Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but never did?” Will asks, carving his name into the bright yellow plastic of a slide at Hawkins Point Park. It’s four in the morning. He and Mike have been out of the house just fucking off around town since three in the afternoon the day before, but neither of them are tired. 

In actuality, there’s been this crazy tension since they reconnected last week. It’s inexplicable, and equally as predictable. The pattern goes, Will closes a little too much space and Mike blushes and backs away. Or Will mentions something from their younger years that had, maybe, debatably, a romantic undertone, and Mike stares off into the distance looking insanely forlorn. 

Despite his desperate attempts, Will hasn’t been able to ignore it… and he hasn’t been able to resist the urge to test it at every opportunity that presents itself. He’s reaching for Mike, now. He’ll intentionally lean over him instead of behind him to grab things. Sometimes, he’ll drop something and bend down near his lap. He’ll reminisce aloud a little more than the average person, just to see Mike squirm about it. 

Part of Will, sadistically, loves to see Mike Wheeler squirm. 

“I’ve been thinking about bar lacing my shoes since I was, like, ten.” Mike answers, tugging a lace where his lanky legs are folded and pulled up tight to his body.

“Ten? Dude, it’s been a decade! Just YouTube it and do it.” Will laughs. He finishes carving the second ‘L’ and moves on to scratch out a heart next to his name.

The sun threatens to rise behind a thick blanket of trees that wraps all the way around them. Will smiles at the way the sky starts to turn pink at its edges, and Mike smiles at Will smiling. 

“Good point.” Mike says. “What’s something for you?” He asks. 

Will falls quiet. Immediately, Mike can tell that something isn’t so light anymore. “What’s on your mind?” Asks Mike, dropping his shoelace to extend a hand toward Will, blanketing one of his own completely. 

Will’s lips part in surprise. This is the first time Mike has touched him since last week, where they shared an insanely intimate embrace in the pouring rain when reuniting, and then Mike jumped away from him all of the sudden like someone knocked on his brain. 

Slowly, he lifts his head to look at Mike. 

Mike flashes his teeth in a little smile, reassuring. 

“Nothing, I’m just in my mind…” Will chuckles dryly, loose curls bouncing when he shakes his head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mike probes. Squeezes his hand. Will sucks in a deep breath. 

“There are just, like. You know. A bunch of things I would have loved to do, but didn’t get the chance.” Will says. He sounds like the information is being tortured out of him. 

“Hm.” Mike nods, and his thumb swipes over Will’s thumb. “I think I may know what you mean.”

Will perks up. “Do you?” He asks, and he hopes and prays and screams inside that Mike actually is following what he’s trying to say. 

“Uh huh, I think. Yeah… when we weren’t talking, those years were pretty hard for me. I wasn’t sure we would have this conversation or if we would just pretend it didn’t happen.” Mike says. He hesitates, glances at Will, tries and fails to read his expression and carefully adds, “Are we having this conversation right now?”

“We should have it eventually.” Will says, shrugging only one shoulder. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Will counts some of the stars in the sky. Mike counts some of the freckles across Will’s high cheekbones. 

“Yeah. We should.” Mike agrees. “I’m really, really, so fucking sorry for yelling at you, and– and for what I said.”

“What you said?” Will repeats in a mutter. “You just told me the truth.”

“The truth is, actually, that I didn’t.” Mike sighs. “So I was a fucking pussy and hurt you so badly that we didn’t speak for years… all because I was too afraid to confront how I felt. I’m sure you can tell, I am very proud of this moment.” He scoffs, sarcastic. “God.”

“What are you talking about?” Will asks. He feels Mike flex his fingers on top of his own and remembers that he likes to crack his knuckles when he’s nervous. 

“I wasn’t honest with you, Will. I loved– liked you back.” And Mike pulls his hand away then, cracks each knuckle one by one and goes over them all again a second time. He sighs. “I was just scared. God, I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. I have never been sorrier for anything, I hope you can believe me.”

Will is silent for a long while. It’s enough to rile Mike up, thinking fuck what’s he thinking, pulling and popping and picking at his fingers and their nails. By the time Will replies, Mike has spiraled and convinced himself the whole world wants him dead.

Will’s actual response comes soft, sweet, he says, “Of course I believe you. And I forgive you…” his voice wavers and he stalls, taking a deep breath he doesn’t need. He continues, “…And I love you, still.”

Mike doesn't even blink. The words come easy, he doesn’t need, want, or take any time to think about it. “I love you, too. And I'm sorry, still.”

Will's lips pull into a shy smile. “I’m sorry, too. We should stop apologizing now.”

“I agree.” Mike laughs, and Will's heart clenches. “So, what was one of the things you wanted to try and couldn’t?” Mike finds the little dipper above their heads and silently nudges Will, poking a finger at it and grinning.

Will turns a little pink over how cute it is. “Wow, is that the big dipper?”

“It’s the little one, actually,” Mike starts, still pointing, “see how it has–”

“Mike, do you like boys?” Will interjects.

Mike whips around to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Huh?” He asks. 

“It’s relevant to my thing that I want to do. Do you like boys?” 

Mike lightens up, kind of. Purses his lips. Says, “I’m curious, at least…” and what he means is, Will, you’re the only boy I’ve ever liked, but he doesn’t say it. 

“Sometimes, when we would hang out,” Will starts, wringing his fingers, “we would get so close… I’d think you were about to kiss me.” He admits. A beat passes, then another, then he adds, “and I wanted you to.”

Mike swallows thick. He looks down at his fingers, picks at a nail. Says, finally, after an agonizing minute, “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Will asks, turning towards him. Mike nods.

“Yeah. Sometimes I would think you were about to, and I knew I wouldn’t stop you if you did, but… I never did anything about it. I regret that.”

Will takes a deep breath. They sit and watch the sun start to peek up through the trees, the light biting into the remaining purple sky. For the most part, it’s still dark. 

“Are we too old now to live a little?” Mike asks, watching Will from the corner of his eye. 

“I don’t think so…” Will replies, turning an inch or two. His knees knock into Mike’s thigh where they sit, tucked under the makeshift tent of a tall slide and watching dawn break together. Once again, Mike finds himself in a ridiculously cinematic situation with Will, just like their romantic embrace in the drenching rain last week. He huffs. “We’re only twenty. I’d argue that’s still pretty young.” He says.

Will leans his head in a little, testing the waters, and Mike doesn't move. He keeps leaning, slowly, until his head is resting on his strong shoulder. He looks up through his lashes to see Mike staring straight ahead, admiring the rising sun.

“What're you thinking about?” Will asks.

“I’m thinking about how much I missed you.” Mike whispers. He wraps an arm around Will’s back and Will feels the touch of it burn into his skin. 

“Mhm?” Will hums, sitting up and tilting his head like a confused puppy. “What about it?”

“You know, I thought of you every day.” Mike confesses, a little smile on his lips. 

Will’s hand plants over Mike’s thigh, fingers splaying casually like it’s nothing. Mike bites the inside of his cheek. “Did you?” Will keeps baiting him. 

“Yeah. You were always on my mind.” Mike says. He feels only a little guilty for intentionally leaving out the filthy details. 

“If it makes you feel any better… despite it all, Mike, it’s always been you. For me, at least.” Will tells him.

Mike takes a shaky breath. Will watches his chest heave, and it occurs to him that his hand is dangerously high up his thigh.

Mike looks down.

Will follows his stare, then looks back up and gets more or less blindsided by a kiss on the lips.

Will kisses like he's starved, lips pressing and pulling and teeth clicking, and Mike melts, lets him, wants him, needs him back. 

Will pulls away to say, “You're not gonna leave again, right?”

Mike is shaking his head, kissing him again, saying, “Never, I promise, I'll stay forever, Will,” and then Will is climbing into his lap. Mike’s big hands each claim one of his hips, gripping him and guiding him into a straddle. Will’s pink lips part, his tongue laps across Mike’s lower lip and he starts to lean him back to lie down on the tarmac.

Their hearts beat in sync and their bodies meld together. Mike lets it happen, holds him close and Will is everywhere all at once, on his mouth, his neck, his jaw, his chest, and there's a hand on his waistband.

Mike gasps.

Will is whispering something in his ear, low, and then the hand is gone. Mike doesn’t understand him.

“Is this too fast?” Will asks, and it’s finally clear. 

Mike's eyes are blown out, pupils black and wide. “I’m okay,” he’s quick to answer, “are you okay?”

Will is already nodding, kissing him again, and his tongue is licking into his mouth, and his hands are pulling on his hair, and Mike is groaning and rolling his hips up, and Will is rutting back down and–

A car, flashing blue and red, pulls into the parking lot and shines its headlights on them like a spot.

The two boys rip apart from each other, faces red and eyes wide. Mike sits up. Will falls out of his lap.

Someone hops out, yells and slaps their hand against the metal of their car, and Will is scrambling to grab his bag. They run to their truck hand in hand, giggling the whole time. Mike slides into the drivers seat. Will hops into the passenger’s. They tear out of the parking lot, both on the edges of their seats for the next fifteen minutes as they drive together. 

The officer doesn’t care enough to follow them. 

Neither can stop laughing, even fifteen whole minutes later, about the fact that they got away with it. It’s their dirty secret.

In Mike’s driveway, he slows the car to a stop and parks. They share a glance and it makes them break into hysterics again, because, Christ, the officer, and the getaway, and the fact that it happened at all.

Their laughter dies off naturally.

They share a long, intense stare.

Mike leans across the center console and bares his straight teeth in a grin. He says, “Come in with me.”

Will can't do anything but flash his braces in a smile back and nod his head.

He follows him inside and up to his bedroom, where the door is locked and the blinds are drawn and they have an awkward exchange about how jeans in bed should be illegal, so they both take their pants off before settling into Mike’s blankets together.

They face each other, legs intertwined. The skin on skin is making Will feel delirious.

Mike has the most perfect fucking smile, Will thinks.

“Can I kiss you again?” Will asks, voice no louder than a whisper.

Mike nods. “I was hoping you would.” He whispers back.

Their lips meet. Hands start exploring. Will is touching him everywhere, anywhere he can, and Mike is so warm and so strong and so big under his soft hands.

It escalates with the intensity and quickness of a car crash. Mike rolls over onto his back and Will climbs on top of him. Their mouths open and their tongues connect and their bodies slot together, and Mike is grabbing Will and moving him, pushing his thighs apart and grinding up into the opened space.

Will gasps, pulls away, and Mike stares up at him with those same dark eyes from the park. Will stares, then, down into them.

“I never thought this would actually happen outside of my fantasies.” Admits Will, little fingers pulling at the collar of Mike’s shirt. To his relief, Mike immediately sits up, crosses his arms in front of his waist and turns his shirt inside out over his head. It falls to the floor somewhere. Neither of them pay any attention to it. Will is automatically enraptured by the way Mike looks, lean and smooth and so different from the last time he saw him. He even has a couple of tattoos now… what the fuck?

“You fantasized about it?” Mike asks him, the hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips. 

“All the time.” Will confesses, laughing. He pulls off his own shirt and tosses it, too, somewhere across the room. Mike is staring at him, mouth open, eyes glazed.

The way Mike is staring, like he’s hungry, like Will looks delicious, it makes Will feel like he’s worth something. Touching on it a little more makes him realize he isn’t sure he’s felt wanted like this before, ever.

“I think about it still,” Mike says, his voice hoarse, hands reaching out to grab Will's sides, “I can't stop. I tried everything. My eighteenth birthday, when I had to suffer through another celebration without you… I realized what it actually was then. When it was too late, obviously.” He sighs. “Couple weeks later, I had the most vivid fucking wet dream. First one of my entire life.” He huffs a laugh.

Will leans forward, kisses his lips, his neck, his collarbones. Says, “Tell me about it.”

Mike groans, a low, needy sound from the back of his throat. “You really want to hear it?”

“Want isn’t strong enough of a word to explain how desperately I have to hear this.” Will presses smiling, open-lipped kisses over Mike’s throat. His pulse flutters under Will’s touch. 

Mike whines, high and breathy, and his fingers press harder into Will's sides. 

“Alright, well. Uh… Sometimes, I would, um...” Mike pauses to swallow, to take a deep breath, but it’s obvious to Will that he’s just killing time. 

Will sits back and look down at him with an expectant smile. “Go on,” he prompts, “I'm listening.”

Mike blinks and clears his throat. He looks up at the ceiling, away from Will's face, and Will sucks his teeth and giggles.

Will says, “Look at me,” and Mike does.

His skin buzzes with the authority of it all. The way Mike listens and obeys. It’s making Will feel so powerful.

“I'd, uh...” Mike pauses again. Will leans down, teeth brushing the shell of his ear. 

“You'd what?” He whispers to him. “Since when are you so shy?”

Mike chokes on a tiny (and forced) laugh. “Since when are you so–” he tries to retort, but loses the words. 

“When you fantasized about us…” Will starts, a knowing grin stretching his lips, “you figured you’d be on top, didn’t you?”

Mike groans and turns his head, pressing his cheek into a pillow. Will notices that his ears are bright red and his smile widens. His face starts to burn with it.

It occurs to him that, as funny as this is, if he doesn’t start moving things along, he may never hear the rest of this.

He says, suddenly serious as he drops the play, voice low and beckoning, “Mike.”

“Hm.” Mike hums back. He knows Will is bringing it up again. 

“Tell me what you thought about.” Will urges. His hand starts to cruise the front of Mike’s body, over the column of his throat, across his chest and down to the elastic band of his boxers. His little fingers hook under it.

Mike takes a deep breath. His hips twitch, pushing up into the touch.

Will smiles. God, the power. It’s inebriating. “I really want to know.” He reassures. 

“It would be easier to tell you the things I didn’t fantasize about doing to you.” Mike sighs. Will’s hand slips fully into his boxers, more fabric than skin, and he dangles the promise of touch over his head like a treat in front of a dog. You better start talking, or you’ll wait even longer for this, he’s saying, in not so many words.

Mike hears it, loud and clear. He whines pathetically and it pulls Will’s heartstrings almost enough to convince him to give in… but not quite.

Instead, Will laughs, a little mean.

Mike swallows thickly and continues. “I used to have to stop myself from touching you. The worst of it was when you would touch me first. You'd hug me, or grab my arm, and it would make me fucking crazy.”

“Yeah?” Will asks, voice gentle.

“Yeah… I was scared of it, so I never did anything.” Mike mutters. 

Will can tell he’s starting to get in his head, so he peppers a couple kisses across the line of his jaw. “Keep talking and I’ll give you what you want.” He tells him, purring into his ear. 

Mike’s dick jumps, patting the open palm of Will’s hand for a split-second. Will presses the heel of his palm down and stretches his fingers wide, covering him. Promising him. 

Mike keeps talking.

“When I started thinking about it, I was, uh, a little ashamed at first, but that didn't help me want you any less.” He admits.

“Did you touch yourself? Thinking of me?” Will asks, fingers curling around Mike’s cock. 

"Fuck, yeah." He says, both an answer and a moan. Will's mouth falls open a little. He doesn't expect him to elaborate, but he does, and he says, “I'd even– fuck, this is so awful. I would think about you any time I fucked someone else.”

“Jesus,” Will sighs, his own hips rutting down into Mike’s thigh. He starts to stroke him, slowly.

Mike's face twists into a frown. He says, suddenly, with his dick in Will’s hand, “I'm so sorry, Will. I know I fucked up. I was stupid and scared and I'm so fucking sorry.”

Will’s brow pinches. He glances up, shaking his head once, and then he says, “Worst dirty talk I’ve ever heard. Don’t worry. I plan to get my revenge tonight.” He smiles wickedly. 

Mike turns bright red and shuts the hell up.

“That’s what I thought.” Will praises.

Mike starts to buck his hips. Will laughs, moves his hand faster, tightening his grip, and Mike tips his head back and moans.

“Thought of you, too.” Will tells him, like it’s even a question whether or not it was mutual. “I’d see people post pictures of you and obsess over how strong you were getting, how you kept your hair longer, especially when I’d see you in the summer with all the extra freckles, fuck me.” He sighs. “You know I’m such a sucker for the freckles.”

Mike moans again, his eyebrows furrowing. He says, through the haze, voice thick and strained, “Don't stop.”

Will shakes his head, laughs, and obliges. He flicks his wrist on an upstroke and Mike gasps. “Fuck, I wanted to be pissed– like, angry pissed, but the closest I could get to being angry was thinking of hate-fucking you.”

Mike whines.

Will grins.

He's having the time of his life, actually. If it wouldn’t kill the mood, he would probably get up and start jumping for joy. 

Will leans in, says, “I spent a lot of time imagining the things I could do to you, if only you weren't so stubborn.”

Mike meets his eyes. His own hands aren’t built too differently from Will’s– matter of fact, now that he thinks of it, his hands are bigger. They should feel better. 

But they definitely don’t. 

Mike isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to get himself off without Will’s godly hands ever again. 

“I always had a feeling you wanted me back…” Will tells him, kissing his jaw. Mike whines, turns, tries to catch Will’s lips in a lock, but Will creates space to keep talking. He peppers a few bites over the front of Mike’s throat and continues, “friends don’t look at friends the way you were looking at me.”

“Fuck, I know,” Mike keens, bucking into his touch.

Will laughs again, his heart skipping a beat. Mike is dangerously gorgeous like this. Big, strong, manly Mike, a foot taller and miles stronger than Will, writhing and begging and needy, totally under his fucking spell.

Will wonders how long he can make it last.

Mike is already panting, his hips starting to rock out of sync with Will's hand. Will gets the hint that he's close and slows down.

“Will,” Mike whimpers, rolling into his open fist, “please.”

Got him.

“Do you think you could fuck me?” Will asks suddenly, his voice quiet and sweet. The vulnerability is whiplash worthy in comparison to all else that Mike’s seen tonight. 

“Think I could?” Mike asks breathlessly. “I’d pay, like, actual money. Cold hard cash.”

“No need.” Will snorts. “Just call me your boyfriend and we’ll say it’s even.”

Mike turns redder somehow. “You have a deal.” He says, and then Will is laughing and climbing off of him. He strips the last article of clothing from his body and stands naked, and Mike looks him up and down, hungry and craving.

Will climbs back into his lap, and the feeling of his cock against bare skin is almost enough to have Mike throwing in the towel.

Almost.

A blind hand reaches for his bedside table, pulls open a drawer and brings back a bottle.

“You fuck a lot?” Will asks him, already rutting their hips together. 

Mike’s hand drops the lube somewhere to their right, too preoccupied with the need to get back on Will’s body. He grabs him by the waist and guides him down again, rolling his own hips up to meet him. “Rarely. Never without you on my mind.” Mike tells him, seemingly without shame. 

Mike’s willingness to volunteer gets Will even hotter than the sweet, sweet sadism of dragging it out of him could. “Fuck,” he hisses, and then he’s putting a hand out for the bottle.

He squeezes a generous amount into his hand, but it isn’t his own body he reaches for.

He closes his wet fingers around Mike’s dick, nice and slow, and Mike shudders and gasps. Will can't get over the way he reacts to the simplest fucking touch. It’s kind of pathetic, in, like, an adorable way. He says, “You're so easy for me, huh?”

And Mike purrs back, “All yours.”

Will feels the words literally stick to his skin and seep into it. He will never, ever, ever fucking forget this.

“Can I be on top?” Will asks, his face burning.

“God, would you?” Mike grins, like this world-shattering idea had never occurred to him.

Will huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

He sits up, hikes a leg over Mike's waist, and reaches down between his thighs and pauses. He smiles and asks, “Are you planning to watch? You’re staring,” with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Mike blinks. His face burns, but his gaze doesn't bother to stray. “I was planning on it.”

Will bites his lip, considers arguing, and decides to let him. 

He pushes a finger inside of himself and whines high in his throat. Mike, watching intently, is instantly entranced. He sits up, one arm supporting his weight and the other wrapping around Will's back, and he says, “You look so pretty.”

Will's heart thuds painfully, like a kick to the ribs. He says, a little broken, “Thank you,” then breathlessly adds, “you too.”

Mike chuckles a little under his breath. How ridiculous and desperate and needy he must look has been at the back of Mike’s mind all night. He says, with a gentle laugh, “That’s a stretch, but thanks.”

Will, now already three fingers deep and his free hand holding onto Mike's shoulder, hisses, “I'm not stretching for anything but your comically-massive fucking cock.” Will bites, fueled by the burn of the stretch. He’s always hated it when Mike gets down on himself. “You are fucking gorgeous, are you insane?”

And that shuts Mike up, but a little smile still pulls his lips. Will leans forward and kisses it.

He says, breathy and rushed, “I'm ready.”

Mike nods. “Okay, good,” and then Will is pulling his fingers away. 

“Do you know what you're doing?” Will asks, his hand shaking as he reaches behind himself for Mike.

“This is my first time with…” Mike trails off. 

“Sure.” Will smiles. “It’s okay. I’ll lead.”

Will lines him up and sinks down, swearing at the intrusion. He’s quick to realize that the size of it seems insurmountable. His mind is screaming at him to quit, but Will perseveres. It's a slow process. Mike is patient and supportive, rubbing his hands over Will's thighs and whispering soft praises, and eventually, finally, his muscles unwind and he's fully seated in Mike's lap.

“Shit,” Mike curses, “that’s tight.”

Will nods. With a humorless laugh, he says, “Understatement. I’m so fucking full.”

Mike nods back.

The moment feels heavy and weighted and sacred. Both of them are holding their breaths. Will feels his eyes start to well up with tears, and his hands come up to his face to cover his eyes.

He feels stupid, getting emotional like this, but doesn’t manage to stop it before the dam breaks. 

Mike's arms wrap around him and pull him close and Will moans at the shift. “Hey,” Mike coos to him, rubbing the small of his back, “does it hurt, baby?”

Will sniffles and shakes his head. The pet name leaves his heart humming. “It just feels so good…” he sighs.

Mike's expression softens.

Will looks up and gives him a watery smile, pulls him in for a gentle kiss that tastes like salt, and then he’s moving again.

Will is careful at first, slow and experimental, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out that all the pain of the burn is long gone. He starts to move faster, rolling his hips and bouncing in Mike's lap, and he moans and gasps and pants for him, and Mike is quick to fall victim to it.

His big hands grab for Will’s soft hips, manually rolling him down over and over like a doll and rocking up into him. Mike is bewitched by him, the way his lashes flutter, the way his soft, cinnamon curls jump over his ears with every bounce. The little sounds he makes, and especially the louder ones… Mike would die for him. Definitely. And even harder, he would live.

He wants to say something, maybe tell him he loves him, but the words get lost somewhere on the journey from thought to mouth. Will is too busy whimpering to notice the absence of them.

Mike notices Will’s thighs starting to shake like they’re threatening to give out. In a fluid motion, he grabs Will by the waist, flips him onto his back, spreads his legs, settles between them and sinks back inside.

Will gasps, his back arching, his hands reaching, and he grabs one fistful of the bedspread and the other of Mike’s hair.

Mike's pace is immediately ruthless. The fucked-out look on Will's face suggests that he wouldn't go back to their previous position, even if paid.

“Wanna talk some more shit about me being on top?” Mike grins, voice chopped up by the rhythm of his thrusts. 

Will opens his eyes halfway to meet his stare and mirrors the smile. He nods his head. Mike watches the loose waves in his hair shake apart and splay across his silk pillowcase.

“You like it hard, huh?”

Will nods again, this time whining.

Mike laughs, low and mean. It sends shivers up and down Will's spine.

Will's grip in Mike's hair tightens and his thighs tense, his hips twitching and his head tipping back. Mike leans down and drags his teeth across the column of Will's throat, and Will gasps and shudders.

“Look at you,” Mike purrs, “you’re no top. You want to feel overpowered sometimes, don’t you?”

Will shakes his head. He wants to argue, but his mouth hangs open and his eyes roll back and nothing but a broken moan comes out of him.

Mike smirks. “You can say no if you want, but I’m literally looking right at you. You look like you love it, angel.” 

He pulls out and Will cries at the loss. Before he’s given too much time to complain, he's flipped onto his stomach and hoisted onto his knees by the hips.

Mike slams back in and Will sobs, gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles turn white.

One of Mike’s big hands comes down to sit between Will's shoulders, pinning him down into an impressive arch and holding him still. 

In seconds, the bed frame is beating into the wall, over and over and over again when Mike resumes his relentless pace. “Do you love it?”

“Oh my fucking God,” Will keens, face pressed into a pillow. 

Mike’s free hand comes down, grabs him by a handful of hair and pulls him up a little. 

Will feels a stretch and a burn at the front of his throat where Mike’s pulling his head back. 

“What did you say?”

“Fuck– fucking shit, Mike,” Will cries, rocking with the force of it all, “so rough!”

Mike smiles and slows. “Oh, you want me to take it easy?” He asks, mocking. 

“No, no,” Will whimpers, “fuck, what’s wrong with you? Come on, keep fucking me!” He huffs.

Mike laughs and picks the pace back up, and Will is suddenly sobbing because he can feel everything. Everything. He feels the burn of the stretch and the slide of the push and pull and the way Mike pulses inside him, his hair burns at the roots where it’s being held, his fingertips throb with his heartbeat under his grip on the headboard. He’s never been so aware in his life. Fucking Mike Wheeler is an out of body experience. 

Will is already dangerously close. Mike is pounding directly into his weak spot again and again and again, making his vision totally white out. He's pretty sure he's drooling. His lips are really wet, anyway. He doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.

“I’m–” he gasps, “shit, right there, I’m gonna fucking–”

“Good,” Mike purrs. He's panting and moaning just as much as Will is, unabashed.

Will moans and rocks his hips back into Mike's, chasing the feeling. Suddenly, Mike is wrapping a hand around him and stroking and he's done for.

Will’s pretty sure he actually screams when he comes, but in the moment, all he can hear is a ringing in his ears and Mike cursing behind him. His lover’s hand and hips keep working, even as Will is dripping white and hot over the backs of his fingers.

Will is a trembling mess, his body going rigid and his eyes rolling back as Mike milks him for everything he has. His thighs are shaking and his arms have given out, and now he's face-down in the pillow again, moaning and whimpering and mewling and begging.

He's so sensitive. Every touch, if just a millimeter off, is almost painful, but Mike never misses. It has Will begging,“please, please, fucking please,” begging for him not to stop.

Mike, having mercy, at least slows down his pace a little. He leans down, drapes his chest over Will's back, and kisses up the side of his neck.

Mike is whispering against the shell of his ear, a litany of sweet praises and dirty threats. He's saying, “God, you're perfect, holy shit,” and “so fucking gorgeous, angel,” and also, “so good, so fucking tight, gonna come so fucking hard,” and a bunch of other stuff, but Will isn't entirely registering. He's actually still giving getting back to reality his best effort. 

“Mike,” he mewls, still drunk on the feeling, “come for me…”

Mike groans, his pace speeding up, and suddenly Will is back on Earth again.

His body jolts, and his breath is knocked from his lungs. It kind of hurts. He's way too sensitive. But Mike's hands are bruising on his skin and his moans are beautiful and the headboard is banging into the wall like before already, and Will is a fucking goner. It’s irresistible. He's not even mad about it. He's too high on it to be mad about it. 

He thinks, in a very brief moment of clarity, that he could probably do this all day with enough lube. Then, “More lube, please,” he mumbles, feeling around for the bottle. 

Mike instantly slows and finds it for him. “Got it,” he soothes, adds some to the mix, and starts to slowly fuck it into him. 

“Ahhh, shit.” Will sighs. 

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Will keens, thinks, good, actually, “fuck me, Mike.”

Mike listens. He's got his hands on Will's hips, using him, and Will is just completely blissed out. He's drooling still, his body shaking and his mind swimming and his dick, somehow, filling up again. He doesn't even remember the last time he came twice in a night, but it must have been a long fucking time ago.

Mike's grip gets tighter. Will can feel his hips stutter and his rhythm starts to fall apart. Then Mike's hips are flush with Will's and he's pulsing inside of him, coming with a low, broken groan.

Mike's hips roll, dragging his cock slowly through the mess. Will gasps and his eyes roll back. He's not at all used to this kind of thing, and Mike's slow, shallow thrusts are just making the sensitive ache worse.

“Mike…” Will sighs, wrecked, “God, what a fuck…”

Mike pulls out and Will feels him collapse beside him. He's laying on his side, catching his breath, and his hand reaches out to rub gentle circles on the small of Will's back.

They lay like that for a minute or two, and the room is quiet. It's just the sound of their breathing.

Mike finally breaks the silence with a gentle whisper.

“Was that okay?”

“Mm?” Will hums. He processes the question just enough, nods, and then he’s mumbling, “So good.”

“You're good?”

Will nods again, and a moment later, he's passing the hell out.

“Okay,” Mike says, “alright. You're tired.”

He wraps an arm over Will’s waist and pulls him in, curling around him. He presses a kiss to his temple, says, “Guess we can talk about it tomorrow,” and lets his eyes flutter closed.