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Will stares at Mike’s bedroom ceiling fan, listening to Mike snore.
He can’t believe he’s doing this.
Well… He isn’t doing this, per se.
It’s Mrs. Wheeler being hospitable and insisting that Will and his entire family stay at the Wheeler residence, situated on the safe side of Hawkins, the quadrant that One isn’t ravaging.
Yet.
Will and El think it’s only a matter of time.
Will sighs, turning to face the wall that he’s elected to sleep next to. It’s always made him feel safe, and his heart clenches when he thinks about Mike earlier this evening, who’d gestured to that spot and said That’s your side.
Twenty minutes pass, and Will’s never been more awake in his life.
He curls up against the wall, Hawkins High sweater he borrowed from Mike rustling as it brushes the drywall. He tries his best to stay far from Mike; he absolutely cannot risk a stray touch making him hard in the middle of the night. Mike was nice enough to invite him up here tonight as an alternative to the freezing cold basement; Will’s pretty sure he would die of embarrassment if Mike were to see—or worse, feel— a massive boner on him.
And die of embarrassment he just might, because Mike has suddenly tossed-and-turned his lanky limbs right into Will’s backside.
Even though no one’s awake to perceive him, Will’s cheeks feel hot. Surely Mike is just cold, right? What other reason would he have to press his entire body up against Will in his sleep?
Will tries to breathe through the discomfort, in-out in-out, but then he’s focusing too much on his breathing and his heart starts to pound. Mike’s warmth and sharp angles pressing on him are doing everything to Will that he doesn’t want right now: waking up his dick, making him ache for closeness, making him want—no, need—Mike all over again.
Because if Will’s honest with himself? There’s nothing he’d rather do than lean into the touch, soak up the contact he never imagined he’d get.
It’s not you he wants, Will reminds himself. He’s just cold.
Fate’s trying to prove him wrong, because the next thing he knows, Mike’s arm wraps tight around his waist, pulls him close. That’s not necessarily something you’d do if you were cold, but… Will can’t let himself get his hopes up. Not again.
Besides, it feels… Nice. The weight of Mike’s arm around him soothes him into sleep.
That is, until Will feels something hard poking at his lower back.
Holy fuck.
Will had been scared that this would happen to him, that he’d lose control and get an erection in Mike’s bed, but here Mike is, unmistakably rock-hard. What. The. Fuck.
It’s nothing, Will tells himself. He’s having a wet dream about El or, I don’t know, Phoebe Cates. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.
But no matter how much effort Will puts into falling asleep again, how focused he is on relaxing his muscles and regulating his breaths, he can’t shake the glaring fact that Mike’s boner isn’t going away. It still presses at his lower back, just above his ass. If Mike shifted just a little lower, then he’d be…
No. Nope. No way. Will cannot let himself go there… But then.
But then.
Mike shifts his weight, presses his dick (by accident, right? It’s got to be by accident) into the cleft of Will’s ass, and lets out a raspy sound that reminds Will of honeycomb, cracking and sweet. Whatever he’s dreaming about, Mike is most certainly having a sex dream, and that knowledge makes Will tingle, makes his dick fully hard at record pace.
Will resists the urge to moan himself; Mike’s sensual side making an appearance is so rare, so priceless , that Will can barely contain his desire to pull out his own dick and stroke himself. He settles for gripping the sheets, breathing labored with the effort of holding back.
Will can’t touch himself right now, because that would be wrong; Mike doesn’t really want this.
Does he?
What happens next indicates otherwise. Will can’t hold back a quiet moan when Mike holds him tighter and—undeniably— thrusts into Will.
Will’s body is quite literally rocked by the force of Mike’s movement, and he holds fast to the sheets, biting his lip in an attempt to regain some kind of moral balance.
It’s too little and too late, because Mike’s hand slides smoothly from the front of Will’s abdomen to Will’s hip and pulls him in even closer. Will can’t help it; he moans. Actually, legitimately, irreversibly moans in Mike Wheeler’s bed. Maybe at this point he’ll summon Vecna to resume haunting him with visions of his worst fears; it can’t be much different than this.
However, that’s when it clicks, sends a wave of relief over Will: He’s not the one in the humiliating position right now.
Mike’s the one so desperately horny that he’s rutting against Will unconsciously, pulling his best friend’s body so close that Will nearly breaks and starts touching himself from the sheer pressure and heat and —oh— Mike’s (long, apparently) cock practically begging to slide between his asscheeks.
They’re both in an embarrassing spot, Will reasons: Mike, so needy in his sleep he’s using Will’s body, and Will, so in love with Mike that he’s desperate to be used, however undignified.
So, Will figures, two can play at this game.
Will inhales deeply and pushes his ass firmly against Mike’s dick. He feels the press of guilt as soon as he begins, but the hiss that Mike lets out is so fucking worth it that Will keeps going anyway. He has to keep drawing this out of Mike. Seeing, feeling, Mike’s raw needs laid bare is addicting.
Will pushes back against Mike again and again, the two of them falling into a lazy rhythm, Mike betraying a low groan or sharp breath each time Will grinds against his cock.
Will can’t believe how good it feels to have Mike’s body pressed against him, to know that his own flesh is making Mike hard. Will pushes his hips forward against the wall for some semblance of relief, pants so tight now around his front that it would only take a few thrusts for him to make a mess in the borrowed underwear.
For a moment, Will even lets himself believe that Mike is dreaming about him, that in Mike’s current fantasy he’s letting Will back his ass up for real, sliding deep inside and—
Fucking hell. If Will’s not careful, he’s going to come like this. He brings a fist up to his mouth and bites down on a knuckle, stifling little sounds and trying desperately to hold back his orgasm, admittedly never wanting this to end.
As Will pants and whines and ponders whether Mike could ever want a boy like that— to be deep inside another boy, to claim him—Mike pulls their bodies completely flush and thrusts hard, so hard that Will’s positive Mike is fucking somebody in his dream.
Eventually Mike’s bed is creaking with the force of it, and this is too goddamn much. Will needs to put an end to this, and fast. He’ll just press on the wall once or twice, make himself come, and wake Mike up, say he thought it was a bad dream.
But does it really have to end? Because Jesus Christ, this is… Mike’s so hard, and he feels so big through his pants, and he’s fucking someone in his dream, and the way he’s using the ample curve of Will’s ass to achieve that sensation is making Will lose his own composure, moaning louder with every thrust.
He can’t help it. Mike’s touch is drowning him in sensation, and on the next thrust, Mike’s length slides snugly between Will’s cheeks through the fabric, nearly pressing against his hole, causing Will to let out an involuntary Mike at full volume.
Mike freezes.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s going to know. He’s gonna know that I was letting him sleep-fuck me, and it’s going to ruin everything.
Except, Will realizes—ruin what? After California, after Mike professing his love to El right in front of Will, what left is there to lose between them?
Will does the last thing he thought he’d do: he turns to face Mike.
Their eyes meet in complete silence, Mike’s eyes wide and mouth agape. “Will, I…”
“I.” Will clears his throat. “I. Yeah.”
“Will, oh my god.” Is Will’s eyesight okay? Because he’s pretty sure tears are filling Mike’s eyes. “Will, fuck, was I—“
“Yeah!” Will says too enthusiastically. “Uh. Yeah. But it was, like—it was fine, really.”
“No, no, I…” Mike rolls onto his back, covers his face with both hands. “Oh my god. I’m so fucking sorry. Holy shit.”
“Mike, it’s…”
“No, I’ve been really stressed and I just—fuck, that’s no excuse for… For… Fucking molesting the guy I like… In my sleep…” Mike’s voice trails off.
“Hey, hey,” Will coos, prying Mike’s hands gently away from his face.
Wait. “Wait.” The guy he— “The guy you—?”
“Huh?”
“You just said, the guy you…”
“Oh, that,” Mike says casually, and then, “Oh, that. Uh…”
Will can’t believe it, but he fucking giggles. He isn’t positive this is really happening—that he’s having to call Mike out for crushing on him right now and not the other way around.
Holy shit. Mike is crushing on him. At least, it really fucking looks that way.
“What’s so funny?” Mike asks, looking offended.
“Nothing, nothing,” Will beams. “It’s just that…” Here goes nothing. He’s still about to take what feels like a big chance, semi-confirmation of Mike’s feelings and all.
“What?”
Will falls from where he’s propped up on his elbow, the gravity of the situation pulling him back down into the bedsheets. He turns his face slightly into the pillow. “El didn’t… The painting.”
Mike turns to face where Will is, nervous lilt in his voice. “Dude, you’re freaking me out. I can barely hear you. What did you say?”
Will meets his eyes. “El. She… Didn’t commission that painting.”
“What do you mean she—" Mike looks around in thought, and then: “Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’”
“But if she didn’t… Then that means…”
“El… Thought I liked a girl,” Will explains, inching closer to Mike, the two of them now closely face-to-face, so close Will worries their boners will touch and they’ll never have a productive conversation again.
(Well. He can’t say that he’d mind, exactly.)
“Yeah, she told me. In a letter. I was…”
“Jealous? I know,” Will smirks. Mike’s face flushes. “You were being a huge dick after that. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together till now.”
“Oh, about that. Um. Sorry.”
“Hush, you already apologized,” Will says with a big smile spreading slowly onto his face, remembering that conversation in his Lenora bedroom, and God he wants to kiss him. He needs to kiss him. “Mike?”
“Yeah?”
Will enjoys one final moment of breathing into each other’s space. Then, he risks putting a hand on Mike’s cheek. “There was no girl.”
“But that means— There was another painting?”
“Mike.”
“What.”
“Please shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
And it’s like a switch has flipped for Mike, because he closes the distance between them fast like he’s never wanted anything more, and judging by the way he’s kissing, maybe he hasn’t. The thought makes Will shiver.
Fuck, is it a perfect first kiss, too. Mike’s lips, big and warm and plush, press into Will’s, tentative at first, like Mike’s worried Will is going to break. He brings his hand up to grab at Will’s waist, thumb caressing the curve of it, and the touch is just too good; Will needs more, so much more.
He parts his lips against Mike’s and Mike opens up too, with a gasp, and Will takes the opportunity to run his tongue along Mike’s bottom lip ever-so-lightly.
Evidently, it drives Mike insane, because he lets out the most erotic sound Will has ever heard directly into Will’s mouth and Jesus, Will’s never been harder in his life. He fights the urge to press his erection firmly into Mike’s, chase that perfect friction.
Will brings his other hand up and threads his fingers together behind Mike’s neck, wanting him as close as physically possible. Mike seems to want that too, because he thrusts his tongue into Will’s mouth; it’s sloppy and uncoordinated and the best thing Will’s ever felt.
Will’s been so starved from this sort of touch that each press of lips, each brush of their tongues, has his entire body buzzing, goosebumps on his arms and the back of his neck, the good kind. With every kiss Mike licks into Will’s mouth deeper, and the force pushes Will further and further onto his back until Mike is settling over him, and okay this has escalated.
Will is decidedly not complaining.
For the first time, they press together where they’re hard, and neither boy can help their instinct to break apart and moan, Will’s head thrown back and Mike’s face pressed into the pillow next to Will. They catch their breath, no idea how long they’ve been kissing, and when they’re settled, Will feels Mike’s shoulders shake, and when he listens close he can hear Mike snickering into the pillow.
Hearing Mike’s laughter in the middle of the heated moment—in the middle of the end of the world—lifts an incredible weight off Will’s shoulders, and Will’s laughter bubbles up, too, the relief making his chest feel light and his cheeks burn with a bashful joy.
“What’s so funny?” Will smiles, knowing the answer. This is funny, all of it, the two of them at last resolving their issues like this.
“I just…” Mike starts, laughter still dying down. “What was I doing in my sleep?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me what you dreamt about,” Will teases. He’s flirting with Mike Wheeler. Openly. He can’t believe this is real life, to be honest.
Mike buries his face further into the pillow. “No way in hell.”
“You know, sooner or later you’re going to have to face me again. You’re gonna suffocate in there.”
“That’s fine,” Mike insists. “Whatever gets me out of telling you my dream.”
Will laughs. “I’ll tell you what happened if you get back here.”
“Whatever,” Mike says in mock exasperation as he picks his head back up and readjusts himself on top of Will. The resumed contact between their arousal is, ahem, a lot; Will groans as Mike buries his face in his neck and gasps out “Fuck.”
But then Will’s the one gasping as Mike rocks his hips experimentally, the friction sweet and precise and exactly what he needed ever since the moment Mike started touching him in his sleep.
“Mike, holy shit,” Will breathes out, biting down on his own bottom lip, trying not to let himself be pushed over the edge before it’s even begun. Mike pushes forward at a mind-melting rhythm, Will’s legs opening instinctively, offering himself up for more.
It’s a good type of strange. He always pictured himself as the one servicing Mike, at least for their first time; Mike does not have a strong track record of being in touch with his emotions enough to initiate these things.
Will’s blown away by Mike’s willingness to dominate him, claim him with his mouth, put his weight over him, lead. It’s everything he loves about Mike: his courage, his headstrong nature, his unexpectedly natural flirtation when it comes to Will despite Mike’s charming awkwardness in other areas of life.
Mike doesn’t let up, grinding his hips down into Will, drawing unholy sounds out of Will’s throat, then lifting back up and repeating the motion, hands braced on either side of Will’s head. Will could drool watching Mike, whose brow furrows in a mix of concentration and pleasure as he gives Will what his body’s been begging for.
Will reaches around to Mike’s back, pushes his hands under his shirt to get contact with the warm skin, rakes his nails gently. The position, it’s just like they’re… Like they’re… God damn this is hot, so hot that Will avoids eye contact with Mike.
It’s just too intimate, too real, and Will thinks if he looks into Mike’s eyes right now, he’ll come or tell Mike he loves him or both, and wouldn’t that be a fucking event.
Mike, though, decides to speed that process along, sliding down Will’s body almost imperceptibly so that their eyes meet.
“What happened to our deal?” Mike says, but there’s not a hint of seriousness or pressure in his voice, only a heady concentration of arousal and affection anchoring down his words. Will thinks he could pass out.
“What—ah—deal?” Will asks between pointed thrusts, his lips sticking together a little, still tacky from their makeout session. When he looks back at Mike, the boy on top of him is smirking, simply watching the pleasure on Will’s face. Will squirms under the attention, but he loves it, Mike toying with his body for once instead of his emotions.
Having Mike’s full attention is positively intoxicating.
“You know,” Mike says as he ducks down and kisses Will. “You telling me what I did. When I was sleeping.”
Will whines as his dick makes direct contact with Mike’s again, both of them straining against their sweatpants. “What we did.”
“Hmm?” Mike inquires as he noses under Will’s earlobe, starting to place gentle kisses on Will’s neck. “Always wanted to do this.”
“I—Oh,” Will moans as Mike nips the column of his throat. “I can’t… Form sentences. While you’re doing that.”
Mike licks at Will’s earlobe before he says in a low voice, “Try your best.”
Is he trying to fucking kill me?
“Well… Like I said. It’s not what you did, it’s…” (Really fucking hard to think while Mike is leaving a hickey on him, that’s what it is.) “It’s not what you did. It’s what we did.”
All at once, Mike stops all his movements. “Wait. What?”
Will shies away. What if Mike isn’t OK with Will’s participation in his almost-wet dream?
“We…” Will sighs. They’re going to have to pause the festivities and talk about this, and Will worries that maybe this living pipedream is finally coming to its bitter end. “I was facing the wall, right? To try and give you space, I didn’t know if you thought it was… Kind of weird that I was in your bed.”
“Why would I think it’s weird? I invited you.”
“I…” Fuck. True. “That’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is, I was laying there and you started… Poking me.”
“Poking you? Like this?” Mike laughs, poking Will’s cheek with his pointer finger.
“Um. Not with your finger,” Will says flatly, and Mike cringes.
“Shit. Will, I…”
“Michael,” Will asserts, and he sees something flash across Mike’s eyes that he pockets for later. “I was getting to the part where I was really into it.”
“Seriously?” Mike looks genuinely confused.
“Yeah, I may have… Um.”
“Um?”
“Participated?” Will squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for Mike to get really uncomfortable or to slide off of him or, at the very least, feel Mike’s dick soften.
None of these things happen, though; as a matter of fact, he feels Mike’s dick twitch against his. Will swallows back a groan.
Is Mike… Getting off on this?
Well. The way he’s once again pushing his dick into Will’s lap certainly indicates such a thing.
“Oh, yeah?” Mike smirks, mouth slightly open, features sharp and pale and pretty in the dark room. Will wants to swallow him. “You liked feeling me?” He punctuates it with a thrust, and Will curls his toes, braces himself, just to prevent coming then and there.
Will pointedly does not answer the question. “I didn’t just feel you. You… You grabbed me and you were…” It feels absurd, describing this all to Mike while Mike’s fully erect, lying on top of him, and it makes Will giddy.
Mike picks up the pace of his hips as Will continues, recounting the tale to Mike between whimpers and moans. “You were like—fuck, Mike—grinding your dick against my ass.” Will can’t believe the filthy words coming out of his own mouth as he throws his head back, exposes his neck. “I was pressed up against the wall and I—oh my God—thought I was gonna come.”
“Keep going,” Mike urges, panting into Will’s neck, where he’s leaving sloppy kisses.
“Fuck, Mike, it was like you were—ohhhh—fucking me, your dick was sliding right there, I swear to God you were—”
“Fucking you in my dream,” Mike breathes out in a rush, like he’s shy about it, which is amusing given their current position.
“Fuck, right there—I can’t believe you were—dreaming about me, Jesus—“
“Every night,” Mike says against Will’s lips before kissing him slow and deep, as if he wants to shut Will up before he can respond to Mike’s confession. Will wants to ask how long, what were they about, are you in love with me, but the touch has him reeling, coherent thought be damned.
Will whines into Mike’s mouth, which only spurs Mike on, makes him stay locked into the kiss and angle his hips slightly upward so he can grind into Will with bed-shaking precision, and Will needs to warn Mike now that he’s going to come if he keeps this up.
“Mike, Mike, I’m—”
“Fuck, are you wearing—“ Mike pulls back a little bit to scan Will’s body with his eyes. “Those are the pants you borrowed from me.”
“Yeah, sorry, I was just trying to warn you because I wouldn’t wanna, like, mess them up—"
“Are you serious?” Mike scoffs lightheartedly. “Please come in those pants, fuck, that’s so hot,” he insists, grabbing at Will’s thighs and picking them up, wrapping them around him, tongue slipping into Will’s mouth with a little Unh sound that has Will ready to grant Mike’s request, on the brink of letting go, insane pressure building in his lower body; not the sharp, over-too-soon pleasure he’s used to from touching himself, but something heavier, headier, far more satisfying.
“Fuck, yeah, you’re gonna make me come like this,” Will gasps out. “So close, Mike, please don’t stop.”
“So good, Will,” Mike breathes between kisses, rambling sweet nothings, breaking like a dam. “So perfect, gonna come for me in my clothes, in my bed,” Mike continues, kissing and biting under Will’s ear, and Will moans loud at Mike’s wanton exposure of his own desires when he says “Just like in my dream. I was fucking you here, just like this, that’s what I wanted,” and that feeling of being needed by Mike so badly he was desperate for him even in sleep makes Will tremble, thighs starting to shake under Mike’s weight.
“Oh my God, Mike, you… I…”
“I love you,” Mike chances, and Will’s so far gone he just nods, praying Mike gets the message Will’s trying to send through the haze of intense pleasure: I love you, too.
“You know that, right?” Mike slurs on, now holding Will’s face and kissing him deep. “Know how bad I want you?”
“Yes, yes, yes—” and Will pushes his hips up and up and up and doesn’t finish the thought, there’s no more thoughts to be had because he’s blacking out, letting everything go, feels his cum painting the inside of the borrowed briefs and sweatpants, Mike’s warm breath mixing with his and hands holding his cheeks, moving Will’s hair out of his face so he can see all of him while he climaxes, and everything is ramped up to ten and Will feels— Oh, fuck— something warm and wet and distinctively not the consistency of semen spreading through his pants and dripping onto Mike’s fitted sheet. But tonight is so unreal that Will can’t bring himself to feel any shame; the combination of Will’s orgasm and the way he’s emptying himself just makes him whimper with pleasure and relief.
Mike’s eyes widen as he notices what happened, and for a split second Will is worried that Mike is going to stop, but Mike’s eyes roll back in his head (holy fuck, he’s still turned on, he must not know that I just—) and he doesn’t stop moving.
His hips press and press into Will’s, anchoring him down—Mike’s eyes are closed, and he stutters his hips into the warm, wet mess as his mouth drops open.
His thrusts are gentle but fast, and they wring the aftershocks out of Will perfectly, so stimulated he could squirm as Mike chases his own orgasm. His nails scratch over Mike’s shoulder blades, guiding him through it, coaxing it out of him—Yeah, that’s it, baby. Come for me.
At the gravelly words, Mike stills against Will and he grips the pillow next to Will’s face with a quiet little Ah as he comes.
It’s so hot, but holy fucking shit.
“Mike, careful, I just…”
“I know,” Mike says easily, kissing Will’s forehead and playing with the hair that keeps falling there. “Shhh. It’s okay. I got you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I just… Figured you might not want, you know, my piss on your mattress—”
“Will, you might think I’m seriously disturbed for this but like… I liked it.”
“I– Huh? I don’t get it.” Will really doesn’t. He thought Mike would be grossed out to the max right now, or at the very least uncomfortable, drowning in the awkwardness of the moment. Instead, Will finds Mike leaning closer to him till their foreheads are touching.
“If I say, ‘I liked making the pretty boy in my bed come so hard that he pissed himself all over my sheets,’ will that make it click for you?” He smiles a little, and Will can’t help but do the same.
Oh.
Mike’s turned on by what he did to Will, the pleasure so bone-shaking that he lost control of his body. Will beams. Evidently, Mike’s just as much of a perverted little shit as he is.
“So you think I’m pretty, huh?” Will smirks, and Mike tentatively starts to move his hips again.
“Exceptionally so,” Mike states like it’s the simplest fact in the world.
If Will wasn’t blushing already from the mess he’s made, he definitely is now.
He sleeps like a baby that night. They both do.