Archive of Our Own

Will thinks, somewhere along the line, this thing between them may have spiraled out of control.

Mike peers up at him through his lashes, one hand fisted in Will’s bedsheets and the other holding down his thigh, keeping him from bucking up into the wet heat of his mouth. His hips try anyway, twitching uselessly. Mike laughs around him, and the vibrations make him whine into the palm of his hand. 

He’s desperate, and he knows Mike knows it. He can feel his face burning with it, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, his hand spit-slick from how he keeps moaning into it. He can’t help it. Mike’s been working him for who knows how long, teasing him to the edge and then pulling away, nipping at his thighs until he’s covered in bruises and begging for mercy. 

He’s sadistic. That’s the only explanation. He knows just how to play him, just how to tease at the underside of his cock with his tongue, just when to swallow him down to the hilt in that practiced way of his that always makes Will’s heart jump in his chest, like it’s threatening to beat up and out of his throat.

It’s a stark contrast to the first few times they did this, both of them gagging and red-faced, unable to take each other more than halfway, and laughing when they both inevitably failed trying. It had taken time, but they’d gotten better. Much, much better, in Mike’s case.

Seriously, the way Mike slurps him down is masterful. He doesn’t know when Mike found the time to memorize all of his tells, but it’s only obvious that he has, his dark eyes watching Will’s every move with a single-minded intensity. It’s like he can predict exactly when his hips will jerk, exactly what will make him toss his head back and keen. It makes Will feel stripped bare, like Mike can see into his very soul and still chooses to suck it out through his cock. 

It’s a heady feeling, being the center of Mike’s attention like this.

Mike had been hesitant to try it at first. Will hadn’t minded all that much, content to go down on him clumsily and let Mike finish him off with a hand down his pants, but this particular character development was more than welcome. 

He’s always fervent with it, like the fate of the world rests on his ability to draw as much noise out of Will as possible. It wasn’t such a problem when they were back in Hawkins, fumbling around in the back of the Wheeler family car or stealing moments in the basement while his family was out. But they’re adults now, kind of, and they’ve already gotten an embarrassing number of noise complaints from Mike’s RA.

So, when Mike hollows his cheeks and takes him as deep as he can go, nose brushing that patch of hair on Will’s groin, Will bites into the meat of his palm and sobs.

Mike seems to delight in it, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he holds himself there, breathing shallowly through his nose. It tears an agonized sound from the back of Will’s throat, hips jolting up again, to no avail. Mike’s hand on his thigh keeps him pinned to the bed, his fingers digging into the bruises from earlier in the most delicious way possible.

Will hadn’t been expecting this to keep going when they’d moved out of Hawkins. Sure, he’d known they were all heading to Chicago, Will for art school and the rest of them at UIC, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility. It had felt like a thing suspended in time, that summer after high school, neither one of them able to keep their hands and mouths off each other for more than a few hours. He doesn’t really know what he thought it was. A final send-off, maybe? One last hurrah?

It had been a pleasant surprise when Mike invited him to his dorm that first weekend, meeting him at the door with a bottle of bottom-shelf vodka. A housewarming party, he’d called it, pulling him in by his old t-shirt and kissing him against the door.

They’d fucked on every available surface, and then some, before it even hit midnight. Mike had gotten his first noise complaint promptly at 8 a.m. the next morning, both of them bursting into giggles when they read the note slipped under the door, their hangovers momentarily forgotten in their mirth.

He’s coming to find out that Mike’s rather full of pleasant surprises. He’s always surprising him these days. Like the way he pulls off abruptly, gulping in air, before focusing his attention entirely on the tip of his cock, swirling his tongue around it in potentially the most erotic display Will’s ever seen.

“Mike,” he whines helplessly, his free hand coming to claw at Mike’s hair, fingers digging into his scalp. His other hand stays firmly planted over his mouth, muffling his wet gasps. 

Mike presses his tongue flat against his slit, laving it with kitten licks, before he pulls off completely, kissing his way down his dick and balls and all the way to his thighs, sucking a mark right above where his fingers are leaving indents. Will lets out a pained groan at the loss, making Mike snicker.

“Oh, sorry,” Mike frowns, the look in his eyes completely unrepentant. “Were you close?”

Will’s hips buck again, fruitlessly chasing the lingering feeling of Mike’s mouth wrapped around him. “You dick!” 

Mike finally breaks at that, laughing against Will’s skin. “You’re so easy to rile up.”

Will tries to scowl, but the effect is lost by the way he’s still twitching, that incessant itch not letting him sit still, not while he’s still achingly hard against his stomach. 

“I hate you,” he laments, tossing an arm over his eyes forlornly. Mike laughs again, kissing a hickey on his thigh apologetically.  

“You agreed to let me try something new,” Mike reminds him, nuzzling into the apex of his thighs, seemingly uncaring of how sweaty he’s gotten over the course of the night. It’s an affectionate gesture, and Will can’t help but soften in response. Mike’s always so sweet in bed, even when he’s being evil on purpose.

“I didn’t realize that by something new you actually meant cruel and unusual torture,” Will complains, pouting down at him. He feels a bit childish, whining like this when Mike’s treating him so well, doing him a favor, really, but he can’t help it. He needs to come, damn it. 

Mike coos sympathetically, catching onto his frustration. “You’re right,” he concedes, shifting back up on the bed. “I’m being mean. I’m sorry.”

Will sighs, his arm falling away so he can look down at him properly, say something like, “No, I’m just being impatient, I’m sorry,” but Mike’s taking him in his mouth again before he has a chance, so all that comes out is a strangled, “Ack!”

Mike snorts, immediately making himself gag. He coughs, pulling back off, laughing in between his hacking. It makes Will laugh, too, and they sort of egg each other on, both guffawing so hard Will has to clutch his stomach. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Mike cackles, trying to calm himself down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Will laughs harder at that, shoving lightly at Mike’s shoulder. They giggle until they’re both gasping for air, Mike’s head tilting forward to rest against Will’s hip.

Both of their bodies shake as they catch their breath. Will’s still hard, and his sweat is starting to dry uncomfortably on his skin, but all he can focus on is Mike. 

It’s times like these he’s reminded how lucky he is to have Mike in this way. To see this side of him, this side that still feels too new and too intimate and too overwhelming. Sometimes, he thinks he might be bitter. Resentful of his lot in life, being so painfully in love with someone who will so obviously never feel the same way. On his bad days, he even thinks he might resent Mike. 

Like this, though, he knows that could never be true. Not really. Sure, it hurts, only ever having Mike halfway, knowing his body but never his soul. Yes, it’s going to kill him when Mike inevitably finds someone new and runs off into the sunset, leaving him in the dust again.

But it’s Mike. His best friend. His heart.

Finally, Mike props himself up, his chest still heaving. Even so, he grins, “Can I make it up to you, now?”

He’s so in love with this boy, it’s not even funny. He’s hit with the sudden, pressing urge to spill his guts, right now. To tug Mike up until they’re face-to-face and tell him everything that’s been stirring in the back of his mind since they were, like, thirteen, here on the lumpy bed in his shitty dorm room. The pinnacle of romance.

But then he remembers that Mike already knows. He’s known since they were teenagers, both too awkward to properly address the elephant in the room, but overly aware of the way it leaked into the cracks of their every interaction, even in the face of the end of the world. He knows, and he doesn’t feel the same way, but he still gives himself to Will like this, because he’s selfless and generous and loyal to a fault. Who is Will to ask for more?

So he just matches his grin, raising his eyebrows challengingly. “Do your worst.”

Mike makes quick work of him this time, clearly intent on making good on his promise to make it up to him. He doesn’t bother with the formalities, taking him all the way in one fell swoop and letting Will buck into the back of his throat all he likes. It takes a hot second for Will to remember he’s supposed to be quiet, stuffing his hand back in his mouth with a drawn-out whine.

Mike pats his thigh insistently, pulling off to say, “No, let me hear you,” and then diving back in. 

“Mike,” Will hisses, letting his hand fall away despite his better judgment. He buries them both in Mike’s hair, tangling his fingers into his curls. He knows Mike likes it when he pulls his hair, but he’s usually nervous to do it too much, afraid of hurting him. Today, though, he almost likes the idea of making it hurt a little. Mike deserves it, the way he’s teased him all night. “You’re going to get another noise complaint.”

Mike garbles something dismissive around his cock, and the sound of him trying to talk with his mouth full is simultaneously the grossest and the hottest thing Will’s ever heard. He’s going to hell.

He tries to stifle his noises, but they fall from his tongue without his permission. All he can hear is the wet sound of Mike’s mouth on his dick and his own constant stream of groans, filling the room and inundating his senses. Anyone who walks by will know exactly what they’re doing in here, and the thought sends a thrill up his spine.

He gives Mike’s hair a sharp tug, just to hear him whimper. Mike blinks up at him when he does, eyes shiny, and moans around his cock like he can’t hide how much he loves it. 

It’s that moan that does him in, his hips spasming erratically. He tugs at Mike’s hair again, trying to pull him away, but Mike remains steadfast, sucking him off with renewed vigor. He doesn’t gag at the way Will thrusts up into his mouth, prepared for it, and Will can’t help but shiver at how well Mike knows him. While he’s constantly surprised by Mike, Mike seems to have him memorized, always predicting his next move. He’d probably murder him in chess.

As it stands, he’s just bringing Will to the most mindblowing orgasm of his life, staring up at him while he jerks once, twice, and then collapses, spilling into Mike’s mouth. Mike stays there until he’s sure he’s done, only pulling away when Will’s boneless on the bed, licking the remnants off his lips. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch at the sight.

“Your turn?” he asks breathlessly when Mike crawls up to straddle him, nosing at his cheek. So sweet. 

Mike makes an abashed noise, burying his face in the crook of Will’s neck. It makes Will’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Mike?” he probes, nudging his shoulder to get him to look at him.

“You, ah, don’t have to,” Mike mumbles, averting his gaze. “I, er, already…”

“Oh,” Will breathes, realization dawning on him. He can’t help it; his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. “Oh, and you said I was easy to rile up, you hypocrite—”

“Stop,” Mike grouses, flopping down beside him, their bodies pressed together on the twin bed. “Stop, shut up—”

“You really got off on tormenting me like that?” he goads, rolling over to cage Mike in. “What are you, some kind of pervert?”

“Stop,” Mike laughs, kicking at him. Will laughs, too, and then they’re kissing, and everything is great, amazing, even. Would be perfect, if not for the persistent ache in his chest.

Oh, well. He’s always been good at taking what he can get. Why should this be any different?

It all starts the week after graduation.

It’s a bit ironic. In the back of his mind, Will had always thought of graduation as the end of everything. Not, like, the end of his life, obviously, but the end of an era, in a way. Closing a chapter on Hawkins and all of the horrors that came with it, finally moving on for good. He’d resolved to push his feelings for Mike aside, once and for all, to focus on making their last summer before college a good one. Make memories that weren’t tarnished by grief or fear or all-consuming longing.

Leave it to Mike to topple even his best-laid plans.

Like everything important in his life, good or bad, it happens in Mike’s basement. It’s just the two of them, which is something Will’s still getting used to. It’s just the two of them more often than not, now, everyone else busy with their own lives while he and Mike drag their feet, both digging their claws into the last remnants of their childhood. It’s kind of full-circle, Will thinks, that the Party started and ended with him and Mike.

Which is completely overdramatic, he realizes. Nothing is ending, not really. It’s only the beginning of the summer, the start of what he’s going to make sure is the best summer of their lives. Then, they’re all off to the city, and it’s not like they’ll be far apart there, either. They’ll all still be best friends, and they’ll finally be out of this hellhole, so if anything, things are only up from here.

And he’s being completely normal about this just the two of them thing, really. Much more normal than anyone could reasonably expect, in his opinion. 

Mike is stretched out on the couch, one arm thrown over the back lazily. He’s kicked his shoes off somewhere near the stairs, socks mismatched, and he’s all warm and slack in a way that makes Will feel soft, too. Mike’s always been intense, all harsh angles and harsher focus. Seeing him like this, unguarded, feels like being let in on a secret.

Will takes the floor out of habit, sitting with his back against the couch and his knees pulled up. The carpet smells like mothballs and old soda. Hawkins, distilled, if you will.

He can hear Mike’s family stomping around upstairs, laughter bursting and then fading, but it’s quieter down here, the sound muffled and far away. Like the basement exists in its own little pocket of time, untouched. It’s always felt like that to him, though, so he supposes that’s nothing new. 

Mike flips through a stack of tapes absently, not really looking at any of them. “Dustin was talking about wanting to do a road trip before we all leave.”

Will makes a curious noise, glancing up at him. “Well, we all have to drive to Chicago. Doesn’t that count?”

“Dustin wants it to be, like, fun,” Mike explains, sounding bored. “With stops, and snacks, and stuff. And no parents.”

“Sounds like a terrible idea.” 

“Right?” Mike grins, slumping back against the wall. “I told him we’d think about it.”

It still catches him off guard sometimes, how easy it is. It’s always been easy with Mike, even when everything else is hard. Even when they’re worlds apart, Mike somehow always knows how to make him feel at ease.

They lapse into a comfortable silence after that. Will focuses intently on keeping his breathing even and not thinking about the way Mike’s knee is inches from his ear. He’s being so, so normal.

They’re still finding their footing after everything. All things considered, Mike has been pretty great about it all, for which Will is incredibly appreciative. They’re figuring out, like, boundaries and stuff, and Mike can still be an asshole sometimes, but he’s trying, and that’s what matters.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Mike asks eventually. When Will tips his head back to look at him, he’s staring up at the ceiling, brow furrowed.

“What does?”

Mike shrugs loosely. “Just… all of it, I guess. Not having something we’re supposed to be doing.”

Will understands that. For most of their lives, there’s always been something looming in the distance—school, monsters, the end of the world. Now there’s just time, stretching out wide and endless in front of them. It’s almost more daunting, he thinks.

He lets himself think about it, about what it really means. About Hawkins shrinking behind them in the rearview mirror. About this basement, frozen in amber. About how much of himself he’s left here, piece by piece, sometimes against his will. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

Mike leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The movement brings him closer, close enough that Will can feel his puffing breath on his neck.

“You excited?” Mike asks after a short silence, fidgeting. He picks at a loose thread on the hem of his shorts.

“About college?” Will asks. “I don’t know. I think so.”

Mike hums, clearly unconvinced. “You’ll love it. You get to just… make stuff. Like, all the time.”

“That’s the plan,” Will snorts.

Mike looks down at him then, eyes soft. “You’re gonna be really good,” he says, like it’s a fact. 

The silence is more pronounced this time. Will gnaws at his bottom lip, the metaphorical distance between them suddenly unbearable. Mike must agree, because he shifts again, sliding down from the couch to sit beside him on the floor. 

Will’s breath stutters, which Mike catches immediately. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyebrows knitting together. “Am I crowding you?”

“No!” Will blurts. He forces himself to relax, to lean back and let his shoulder brush Mike’s arm. Be casual, he chides himself. Be normal. “No, um, you’re fine.”

Mike stills, and for a second, Will thinks he might move away after all. He doesn’t, of course. Instead, he bumps his shoulder gently into Will’s, like it’s a joke. 

“Remember how we used to fall asleep down here?” Mike mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest like Will. “Like, every weekend.”

“How could I forget?” he smiles wryly. “You’d always keep me up with your snoring.”

Mike’s head shoots up at that, squawking defensively. “That is not true!”

“You know it is,” Will insists, laughing. “Every time!”

“Okay, first of all,” Mike starts, turning so he can face him properly, before he seems to realize how close they are. He trails off, the words dissolving on his tongue. “... only once or twice.”

Will grins triumphantly. “That’s what I thought."

Mike shakes his head, still smiling. Their laughter fades, leaving behind something more hesitant. Mike’s eyes linger, unfocused, like he’s thinking too hard about something.

“Feels like forever ago,” Mike whispers. He’s still staring at him, the intensity of his gaze making Will flounder. 

“Yeah,” Will agrees, voice hushed. “It does.”

They sit there, shoulders pressed together and knees drawn up, mirroring each other without even trying. It’s cool down here, a relief from the sticky summer heat upstairs, but Will suddenly feels very warm, Mike’s body heat seeping through their clothes.

Mike twitches, fingers drumming on his knee. “I’m gonna miss this place,” he confesses.

Will’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised. “Really?”

Mike shrugs. “I mean, not Hawkins. Just… this.” He gestures vaguely around them, to the basement, the couch, the space between them. “Everything. Us, I guess.”

That word hits him like an arrow to the heart. Us. “Me too,” he says, because it’s true. Because he’s never been good at lying to Mike, not really.

Mike exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch. His arm slides along the cushions, settling behind Will’s shoulders. Will shifts slightly, his shoulder brushing Mike’s arm, admonishing himself again as he does it. 

Mike just has this magnetic field about him, like he’s a planet in a far-off galaxy and Will’s an asteroid stuck in his orbit. It’s impossible to maintain boundaries with him when all Will really wants to do at any given moment is flop on top of him and fuse them together in some sort of reverse-mitosis. 

Mike relaxes at the touch, dropping his arm enough that it rests against Will’s upper back. Will’s pulse skitters. 

“You okay?” Mike murmurs, peering at him.

“Yeah,” Will croaks, too quickly. He clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Mike nods, satisfied. He always trusts Will, even when he shouldn’t.

Will licks his lips. Mike’s eyes drop down to his mouth as he does, following his tongue, and it’s like every muscle in Will’s body freezes at the same time, heart included. It stays frozen for a long second before it suddenly ramps up again, beating at two-times speed.

“Will,” Mike breathes, not quite a question.

When Will meets his eye, they’re somehow closer than before. This close, he can’t ignore the way Mike’s eyes flick down and then back up again.

“Yeah?” 

Mike hesitates. His thumb brushes Will’s arm, catching on the sleeve of his shirt. Will gulps. Mike leans in, just a fraction, close enough that Will can feel his breath ghost across his cheek, and Will lets himself lean in, too.

He’s imagined his first kiss a lot over the years. With no small amount of trepidation, at first, picturing long hair and lipstick-pink lips. And then, even more reluctantly, the press of a rough mouth against his, burying his head under his covers embarrassedly at the way the thought made his heart pound. 

The way Mike kisses isn’t anything like he imagined. His lips are disarmingly soft, and he’s more hesitant than Will ever pictured, like he’s testing the waters. Will doesn’t respond at first, just lets out a surprised “oh,” before he remembers himself, scrambling.

His knees fall away from his chest as he clambers to get a better angle. Mike makes a happy sound when he does, shifting them both until they’re all tangled together, face to face. And then they’re really kissing. 

It’s as if all of his better judgment has flown out the window, replaced by the exhilarating feeling of Mike’s mouth on his. He tries to retrace his steps, remember how exactly they got here, but his mind goes hazy. Mike reaches up a hand to cup his cheek, kissing him deeper, and Will gives up entirely, falling headfirst.

Mike seems spurred on by his enthusiasm, tilting his head up so he can nip at his lips, making him gasp. Mike takes advantage of the opening, slipping his tongue into Will’s mouth hungrily, and it's then that Will decides he could die like this and not regret a thing.

He doesn’t think he’s very good at this, if he’s being honest. His lips move against Mike’s clumsily, and he’s not sure what to do with his hands, but Mike seems determined to eat him alive anyway. So, he clutches at the front of Mike’s shirt, lets himself go lax, and decides to hold on for the ride.

“Will,” Mike groans when he feels him go soft against his chest, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. Will whimpers, clinging to him tightly, and then he feels it, stiff and damning against his knee.

Mike’s hard.

All at once, he’s filled with a kind of euphoria he thinks can only be compared to that of, like, hard drugs. He’s also incredibly flustered, butterflies erupting in his stomach.

“Mike,” he breathes, the sound lost in the shuffle of their mouths. He pulls back, heart rate spiking at the way Mike blindly chases after him, struggling to slot their lips back together. “Mike, can I touch you?”

What can he say? Give him an inch, and he’ll take a mile. 

“Yes,” Mike moans, hips seemingly moving of their own accord, jutting against his leg. It makes Will feel alive in a way he never has before, all of his nerve endings lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Fuck, yes, Will—”

It’s not graceful, but he manages to shimmy down Mike’s shorts while they go back to kissing, leaving them pooled around his ankles. Mike’s fingers hook in his belt loops, tugging him closer, and they end up in a heap on the floor, pawing at each other.

He shoves his hand down Mike’s briefs before he can lose his nerve, gripping his cock firmly. Mike hisses into his mouth at the contact, grinding up into his hand, his eyes squeezed shut. His eagerness soothes Will’s nerves, and with a shaky breath, Will starts to stroke him slowly, trying to catalogue his every reaction.

“Oh my God,” Mike garbles, pulling his mouth away to shove his face into the side of Will’s neck, muffling the string of sounds spilling from his lips. “Fuck, oh my God. Will.”

“Is that—good?” Will whispers nervously. He twists his hand around the head, trying to remember what he likes when he gets himself off, and Mike all but springs off the floor, back arching.

“So good, you have no idea, s’good,” Mike whines, already sounding near tears. He palms at Will through his shorts, suddenly desperate. “Please, let me, I need to—”

Will’s nodding before Mike can finish his sentence, leaning back to mess with the zipper on his own shorts. Mike makes a forlorn sound when he pulls his hand away, but Will works quickly, kicking his shorts off and tugging down Mike’s underwear in one fell swoop.

He feels out of his mind, only superficially aware of where he ends and Mike begins as he goes back to jerking him off. Distantly, he thinks there’s something he should be worried about, but then Mike’s hand slithers into his boxers and his head goes blank again.

Mike’s fingers are thin and long and wrap around him so perfectly that it should be criminal. Everything about him is so perfect it should be criminal, really. God, how was he ever supposed to get over him?

It’s not long before they’re both coming, inexperienced as they are. Mike spurts onto his stomach with a wounded noise, his cock jerking in Will’s hand, and then it’s all over for Will, too. He soaks his boxers, head lolling forward until their foreheads are pressed together as they pant for air.

“Holy shit,” Mike laughs after a long, breathless moment. He looks beautiful like this, skin flushed and sweat-damp, all because of Will.

He can’t help but agree. “Holy shit,” he nods sagely.

Part of him thinks he may have just made the worst mistake of his life. Another thinks this might be the best thing to ever happen to him. It’s more than likely that both are right.

Their eyes meet again, faces only inches apart. There’s a million things Will wants to say, all on the tip of his tongue, but all that comes out is, “Kiss me again?”

And Mike does.

Will huffs, licking his thumb and smudging at the charcoal on the page impatiently. He’s sprawled across his bed, sketchbook balanced on his knees, the side of his hand smeared with black. He has a painting drying across the room, so the whole place kind of reeks of turpentine, making his temples throb the longer he breathes it in. 

Mike’s at the desk, hunched over a stack of notes and pretending to study. He’s wearing one of Will’s old t-shirts, the collar loose with wear, and Will can’t help but glance at the way it hangs below his collarbone every once in a while, just to really commit the sight to memory. 

It’s stupid, he knows, but he can’t help but feel as though every moment he has with Mike like this is finite in a way he can’t quite articulate, like everything is going to slip through his fingers if he doesn’t pay close enough attention. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he’s always paying attention to Mike. He doesn’t think he could stop if he tried.

Mike slumps back in the chair, dragging a hand through his hair. He knocks his glasses out of place as he does, leaving them crooked, and Will can’t fight back his smile. 

“How’s anatomy practice?”

“Bad,” Will snorts, looking back down at his sketchbook. It’s a mess, lines going nowhere, forming indistinguishable blobs across the page. He taps the charcoal against the centermost blob, then sighs and lets his arm fall to his side. “You’re distracting.”

“Am I?” Mike teases, leaning back and stretching exaggeratedly. “I’m just sitting here.”

Will’s eyes follow the movement against his will, and he briefly contemplates the merits of abandoning his assignment and sliding into Mike’s lap. It would cure their boredom, surely.

That thought in mind, he sits up, sketchbook sliding down to rest against his hip. From this angle, he can see Mike’s profile more clearly, the crease between his brows as he squints at his notes, the way he chews at his lip listlessly. 

It’s strange, Will thinks, how this is the closest they’ve ever been.

Not when they were kids, when the most important thing in the world was which of them could race out to Castle Byers faster. Not even after everything they survived together, when it felt like they’d both die if they couldn’t sense each other from across the room. 

Things are inexplicably different now. They’ve somehow grown into themselves just enough to meet each other again on new ground, even as everything else has changed so irrevocably.

He’d expected them to grow apart when they left for college, but he’s never been so happy to have been wrong. He can’t imagine his life, this new life, without Mike in it. Maybe that’s what makes everything feel so fragile, like the rug could be pulled out from under him at any given moment.

God, he’s horny.

Mike clears his throat. When Will blinks back into focus, he’s wearing a cocky grin. “You’re staring again.”

“Am not,” Will denies automatically, lying to his face. Mike quirks a brow, and Will flops back against the bed, sulking. “I can’t help it!”

Mike laughs, “I’m just sitting here!”

“Menacingly,” Will retorts, deadpan.

“Sexily, you mean?”

Will groans, grabbing a stray pillow and smothering himself with it. “You wish.”

Mike laughs again, pleased with himself, and Will hates how much that laugh still does things to him. He peeks out from under the pillow just in time to see Mike turn back to the desk, shoulders still shaking faintly with it.

The chair makes a squeaking sound as Mike moves again, reaching toward the cluttered edge of Will’s desk. Curiously, Will unburies his face, tossing the pillow aside.

He’s picked up his abandoned coffee from this morning, turning it in his hand. “What’s this?” Mike asks, voice carefully neutral.

Will squints. “What’s what?”

Mike angles the cup so Will can see it. The phone number’s written in smudged Sharpie, bold and incriminating. “Oh,” he says belatedly, eyebrows pinched together.

“That’s not an answer,” Mike frowns, looking back down at the cup like it’s personally offended him. If this were a comic book, Will thinks he would be shooting lasers out of his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Will says honestly, flipping onto his stomach. 

It is nothing. He’d gotten a laugh out of it this morning and then promptly forgot it was even there, more concerned with chugging down his latte. 

Mike raises an eyebrow, still looking sullen. “Looks like a number.”

“It is a number,” Will concedes. He props himself up on his elbows. “The barista at the coffee place gave it to me. I didn’t ask for it.”

“The barista?”

“A girl,” Will emphasizes, bewildered.

Mike’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “But you kept it?"

“I forgot about it,” Will argues, oddly defensive. “It’s not like I called her. I’m—” He cuts himself off. I’m gay feels obvious and beside the point.

“Then why is it still here?” Mike presses.

The real answer is that he was too lazy to drag himself to the kitchen to throw it away. The question needles at him, though, so he doesn’t say that. He swings his legs off the bed and sits up fully, sketchbook sliding onto the floor with a thump. “Why do you care?”

Mike sets the cup down slowly and sits back in the desk chair, crossing his arms. “I don’t. I just didn’t realize you were… collecting numbers.”

“I’m not collecting numbers,” Will snorts. What does Mike think he is, some kind of Casanova? “And even if I was, why would it matter?”

“It wouldn’t,” Mike snaps, clearly ruffled. Will gives him a long look, and he deflates. “I just don’t like it.”

Will’s irritated, now. Indignation prickles under his skin. What does it matter what Mike likes? He’s the one who refuses to put a name to this thing they’re doing, tumbling into bed together every night and acting like all is well the next day. 

He’s been weird since that night out with the others, both of them too shit-faced to remember anything the morning after, and it’s starting to grate on Will the longer it goes on. It’s not like they’re exclusive. They’re not anything at all. 

He goes to say something biting, but then he looks at Mike again, and the anger drains out of him almost as quickly as it came. Mike’s shoulders are slumped, arms crossed like he’s holding himself together. He looks tired. He looks small, somehow, stripped of the ferocity he usually wears so well.

Neither one of them speaks.

Will hates that this is what it always comes down to, this quiet standoff where they both have to pretend like what they’re doing isn’t making everything weird. It’s such a strange dichotomy, simultaneously feeling like they’ve never been closer and never been further apart. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth and sighs.

“You can throw it out,” he says finally, motioning at the cup. “If it bothers you so much.”

“That’s not…” Mike starts, then stops. He exhales slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Will snorts. “I think that ship sailed a while ago.”

That earns him a crooked smile. Mike crosses the room without another word, joining him on the bed, close enough that Will can feel the dip in the mattress. Their knees brush, and neither one of them moves away.

“This is stupid,” Will murmurs, more to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees quietly.

Mike’s hand finds Will’s wrist, tentative at first, thumb brushing over the charcoal stains there. It’s almost reverent, the way he touches him. He used to think it meant something, but now it just makes him ache.

They lean in at the same time, practiced. Mike’s nose nudges against his cheek as their lips meet, soft and slow, and he knows this is his way of apologizing. 

Mike cups his cheek with his other hand, licking into his mouth. He’s always greedy when they get like this, never content to stay gentle for very long. It’s like he’s trying to make a point, the way he presses his fingers into his jaw. He urges Will backwards until he’s braced against the headboard, charcoal-covered fingers fisting in Mike’s shirt. His shirt.

Mike slides a hand under his shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He reaches up to tweak a nipple, and Will can’t help but squirm. “Mike,” he complains, arms winding around his neck. 

“Can I fuck you?” Mike whispers against his lips, pulling back just far enough to press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes are dark behind his glasses, desperate. “Please, can I?”

As if he’d ever say no. “Obviously,” he breathes, pulling him back into another sloppy kiss. 

Mike grunts, pushing him back reluctantly. “Sorry, sorry, let me—” He leans forward, rummaging through Will’s nightstand and tossing the lube onto the bed. “Condom?”

Will shakes his head, tugging at his arm impatiently. Mike relents, laughing as he settles back between his legs, but Will can tell he’s secretly pleased. 

“You’re so pretty,” Mike whispers, reaching down to palm his ass. He presses a flurry of kisses across Will’s face, making him giggle. 

“You just want to get lucky,” Will accuses, hooking an ankle around Mike’s leg to pull him closer. 

Mike grins wolfishly. “I thought we already established that I am getting lucky?”

“Whatever,” he whispers, kissing him again.

Mike hums, already tugging at the hem of his shirt. Will yields, lifting his arms so he can pull it off, and Mike tosses it aside haphazardly. He pecks his lips one more time before kissing his way down his neck, pausing to suck at an old hickey. 

Will’s always covered in bruises nowadays. Their friends definitely know something is up, but they never ask, so he never mentions it. Mike’s like a vampire, hellbent on sinking his teeth into every inch of Will’s skin he can reach whenever they do this, which is often. 

He makes a mental note to tell Mike to stop before they go home for the holidays. The last thing he needs is his mom or Jonathan seeing him like this. He can’t even imagine how they’d react.

Right now, though, he’s content to let Mike mark him up as he pleases. He kisses a line down the column of his throat until he reaches his chest, latching onto one of his nipples. 

Will can’t help the way he moans, back arching. He tangles a hand in Mike’s hair, and Mike focuses there for a while, swirling his tongue around one while he pinches the other. It makes Will twitch impatiently, his cock straining in his sweatpants.

“Mike,” he whines, using his grip on his hair to pull him off. Mike moans brokenly as he does, which makes his eyebrows raise. That’s good to know. “Mike, come on. Fuck me already.”

“Yeah?” Mike teases, sitting back to discard his own shirt. “You want my cock?”

“Yes, you asshole,” Will grits out.

Mike laughs, peeling off Will’s sweatpants in one fluid motion. He goes back to kissing his navel, stopping just above his boxers. He nuzzles his nose into the hair there, inhaling deeply. Gross. “I wanna eat your pussy,” he announces.

“Jesus Christ, Mike!” he protests weakly.

Mike just laughs, already sliding Will’s underwear down his legs. “Well, can I?”

The idea is tempting. He does love the feeling of Mike’s tongue on him, and he’d normally jump at the opportunity, but he’s so hard, and he’s so empty, and, “Maybe later. Fuck me?”

“Oh, you are impatient,” Mike chuckles, but he starts taking off his pants anyway, so it’s not very reproachful. “Well, whatever the princess wants.”

“Mike!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he grins, freeing his own hard cock, which shuts Will up good. “Whatever the sorcerer wants, then.”

“You’re so stupid,” he grumbles, lifting his hips obediently when Mike goes to slide a pillow under him. He watches as Mike grabs the abandoned lube, warming some between his fingers. 

Mike prods at his hole, groaning lowly when his fingers slip inside without resistance. “You’re still loose,” he murmurs, leaning back down to nose at Will’s cheek while he works him open. “Always so perfect for me.”

“Mike,” he moans, too far gone to come up with anything witty. Mike makes quick work of him, stretching him open easily. Soon enough, he’s lining himself up and pushing inside, the slow grind of his cock making Will feel hollowed out from the inside.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this. Mike bottoms out, breathing heavily, and Will takes the moment to relish the feeling. Mike, filling him to the brim, giving himself up in the most intimate way possible. It’s even better like this, with no condom in the way, the drag of skin on skin absolutely addicting. 

If this is all he can have of him, Will thinks distractedly, then he’ll take it. 

He could be worse off. He could never know the insistent press of Mike’s dick against his sweet spot, so deep he can feel it in his throat. Now that would be a fate worse than death.

They don’t really talk about them, these trysts they’re having behind their friends’ backs. This thing that they do now, apparently, where they vie for any moment alone to get each other off like teenagers. 

Which is probably how they end up here, nursing cheap drinks on the edge of a packed dancefloor. Max and Lucas are in the midst of it, almost certainly drunk by the way they’re grinding on each other like middle schoolers. Meanwhile, Dustin disappeared to go to the bathroom at least an hour ago, and Will is pretty sure he went home, but he’s tipsy, so he’s not really offended. 

Leaving him and Mike. Max had dragged them all to some gay bar under the pretense of getting Will out there, at which Mike only grumbled perfunctorily. He’s being very mature, really.

Now he’s the one pressed close to Will’s side, shoulders bumping clumsily as the crowd moves to the beat. The music is loud enough that it vibrates through his shoes, and the way the lights are flashing is starting to make him a bit dizzy.

The drink in his hand is far too sweet, burning on the way down. He’s warm all over, everything pleasantly fuzzy, with a front row seat to his favorite show: Mike Wheeler. Mike’s on his second beer—or is it his third?—and he looks loose in a way Will doesn’t see very often, so he makes a point of taking in the view.

He left his glasses at home, and his hair is mussed from running around all night, and his skin has this nice flush from the alcohol. Will is reminded all at once why he lets his friends drag him to these things.

“This place is a lot,” Mike murmurs, leaning in close so Will can hear him.

“You’re the one who complained until Max agreed to leave the last place,” Will reminds him.

Mike huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well. That place sucked.”

“This place also sucks,” Will points out, giggling into his drink.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, grinning. “But differently.”

Someone bumps into them from behind, a large hand going to Mike’s waist to steady him. Will blinks at it, then blinks up at the owner of said hand, a broad-shouldered man with a neatly-trimmed beard.

“Sorry,” the guy says, not sounding very sorry at all.

Mike smiles back easily, completely oblivious. “No worries, man.”

Will feels something unpleasant twist low in his gut.

The guy doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in closer, murmuring something into Mike’s ear that Will can’t make out over the music. Mike laughs, a little breathless, before shaking his head. He gestures vaguely between himself and Will, like he’s trying to explain something without having to actually explain it.

His cheeks are ruddy, Will notices, irritation flaring before he stomps it back down. 

The guy follows the gesture, looking Will up and down. “Ah,” he nods, grinning good-naturedly as he moves to clap Will on the shoulder. Will eyes the hand with distaste. “Lucky lad.”

And then he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd.

Mike exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. He turns to Will, still smiling sheepishly, like he hasn’t quite caught up to himself yet. “Um… wow.” His eyes are bright and nervous.

Will forces a laugh, “Wow, indeed.” His drink tastes bitter all of a sudden, sliding like sludge down his throat. 

They dance, eventually, or at least something close to it. Max and Lucas come and drag them both onto the floor, and they entertain it for a while, bopping halfheartedly. Will can’t shake that ugly feeling, though, watching Mike out of the corner of his eye even as Lucas pulls him into a dramatic spin. 

He keeps drinking, probably more than he should. Eventually, the jealousy from before melts away, replaced by something clingier. It’s a kind of possessiveness, like he wants to crawl inside of Mike’s skin and make a home for himself there. He settles for plastering himself to his side, singing along drunkenly to some pop song he recognizes from the radio.

Mike doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping an arm around his waist and swaying them back and forth lazily. He’s beautiful in the neon lights, face stained a blueish-purple, and his silhouette all blurry around the edges. Will is so in love with him. He wants to tell him. He wants to stand on his tiptoes and whisper in his ear like that scummy guy from earlier, just to see his cheeks flush and his eyes widen because of him. 

The words are weighing on his tongue, ready to spill out at a moment’s notice. He drowns them out with another drink, chugging like his life depends on it while Mike looks on, amused. 

They lose track of Max and Lucas over the course of the night, the ebb and flow of the crowd washing them away at sea. After another hour without sight of them, he assumes they went home, too, leaving him and Mike to drag themselves out of here alone.

The dance floor empties as the night wears on, people peeling off in sweaty pairs or stumbling toward the bar. Will’s feet ache, and his head buzzes pleasantly, tell-tale signs of a successful night out. Mike’s arm stays looped around his waist the rest of the night, and Will lets himself lean into it, cheek brushing Mike’s shoulder whenever the crowd pushes them together.

He keeps catching himself watching Mike, involuntarily. The way his mouth curves when he laughs at something Will slurs into his ear, the long column of his throat when he tosses his head back. He could spend hours looking at him without getting bored.

Another guy drifts past them, lingering just a second too long, eyes flicking up to Mike’s face. Will glowers, tightening his grip on Mike’s arm. 

“You good?” Mike murmurs, lips close enough that Will feels the words more than hears them.

“Just—crowded.”

Mike nods, pulling him into his chest. He adjusts his stance so his back is to the other man, effectively blocking him from view, and Will hates how relieved it makes him feel.

It really shouldn’t matter. Mike hasn’t done anything wrong. He hasn’t encouraged anyone, hasn’t even looked particularly interested. Still, the image of that dude’s hand on Mike’s waist flashes through Will’s mind again, settling in like an unwelcome house guest.

He drains the rest of his drink without thinking, grimacing at the burn. He doesn’t even know what number he’s on. Mike watches him over the rim of his beer, brow creasing.

“Hey,” he frowns, thumb stroking his hip. “Come on, you gotta slow down.”

Will laughs a little too loudly, rolling his eyes. “You sound like my mom.”

“Oh, God forbid,” Mike teases.

Will turns into him, crowding his space deliberately, chin tipped up. “What? Worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Mike’s eyes flicker over his face, darkening. “Not particularly.”

Will swallows, suddenly too aware of how close they are. Of how easy it would be to lean in, to do something stupid and irreversible. Something normally reserved for the privacy of their bedrooms, where the rules governing the outside world always seem to fall away.

“Maybe I want to,” Will says instead, liquid courage still roaring through his veins. “Embarrass you, I mean.”

Mike’s lips quirk. “I don’t think I'd mind.”

They don’t stay long after that. Will’s patience is fraying, his nerves buzzing. He feels raw and exposed, like every glance in Mike’s direction is a threat. It’s ridiculous, he knows, but that doesn’t stop the way his hand keeps finding Mike’s sleeve, his wrist, his waist.

“Hey,” Mike says gently, catching his hand. “You wanna sit down? Or…”

“Can we go home?” Will pleads, the pounding in his head and rolling in his stomach catching up to him all at once. He thinks he might actually puke if he has to see another guy hit on Mike tonight, and he really doesn’t want to take his chances with Mike’s track record tonight. 

Mike straightens, nodding quickly. “Yeah, yeah, let me just—”

He doesn’t know how they make it back to Mike’s dorm, but they do. They’re both too drunk, giggling loudly as they stumble up the stairs and into Mike’s room, and Will already knows they’re going to get another complaint in the morning. What is this, strike seven? Whatever.

Mike fumbles with the light switch, missing it twice, and Will has to lean against the wall to keep himself upright, the room spinning pleasantly.

“Okay,” Mike laughs, finally flooding the room with harsh overhead light. “Okay, okay, shoes off before we eat shit.”

Will kicks his sneakers off with more enthusiasm than precision, one of them smacking into the bedframe. He collapses onto the mattress in a boneless heap, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirs lazily overhead.

“Your room is smaller than I remember,” he mumbles.

Mike snorts, toeing his own shoes off. “You’ve been here, like, every night this week.”

“Yeah, but…” Will frowns, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Something’s different.”

Mike shakes his head fondly, crossing the room to sit beside him. The mattress dips, and Will angles himself closer subconsciously. 

“Water,” Mike declares. “You need water.”

“Later,” Will replies, rolling onto his side to face him fully. “Come here.”

Mike hesitates for half a second before he acquiesces, lying down beside him, their shoulders knocking together. Will hums happily, draping an arm across Mike’s chest.

He traces the hem of Mike’s shirt idly, thumb slipping underneath the fabric, and Mike sucks in a quiet breath.

“Will,” he murmurs.

“What?” Will asks innocently. “You don’t want me touching you?”

Mike’s hand comes up to wrap around his wrist. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Mike opens his mouth, then purses his lips. “I just…” he exhales, frowning deeply. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“So have you,” Will points out petulantly. Mike goes quiet, just peering at him with those brown eyes he loves so much. 

Will’s pulse quickens the longer he stares, skin starting to itch. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing like this, only that he needs something from Mike tonight, something tangible to hang onto.

He curls into Mike’s side, tangling their legs together and nosing at his jaw. “Do you have any idea how many people were looking at you tonight?”

Mike stiffens. “Will…”

“I didn’t like it,” Will admits, words tumbling out now. “I didn’t like them looking at you like that. Like you were up for grabs.”

“Hey,” Mike murmurs, grip on his wrist tightening.

Will presses his face into Mike’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent. “I know I don’t get to be mad,” he whispers. “But I was.”

Mike’s other hand moves to cradle the back of Will’s head. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Somehow, that makes it worse. He wants Mike to be mad at him, wants him to get defensive and fight and yell. He wants him to push him away, to finally tell him to his face that this isn’t what Will thinks it is. That it never was, and never will be. Just rip off the band-aid, once and for all, so he can be done with this stupid pipe dream.

They stare at each other for another beat, the air between them charged. Will’s chest feels too full, emotions sloshing around with nowhere to settle. 

“You’re drunk,” Mike breathes again, like he’s reminding himself, resting their foreheads together. His brows are furrowed, eyes scanning his face rapidly. 

“Yeah,” Will agrees shakily, wetting his lips. 

And then Mike kisses him.

It’s easy to give himself over to Mike, to let him take the reins. Mike knows him better than he knows himself at this point, has memorized every inch of him thoroughly. They’ve only been hooking up for a few months, in actuality, but it feels so natural that he struggles to remember a time before Mike knew his body like the back of his hand.

Their clothes come off in a flurry. Mike tilts his head up, and their teeth clack when he kisses him again. It’s an uncoordinated thing, but Will feels like he’s gone to heaven the moment Mike gets his hand around his cock. No matter how often they do this, it never gets old.

He jacks him off expertly, his hand undeterred by their clumsy kissing. Even drunk, he knows exactly what Will needs, exactly how to take care of him. After a moment, he pulls his hand away, laughing when Will whines in protest.

“Come on, baby,” Mike encourages, lifting his hand to Will’s mouth. Will shivers at the nickname. That’s a new one. “Get me nice and wet, will you?”

Will obliges, obediently sucking two of Mike’s fingers between his lips. He makes a show of it, delighting in the fiery look in Mike’s eyes as he watches, licking around his fingers like a lollipop. He grows impatient himself after a few moments, though, and lets the fingers fall from his lips with a wet sound, moving to lick a stripe up Mike’s palm.

Mike may be a selfless lover, but he’s still a man. With a groan, he takes the two of them in one hand, pushing their dicks together and stroking them both at once. It’s quite possibly the hottest fucking thing Will’s ever seen. Watching it feels like an out-of-body experience, like he’s thirteen and finding his brother’s porn mags for the first time. 

Will is so in love with him. Mike grunts, frustrated, pulling his hand away to spit in his palm before grabbing them both again, getting back to work. The glide is so much better like this, his hand wet and tight around their cocks. He’s so smart. Will is so in love with him.

He wraps his arms around Mike’s neck, chest heaving. He’s more worked up than he thinks he’s ever been, body jolting with every stroke of Mike’s hand. 

“Mike,” he whimpers, mouth dry. Will is so in love with him. “Mike, I’m not gonna last long.”

“Me either,” Mike comforts, kissing him again. He sucks at his tongue like he wants to eat him alive, and Will can’t help but return the sentiment, moaning into his open mouth.

Mike’s eyebrows are pinched together, and his tongue is sticking out, seemingly hyperfocused on making them both come as efficiently as possible. It would be cute if Will weren’t seconds away from mind-numbing pleasure.

It only takes another minute before he spills all over Mike’s hand, keening. If he were sober, he’d almost certainly be embarrassed, but all he can focus on is the feeling of Mike all around him, looking down at him like he’s the most important thing in the world.

“Mike,” Will chants as he comes, shuddering. His words are stifled by Mike’s tongue, their lips still moving together lazily. “Mike, Mike. Fuck, I love you so much. Holy shit.”

Mike stills above him. When Will blinks his eyes open, Mike looks stricken, chest heaving.

“Yeah?” Mike breathes, eyes wide. 

Will smiles up at him, giddy in the afterglow. The double whammy of the alcohol and the dopamine has him dopey, and Mike looks so good like this, skin flushed bright and sweat dripping down his neck. Will kind of wants to lick it, but he doesn’t think he could sit up if he tried.

He blinks back into focus, nose scrunching. “Yeah,” Will agrees, like it’s obvious. It is obvious, he thinks, mildly perturbed. Mike is so weird.

Mike groans, jerking himself off with renewed enthusiasm. Will watches, enraptured, as he comes all over Will’s thighs, painting his skin with white. “Fuck, Will. Fuck, me too, I’m so in love with you, you have no idea—”

All at once, that possessive beast in his chest is soothed, purring contentedly. He’s the one wearing Mike’s cum like a brand, marking him in such a primal way. Mike’s his, and he’s Mike’s, at least for tonight. His cock gives one last, weary squirt between his legs at the thought, adding to Mike’s mess.

It’s all foggy after that. The room is still spinning when he curls into Mike’s side to go to sleep, but he feels sated to his bones, and Mike is stroking his back like he’s something precious, so it’s okay. The hangover will be well worth it.

Sex with Mike is both the best and the worst thing to ever happen to him, Will thinks.

He’s been so gentle with him, recently. It’s a bit of a jarring change, but Will supposes they’re just settling into a routine. They hang out every day, fuck twice as often, and fall asleep on top of each other most nights, now. It’s becoming their new normal.

That’s the problem, he contemplates dimly, moaning into the pillow as Mike settles against his back, a hand moving to squeeze at his ass. It’s really starting to feel normal.

Mike’s weight is heavy and familiar, pressing him into the mattress, and Will feels himself yielding instinctively. His body knows this version of Mike by heart; the way he moves when he’s not in a rush, the way his hands linger and touch like he’s trying to catalog every inch of him. They fit like perfect puzzle pieces, slotting together so easily it’s like second nature.

Mike spreads him open with one hand, the other already prodding at his hole. Will holds back a shiver at the cold lube on his fingers, making Mike tsk. He pulls away for a second, and when he finds his rim again, the lube is pleasantly warm. Sometimes he resents how seen-through he feels when he’s with Mike, but when they’re like this, it just feels natural. 

He slips a finger in easily, and Will sighs, arching his back. Mike rewards him by going to mouth at his neck, latching onto his carotid, and sucking. He expects Mike to add another finger, then, to get to work stretching him open, but Mike seems content to go slow today, fingering him almost lazily as he covers him in bruises.

Will bites back another whimper when Mike curls his finger, and lets his eyes fall shut. 

He tells himself not to get used to it, as if that’s ever worked before. His efforts to protect his heart are beyond futile, he knows. He’s in too deep, too swept away in this whirlwind not-romance to see reason. Not for the first time, he berates himself for letting things go this far.

Mike murmurs his name, half-swallowed as he licks at the nape of his neck, and Will’s resolve evaporates instantly. It always does. Whatever part of him is supposed to be self-preserving falls silent the second Mike touches him like this, like he might break if handled carelessly.

He crooks his finger again experimentally, and Will goes taut. He warbles out some embarrassing jumble of “Mike, fuck, oh my God,” and Mike snickers behind him, pressing more insistently at that spot that makes him see stars.

Another finger joins the first, nudging that spot again, and Will mewls into the pillow. His cock drags against the sheets when he squirms, and he feels trapped in a feedback loop of pleasure.

It makes him feel helpless, but in a good way. He trusts Mike implicitly, and it’s like his brain knows it’s safe to turn off, to go pliant in his arms and let Mike have his way with him. 

He arches into the mattress to get away from the merciless thrust of Mike’s fingers, only to end up humping the bed. When he tries to lift his hips away from the bed, he pushes back into Mike’s fingers. His mind goes fuzzy, already overwhelmed. 

Somewhere in his haze, Mike adds another finger, and Will can’t hold back his pleased sigh. His body is always ready for him, now, with how often Mike fucks him, but he still enjoys the pretense. 

Mike presses a series of soft kisses into his hair, trailing down his spine. He spends some time licking at the dimples on his lower back, making Will wiggle impatiently, before he finally moves further down and bites into the meat of his ass. 

Will yelps, lurching forward, but Mike uses his free hand to pull him back down, laving at the bite soothingly. 

“Mike!” he hisses, wriggling in his hold. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Mike coos unapologetically, sliding his fingers out. He gropes his ass again, humming, before using both hands to spread him open. His thumb digs into the bite, and Will goes to complain again, but then he feels Mike’s nose poking between his cheeks, and goes quiet all at once.

Will’s expecting it, but he still jumps when Mike dives in, slurping at him. He’s always enthusiastic about eating him out, but he’s particularly into it today, licking at him like he wants to consume him whole. He’s like a man starved, prodding at his hole with his tongue and then lapping all around it. 

“Mike,” Will protests, contorting to try and push his head away. “Come on, gross. You’re gonna get lube all over your face.”

Mike laughs, letting him push him away before going right back to work, circling his rim with his tongue. “So?” he argues. “I wanna taste you before I fuck you open again.”

“Mike, oh my God,” he groans, burying his face deeper in the pillow. He can’t stand him. He can’t stand how much he likes it.

Mike seems to get his fill after a few more minutes, pulling away with an embarrassing squelch. He pats his hip, massaging his back with his thumb. “Come on, babe. Turn over, let me see you.”

That’s another recent development. The sweet names, dripping from Mike’s tongue like honey. 

“Come on,” Mike repeats when he doesn’t immediately obey, coaxing. His hand traces a familiar path over Will’s side. “Roll over for me.”

He ends up on his back, sheets rumpled beneath him. There’s a crease between Mike’s brows, concentration or affection or some combination of the two, and Will has the sudden, irrational urge to smooth it away with his thumb. 

Mike kisses him unhurriedly, reaching up to cup his face. He never rushes with him, not anymore. Mike kisses him like he has all the time in the world, stroking his cheek and tilting his head back without thinking.

“Let me fuck you,” Mike breathes, peppering his face with soft kisses. He says it like it’s a question, like there’s any universe where Will turns him down.

“You’re dumb,” he whispers back, making Mike grin. “Lube?”

Mike nods, grabbing the discarded bottle. He doesn’t bother with a condom, knowing Will would just ask him to toss it aside, anyway. 

He settles between his thighs, and Will’s legs part for him automatically. 

This is what scares him, when it comes down to it. It’s not the wanting—he’s been wanting Mike since he was fourteen, since before he knew what to do with the feeling. That part is familiar, manageable in its hopelessness. This is different.

He watches with half-lidded eyes as Mike slicks himself up. He wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and Mike goes without resistance, pressing his forehead to Will’s sternum. 

The stretch when Mike breaches him is delicious. His body accommodates him effortlessly, and it’s all he can do not to preen at that realization. 

“You still with me?” Mike whispers, kissing his collarbone. The sweetness is unbearable when combined with the relentless press of Mike’s cock inside him, carving out a space for himself. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering. Mike laughs above him, pressing another kiss to his skin, before starting to move.

He starts gently at first, like he always does, but he finds a rhythm before long, his hips snapping to meet Will's. It makes him scramble for purchase, one hand on Mike’s shoulder and the other clawing into the sheets. 

“Fuck,” he curses, head falling back against the pillows. It bears his neck, which Mike does not hesitate to take advantage of, sucking at his throat. 

“You’re so good for me,” Mike groans, the distinctive sound of skin slapping filling his bedroom. 

Will doesn’t bother trying to hold back his noises, this time, whimpering helplessly as Mike rams into him. His mouth is hanging open, and he’s pretty sure he’s drooling a little, but he can’t help it. 

“Mike,” he gasps, clashing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Mike breathes, nipping at his bottom lip. “You like it?”

It’s like Mike’s been jolted awake, hips speeding up seemingly of their own accord. Will manages to scrounge up some sort of affirmative noise, and it only eggs Mike on, one hand moving to pin down his stomach while he pounds him into the mattress.

“Fuck,” he whines again, uselessly. He’s scratching at Mike’s shoulders, writhing beneath him, his head blissfully empty. 

“Do you feel that?” Mike pries his hand off the sheets and guides it to rest atop his own on Will’s stomach. “When I fuck you just like this,” he murmurs, tilting his hips and thrusting up, “you can feel me from the outside.”

Will squeaks, both at the words and the new angle. He’s so deep, it’s like Will can feel him in his throat. 

His orgasm was already building, but now it’s like a tidal wave, cresting in his gut. He’s overwhelmed in the best way, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “Mike,” he protests. “You can’t just say that—”

Mike chuckles, but it's a breathless thing. He’s clearly close as well, his movements growing sloppy. 

“You’re so perfect,” he slurs, nuzzling into Will’s neck again. “Can’t get enough of you. Wanna fuck you all the time.”

He always gets sappy when he’s about to come, and it never fails to make Will’s breath hitch. He knows just what to say to butter him up.

“Gonna fill you up,” Mike promises, grunting with every movement. “Holy shit. Wish I could knock you up.”

Will keens at that, twisting under Mike. He doesn’t understand how Mike always knows what he needs, but he does. It makes him feel adored, doted on, in the dirtiest possible way.

He tries to say something to that end, but Mike gives a particularly hard thrust, so all that comes out is a choked off noise. He’s suddenly overcome by the feeling of Mike around him, inside him, everywhere all at once. It’s like something out of his wildest dreams.

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasps, unable to smother the words as they bubble up in his throat, unbidden. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it at first, too caught up in the moment, but then Mike lets out a wounded noise, and he comes back down to reality all at once.

At first, it’s like Mike’s set on fire, fucking into Will with a ferocity he didn’t know he was capable of. Faster, faster, and faster, still, pushing Will up the bed until his head is knocking into the headboard with every thrust.

The words seemingly catch up to him after a few moments, though, his hips slowing to an exhausted stutter. When Will dares to look up at him, Mike looks disarmed, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow.

Their silence is tense for a few moments, and Will has just long enough to regret everything that’s led up to this moment before Mike finally speaks up. 

“Will,” he grits out, pleading. “You can’t do this to me again.”

“What?” Will breathes, throat dry. Mike’s hips are still fidgeting against his, distracting, but Will tries his best to focus, to not fuck this up anymore than he already has.

“You can’t… you can’t keep doing this,” Mike says, eyebrows scrunched together. “Not like this.”

“Like what?” Will presses, confused and aching all at once.

Mike laughs under his breath, throat working. “Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

Will frowns. His heart is still racing, his thoughts a mess, but something uneasy starts to seep in around the edges. “Mike, I don’t—”

“Last time,” Mike interrupts, finally meeting his eyes. There’s something guarded there, now, something wounded. “You can’t pull this shit again, not after last time. It’s cruel, Will.”

“What are you talking about?”

The silence that follows is suffocating. He’s disoriented, pulse roaring in his ears. Mike searches his face like he’s waiting for a joke, and it makes Will flounder.

Mike stares at him a moment longer. “You don’t remember.”

He moves back, then, pulling out of him, and Will whines lowly at the loss. He sits back on his knees, and Will has to prop himself up to look at him. 

“I don’t,” he admits reluctantly. “I don’t really know what we’re talking about, here.”

“Jesus,” Mike mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

Will reaches for him instinctively. “Mike, you’re freaking me out.”

Mike takes another shaky breath, shuffling back down to cup his face. “We were drunk,” he explains warily. “Like, really drunk. You were all over me, saying stupid shit, and then you… you told me that you loved me.”

Will flushes bright red. “No,” he stammers, shaking his head. He doesn’t think he’s ever said that, at least not in so many words. “No, I would remember that.”

“I thought so, too!” Mike’s pupils are blown wide as he stares down at him, face inches from his own. His eyes are wild, realization setting in. “You didn’t bring it up again, and I figured you just… I don’t know, regretted it.”

“Mike, no. I would never—”

“Obviously not!” Mike laughs, borderline hysterical. He’s smiling now, at least, glee taking over his face. “God, listen to us.” He gestures helplessly between them. “This is so stupid.”

“It’s not funny,” Will frowns. He’s bewildered, and more than a little scared, and Mike isn’t making any sense.

“It is,” Mike insists, settling back over top of him completely. He buries his face back into Will’s neck, kissing over his moles. When Will doesn’t say anything, he props himself back up, staring down at him expectantly. “Did you mean it?”

He feels like there’s a right answer here, but he’s not entirely sure what it is, so he buys himself some time. “Mean what?”

“Do you love me?” Mike whispers, exasperated, nosing at his cheek. 

Will swallows. There’s no use denying it, he supposes, when he’s apparently already blurted it out twice now. “Obviously,” he huffs, averting his eyes.

Mike’s answering grin is radiant. “We’re so stupid!” he declares again, unceremoniously pulling him into a kiss. Will’s startled sound is muffled by Mike’s tongue slipping into his mouth, and he finally relents, once again content to let Mike do what he wants.

“You aren’t… freaked out?” he asks hesitantly when Mike breaks the kiss, sucking another hickey onto his jaw. 

“I’m so freaked out,” Mike emphasizes, fingers trailing down Will’s sides. His cock has gone soft, but it gives an interested twitch when Mike’s hand comes to rest on his hips. “Obviously. This is the best day of my life.”

Not the reaction he was expecting. “Oh,” he says lamely.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Mike croons, kissing his way back up to his lips. His fingers trail lower, teasing between his legs. “I left you needy. Can I take care of you, now?”

“Mike,” Will shakes his head, pushing at his chest. “What is this?”

Mike pecks his lips one more time, like he can’t help himself. “What do you mean?” he murmurs, brow furrowed. “I think we have a lot to celebrate.”

“We do?”

“Will,” Mike laughs, finally pulling back enough to get a good look at him. “I’m serious, this is the best day of my life. Let me show you how happy I am.”

“I don’t understand,” Will confesses. His head feels like syrup, and he can’t quite figure out what the hell is going on.

“I love you,” Mike mumbles, kissing across his nose. “I love you, and you love me, and I think I’m going to die if you don’t let me fuck you properly now that we’ve got that all out of the way.”

And, well. He thinks he knew that’s where this was heading, but it still catches him by surprise. Will snorts despite himself, almost giddy. “You’re unbelievable.”

Mike grins against his cheek. “You love it.”

And God, he does. That’s the problem. That’s always been the problem.

He feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked, all of his feelings laid out between them with no easy way to shove them back down where they came from. It’s terrifying, but it’s also… kind of incredible.

“So,” he whispers, wrapping his arms back around Mike’s shoulders where they belong. “I guess we’re on the same page, now?”

“Definitely on the same page,” Mike nods eagerly. “Same sentence. Probably the same word.”

Will laughs again, something warm unfurling in his chest. “Good.”

“Good?” Mike teases, eyes twinkling.

“Yup,” Will says, tugging him closer. “Because I think you were in the middle of something.”

That gets a laugh out of him, Mike’s hair brushing his forehead as he settles back in. “Right, of course. Can’t believe I almost forgot.”