Dumpster Fire

PROLOGUE

Was this really happening?

Steve swallowed his gasp, hanger poking him in the head as his back smacked against the far wall of the very, very, impossibly small closet.

A blond brow cocked. As did that stupid, ugly smirk on the stupid, ugly mug across from him. Slowly coming closer. Earring fluttered way too brightly in the dim closet lighting; suffocating closet lighting, actually. Really how did they find anything in here-

"What's wrong, King?" That familiar look of bored disinterest, of nonchalant superiority - like he was better than everyone else without even trying - made Steve want to rage. It would have been old hat, but-

But something smoldered behind those blue eyes.

"Scared?" The chuckled word a curse, a tease, and a taunt all at once.

"To be honest," Steve felt his blood boiling as he took a defiant step forward. "Yeah." He almost laughed at the brief pause that gave Billy. "Scared of how fucking stupid you look right now." Hands flipped out in a shrug, as though all his uncertainty would slide off with the motion. "Are you always this ugly, or do you work at it?"

And that fucking predatory smile was back, teeth on proud display as Billy's hand shot out, snapping Steve out of what little disbelief he was holding onto.

"Let's see how stupid you think I look now." The growl in the word reverberated through Steve as Billy's hand tugged hard at the front of his jeans and fuck!

Fuck! Steve felt heat flood through him. He couldn't get hard here. Not now.

It's because it's been so long. He thought, hands pushing at Billy's decidedly too long, too strong fingers. His brain desperately trying to remember the last time a girl grabbed at him like that and... maybe Nancy? But no. Nancy had been unsure, almost as unsure and nervous as he had been.

Billy was confident. Fingers moving with deft precision. Steve felt desperation setting in as belt slid through clasp with a snap.

"Billy!" Grasp surrounded Hargrove's massive hands, finally. His ring was cold against the warmth, too hot skin, of Billy's hands.

"Harrington." But the name was uttered without malice. Strained, hoarse. Hinting at more than the cool exterior Steve was seeing. "It's just a fucking game." Billy's eyes slid to the side.

Like if they didn't admit there was something going on, under the current, it wasn't real. Serious.

And the button snapped, zipper slid down.

Was this really happening?