair to bring them in for brief kisses, giggling all the while. ]
This was so dumb, c'mere both of you.
Yeah, none of us are really winning the prize for smartest guy in the room here.
[but Billy is a little insatiable and weak, so up he gods for a kiss, and the noses over to give one to Eddie too.
there’s a wheelchair around somewhere - tucked between the bed and the bathroom. Billy grabs it, does the thing he does now which is crouch while Eddie uses him go get up and settle into it.
hospital bathrooms aren’t really made for two people, but Billy makes do. he leaves Eddie for a minute to grab any clean pair of shorts or boxers Wayne might have left, and a wash cloth and some soap. it’s all very -] If I’m not careful, you’re gonna start expecting spongebaths all the damn time.
[dejavu. he peels Eddie from his shorts, cleans him up, hands him the cloth to finish off while he peels his shoes and jeans off, then his own sodden boxers. he’s real glad he wore them in the end - except now he really does have to go commando. he folds the boxers, takes a moment to splash his face with water and then laughs, slightly manic. ] Holy fucking shit, E. Did that just happen?
[but Billy is a little insatiable and weak, so up he gods for a kiss, and the noses over to give one to Eddie too.
there’s a wheelchair around somewhere - tucked between the bed and the bathroom. Billy grabs it, does the thing he does now which is crouch while Eddie uses him go get up and settle into it.
hospital bathrooms aren’t really made for two people, but Billy makes do. he leaves Eddie for a minute to grab any clean pair of shorts or boxers Wayne might have left, and a wash cloth and some soap. it’s all very -] If I’m not careful, you’re gonna start expecting spongebaths all the damn time.
[dejavu. he peels Eddie from his shorts, cleans him up, hands him the cloth to finish off while he peels his shoes and jeans off, then his own sodden boxers. he’s real glad he wore them in the end - except now he really does have to go commando. he folds the boxers, takes a moment to splash his face with water and then laughs, slightly manic. ] Holy fucking shit, E. Did that just happen?
Surprisingly, spongebaths are not one of the things that get me hot and bothered. [ but it is... nice aftercare, surprisingly. sweet and tender and soft in all the ways he's not used to. ]
Wouldn't have fucking believed it if the evidence wasn't fucking everywhere. [ he tilts his head back, drumming his hands against his thighs. ] ... Guess if you're dealing with monsters all the time, handling dicks must seem like the most normal thing in the world.
Wouldn't have fucking believed it if the evidence wasn't fucking everywhere. [ he tilts his head back, drumming his hands against his thighs. ] ... Guess if you're dealing with monsters all the time, handling dicks must seem like the most normal thing in the world.
[ his face goes hot. Wants to dispel his discomfort with laughter, because this shit is still new and he doesn't always know how to handle someone looking at him or speaking to him like he's worthy of their attention. ]
Had nothing on you, babe. Trust me.
Had nothing on you, babe. Trust me.
[Eddie really is so goddamn pretty; brown eyes so dark that Billy could get lost in them, just stare and stare, counting the little flecks of light. He’s never been romantic, not even in California where he’d been a little freer, a little less tightly wound and more desperate for validation.
Maybe it’s the dying that changes you: maybe the painful non-death of being torn asunder and stitched back together new has rewired some old, jaded part of his brain into something lonelier, less resistant to accepting the way Eddie Munson makes him want to crawl somewhere inside of him so they’re one thing. Maybe it’s Steve Harrington’s blood that makes him want to give into those little fond gestures of love, like getting his hands on Eddie’s hair, or the way he’s getting used to just existing with him, soft kisses and comfortable silences.
Maybe it’s the relief of having someone like him. A little broken, a little in love with Steve Harrington because isn’t everyone?
Except - except no one else is getting to claim Steve Harrington the way they just have. No one else will ever know the raw, primal intimacy of Steve Harrington’s blood on their tongue while he ruts and moans for release. No one will ever get to see that side of Eddie either, and it makes that old, jaded part of himself thrum with mean, possessive glee.
He kisses Eddie, sweet and lingering. Finishes the clean up, wheels him back out to Steve’s dozing form and thinks Friday - Friday they can get the hell out of here and do all of this properly. ]
Maybe it’s the dying that changes you: maybe the painful non-death of being torn asunder and stitched back together new has rewired some old, jaded part of his brain into something lonelier, less resistant to accepting the way Eddie Munson makes him want to crawl somewhere inside of him so they’re one thing. Maybe it’s Steve Harrington’s blood that makes him want to give into those little fond gestures of love, like getting his hands on Eddie’s hair, or the way he’s getting used to just existing with him, soft kisses and comfortable silences.
Maybe it’s the relief of having someone like him. A little broken, a little in love with Steve Harrington because isn’t everyone?
Except - except no one else is getting to claim Steve Harrington the way they just have. No one else will ever know the raw, primal intimacy of Steve Harrington’s blood on their tongue while he ruts and moans for release. No one will ever get to see that side of Eddie either, and it makes that old, jaded part of himself thrum with mean, possessive glee.
He kisses Eddie, sweet and lingering. Finishes the clean up, wheels him back out to Steve’s dozing form and thinks Friday - Friday they can get the hell out of here and do all of this properly. ]
[ Steve is curled up on the bed, asleep. The blood loss and high of orgasm has wrung him out and his arms are folded where he lies on his side, knees gathered up. He isn't even snoring, passed out and pale where his messy hair is tossed over a pillow. ]
[ it's a beautiful sight. a reminder that things don't have to be godawful for them, that regardless of the fact that they didn't come back right - they did come back.
They got time before the nurses make their rounds. He's content to climb carefully back onto the bed (largely lifted by billy's strong hands) and settle in beside him, pulling Steve to him and inhaling the scent of stupid fancy hair. ]
They got time before the nurses make their rounds. He's content to climb carefully back onto the bed (largely lifted by billy's strong hands) and settle in beside him, pulling Steve to him and inhaling the scent of stupid fancy hair. ]
[He lingers for a while, hand drifting between stroking Eddie and Steve’s hair in turn. Only a while - he pulls himself away to catch the nurse on her way, tells her Eddie’s out cold and could she give him an another hour, please? It’s enough time for him to change into shorts and basketball shirt, slip back inside and slowly rouse Steve awake.
A careful stroke against his cheek, a knuckle smoothing his hair from his forehead. He murmurs his name, a soft wake up sleeping beauty. Lets him come to at his own pace before he glances to the door.
The late afternoon light is nice. Bathes them both in orange hues that makes them look real beautiful. Billy feels that possessive pull again, like he’s part animal trying to sink his scent into their skin. Maybe he can, one day. ]
Nurses are coming soon, pretty boy. You gonna be okay to drive? Or should I call Buckley?
A careful stroke against his cheek, a knuckle smoothing his hair from his forehead. He murmurs his name, a soft wake up sleeping beauty. Lets him come to at his own pace before he glances to the door.
The late afternoon light is nice. Bathes them both in orange hues that makes them look real beautiful. Billy feels that possessive pull again, like he’s part animal trying to sink his scent into their skin. Maybe he can, one day. ]
Nurses are coming soon, pretty boy. You gonna be okay to drive? Or should I call Buckley?
[It’s frustration that does it.
Max is almost fourteen; she’s capable, she’s street smart. She’s left alone with Billy for two weeks while Neil and Susan go out of town for a late honeymoon. At first it’s fine, because Max stays out of his way and he stays out of hers. It’s four days of blissful cohabitation without a single word exchanged, and then it breaks on the fifth.
See, Billy’s got a date Friday with Leslie McBride. It’s a sure thing: a movie, burgers, and then back to the Hargrove household. Max is supposed to be out. She’s supposed to be spending Friday with her stupid friends and then spending the night with Chief Hopper’s kid, and Billy’s supposed to have the place to himself. Then on Thursday Max drags herself to eat some cocopuffs and tells him she’s not going, because she and the Sinclair kid are on the outs and she doesn’t want to drag her weird friend away from her first game night in weeks.
Billy’s head goes into a white noise mode. He says you’re going and Max says no I’m not, and Billy says I have a goddamn date and Max rolls her eyes and tells him she’ll be fine home alone. It’s not till Billy tells her he’s supposed to be home alone that it clicks.
So she tells him she doesn’t care about Billy’s stupid date, and then it escalates from there. He says go do your fucking Fairy game, Maxine and she gets real bad and tells him he’s a prick (which he is, yeah). Billy doesn’t think anything of it; he’s grabbing his keys and going for the door, already trying to figure out how to get Leslie to fuck him at Skull Rock instead when he answers to her next question: I’m going out Maxine, maybe if I’m goddamn lucky the fairies will take you while I’m gone.
He buys smokes and uses his fake ID for a six pack. Calls Leslie from a payphone and takes some time to cool down. He expects to find Max sulking in her room when he gets back, but what he finds is -
Chaos. The windows and door open, the house a fucking mess. He sees red, tears through the halls screaming her name and finds moss and the smell of ozone where she should be. He hears his name - tears down the hall and room is the worst of all; the surfaces touched with what looks like morning dew, rose petals left behind, and there she is, there she is, held by some fucking stranger.
He’s so breathless with fury, barely registers the leather, the otherwordly gleam of his eyes. He’s so angry with the mess, with Max and whatever the fuck this is. He’s blinded by it. ] What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Maxine, [is what he says, taking a slow step towards them. ] Huh?
Max is almost fourteen; she’s capable, she’s street smart. She’s left alone with Billy for two weeks while Neil and Susan go out of town for a late honeymoon. At first it’s fine, because Max stays out of his way and he stays out of hers. It’s four days of blissful cohabitation without a single word exchanged, and then it breaks on the fifth.
See, Billy’s got a date Friday with Leslie McBride. It’s a sure thing: a movie, burgers, and then back to the Hargrove household. Max is supposed to be out. She’s supposed to be spending Friday with her stupid friends and then spending the night with Chief Hopper’s kid, and Billy’s supposed to have the place to himself. Then on Thursday Max drags herself to eat some cocopuffs and tells him she’s not going, because she and the Sinclair kid are on the outs and she doesn’t want to drag her weird friend away from her first game night in weeks.
Billy’s head goes into a white noise mode. He says you’re going and Max says no I’m not, and Billy says I have a goddamn date and Max rolls her eyes and tells him she’ll be fine home alone. It’s not till Billy tells her he’s supposed to be home alone that it clicks.
So she tells him she doesn’t care about Billy’s stupid date, and then it escalates from there. He says go do your fucking Fairy game, Maxine and she gets real bad and tells him he’s a prick (which he is, yeah). Billy doesn’t think anything of it; he’s grabbing his keys and going for the door, already trying to figure out how to get Leslie to fuck him at Skull Rock instead when he answers to her next question: I’m going out Maxine, maybe if I’m goddamn lucky the fairies will take you while I’m gone.
He buys smokes and uses his fake ID for a six pack. Calls Leslie from a payphone and takes some time to cool down. He expects to find Max sulking in her room when he gets back, but what he finds is -
Chaos. The windows and door open, the house a fucking mess. He sees red, tears through the halls screaming her name and finds moss and the smell of ozone where she should be. He hears his name - tears down the hall and room is the worst of all; the surfaces touched with what looks like morning dew, rose petals left behind, and there she is, there she is, held by some fucking stranger.
He’s so breathless with fury, barely registers the leather, the otherwordly gleam of his eyes. He’s so angry with the mess, with Max and whatever the fuck this is. He’s blinded by it. ] What the fuck do you think you’re playing at Maxine, [is what he says, taking a slow step towards them. ] Huh?
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