Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Today might have been the roughest day Mike's had in a while.

In the morning he couldn't properly see Will off. Instead he had to sprint to his own class, otherwise the professor would've bitten his head off for being late again.

While Will's classes ended early, Mike's kept dragging on and on, his brain going more and more numb with every passing minute. Due to that Will had to walk home, which Mike found deeply upsetting.

Afterwards Mike had to rush to work. That part of the day was even worse. He felt like he was floating somewhere outside of his body, his limbs moving on autopilot.

He's used to getting rude customers, but today it seems like literally every person he came in contact with was born yesterday. They knocked over drinks and plates, yelled at Mike, asked him the dumbest questions imaginable. He could barely contain his eye rolls and snarky comments.

Then in the mind-numbing process of cleaning the bathroom and closing up the cafe, Mike completely missed his and Will's movie night. They've been planning this for the past week.

Mike curses under his breath as he changes out of his sticky uniform, as he walks to the car, as he stops by a bakery that's still open, thank fuck, and drives home.

He parks and shuts the engine off in one jerky motion, irritation radiating off of him. He roughly scrubs at his face until stars dance behind his eyelids, and sighs. His entire posture slouches until his forehead collides with the steering wheel.

After a short breathing exercise, Mike walks up to their apartment. It's already nearly pitch black outside, and half of the lights in their building either flicker or are completely blown out.

Still, he manages to make it to their door without tripping over. He fishes the keys out of his pocket, and carefully inserts them into the lock. It clicks, the sound feeling near to a gunshot in the dead quiet.

Mike winces, then pushes the door open with his hip. He shuts it just as slowly, sliding it into the frame with surgical precision. Afterwards he drops his heavy bag onto the floor, blindly pulls his shoes off without bending down and kicks them off to the side. All in the dark, with his hands occupied.

There's warm light coming from the kitchen, but it's quiet. Mike walks around the corner, pokes his head in. The kitchen is empty. Dishes are washed, there's a covered pan on the stove with a clean plate and a fork sitting off to the side of it.

A sharp sting of guilt shoots through Mike's chest. Will made him dinner, even did the dishes, despite them separating those tasks usually. One does the cooking, the other does the washing.

He whips his head around towards their couch, to see Will sprawled out on it. He's sound asleep, head resting on a pillow while his socked feet are perched up on the opposite armrest. There's a book laying loosely in his hand, just one small move away from falling down to the floor.

Mike just stands and looks at him for a second, a warm sense of fondness blooming in his chest. After some hesitation, he walks over to him, puts the brown paper bag from the bakery on the coffee table.

Will looks so beautiful like this. Unguarded, every muscle completely relaxed and lacking that tension he still carries with him everywhere he goes. The small silver hoop in his ear catches the yellow light from the kitchen.

Mike walks over to where Will's feet are resting on the armrest. His socks are mismatched, two different shades of grey. Mike smiles fondly, then tickles Will on the heel until his legs jerk away instinctively.

Will stirs, squeezes his eyes tighter before blinking them open. A little squeaky sound breaches his lips, and he stretches his back, arching it off the cushions.

"Hey," Mike whispers.

"Hey," Will's entire demeanor softens immediately. He closes the book in his hand and slowly sits up, rubs his sleepy eyes with his fist. "What time is it?"

"Uh," Mike whips his head around at the clock on top of their fridge. His face contorts with guilt. "Almost ten."

"Okay," Will says through a yawn, leans back to let his brain settle after the nap.

"Um, I got you a little.. apology treat," Mike mumbles, tapping on the brown bag with his finger. His voice is careful, posture a little tense as if he's bracing for something.

"'Apology'?" Will repeats, furrowing his brows in confusion. He looks up at Mike with concern.

"I missed our movie night," Mike sighs, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

"Mike," Will whispers. His brows curve in sympathy, lips stretch into a smile. He tilts his head as if Mike just said something amusing. "It's okay. We still have Saturday."

"I made you wait," Mike mumbles, starts shrugging his jacket off.

"Oh, I didn't mind. I finally finished this," Will fully laughs, waves his book around. His homework he's been putting away for over a week at this point.

"Okay," Mike nods, smiles now that the guilt has dissolved, leaving only immense gratitude for having such a perfect and understanding boyfriend. He walks back to the front door to hang his jacket up.

"Did Oliver hold you back?" Will yells across the apartment.

"Yeah," Mike rasps, rolls his eyes at the reminder. He keeps ranting as he paces around. "Someone threw up all over the bathroom, and he made me clean it."

"Oh, God," Will winces in sympathy, knowing how much Mike hates vomit and everything to do with it.

"Then he said 'Everyone left, and you're already here, so close up. Thanks, bye'," Mike pitches his voice up, mocking his manager's fake cheery tone, whips his hands around in sharp irritated gestures.

The rant continues as he drags his bag to the bedroom, not even bothering to pick it up off the floor, as he laps around the apartment, circles the couch. Will stays laying back against the cushions, smiling fondly as his eyes follow Mike.

"Next time he does this, I'll tell him to fuck off. I swear," Mike keeps grumbling as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"You'll get fired," Will chuckles, his voice thick with sleep.

"No, I won't. I'm the only one who actually knows what I'm doing- Is this for me?" Mike stops himself and points at the stove. Will shifts a little higher on the couch to get a peek.

"Yeah," he nods, settles back down comfortably. "It's pasta. Added extra cheese for you. It's probably cold, though."

Mike melts completely. He opens the pan, sees half of it filled with gorgeous looking cheesy pasta. Just the sight makes Mike's mouth water like he's a starving dog seeing a bone.

With a spatula, he scoops it into his plate, throws it into the microwave, then makes his way to the couch with his steaming hot dinner. They still don't have a proper dining table. Not that they really need it, though. Jonathan's old coffee table does the job perfectly fine.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Mike chants as he plops down onto the couch and peppers grateful kisses all over Will's cheek.

"You're welcome," Will says through a shy giggle, turns his head to capture Mike's lips with his own.

"You're the best, Will. God," Mike rambles against his boyfriend's mouth, unable to pull away.

"Just trying to keep up with you," Will compliments back, with a wide grin on his face. He cups Mike's cheek and presses one last squeaky kiss to his lips. Practically pushes their faces apart as Mike tried to chase for more.

"I love you," Mike says, his face an expression of full devotion. Maybe a little dramatic for some pasta, but he really does not care.

"I love you, too," Will says back softly, eyes glistening in the warm light. He rubs his thumb across Mike's cheekbone, then reluctantly pulls his hand away. "Eat. Hope it tastes okay."

"Everything you make is perfect," Mike blurts out, already twisting his fork in the pasta. Will just chuckles back, a little skeptical.

"We can have this for breakfast," he says, shifting his focus to the brown bag on the coffee table. He picks it up, and smiles when he sees the contents. "You don't have to buy me apology muffins, though."

"You don't have to make me dinner, but you still did," Mike argues with a shrug, puts a big bite of pasta into his mouth and sighs in relief.

"I mean," Will scrunches his nose. "I literally do."

"Whatever," Mike playfully rolls his eyes. He still feels bothered by Will taking on any responsibilities around the house, despite all his protests. Can't help it.

"How is it?" Will asks, shifting until he rests his chin on Mike's shoulder.

"Perfect. I'm in Heaven. Holy fuck," Mike rambles, nodding repeatedly. He can feel his body coming alive, all worries and irritation fading away.

"Okay, good," Will giggles, then yawns.

"Go to bed. I'll be right there," Mike whispers, kisses the crown of Will's head. Will whines in protest, nuzzling deeper into Mike's side, but it doesn't go far. "Go rest. Please."

"Fine," Will grumbles, reluctantly pulls away and stands up from the couch. He stretches, making his shirt ride up and reveal a strip of his tanned stomach. "Leave the dishes."

"Don't wait up for me," Mike ignores the request, shooting one of his own instead.

Will makes a little sound of disagreement. He grabs the paper bag and leaves it in the kitchen, then strides across the living room to their bedroom. Mike follows the movement, throwing his head back against the cushions and keeping his eyes glued to Will's side profile.

Mike finishes the pasta, washes the dishes, showers. He sighs as the grease and sweat of the long stressful day finally leave his skin and disappear down the drain.

With his hair still damp and clinging to his forehead, he walks to the bedroom. Will is already in his spot at the wall, face buried in his pillow. His pants are off, now hanging off their closet door. He hates sleeping with them on most of the time.

Mike stares at the way the moon softly illuminates the soft curves of Will's bare legs wrapped around the blankets. The hem of his shirt is stretched upwards, exposing a patch of his lower back. Like a magnetic pull, Mike's hand moves there, fingers grazing the little dimples.

He flattens his palm, gently rubs the heated skin as he settles into bed himself. The mattress dips under the added weight, despite how careful Mike is trying to be.

His palm glides over the curve of Will's waist to rest across his soft stomach instead. Mike shifts closer, not even bothering with the blankets, just laying on top of them.

He gently kisses Will's ear, the sensitive skin below it, then the back of his neck. Every touch is feather light, as gentle as he can physically manage. Will sighs contently at it all, his muscles melting into the bed.

"I love you," Mike murmurs into the back of Will's hair, inhales the cherry shampoo mixed with his natural unique scent.

"I love you, too," Will mumbles back, lazily moves his hand to slot it on top of Mike's.

"Oh, shit. Did I wake you?" Mike lifts himself up on his elbow, scrunching his face in guilt. Will shakes his head, the mess of his chestnut hair rustling against the pillow.

"I wasn't sleeping," he mumbles, turns around until he's peeking back at Mike over his own shoulder. The moon reflects in his shiny eyes like glitter, catches his long lashes. "Was waiting for you."

"I told you not to," Mike huffs out a laugh, lowers himself enough to brush his nose against Will's.

"I told you to leave the dishes," Will raises his brows in accusation.

"Okay. Fair," Mike rolls his eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

Will slowly rolls over onto his back, every move sluggish with sleep. He was just starting to doze off, but this is far more important. 

This small window of time is always their favorite. No work or classes, no nosy neighbors to barge in and interrupt them. For this little bit, it's just the two of them in the universe of their cramped New York apartment.

"I missed you so much today," Will whispers, tenderly caressing the side of Mike's face.

"Me, too. I'm sorry, baby," Mike sighs, nuzzles into Will's palm for a second before leaning down and kissing him softly.

"Not your fault," Will whispers straight into Mike's mouth, moves his lips lazily. Mike quietly groans against him, pulls back to rant more.

"If Oliver tries to pull this shit again, I'll tell him to go fuck himself. Seriously. Never again," he rambles, his face jumping between a catalogue of angry expressions.

Will just fondly shakes his head at him and laughs. He hates when Mike gets like this, eats himself alive over small things. Sure, they were both looking forward to movie night, and Will did mope around the apartment for a while, but it's not the end of the world.

Even though the rent is taken care of by their families, Mike still works so unbelievably hard for the two of them. Keeps up with his studies, works at the cafe most days, takes over most of the chores at home, all while allowing Will to focus on his art 

Since they got together the summer after graduating, Mike has grown into the protector he's always wanted to be. He seems to thrive in it, beams every time he gets to do something for Will, no matter how big or small.

Will doesn't mind being taken care of, so this works out. They still playfully argue over chores, though. Will doesn't want to be useless, wants to take part of the burden off of Mike's already overloaded shoulders.

He can handle a little change of plans and a missed movie night.

"I should've taken that mop and shoved it right up his-"

"Mike," Will cuts in, looping his arms around Mike's neck and pulling him back down. "Shut up and kiss me."

"Yup. Yeah. I can do that," Mike rambles, and Will swallows half of the syllables.

Their lips slot together and move against each other in a far too familiar rhythm. Starting slow, building up more and more until they're panting and gasping more than kissing.

Will tangles his hand in Mike's damp hair, pushes his dark bangs back out of both of their faces. Mike's hands roam all over Will's body. His soft stomach, the curve of his waist, his hips, shoulders, neck, face. Will's shirt gets pulled off at some point.

Neither of them registers when their positions shift. Mike lifts himself up. Will instinctively spreads his legs, inviting his boyfriend to rest between them. Mike does just that, knee digging into the mattress between Will's bare thighs.

He looms over Will, bracing himself up on his elbow, free hand exploring the soft honey skin. Will arches into the touch, sighs and gasps against Mike's lips, whispers his name on a loop.

He's become a lot more vocal over time. In their first months of dating and living on their own, he really restricted his sounds. No matter how much Mike reassured him, even went out of his way to shut the windows and close the doors, Will just couldn't bring himself to make too loud of sounds.

Maybe it's a habit he learned from childhood, being as quiet and taking up as little space as possible. He's getting rid of that slowly, one day at a time. Helps that Mike just can't leave him alone, kissing and giving him hickeys pretty much everyday.

"Mike," Will gasps when he feels a hot, wet kiss press up to the side of his neck. He clutches onto Mike's hair at the nape, slightly tugs on it. A silent warning.

"I know," Mike murmurs, kisses the pulse point once more before moving lower, to parts of Will that are easier to cover up.

He kisses Will's collarbones like they're something precious, almost worshiping. Grazes the skin with his teeth, drinks in the little sounds above him. He leaves a mark on one peck, right where Will's heart drums beneath the skin.

Will arches into it, lets out a shuddering breath when Mike pops off of him. A soothing kiss gets pressed on the mark right afterwards, an apology for the sting.

Mike moves lower and lower, leaving a trail of damp kisses behind him. Sometimes he nips at the skin, chuckling at the way Will braces himself every time.

The sheets are a tangled mess beneath them, wrinkling where Will clutches onto them, his fists trembling with effort. His feet dig into the mattress, thighs shake involuntarily.

When Mike kisses the burn scar on his hip, it's like electricity shooting straight through his spine. Every time feels like the first. Mike kisses it pretty much everyday, and if not, he rubs his thumb over it so tenderly it makes Will weak in the knees.

They've been dating for a while, but sometimes Will feels like he needs to pinch himself to make sure this is real, not some messed up vision or a dream he'll wake up from. He's dating Mike Wheeler, his childhood best friend, the boy he's been in love with for as long as he can remember, and they're living together in their own little apartment in New York.

The realization still hits like a physical blow, knocks all air out of Will's lungs.

He lifts himself up on his elbows to look down at Mike. He's resting between Will's legs, kissing down his stomach like there's no other place on Earth he'd rather be in.

Mike, almost as if he senses it, lifts his gaze, immediately locking eyes with Will. The contact feels like an explosion, sparks flying around. His eyes are already dark as they are, but right now they look like two bottomless voids, and Will can see his own reflection in them.

Like he's the only thing orbiting Mike's universe.

Mike's gaze is intense, eyebrows curved in concentration, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Will's waist. Will feels his bones turning into putty when another mark gets left right below his belly button. His hips move outside of his control, chasing the sharp and hot sensation.

"You're so gorgeous, Mike," Will whispers, messing with Mike's hair and untangling the strands.

Mike's features soften, almost making him look younger all of a sudden. He smiles against Will's skin, the kind of shyness he shows whenever he gets a compliment. A compliment from Will specifically, that is.

There's just something about the way he melts at it that Will finds so painfully endearing. At least he's stopped arguing against the words, saying he's 'not handsome, or beautiful, or gorgeous, or all that'.

Will finds it truly ridiculous. He's always thought that Mike is the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

"Says you," Mike whispers, the vibrations of it spreading through Will's body.

Still holding eye contact, he moves lower. In one fluid motion, he throws Will's leg over his own shoulder, presses his cheek to the soft inside of his thigh. Will trembles, both from nerves and anticipation.

Mike turns and kisses the sensitive skin. The first few pecks are tender, going over the mostly faded older bruises like they might still be painful. It doesn't last long.

Soon Mike starts biting and sucking on the skin all over again, urgent like he's been starving for it. Maybe he has.

Will cannot stay still for even a second. His muscles twitch, hands tingle to grab Mike's shoulders, hair, cheekbones. Eventually their free hands find each other in the tangled sheets and slot together, meeting perfectly like they were created for it.

When Mike bites down on a particularly sensitive spot, Will whimpers, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His back arches off the mattress, grip on Mike tightens so hard his tendons stand out.

He feels so warm through all of it. His head is hot and swimming, cheeks burn up with blush, every nerve ending is on fire. But, mortifyingly, he feels heat rush downwards every time Mike sucks a new mark into his thigh.

"Fuck. You sound so pretty, Will," Mike breathes out, immediately dives in even lower to latch onto Will's thigh.

Will whines at the praise, face warming up even more, somehow. That, however, ignites the fire between his legs even more. With Mike's face being so close to it, a sense of panic settles in Will's chest.

"Mike," he whispers, pawing at Mike's shoulders and hair, but he seems to be too lost in tasting Will's inner thigh, like he's hypnotized. "Baby, please."

"Hm?" Mike finally pops off, eyes round and worried.

His gaze almost drops down, right where Will does not want him to look. He springs up, grabs Mike by the jaw to make him look up. Mike follows the pull obediently, looking into Will's eyes with that same adoration he's always had for him.

"You okay?" he asks, and the soft tone of it really doesn't help Will's predicament.

"Kiss me. Come up here. Please," Will rambles, tugging onto Mike's shirt and urging him to move.

Mike doesn't have to be told twice. He pulls Will's leg off his shoulder, settles it onto the mattress way more gently than necessary. He moves, practically crawls over Will until their faces line up, breaths mingling.

"Hey," Mike chuckles.

"Hey," Will giggles back.

In this half sitting position, he hugs Mike by the neck and pulls him into a lazy, slow kiss. Sleep is tugging at both of them again, but they refuse to let the night end so early.

Mike's muscles strain and tremble from holding himself up so long, and his lower back still aches from a long busy day. So he relaxes, lets himself lay down on Will's stomach without breaking the kiss.

Will's breath catches. The pressure in his boxers has been very distracting already, but with Mike's weight on top of it he feels his brain swim for a second. He prays that Mike can't feel it, the firm heat pressed against his stomach.

Like a cruel joke, Mike keeps moving and shifting, applying continuous pressure. Will puts his everything into suppressing his sounds, tries to think about anything that will make his arousal die down.

"You're so beautiful," Mike whispers like it's prayer, looks at Will through his lashes, face all flushed up.

That's not helpful at all right now.

Will lets out a breath, something flustered and annoyed all at once. The pressure in his boxers grows, the heat only intensifies. He tries to subtly shift away, adjust the position, but that just makes it worse.

He ends up grinding against Mike's stomach, the dull pressure turning into a brief flash of pleasure. With a startled gasp, Will drops back onto the pillows, slaps his palms over his face to hide. His heart hammers against his ribs so hard he feels like it's about to leap out.

"Hey, come here," Mike says softly, as if nothing happened.

That makes some of that tension leave Will's frame. Maybe Mike didn't notice, and this is all fine. Will pulls his hands away from his face, instead fists at the sheets beneath him.

That relief doesn't last long.

Mike moves upwards, closing the newfound distance between their faces. As he does it, he doesn't lift himself up. He lazily drags his body along Will's instead, too sleepy to put more effort in.

His hips, resting on Will's thighs before this, drag right over the bulge Will has been trying so hard to cool down and keep secret.

The contact is electric, pulling synchronized gasps out of both of them. The pleasure shoots through their spines, sends goosebumps to every nerve.

Will flushes up all over, startled and absolutely mortified. There's no hiding it now, judging by how Mike completely froze on top of him, every muscle stiff.

It's dead silent for an agonizing second. They don't look at each other, Will's eyes fixed on the ceiling and Mike's on the bedsheets. They don't even breathe, lungs closing up on their own.

Will's hands tremble against the sheets. He wants to say something, break the tense silence, but all words die out in his throat. All he can focus on are their hips, still connected, but frozen in place.

Mike lets out short, shallow breaths against his temple. Will can feel the smallest movements of his jaw, like he's looking for something to say, too.

Eventually, it's like Mike snaps out of a trance. His hips jerk away from Will's like he got burned, and he fully lifts himself up. The heat gone just as quickly as it came.

"Um," Mike starts, voice cracking. He clears his throat roughly, looks somewhere off to the side. "I, uh- I have this- I have an essay due tomorrow, I think. It- It completely slipped my mind, I- I should.. Should probably go do it now. Um."

He rambles, eyes fixed on the window and refusing to look down at Will. Slowly and clumsily, he climbs off the bed, every move looking unnatural. Like he forgot how to operate his limbs.

Will stays down on the sheets, bends his legs in the knees to hide the embarrassing tent in his boxers. His eyes are glued to the ceiling, and he gives a few shallow nods to Mike's nervous rambling.

"Um. Yeah," Mike continues, scratches his neck. "I guess I.. I guess I'll just go do it out there. Um. Don't- Don't wait for me. It will probably take, like, forever, so.. Yeah. Um. Yeah."

He stands there for a couple more seconds, hands hanging uselessly at his sides. Will gives him a breathy, barely audible 'okay', and only then does he leave the room. The floorboards creak under his feet, and he gently slides the bedroom door into the frame with a faint click.

Will exhales sharply, like he got punched. His bottom lip wobbles, but he bites it down. He doesn't bother with putting his shirt on or fixing the bed.

Instead, he just rolls over on his side, curls in on himself and blindly pulls one of the blankets over his body. His skin still burns everywhere Mike touched, but the annoying heat between his legs slowly dies down.

Mike's bag is still in the corner of the room, holding all his notebooks and pens. His typewriter is out in the living room, and Will waits for the clatter of keys to come, but it doesn't. It's completely silent outside the door.

Will sighs, buries his face deeper into the sheets and waits for sleep to take him.

The next morning is a little awkward, though they try not to show it. Will pulls on his pajama pants, even though usually he spends his mornings in just a worn shirt and boxers, shorts at most.

Mike's attire is different, too. Most mornings he's shirtless, letting the sun warm up his bare back as he makes breakfast. Today, though, he does have a shirt on, and there's noticeable tension in his spine.

Will asks about the essay. Mike freezes for a second, looking genuinely confused, before snapping out of it and rambling about how 'okay' it is. It's not convincing.

They're less affectionate, leaving small but incredibly painful distance between them. Their conversation is more casual than usual, about their schedules and groceries they need to buy on the way home.

Will doesn't end up perched up on the kitchen counter with kisses all over his face. Instead, he gets a soft peck on his forehead before they leave the apartment.

The tension dissolves once they park at NYU, and Mike walks Will to his class. They smile at each other, nod, and there's that. Once they meet at lunch, things are back to normal.

This has been happening a lot lately.

Not constantly, but enough to be noticeable.

Mike and Will are not completely new to intimacy. They show each other affection constantly. Be it holding hands, bumping knees, kissing, compliments, pet names, leaving hickeys.

But that's where it stops.

They've talked about sex, discussed their feelings on it, agreed that they want to do it together, whenever they're both ready for it. And for a while, that was it.

It never came up again, and they both felt content with it. Maybe it'll come naturally, work out, like things usually do with the two of them.

Only lately something has shifted. Neither of them is sure when and how it happened, but things have started to heat up.

When Will straddles Mike's lap, shifts a little too much, suddenly Mike remembers an essay he needs to finish. When Mike bites and leaves hickeys all over Will's thighs, he urges him to kiss his lips instead. When the kisses get a little too intense, their bodies press a little too close, breathy sounds breach their lips, they panic and cut it all off.

It's natural, of course, but something about following through on those reactions feels wrong. Talking about it is even more terrifying. So lately they've been like this. Pulling back as soon as things breach into sexual territory.

___

Today Will's classes start later, so he stays in bed while Mike goes through his morning routine. Makes breakfast, showers, changes. Will watches his silhouette from the sheets, drinking in the smooth curve of his lean back, the faint muscles of his arms.

Mike isn't muscular by any means, and he feels insecure about it sometimes, but Will loves it. Loves just how naturally beautiful Mike is, how everything about him is just so proportionate and perfect. And even if he does not have huge muscles, he's still strong enough to lift Will. What more can he ask for.

"Okay," Mike breathes out, quickly fixes his hair in the mirror. "You sure you don't want me to pick you up?"

"Mike," Will rolls his eyes with a sigh. Stretches his arm out, catches Mike's hand. "You're not gonna have time for it. I can walk."

"You sure?" Mike steps closer, bends a little to have a better look at Will's face.

"Yes, I'm sure," Will rolls his eyes one more time, pulls Mike down into a kiss.

Mike smells like mint and shampoo, a little like cologne. Will inhales, drinks in the warmth and softness of Mike's lips. Enough to get him through the morning.

Mike cups his face gently, fingertips tracing the soft line of his jaw. Then he drags his palm down Will's neck, chest, flattens it against his stomach, then gives his thigh a good squeeze. It pulls a little gasp out of Will, and they smile against each other.

"See you at lunch?" Mike whispers, his lips barely brushing against Will's.

"Yeah, of course," Will whispers back, voice shaking like a leaf in the breeze.

Mike smiles at him, looks over his face one more time before pressing one last kiss to his forehead. Afterwards all Will can hear are steps moving towards the front door, some quiet curses as Mike tries to pull his shoes on, clattering of keys.

"Bye!" Mike yells through the apartment.

"Bye," Will replies, voice a little groggy.

The door opens and closes. The lock twists shut, and Will is alone.

The apartment is quiet, low hum of the fridge filling the silence, along with Will's shaky breaths. His skin still tingles where Mike touched it, that heat in his lower stomach coming back in full swing.

He huffs into the vacuum of the room, growing frustrated by this point. This keeps happening to him, the arousal growing whenever he's around Mike. It seems to get stronger every time, too, painfully straining against Will's boxers.

He knows it's a natural reaction to having your boyfriend kiss you and take care of you and touch you the way Mike does. So why does it feel so wrong?

Whenever it happens Will just leaves it alone, waits for the fire to die out, no matter how painful that coil in his stomach gets. His patience is wearing thin, however.

He shifts and shifts in the bed, trying to just fall asleep until he has to get up and start getting ready. No matter what he does, his head is restless.

All his senses are full of Mike. His scent lingering in the sheets, the burn of his palms on Will's skin, the sound of his voice and how thick it gets in the morning, how his hair tickles Will's face and neck when they sleep.

Will can't shake those thoughts away no matter how much he tries, his face physically straining with the effort. Eventually, he gives up and just lays flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

The tent in his boxers has only grown bigger, clearly not going down anytime soon. Will closes his eyes, listens in on any noise outside the door. He knows Mike is gone, he heard it. Heard the lock click shut. But something in him needs to be sure before he does what he's about to do.

He slowly moves his hand under the blanket, drags it to his own stomach, then slides lower. When his fingertips graze the hem of his boxers, he stops, listens again. No movement.

He hesitates at first, traces the edge of the elastic with his fingers, but doesn't go under. His breathing grows shallow, chest rising and falling along with it.

His body feels boiling hot beneath the blanket all of a sudden, but he refuses to move it. He needs that shield. From what, he isn't sure.

Mike's sleeping shirt is hanging on the back of a chair. It's so close. Will could easily grab it if he just stretched his arm out, but he doesn't. He looks at the navy blue fabric, then snaps his eyes shut so fast it's painful.

His hand moves slowly, fingers trembling. He traces the shape of himself over the fabric, feels the heat, the wet patch soaking through.

A choked up breath breaches his lips when he presses down, hips buck up instinctively into the touch. Finger by finger, Will makes contact until he's fully palming himself through his boxers.

His thighs tremble, vision swims. He keeps moving along his length, presses down harder at the tip. It pulls more gasps, pants and muffled moans out of him.

Every time he makes a sound he deems too loud, he stops. His eyes shoot open, and he listens. That worry never leaves him, the feeling that he's about to get walked in on, like he's doing something wrong.

Then he resumes, speeds up the rhythm of his hand while shallowly thrusting up against it. It feels fine. Just fine, and that's the issue. It's not enough to relieve that pressure, dull that heat. If anything, Will just craves more.

His eyes lock on Mike's shirt again. He stares at it, panting heavily as he rubs himself. The sensation intensifies slightly, but it's still so painfully far from enough.

Will is growing frustrated. With a huff, he reaches out and snatches the shirt from the chair, presses it up to his face. He can eat himself alive over this later. Laundry is his responsibility, anyway.

He inhales, lets his head fall back onto the pillow. The fabric smells like everything. Mike, his shaving cream, the dinner the two of them had yesterday.

There's still a dark stain on the front from the tomato sauce Mike spilled on himself. He tried to wipe it off, ended up making it worse while cursing like a sailor. It should be the opposite of sexy, but Will feels himself twitch under his palm.

The pressure is only building, the coil in his stomach tightening with no release. Will's hand speeds up more, rustling the blankets. At this point his arm is starting to cramp up, core hurts from bucking up so much. Still, he isn't making progress.

He stops, melts into the bed and desperately tries to catch his breath. This shouldn't be this difficult. Frustration quickly boils up in him, and he almost wants to give up.

He would most days, but he's so hard right now it's definitely not going down anytime soon, and he has less than an hour before his classes start. He would rather die than go like this. It needs to get taken care of, one way or another.

Will lifts himself up on his elbows, Mike's shirt sliding down his chest. He looks at the alarm clock. He has almost half an hour left. With an exasperated sigh, he falls back onto the sheets, puts the shirt back up to his cheek, feeling the lingering warmth.

His hand resumes its path, stopping at the elastic. Touching himself over the fabric did nothing. If anything, it just made things worse. So, Will decides to slip under.

One finger first, hesitant and shaky. Second, third, before his entire hand is under, hovering over his erection. He takes another inhale of the shirt, and wraps his fingers around himself.

This touch is so much brighter, making his back arch off the mattress immediately. He squeezes at the base first, catches his breath, before stroking himself slowly.

A quiet, muffled whimper breaches his lips, bouncing between the bedroom walls. He swipes his thumb over the tip, and gasps. His eyes shoot open from the sensation, and he pulls his hand out like he got burned.

Not here. Not in this bed where he and Mike sleep every night. No, this is wrong.

Will looks at his trembling hand, precum smeared over his thumb and palm. Shame starts clawing at his guts, stubborn and far too familiar.

He looks down at Mike's shirt and feels like it's been contaminated, even though all he did is hold it and smell it. Nothing he hasn't done before.

He and Mike take each other's clothes all the time. Will especially loves wearing Mike's grandpa sweaters with the weird patterns. Loves feeling his presence throughout the day.

This is different.

Still, the problem is not going away. Will is still hard, the tension of his boxers bordering on painful. He climbs out of bed, pulling the blankets away from his crotch, just in case.

His bare feet hit the floorboards, the cold soothing and grounding him just a bit. He grabs the shirt and walks out into the living room, still listening in for any movement.

He whips his head around the apartment like prey looking out for a predator. Checks every corner, multiple times over, and remains uneasy no matter what.

The apartment is empty. Breakfast is cooling down on the kitchen counter. There's paper scattered over the coffee table, a comic is laying on it face down. Mike couldn't finish it yesterday. Will's easel is resting in the corner, with one of his unfinished assignments drying down.

Everything is just how they left it. Will gives the place one last long look, and steps into the bathroom. He throws Mike's shirt into the laundry basket without even looking at it, feeling like he's not allowed to.

He strips, back turned to the mirror. His shirt lands on the floor, then he slowly slides his damp boxers down and kicks them aside, not even sparing them a glance.

The bathtub feels almost freezing cold in contrast to Will's heated skin, but he doesn't mind that right now. He shuts the curtain, the rattle of it drilling in his ears. This is redundant, really, but feels safer.

It's dead quiet in here. Way too quiet, so Will turns the shower on. Still not enough, so he turns it up. Then he remembers the water bill and lowers it again, until it's barely enough for some background noise.

His erection is still standing, irritated and eager. Will wraps his fingers around himself, gasps at the skin to skin contact, then starts stroking. A little more confident this time, but still careful.

Even after obsessively checking every inch of the apartment, he can't get rid of that anxiety in the back of his mind. It's almost physically holding him back, stopping him from fully relaxing into the pleasure.

He leans back against the wall, somewhat braces himself. His chest stutters, fighting between holding back his sounds and just letting himself loose.

This feels better, much better, but it's not building up. The pleasure just stays in place. Will huffs, frustrated all over again. He closes his eyes, tries to think of something that can finally take him over the edge.

The only image his brain can conjure up is Mike. Of course.

Will tries to picture something else, something more abstract, but it all just keeps morphing back into Mike. His eyes, his curls, his smile, freckles, big pale hands.

"Oh, God," Will croaks, finally feeling progress. His fist speeds up, knees almost buckle from the heightened pleasure.

He's desperate now, so he clings to those visions, anything to get this over with. He shuts his eyes so tight there are stars dancing behind his eyelids. Looks like Mike is in the middle of a starry sky.

Will focuses on that, the way Mike touches him, how groggy and raspy his voice gets in the morning, how soft it becomes during the day and night. His warmth, the grounding pressure as they cuddle to sleep. The way Mike laughs until his nose scrunches.

Will's hand moves so fast up and down his length it becomes a blur of desperate motion. He doesn't bother holding back his sounds anymore, mind too occupied.

He gasps, whimpers, moans into the vacuum of the bathroom. The weak stream of water does nothing to cover up the noise.

"M- Mike," slips past his lips, breathy and high pitched. His lips tremble around the syllables.

Will grabs his own thigh, trying to recreate the sensation from this morning, the sweet squeeze Mike gave him, but it's so different. The angle is all wrong, Will's hand is so much smaller and warmer than Mike's, fingers too short to grip properly.

It almost makes him want to cry out of frustration. He strokes himself without pausing, ignores the steadily growing cramp in his arm. The knot in his gut tightens more and more, but still not quite enough.

"Please, please," he pants, throws his head back, feeling the cool tiles against his scalp.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with every uneven breath. There's sweat collecting in his hairline, rolling down his temples. He almost feels lightheaded, but holds himself up.

"Come on. Please," Will pleads. With who, he's not sure. His face is all screwed up with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Eventually his moves stutter, the muscles in his arm tensing up so much they refuse to cooperate. Despite that, Will doesn't stop. He fully presses his back against the tiled wall, braces his feet in the bathtub.

The contrast of it all against his heated skin is so much. So sharp and bright. Will keeps thinking of Mike's big hands, how they feel on his thighs and waist. The way those long bony fingers dig into his skin, or stroke it tenderly.

"Mike. Oh, God- Mike-"

Will is not filtering himself anymore, letting moans and breathy words spill out freely. Mike's name in particular seems to really do it for him, the pleasure spiking up every time he says it.

His brain wanders, imagines it's Mike's hand stroking him instead of his own. He can almost feel it, the colder skin against him, those long fingers caressing him and touching him just how he likes it.

"Oh, please- Like that- Mike-"

Will swipes his thumb across the sensitive tip, hips thrusting forward to chase the sensation. He feels the knot finally tightening, the tingles of pleasure spreading through his body in a frightening progression.

"Almost- Almost there- Please. Please, Mike- Come on-"

A few more frantic strokes and swipes, and the pressure finally snaps. The long awaited orgasm shoots through Will like electricity. He folds forward, braces himself against the edge of the bathtub as he keeps slowly stroking himself through the overwhelming pleasure.

He's panting, loud. His cheek is pressed against the porcelain, fingers cling to it so he doesn't slide down. The movements slow, then stop once the orgasm fully passes and any touch feels almost painful.

Will lets his sticky and incredibly tired hand fall by his side, under the weak stream of water. His heart is hammering so hard he can hear it in his ears, pulsating in his temples.

Once all of it fades and he comes back to reality, he feels awful. He just spent God knows how much time jerking off to the image of his boyfriend, which shouldn't be bad, but it sure feels like it.

They haven't talked about this, if they're quite at this level yet. Will curls in on himself, pushes his sweat soaked hair out of his face. For a little bit he just sits in the bathtub, knees pulled up to his chest.

He tries to rationalize this, calm himself down. Mike is his boyfriend. People think about their boyfriends like that. It's fine.

But what if it isn't? What if Mike finds out and feels disgusted? Violated, even?

The thought makes Will forget how to breathe, a thick lump of guilt clogging up his throat.

With a trembling hand, he turns the water up, lets it roll over his back as he stares ahead. As the sweat and shame wash off of him, he starts feeling better.

This was just one time. He was alone, feeling desperate. No one has to know. He can just throw Mike's shirt into the laundry, scrub his skin raw, and forget about this. Yeah, that's it.

So that's exactly what he does. He washes himself so thoroughly his skin is raw and irritated afterwards. The shirt and Will's stained boxers get hidden under other clothing. It will get taken down to the laundromat later.

All that's left is just get changed and go to classes. Easy. Nothing to worry about.

With a newfound rhythm to his step, Will opens the door and walks out, already constructing a plan in his head.

It all shatters once he sees Mike, standing at the front door.

Will freezes mid step like he just saw a demogorgon instead of his own boyfriend. His face is a mask of pure terror, red as a tomato both from the rough shower and the embarrassment consuming him whole.

Mike looks startled, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. His cheeks are flushed. Will tells himself it's from the cold weather outside.

The two stay like this for a long agonizing moment, frozen mid action, staring with round frantic eyes. Mike blinks a few times, finally coming back to reality.

"Um. Hey," he says, his voice a little rough.

"H- Hey. Um," Will stutters, clinging to the towel around his hips. "You- You're back?"

"Oh, I- I just stepped in," Mike scrambles, points back at the door awkwardly. His hands shake, car keys fall out of them and he bends down to quickly pick them up. "Class ended early, um.. Thought I- I could pick you up."

"Okay," Will whispers after a very tense pause. He tries to swallow, his throat contracting painfully around the action. He feels too exposed out here, too vulnerable. "I- I'll go change, then. Be- Be right there."

"Yup. Yup, okay. I.. I'll wait in the car, then," Mike rambles.

"Yup."

"Yup."

All Will hears is the door closing, and he's left in the dead quiet all over again. He nearly collapses onto the floor with how suddenly his knees give out. This is bad. Very bad.

Chapter Text

For the next few days Will is paranoid. Mike doesn't say or do anything out of the ordinary. They're as affectionate as ever. If anything, Mike gets even more clingy than usual sometimes.

Still, that pit in Will's stomach doesn't go away. He forgets about that morning, then gets reminded of it every time Mike touches him or whispers something in his ear. It's torture.

Saturday rolls around, and this time the movie night plans come through. The two are cuddled up on the couch, the lights are dimmed, the TV being the only source of illumination.

Mike is laying in Will's lap, cheek pressed up against his thighs as he keeps drawing little patterns on his knees. Will is tense, trying to focus on the movie and let go of the shameful thoughts.

Mike couldn't have heard that. He probably would've said something by now if he did. They're fine. Everything is fine.

"Aren't you too hot in these?" Mike murmurs, tugging at the fabric of Will's pajama pants.

"I'm fine," Will answers simply. It comes out a bit rougher than he planned, but Mike doesn't push further.

Will exhales, willing his body to relax. His hand is tangled in Mike's dark curls, twirling one around his finger. A natural gesture at this point.

He tries to stay calm, but there's a stubborn tremor in his fingertips. Mike seemingly notices. He carefully puts his palm on top of Will's, gently brushes his knuckles.

"You okay?" he asks, turning his head to look up at Will with those wide and worried eyes.

"Y- Yeah, just.. Um. We were doing a lot of hatching yesterday. I guess I'm still a little sore," Will scrambles for an excuse.

He tries to subtly pull his hand away, but Mike just interlaces their fingers and brings them to his lips. He hums, then starts peppering tender kisses all over Will's wrist, lingering at the softest part where the pulse is the loudest.

Will stiffens up all over again, too afraid to move but unable to look away. It's always mesmerizing to watch Mike's lips move over his skin, the way his eyes flutter closed and how at peace he looks as he does it.

Mike kisses the bone at the wrist, moves up to Will's palm and delicate fingers that always have little specks of dried paint clinging to them. He doesn't leave a single inch of skin unkissed. Every knuckle, every wrinkle, every mole and freckle.

Will's breathing stutters, and usually he would melt into the affection, but right now he feels almost terrified. Mike's lips move over his hand so lovingly, like it's something precious. Will's right hand. The same hand he used to-

He pulls his palm away, leaving Mike confused. He looks up at him with his brows curved in that way he does that always makes Will weak in the knees. Will averts his gaze, blush pinching at his cheeks.

"Um. I- I need to pee," he blurts out, keeping that hand floating in the air like it's contaminated.

"Oh. Okay," Mike mumbles, unable to hide his disappointment.

He shifts, lifts his head off of Will's thighs. Will stands up a little too fast, too eager to leave. He realizes how unnaturally his hand is hanging, so he lets it fall limp at his side.

"D- Don't pause. I'll be right back," Will stutters out when Mike reaches for the remote.

Mike sits back, gives him a nod and a quiet 'okay'. His eyes still have that concern written over them, but Will ignores it and retreats to the bathroom.

He sits on top of the toilet lid and stares up at the ceiling. He feels awful, feels disgusting. His hand almost burns. To his despair, that heat of arousal has ignited again. Luckily not as strong as the last time.

Will stays there for a few minutes until his erection dies down. He stands up, doesn't even think to flush the toilet with his mind too occupied. As he washes his hands he scrubs them raw, until they're red and irritated.

When he comes back out, Mike is sitting up on the couch. His leg is bouncing up and down rapidly, and he only shoots Will a short glance before looking back at the TV. Will sits down next to him, knees barely brushing, and they finish the movie like this.

___

Mike is usually a pretty heavy sleeper, it's hard to wake him up most of the time. Lately, though, his sleeping schedule has declined.

He's been waking up in very early hours of the morning, with a borderline painful pressure in his pants. It's not like he's never woken up like this before. It's natural. He would either take care of it quickly, or leave it alone until the problem resolved itself.

This, though, is something else entirely.

He and Will cuddle to sleep every night, with very rare exceptions. Their favorite position is hugging, Will's face tucked into Mike's neck, limbs tangled like a complex knot.

Second favorite is Mike laying on Will's chest, listening to the steady vibration of his heart. Warm, alive, right here.

But more often than not they end up with Mike hugging Will from behind, pulling his back against his own chest. From this position Mike can climb out easily to make breakfast, without disturbing Will too much.

This night is no different. They fell asleep like usual, hugging tightly and breathing steadily into the sheets. Mike blinks his eyes open, sees it's still dark, and sighs.

Next thing he registers is the pressure in his boxers. Again. He mentally curses at himself, at his own body for not staying down and letting him fucking sleep.

He shifts, tries to get more comfortable. As soon as he moves, Will stirs. A small, breathy sound spills out of his lips, and Mike freezes. Every muscle in his body goes rigid, and he waits.

Waits and waits, but nothing happens. Will is still sound asleep. After the initial fear passes, Mike finally registers their position. His erection is pressed right against Will. The thin cotton of his boxers definitely does not hide the contact.

Mike feels horrified, his face turning crimson in seconds. He shifts again, moves his hips away from Will. Misses the heat, but he can't think about that right now.

He should probably climb out and take care of it, like he's been doing most nights like this. Another part of his brain tells him to just swallow that arousal down and try to fall back asleep, even if it takes hours.

As he ponders over it, Will stirs again. Mike doesn't register it until Will is pressed up against his crotch again, sighing softly. Mike chokes on air, latches onto Will's waist to stop him.

He bites down a hiss as Will shifts again, seemingly getting comfortable. Mike lifts his head just enough to get a look at Will's face. He's completely asleep, lashes fluttering and drooling a little into the pillow. 

Relaxed and adorable, as always. Even in this state he seeks Mike's comfort, like his body alone gravitates towards him. Mike would love to gush about how sweet that is, if he didn't feel like such a fucking pervert right now.

With a gentle but firm push, he separates their bodies again. Will makes more displeased sleepy noises, but Mike doesn't wait for him to shift again.

Keeping his hands clamped on Will's waist, he climbs out of bed, and shoves a few pillows into his spot instead, hoping that'll be enough. Seems like it is. Will turns, his limbs instinctively wrap around the pillow like a koala.

He tucks his face into the soft fabric, and finally settles. Mike exhales in relief, then scrubs his face roughly. He's still hard, maybe even more than before.

With the view of Will's bare legs catching the moonlight, his long lashes casting soft shadows down his cheeks, the little sleepy noises he makes, the way his body seeks out Mike even like this, it's only natural. The arousal is not dying down anytime soon.

Mike quietly shuffles towards the bathroom, shuts the door behind him. He lifts the toilet lid, stands above it and shoves his sweats and boxers down his thighs.

It's like a ritual at this point. He's lost count of how many times he's done this. Get hard because of his boyfriend, then jerk off quickly in the bathroom like he's back in his mom's house again.

Mike wraps his fingers around himself, bites down a groan. Drags his thumb up the shaft, presses on the tip. A long, shaky breath escapes him at the sensation.

He gathers the precum at the tip and starts slow but firm strokes. It's not quite enough, so he grabs lotion from the cupboard and squeezes some onto his already heated palm. That makes the slide smoother.

He uses his free hand to brace himself against the wall. It hasn't been that long, yet his knees are already threatening to buckle.

The strokes grow faster, Mike starts to twist his wrist on every upward move. His eyes flutter closed, amplifying every sensation. The only image he sees is Will.

His focused emerald eyes framed by those long, doll-like lashes. The mole above his soft pink lips. The slope of his nose, the way it scrunches when he's flustered. His fluffy hair that looks perfect no matter what Will does with it. His honey skin, narrow waist, delicate hands.

"Fuck," Mike chokes out, almost feeling Will's thin fingers wrapped around his length instead of his own.

He leans forward until his forehead collides with the cold tiles, stays there. His breathing grows uneven, quickly breaching the appropriate volume level.

"Fuck, Will- Come on-"

Words spill out outside of Mike's control, echoing in the cramped bathroom. To muffle the noise, Mike covers his mouth with the back of his hand, his strokes never faltering.

His brain immediately imagines kissing Will as he does this. The pleasure spikes up at the thought. Mike bites down on his own hand to hold back another breathy moan. Imagines himself biting down on Will's neck instead.

A few more muffled curses, shaky breaths, fast strokes, and he launches over the edge, spilling out into the toilet with learned precision. He keeps lazily stroking himself through the waves of his orgasm, sweat running down his forehead.

Once that passes and he's conscious again, he stands up straight, panting. Grabs some toilet paper, wipes himself, pulls his boxers and sweats back on. Afterwards he slams the toilet lid shut and flushes.

"Fuck," he hisses to himself, drowned out by the sounds of running water.

He thoroughly washes his hands, stares at his own flushed face in the fogged up mirror. Shuffles back into the bedroom and climbs into bed. This time he keeps a little distance from Will, still feeling a little dirty from what he did.

He should probably talk to Will about this at some point.

He's been telling himself this for some time now. After spending a few nights in a row like this, pent up and a little embarrassed, he realized this isn't something he can just brush off.

The first time, sure. Happens to everyone. No big deal.

Second time, it's been a while. A rough week, busy day. Whatever.

The third time Mike tried to get off to some abstract images from his imagination, he couldn't. Only when he thought of Will, that knot snapped.

He felt awful afterwards, took the longest and deepest shower of his life. Swore this will never happen again.

Then it did. Pretty much every single night from that point on.

By this point it's part of Mike's routine. A very secret and totally embarrassing part of Mike's routine.

It doesn't leave him feeling disgusting and like he should die anymore, but he's not completely guilt-free either. He has absolutely zero clue how to bring this up to Will, if he should lead up to the sex conversation somehow, or just jump straight into it, say it how it is.

So he puts it away. Again.

___

"Got any quarters for me?" Will asks, presenting his palm to Mike. A big bag of laundry is laying at his feet.

Mike fixes his glasses, grabs his wallet off the shelf. After a little rummaging, he drops a stack of quarters into Will's hand.

"Get yourself something nice," he jokes, deepening his voice and grinning.

"Wow. How generous," Will chuckles, looks at the coins in his hand before shoving them into his pocket.

He bends down to pull his shoes on, and when he stands up, there are crisp bills being shoved in his face. He rolls his eyes.

"Mike. I was kidding," he says weakly, tries to push Mike's hand away.

"I'm not," Mike insists.

They spend nearly a minute like this. Will trying to refuse the money, and Mike continuously shoving it into his hand. It quickly gets tiring, though. Mike ends up physically opening Will's palm, putting the bills in it, then curling his fingers around them.

"Will, I'm serious. Get yourself something," he says softly, pats Will's hand to seal the deal.

"Fine," Will gives up, puts the money into his pocket while trying to look upset. That just brings a proud smile to Mike's face. "Your payday-"

"Next week," Mike cuts in. He steps closer, grabs Will's shoulders reassuringly. "We're good, okay? Let me spoil you."

"Oh my God," Will scoffs, but his cheeks go all pink and lips twitch upwards.

Mike chuckles at him, the scrunch of his nose. He cups Will's face on both sides and peppers a bunch of rapid kisses all over it. Enough for Will to squirm and swat him off, bubbly giggles spilling out of him.

"Fine! Okay! God," Will complains, grinning from ear to ear. Can't fight it no matter how hard he tries. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm- Actually," Mike cuts himself off, pauses for a second. His face shifts between a few subtle expressions, in that way it does when he's constructing a plan. "I would kill for a croissant right now."

"Okay. Chocolate?"

"Chocolate," Mike nods, goes to open the front door so Will can step out easily with all the laundry.

"Be right back," Will says over his shoulder.

"Take your time," Mike waves a dismissive hand, waits for Will to walk down a few steps, then goes back inside.

Will makes his way to the laundromat a little down the street, the quarters in his pocket rattling with every step he takes. He's glad to finally throw that shirt into the wash, even though he knows he technically didn't actually do anything to it.

It's the memories it brings up. Once it's washed, hopefully the guilt will fade, too.

Will hates doing the laundry, despite insisting on it. Mike already does pretty much everything else. The problem is just how long it usually takes. The laundromat gets crowded quickly, and Will has to wait through at least three cycles to wash everything.

Today, though, the place is empty, to his delight. It smells like bleach and detergent. Music from the old crackly radio fills the silence.

Will walks past the broken washing machines, then sets the bag down. He eagerly loads everything in at the same time, spread out across multiple machines. The quarters fly in, and Will waits, watching the clothes swirl around in soap and water.

Once that's done, he repeats the process with the dryers. He paces back and forth, fidgets with the leftover quarters. Mike always gives him extra, just in case.

By the end, the laundry is done in about half the amount of time it usually takes. Will is delighted, folding everything up neatly and putting it back into the bag.

With a playful rhythm to his step, he stops by the bakery. Buys himself a muffin, a chocolate croissant for Mike. After thinking about it, he gets a cheesecake slice with the remaining money. He's getting spoiled today. Might as well.

With his hands full, he walks back to their building. The weather is beautiful today. The sun is bright and warm, a small breeze balances out the heat. Just how Will likes it. Perfect to wear one of Mike's hoodies without getting too hot.

He strides up the narrow flights of stairs, until he gets to their apartment. No knocking needed. Mike always leaves the door open when Will does the laundry, so he can easily step back in.

Will does just that. Frees one of his hands, grabs the doorknob and walks inside. As usual, he's quiet and careful, trying not to disturb anyone. A stubborn habit from childhood.

The hum of the city still buzzes in his ears, but it quickly settles. He opens his mouth to call out to Mike, but gets cut off.

"Fuck, baby-"

Will freezes where he stands, hands hovering in the air, shoe kicked off halfway. For a second he considers mixing up the apartment, or the building altogether. He takes a long look around. Nope. Definitely their place.

"Come on- Fuck, just like that-"

It's definitely Mike's voice. Higher pitched, breathy, completely wrecked. Will has never heard him sound like this before. It makes something warm stir in his stomach, but he tries to swallow the feeling.

What is he doing? What's making him sound like this? Who is he talking to?

The questions circle around Will's head on a constant, anxious loop. His hands go a little numb, and he suddenly needs a drink of water with how dry his throat is.

Once the fog clears, Will registers the unmistakable slick, rhythmic sounds breaking through Mike's pleas.

"Fuck- Oh my God, baby-"

Will's own breathing grows unsteady. He tries to keep it low, scared to reveal his presence. His body refuses to move, completely frozen in place like prey about to get eaten alive.

His brain can't pull the image together. Mike's wrecked voice combined with the sounds should paint a pretty clear picture, but Will just can't bring himself to accept it. Tries to think of a different explanation.

"Will- Oh God-"

Right.

Will bites down on his lip so hard he's sure it broke the skin. The pressure in his own pants grows, no matter how much he tries to shake it off. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he carefully pokes his head around the corner, peeking into the living room.

Now it's undeniable.

Mike is sitting at his desk, back turned to the front door. His head is thrown back against his chair, one arm draped over his eyes. Will can't see his other hand, obscured by the armrest, but the rhythmic movement of his shoulder leaves little to the imagination.

Mike's pants are pulled down, resting at his upper thighs. He's breathing heavily, mumbling more, the syllables melting together at this point. He must be getting close.

The realization hits Will like a physical blow, ripping him out of his daze. He retreats behind the wall again, hides. His heart rapidly beats against his ribs.

Mike's breaths grow in pitch and speed. Will's knees buckle, and he panics.

"Oh, Will- Baby- You're so- Fuck, I love-"

His voice breaks off into a prolonged groan. The slick sounds get faster and more frantic, until they slow again. Will doesn't stay for that. Somewhere in the middle of it, he opens the door again and steps out of the apartment, just as quietly as he came in.

He stands there, clutching the sweet treats and the heavy bag of washed laundry. From beyond the door he hears Mike's muffled breathing. Loud and irregular at first, then steady and so quiet he can't hear it anymore.

After some time, there are steps crossing the apartment, a door opening. Will always recognizes that specific short creak. The bathroom door. Mike is in the bathroom.

Will waits just a little more, trembling fingers clutching the doorknob. Then he repeats the process of stepping back inside, drops the bag louder than usual, clears his throat a few times.

"I'm back!" he announces, voice rougher than he wanted.

"I- I'll be right out!" Mike yells from the bathroom, then the shower turns on.

Will clumsily kicks his shoes off and just stands in place for a bit. The air feels different. Thicker, hard to breathe in. It's like the atmosphere in the apartment shifted.

Strangely, the pit in Will's stomach seems to shrink, bit by bit. Realization by realization. Mike was.. doing that, thinking of Will. So clearly thinking of Will.

So, seems like this hasn't been a problem solely haunting just one of them. That's a relief, kind of. Maybe they are on the same page, after all.

___

The next few days pass by like usual, full of classes and work and piled up assignments. The atmosphere has gone back to normal, relatively.

Will has been trying to initiate the sex conversation. Really trying, but every time something comes up and cuts his attempts short.

He stands there, looking for words, then as soon as the first sentence starts to string together, Mike blurts out something that wipes Will's mind clean. Or their schedules get so busy that all they want to do at the end of the day is just go to bed and not be bothered by anything else.

Will's patience is wearing thin, so today he decides to do something more radical. If words don't seem to work out, maybe actions will.

The two spend the entire evening working on leftover assignments, like they often do. Sharing the same space without talking, but feeling each other's comfortable presence.

Mike is at the desk, clicking away on his typewriter, fixing his glasses from time to time. Meanwhile Will is at his easel, putting down a few last paint strokes, but his mind is somewhere else.

He keeps subtly glancing back at Mike, trying to be sneaky. His body goes warmer every time, the closer he gets to executing his plan.

Once the last stroke is placed, Will exhales. Both in relief and from intense nerves. He glances back at Mike, who's still hunched over the desk, brows furrowed in concentration.

Will leaves the easel and walks into their bedroom. The first phase of the plan is in motion. He pulls his pajama shorts off, a pretty normal part of his routine. Shouldn't be too obvious.

Then he fishes out a specific shirt out of the closet. One of Mike's old shirts. Also a pretty normal part of his routine, but the collar on this one is stretched out in a specific way that shows off his collarbones the best. He always catches Mike's eyes shooting downwards when he wears it.

Will pulls his own shirt off, and catches his reflection in the closet mirror. That makes him stop for a second and just look. Look at his own frame, exposed and vulnerable, only shielded by his boxers.

He's never paid much attention to his own body. Mike compliments him all the time, constantly grabs his waist, thighs, loves to mess with his stomach no matter the protests.

Right now it feels so different. Suddenly Will starts noticing things he never cared about before. The way the elastic of his boxers digs into his stomach, how he doesn't have pronounced muscles. He's just so.. simple looking.

Mike looks like a marble statue, with his pale freckled skin, sharp corners. He looks mesmerizing, while Will is just.. Will.

Then he shifts his attention to the scar on his hip. The jagged shape of it, how noticeable it is. Will always hated it, the memories attached to it, the way it looks. Yet, Mike kisses and caresses it like it's something precious.

Suddenly, Will feels small, standing in front of the mirror like this. An anxious part of his mind tells him to just abandon this plan, get back to it some other day, if ever. But he persists.

He pulls the shirt on, fixes the collar to make sure it lays just right. Stands at the mirror a little more, staring. Tries to think of himself from Mike's point of view, remembers the way his eyes soften whenever he looks at him. That seems to be reassuring enough.

Will steps back out into the living room, his moves more nervous and timid than usual. Mike is still at the desk, long bony fingers moving over the keys with surgical precision. Will loves how fast he can type.

He stays in the doorframe at first, nervously tapping on it with his knuckles. All words die in his throat, so he waits for Mike to sense his presence. That doesn't take long. Mike stops typing and whips his head around, gives Will a long up and down look, before locking eyes with him.

"Hey," he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

"Hey," Will replies, shifts on his feet nervously. He suddenly feels really stupid.

"What's up?" Mike asks, shoots a quick glance at Will's bare legs before looking back up.

"Just.. Um. Do- How long do you have left?" Will stutters, nods at the typewriter.

"Just two more pages."

Will nods. Mike nods back, looks at his boyfriend for a beat longer before continuing to type. Will takes a steadying breath, bracing for the next phase of his plan.

Before that, though, he walks around the apartment and sorts out the mess. Mostly from the nerves. His hands tremble so hard he can barely keep them steady.

He stacks their comics, puts the washed dishes away, even shifts their fridge magnets around. Anything to keep himself occupied. Mike keeps typing, pausing from time to time. Will assumes it's to think or to adjust the paper.

Eventually, there are no more small and meaningless tasks for Will to cling onto, and Mike is getting closer and closer to finishing his assignment. Will's gotten too far in to just abort the mission again, so with a long, shuddering breath, he makes his next move.

He grips the back of Mike's chair, and pulls it back. Mike stays frozen, hands hanging in the air mid type. Before he can process everything and ask any questions, Will circles him and sits in his lap.

Deliberate, mostly confident. He grabs onto Mike's shoulders, effectively traps him in place with his bare thighs. Mike looks up at him with a bewildered expression, but it quickly switches to the usual fond one.

"What's this about?" he asks, palms finding Will's waist and squeezing.

"Just missed you," Will mumbles, shrugs sheepishly. His fingers tangle in Mike's curls at the nape, lightly scratch at his scalp. "Is this okay?"

"Of course," Mike practically purrs, his smile widening.

He wraps one arm all the way around Will's waist, pulls him closer, keeps him stable. Their faces are mere inches apart, the air hot and charged. Mike cranes his neck up to connect their lips in a kiss.

Will opens his mouth, prepares for something wet, deep and electric, but gets a quick peck instead. Then Mike scoots the chair forward and goes back to typing, chin resting on Will's shoulder.

Will stays in place, lips parted and unsatisfied. Not that he doesn't like short and sweet kisses. He loves them, sometimes even more than the prolonged, deeper ones. But it's not at all what he needs right now.

Fine. Okay. The night isn't over yet.

Will huffs to himself, nuzzles into Mike's neck, drags his nose along the pale skin. He feels Mike shift under him, adjust. The arm around his waist remains, thumb drawing little incoherent patterns over his shirt.

The hands in Mike's hair move down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, chest. Will starts pressing soft, unhurried kisses to his pulse point, lips trembling as he does it.

He hears Mike's breathing stutter, heartbeat speed up beneath the pale skin. That gives him the confidence to get bolder.

His grip on Mike tightens, kisses grow more insistent and deep. He grazes Mike's skin with his teeth, sucks on it just enough to pull some choked out breaths from him.

He moves down to the sharp collarbone, and sucks a mark into it. Higher than they usually agree on, but Will doesn't care right now. He stays there, suckling and biting down until his lips are sore and jaw aches.

"Fuck- Will," Mike chokes out. Tightens his grip on Will's waist, pulls his shirt up, slips under. Skin to skin, finally. Some progress.

Will hums against Mike's skin, finally pops off and admires his creation. A bright red mark with specks of burst blood vessels, blooming darker right before his eyes.

Mike is panting into his ear, fingers digging into Will's waist. Will feels himself painfully straining against his boxers, and for once, he lets it happen. Doesn't try to think of something else or prays for it to go down quickly.

His thighs start to ache, and the inches of distance between their bodies are physically painful. Need to be closer, until there isn't a single molecule of space.

Will cups Mike's neck on both sides, tries to move forward, but his knees annoyingly collide with the back of the chair. A displeased whine escapes his lips before he can catch it, but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed about it right now.

"Will, hold on," Mike pants, tries to get a look at Will's face, but he keeps hiding, diving deeper into the curve of his neck.

He abandons the typewriter, both hands clamping onto Will. One on his waist, other on his thigh. Gripping on, not sure for what purpose. Just instinct.

"Please," Will whispers, hot air ghosting over Mike's neck and making him shudder.

"Please, what?" Mike furrows his brows in confusion. With another annoyed huff, Will pulls back just enough for them to lock eyes. He looks frustrated, face all flushed and lips swollen.

"Kiss me," Will pleads, curving his brows.

Mike doesn't need to be told twice. He cups the back of Will's neck and pulls him in, capturing his mouth in a proper, deep kiss. Will whines at the contact, gives up on controlling his volume at this point.

Their lips move against each other in a hungry, desperate rhythm, tongues meet somewhere halfway. It's loud, frantic. The chair groans and creaks under their shared weight every time one of them shifts.

Will's thighs are starting to cramp up, but he keeps moving. He spreads them further, as far as the chair allows, tries to shift forward and chase some kind of relief for his rapidly growing erection.

Mike's palms stay on him, long fingers digging into his skin and touching it so lovingly it almost makes Will want to cry. Still feels so surreal to be caressed and cherished like this.

The kiss only breaks when their lungs burn, demanding oxygen. Even then, it doesn't last more than a second, their faces colliding again.

The pressure between Will's legs is bordering on painful, craving some kind of friction, relief. He full on whimpers against Mike's lips. His brain is swimming, all rational thoughts and plans melting together into something gooey and sweet.

"Mike- Love, please," he whispers between shallow gasps. His voice is completely cracked open, high pitched, yet still impossibly sweet.

"Fuck, baby- You're so- Fuck, I love your sounds," Mike rambles, voice just as wrecked. Will whines more in return, hides his face in Mike's neck again. Both embarrassed and so painfully desperate. "Please- Please, keep talking- Fuck-"

"Mike," the best Will can manage.

Mike kisses him everywhere he can reach in this position. His hair, temple, ear that's almost crimson red at this point. Catches the silver earring between his teeth, lightly tugs on it. All while his hot and uneven breaths ghost over Will.

Their hips start moving on their own, shifting and adjusting, seeking pressure. Seeking each other. The air goes hot, thick with their arousal and desperate, hungry breathing. Mike's hands clamp onto Will's sides, so hard it's almost painful.

Will gasps at the touch, clings to Mike's shoulders harder. His thighs tense up and relax on a constant loop, chasing after friction and fighting against the ache.

Mike pulls him in, his own hips lifting off the chair until their bodies collide in a long, electric drag. They both gasp at the same time, collapse into each other. Will can feel the tremor in Mike's hands, the way he stiffens for a second.

"Fuck- I- I'm sorry," Mike stutters, breathless, but his body keeps moving.

"It's okay. It's okay," Will breathes out, thrusting his own hips to meet Mike's. Chasing that delicious friction, finally.

"Oh, fuck-"

The chair creaks more, threatens to tip over with every other clumsy thrust. Will gasps and pants into Mike's neck, clinging to him like it's the only thing keeping him on this Earth.

Mike's hands stay locked on Will's sides, keeping him stable, lightly moving him and setting the rhythm. For a few seconds, it's pure bliss. Just the friction of their clothed erections, the punched out breaths mixing together, stubborn creaks of the chair.

Then it all stops. Mike's fingers dig into Will harder, push him back. He hits the edge of the desk, the wood rattles so loud it practically echoes. Suddenly, the world goes silent.

The switch is so abrupt Will feels nauseous.

Mike is looking at him with wide eyes, brows pinched together and cheeks flushed. His glasses are all crooked, which usually would be adorable, but right now it's the complete opposite. His chest rises and falls with every uneven breath, hands tremble where they're still digging into Will's skin.

Will feels all color drain from his face. It hits him all at once. The stupid plan, the pleas, the grinding, everything.

"S- Slow down, okay?" Mike rasps, then clears his throat.

Will doesn't stay much longer. He hurries to climb off of Mike, stumbles, but keeps going. His body moves on its own, fueled by pure terror.

"Will, wait!" Mike yells from the chair. "Baby, what's going-"

Will doesn't hear it. The world gets drowned out by the blood rushing to his ears, his rapid heartbeat. On weak legs, he storms into the bedroom, swings the door shut. It bounces back, leaving a small gap.

He can't hide in here. This is Mike's room, too, but it's the safest place he can think of. It doesn't even occur to him when he dives into bed, drowns himself in the sheets.

He feels awful, like the ground should just open up and swallow him whole. 

Feels filthy, shakes as violent sobs rip out of his chest. He fists at the sheets, curls in on himself to get as small and insignificant as possible.

His thoughts spiral, grow more and more rotten by the second. He shouldn't have done that, should've just talked, or waited.

There's a soft, hesitant knock on the door. Every muscle in Will's body goes rigid.

"Hey, Will?" Mike says carefully.

Will feels his lungs close up painfully. That soft tone, so sickeningly worried for Will despite what he did. It just makes the acid of guilt in his stomach burn him harder.

"Baby," Mike says, even softer.

The pet name makes Will choke up. He buries himself deeper in the sheets, just a primal urge to hide despite knowing Mike can clearly see him.

A few soft, hesitant steps break the silence, then the mattress dips. Will trembles at every small change. He doesn't move, doesn't even dare to take a breath. His lungs burn, but maybe he deserves it.

"Can you.. look at me, please?" Mike whispers, carefully puts his palm on the blanket shielding Will. He gets a frantic shake of the head in response. "Okay. That's okay."

It's silent for a bit. Just Will's tiniest breaths, barely there, and the gears turning in Mike's head. Will's vision is completely blurred from tears. He's already accepting that his dream life is over. He's ruined it all.

"Do you.. Um. Do you remember when we talked about.. sex, and.. being ready, and all that stuff?" Mike breaks the silence. Will almost flinches. He huffs into the pillow, then nods.

"Yeah," he manages, voice weak.

"Yeah," Mike nods back, rubs the blanket softly. "Um. I- I've been, like.. thinking about it, I guess? For a while, actually."

A small laugh breaches his lips. It's dry, humorless, just nerves really. His hand is never idle, rubbing and patting over the thick fabric, but Will still feels it. It gives him a weird mix of comfort and nausea.

"I.. I guess what I'm trying to get at is.. I'm ready," Mike continues, voice cracking nervously. "I think- I mean, I know. I'm ready. Ready to.. have sex. With.. you."

He lets out a sharp breath, like a heavy weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. That pit in Will's stomach shrinks just a bit, his lungs finally open up enough for him to pull in some air.

"So.. yeah," Mike keeps going, rambling at this point. Filling the tense silence, like he always does. "There you go, I guess. Um. So.. whenever you- And there's no rush, but.. whenever you're ready, you can just.. tell me, I guess. 'Cause, you know, you already know that I'm down, I guess- Fuck. Whatever. I don't know how people do this."

Will feels himself slowly relax with every word, every crack in Mike's voice. His eyes are still full of tears, but he can breathe. A small, crooked smile pulls at his lips. Mike's hand dragging along the blanket makes him feel warm and safe.

"This probably sounds ridiculous, but-"

"Me, too," Will cuts in. He sounds like his throat has been scratched raw. Feels like it, too.

"What?" Mike whispers after a brief pause. Will shifts, limbs heavy. He turns enough to look back at Mike over his own shoulder.

"I.. I'm ready, too," he mumbles, cheeks growing more and more red.

"Yeah?" Mike shifts, sits up straighter. The corners of his lips twitch up into the smallest, softest smile.

"Yeah," Will smiles back, then tries to pull the blanket over his head.

"Hey," Mike catches the thick fabric, nudges it down. Will doesn't offer much resistance. "Can you look at me now?"

Will hesitates for a second, then sits up. His moves are sluggish, bones feel like they've turned to water. The blanket falls down his shoulders and pools at his thighs. Mike watches his every move with those big dark eyes of his, the gaze almost feeling like a physical weight.

"I'm sorry," Will mumbles, staring down at the blanket, fidgeting with the fabric.

"What?" Mike chokes out a laugh. "Will, what are you.. What?"

"Mike, I- For what I did?" Will furrows his brows in confusion, feels the tears pricking at his eyes all over again. He gestures sharply at the door, at the living room. "For- For jumping on you like that, doing.. doing that. I didn't- I didn't even check in with you, or anything-"

He keeps rambling, thoughts spiralling and words spilling out rapidly. Mike just looks at him throughout it, brows pinching together with worry. He stops the incoherent rant by grabbing Will's shoulders, grounding him.

"Hey, hey. Slow down," he encourages gently, rubs his thumbs into Will's sleeves. Will settles, but his face is still mortified. Mike sighs. "Will, you don't have to apologize for that, okay?"

"But I-"

"Will," Mike says more firmly, but still impossibly soft and gentle. "I'm serious. If anything, I should apologize."

"For what?" Will asks sheepishly.

"For doing the same bullshit again. Avoiding a problem until it blows up in my face," a bitter laugh breaches Mike's lips. "I- I mean, not that this is a problem. Not at all. Just.. You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Will nods. He does know, very well.

"Yeah," Mike repeats, sighs at himself. "I should've just talked to you about it, but I didn't, and now here we are. I'm sorry."

"Okay," Will says, barely above a whisper. He curls his fingers around Mike's wrist, traces the bone there. "I'm still sorry, too."

"Will," Mike shakes his head fondly. He opens his mouth to say something, but Will is quicker.

"I should've talked to you, too. Instead I just.. yeah," Will looks down again, bites the inside of his cheek.

"Maybe it's a good thing that you did that," Mike says like it's something simple, and shrugs.

"What?" Will furrows his brows in confusion.

"You took action. And now we're talking about it."

"But- But Mike, I- You looked scared there," Will almost starts another rant. Mike presses a finger to his lips, physically stopping it.

"I wasn't. Not of you. Never of you," Mike leans in closer, kisses the worried wrinkle between Will's eyebrows. He keeps their faces close, breaths mingling. "I just.. I wanted to enjoy it. Take our time, you know?"

"Oh," Will breathes out, shoulders slouching.

"Yeah," Mike smiles, tucks a stray lock of hair out of Will's face.

"I.. I thought I.."

"Hey," Mike tilts his head, sees a new wave of tears pooling up in Will's eyes. He catches them with his thumb. "Will, it's fine. I liked it. Like, a lot. Okay? I wasn't just sitting there, either."

He looks at Will like he's the most precious thing in the world, his gaze alone enough to settle Will's heart. His bottom lip still trembles, but he nods. Mike nods back, wipes another tear off of Will's cheek.

"I actually.. God, I thought I made you uncomfortable," he says through a wet laugh, cups Will's cheeks on both sides.

"You didn't," Will chuckles back, shaking his head.

"Okay. Cool."

"Cool?" Will parrots, raises an eyebrow. Mike scoffs at him.

"I- I don't know how to do this, okay?" he complains, voice climbing up in pitch.

They both laugh at each other, at the ridiculousness of the situation. Will feels lighter,finally. Still stupid for letting it get to this, but at least it's over now.

"So.. We're good?" Mike asks once the giggles die down, palms still caressing Will's face.

"Yeah. I think so," Will chuckles. A few more tears run down his cheeks, but Mike catches them.

"We're not uncomfortable?"

"I'm not. You?"

"Me neither," Mike shrugs.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Cool."

"Mike," Will rolls his eyes fondly.

"I love you," Mike says, kisses the tip of Will's nose, quickly pecks him on the lips and forehead.

"I love you, too," Will swats him away, laughing. Mike slides his hands down to Will's shoulders, rubs them soothingly.

"So.. Now what?" he asks through a sigh.

"I don't know," Will shrugs sheepishly, rests his palm on Mike's knee.

"Should we.. Um. Continue where we left off?" Mike asks slowly, growing more red with each word.

"Like.. now?"

"I- I mean, if you want," Mike stutters nervously, rubs the back of his neck. "I'm still.."

"Yeah," Will doesn't let him finish that sentence. Doesn't dare look down either.

"Like, painfully-"

"Okay!" Will cuts him off, presses a palm to his mouth. Shifts a little where he's sitting. "Um.. Me, too."

Mike nods against Will's hand. His eyes shoot downwards for a second, before quickly lifting back up. Like he did it involuntarily. Will is glad he's covered up by the blanket.

"I wanna kiss you," Mike mumbles into Will's palm. It tickles.

"Okay," Will giggles, pulls his hand down.

As soon as he does it, Mike launches forward and kisses him. Deep, insistent, so eager their teeth knock against each other. Will nearly falls backwards from the impact, but clings onto Mike's neck.

Mike's glasses get pushed all the way up. With an annoyed huff, he practically rips them off and throws them on the nightstand, never breaking the kiss. It's like without the unspoken things looming over them, they can finally breathe freely.

Will relishes in it, loves how he doesn't have to worry about this going too far, or try and suppress his body's natural reactions. They both want this, and seemingly wanted this for a while.

Then Mike suddenly leans away, looking puzzled.

"Shit. Fuck," he hisses, shuts his eyes tight.

"What?"

"I- I need to finish the essay," Mike groans, moves to stand up.

"Mike," Will whispers, that same worry and disappointment flashing over his face, but Mike is quick to correct it.

"No, no. I'm serious. Promise. No running away," Mike rambles, hands flying around in frantic gestures. "I just have the ending left, and I'm definitely not getting back to it once we.. yeah."

"Oh," Will deflates, clasps his hands together in his lap.

"Hey," Mike kneels down in front of Will, takes his connected palms into his own. Warm, grounding. "Just give me, like, five minutes. Maybe four- Actually, I can fit it into three. I'll just throw something together. It's whatever."

"You shouldn't do that. Endings are important," Will chuckles, recalling all the rants Mike has gone on about writers messing up their endings.

"Okay," Mike sighs, drops his forehead to the blanket. Lifts it back up, with a newfound sparkle in his eyes. "But I swear it's not an excuse, alright?"

"Yeah," Will says softly, runs his hand through Mike's hair.

"Is it weird to say that I'm excited?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes. Will giggles at him.

"I'm excited, too," he says, then urges Mike to stand up, follows shortly after. "Go finish it. I'll just.. wash my face, or something."

He chuckles, gesturing at his red snotty face. Mike giggles back, before grabbing Will by the waist and kissing him tenderly. He pulls him close, enough for their hips to collide. They can feel each other's firm heat. It makes Will choke on a breath.

"Then.. see you later?" Mike whispers against Will's lips.

"You're so bad at this," Will fully laughs, throwing his head back.

"Still works on you," Mike teases, rolls his hips one more time. Everything about Will's demeanor agrees. It does work on him.

"Go," he says instead, lightly shoving Mike in the chest.

They separate, grinning from ear to ear in nerves and anticipation. Mike quickly grabs his glasses and retreats to his desk, while Will hides out in the bathroom. He feels like a heavy weight has finally been lifted off his chest.

Chapter Text

Will spends those five minutes in the bathroom, buzzing with nerves and anticipation. It's like electric shocks shooting through his fingertips.

He washes his face with cold water, getting rid of the salt and the tears. Looks in the mirror, takes in his own reflection.

His hair is an unruly nest, sticking out in different directions. Will wets his fingers, tries to tame the chestnut strands. It kind of works.

He pinches at his cheeks, notes the shadows under his eyes. Lifts his shirt, looks at his body again. That pit in his stomach returns, insecurity clawing at his ribs. He fixes the elastic of his boxers to make it look more flattering against his stomach, but then it digs into his sides.

His eyes keep snagging on more things that never bothered him before. Too many moles, the nasty scar on his hip, the lightnings of stretch marks running down his thighs. He bites on the inside of his cheek, tries to drown out the nasty thoughts.

A soft knock on the door breaks him out of it.

"Hey, uh.. I'm done," Mike says, voice as soft as ever.

"Oh, um.. Y- Yeah. Me, too," Will stutters, lets the hem of the shirt fall back over his hips and rushes to the door, avoiding the mirror.

As he swings it open, Mike is less than a step away from him, eyes wide and eager. His shirt is already off, like it usually is before bed, but this feels so different. Will's breath catches, and they just look at each other for a long moment.

Will's erection has died down a bit in this time, but now it's back in full swing with Mike looking at him like this. Eyes clouded, almost hungry, but so loving. He doesn't even have to say or do anything else to make Will feel safe.

"Hey," Will whispers, looping his shaking arms around his boyfriend's neck.

"Hey," Mike says through a chuckle, gets a hold of Will's waist.

"So.. We're still-"

"Yeah. Yes," Mike nods eagerly, doesn't even let the sentence end.

"Okay," Will giggles, feels his cheeks heating up.

"Where should we do this?" Mike mumbles, eyes already scanning the apartment.

"Bed," Will answers without hesitation.

"Bed. Yeah. Bed is- Bed is good," Mike rambles, incredibly nervous. Will can practically hear his rapid heartbeat.

"And.. you're sure you wanna.."

"Will," Mike shakes his head fondly, like he just heard something ridiculous. He dips down to press a firm kiss to Will's lips, like he's trying to absorb any of his doubts. Pulls back, keeps their foreheads pressed together. "I've never been more sure of anything. You don't wanna know how much I've been thinking about this."

"I might have an idea," Will jokes.

As he says it, Mike crouches down. He firmly grabs onto the backs of Will's thighs, and lifts him. Will yelps, instinctively wraps his limbs around Mike. Legs lock around his waist, hands grip to his shoulders.

"Mike!" Will squeals. Mike dives in to press hungry kisses against his neck and starts walking away from the bathroom. "Wait, the light."

Mike huffs, rolls his eyes. He braces Will against the wall, swings his own arm behind the bathroom door and blindly smacks around until he hits the switch. Will scoffs at him, but there's no bite to it.

"Happy?" Mike says, nudging his nose against Will's.

"Shut up," Will mutters and pulls Mike in by his hair. He captures his lips in a sweet, unhurried kiss while they make their move towards the bedroom.

Mike narrowly avoids colliding with the doorframe. Will shoots a hand out to turn the living room lights off. The apartment gets basked in darkness, except for a few soft beams of moonlight bleeding in through the windows.

In the bedroom Mike stumbles a bit, nearly trips over clothes he abandoned on the floor during the day. He stops at the bed, thinks of his next move. Usually you throw the other person onto the bed, but Mike isn't very fond of the idea.

"Okay, careful," he mutters, crouches down a little.

From here it's nothing graceful. Will leans back, braces himself against the mattress with one arm while the other is wrapped around Mike's neck for leverage. They both shake, laugh at the ridiculousness. Mike's mouth is a constant flow of 'okay, yup, careful, just like that'.

Eventually, Will clumsily lands on the mattress, shaking the entire frame, laughing breathlessly. Mike is immediately on top of him, knee finding its place between Will's.

"Okay," he says through a nervous sigh, takes a good long look at Will's dimly lit up face. Like he's letting it all soak in, settle.

"Okay," Will says back, not sure what other response to give.

"Um. Do you.. Do you want lights on, or.."

"Um," Will looks up the ceiling, thinking. "Maybe just-"

All it takes is for him to simply glance over at their bedside lamp, and Mike's hand shoots out to turn it on. It drowns the room in a warm amber light. Not so bright to feel too exposed, but enough to see what's going on.

"Good?" Mike checks in.

"Perfect," Will whispers, pulls Mike in by the neck into another kiss.

This one is less sweet, but still dripping with love. Their hands roam over each other eagerly, tracing every dip and curve. Collarbones, shoulders, necks, faces. Tender and so, so affectionate.

Will whines against Mike's mouth in pure bliss. Finally that stubborn heaviness in his chest is gone, and he feels his walls slowly crumbling.

"Can I take your shirt off?" Mike whispers against Will's lips, already tugging at the hem.

Will nods, lifts himself up enough for the fabric to get pulled over his head. Mike throws it aside, eyes never leaving his boyfriend.

He grabs his waist, big pale palms covering most of it. Drags them upwards, over the ribcage, drinking in the sight and the feel. He looks hungry, and Will almost wants to cover up from the intensity of the gaze.

It's not like they haven't seen each other's bodies before. They've changed in front of each other even as teenagers. At the pool, the lake, sleepovers. It's just what happens when you grow up with someone like they did.

Once they started dating it became a regular thing. Changing in the morning before classes, stepping out of the shower with just a towel, Mike changing before work. The boxers are their limit, though. They haven't seen each other completely bare.

Still, right now Will feels completely exposed and vulnerable, only shielded by his boxers. His first reaction is to flush up, from the tips of his ears down to his shoulders. The way Mike is looking at him and touching him doesn't help either.

Then Will remembers that it's just Mike. His Mike. The one that's been with him through thick and thin, has seen him literally possessed by a foreign entity. And yet, he looks at him like he's treasure, takes care of him and loves him so much Will still can't believe it sometimes.

So he exhales, willing his body to relax into the overwhelming touch. Mike kisses his neck tenderly, catching Will's breath.

"Can- Can I.."

Mike pauses, lifts his head to look at Will. His hungry expression is mostly gone, replaced with his usual attentive one he puts on whenever Will speaks.

"Can I take off your.."

Will tries again, weakly gesturing at Mike's sweats. There's a short pause, then Mike smirks. It's almost childish, teasing.

"I already have my shirt off," he jokes, dives back into Will's warm neck.

"Mike," Will huffs, rolls his eyes in frustration. "Your pants."

"Ohhh," Mike drags, all dramatic, and sits back on his heels. Keeps his hands on Will's soft stomach. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"You're annoying," Will grumbles, sits up a little.

"I'm in love with you," Mike corrects, a grin splitting his face in half.

Will rolls his eyes again, but he can't stop the flustered smile pulling at his lips. He reaches out, hand trembling. Gives Mike a quick look, silently asking for permission.

He gets a nod in response. Mike's face is more focused now, eyes fixed on Will's hand. Will curls his fingers around the string tied into a lopsided bow. Mike never bothers with making it look neat. If it holds his pants up, that's plenty enough for him.

Will slowly pulls, watching the bow unravel bit by bit, until it falls open. Then he grabs onto the thick hem of the pants, fighting the tremor in his fingertips.

Mike shifts a little, sits up higher on his knees. Will pulls, careful not to move Mike's boxers along with it. He drags the pants down as far as their position allows, until they stretch across Mike's upper thighs.

Will pauses, unsure what to do from here. Mike quickly catches on. He climbs off the bed and kicks the pants all the way off in the least graceful way possible. It pulls another melodic laugh out of Will.

Mike practically jumps back onto the bed, face tomato red. The laughs slowly fade, replaced by shallow breathing. Will's eyes glide over Mike's sharp frame in the amber light. It seems to only accentuate every detail, deep shadows contouring his collarbones, muscles, facial features.

He can't bring himself to look down, still. At the edge of his vision he can see a trail of dark hair below Mike's belly button leading into his boxers, but he doesn't move lower.

Meanwhile he can practically feel Mike's stare burning him from head to toe. It makes him want to hide and open himself up completely all at once. It's overwhelming, kind of terrifying, but he loves it.

"Um. Do you wanna..?" Mike rasps, voice cracking with nerves. He vaguely gestures at their boxers.

"I think I wanna leave them on," Will says, all in one quick breath. "If that's okay."

"Of course it is," Mike chuckles, moves until their faces are lined up again. "I was gonna say that, too."

"Okay," Will nods nervously, licks his lips.

"Okay," Mike mumbles, eyes fixed on Will's mouth before they snap back up to his beautiful eyes. "So.. how do you wanna do this?"

"Why are you asking me?" Will fully laughs through the question.

"I don't know," Mike mumbles and shrugs. Like it's something simple.

"What do you wanna do?"

"Whatever you want."

"Mike," Will sighs, falls back onto the pillows.

"I'm serious!" Mike whisper yells. "I don't care what we do. If it's with you, I'm down."

Will sighs again, it turns into a groan. He thinks it over for a second. He hasn't actually thought about what exactly he would like to do. There are so many options, but it all feels like too much.

"Okay," he rasps.

"Okay," Mike nods a little too eagerly, starts shifting around. "How do you want me?"

"This is good. Perfect, actually," Will quickly grabs onto Mike's shoulders, stopping him. He slowly wraps his legs around his waist, pulls him in a little closer, but not completely. "I.. I liked what we did earlier."

"Me, too," Mike nods more, almost like an eager dog.

"Yeah. So.."

He doesn't finish that thought. Mike crashes into him, pulls him into a deep, wet kiss. It's all lips smacking, tongues brushing against each other. Will arches his back, tangles his hand into Mike's hair and curls it into a fist. Mike groans into his mouth at the sensation.

Will's erection is practically aching, twitching not at Mike's kisses and touches, but every fumble, stutter, worried question. Just how much he checks in, makes sure this is okay.

Mike keeps moving in closer, grabbing at Will's thighs and waist. Pulls at him until he's practically in his lap. The skin to skin contact is intoxicating. They haven't even really done anything, yet he already feels like he's about to burst.

"Can I touch you? Like, over your underwear?" he murmurs against Will's cheek, leaving lazy wet kisses all over it.

"Y- Yeah," Will stutters, more air than actual sound.

Mike leans back, but not too far. His hand moves down, approaching Will's crotch. He quickly looks, before snapping his eyes back to his boyfriend's face, taking in every small reaction.

His touch is tender and feather light at first, just fingertips barely brushing against the fabric, yet it still pulls a gasp out of Will. His back arches, hips instinctively chase friction.

He snaps his lips shut, purposefully lowers himself back onto the bed. Too eager, too needy. His cheeks flush up more from embarrassment, fingers dig into Mike's shoulders for stability.

"Okay?" Mike asks, brows curving with worry.

"Yeah. Keep going," Will blurts out, swallows. Mike's eyes follow the jump of his Adam's apple, before lowering to where his hand is again.

A few more light brushes, and he fully palms Will over his boxers. It's hot, firm, Mike can feel the shape of him. It knocks all air out of his lungs, and the punched out sound Will makes delivers the final blow.

"Will," Mike rasps, panting even though he's not the one being touched. Like seeing Will like this is all the pleasure he needs. "You're so.."

"Mike," Will groans, turns his head to the side. Hides from the teasing.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hide," Mike rambles, tilts his head to look at Will's face. His hand starts moving, softly stroking along the length.

Will whimpers, fights between letting the sounds spill out freely and keeping them in. This feels so different from when he touches himself. Mike's hand is bigger, his skin colder. Will can feel that through the fabric.

He gets lost in the sensation. The pleasure between his legs, Mike's hand caressing his waist and lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on his neck. It's all too much and not enough.

Eventually, Will realizes that he should probably do something, too, instead of just laying there and receiving all the affection.

"Can I.. you?" he mumbles, voice small and shy. He raises his palm and keeps it there.

"Please," Mike practically moans, breathing heavily against Will's neck. It's so open and needy Will pauses. "I- I mean, yeah. Sure. Do it."

With a quiet chuckle, Will goes for it. Moves his hand down blindly, still unable to bring himself to look there. He flattens his palm against Mike's chest first, then slowly drags it down his torso.

When his fingers hit the trail of hair, he stops. Almost pulls back, but once he feels Mike buck his hips forward, chasing the touch, he feels more confident. He moves his hand further, until he palms Mike over his boxers.

"Oh, fuck," Mike groans, his entire body jerking for a second.

Will feels the wet patch in the fabric, the dizzying heat. He immediately notes how big Mike is. Almost wants to comment on it, but quickly swallows his words when a thumb brushes over his sensitive tip.

"Oh, God-"

"Good?" Mike asks, breathless.

Will just nods, unable to form words anymore. All he can focus on is Mike's hand moving over him. It's so much better than he could ever imagine.

He almost forgets to move his own hand. Reminds himself, starts with slow unsure strokes. His brain can't wrap around the fact that this is actually happening.

He's touching Mike. They're touching each other. It feels so good and so safe and Will is so glad he went through with the stupid plan because he gets to have this now. Gets to be like this with the first and only boy he's ever loved.

The thought brings a smile to his face. Bright, genuine, maybe a little sappy, but he doesn't care.

He presses the heel of his palm to Mike's tip, feels him thrust into the touch. He moans and groans straight into Will's ear, the sounds vibrating through his bones.

"Can you go faster?" he whispers.

Will nods quickly, speeds up his strokes. It's a crazy sensation. His fingers curl, and he can clearly feel the shape of Mike. Can almost picture it, but his eyes stay locked on the ceiling, if they're not fluttering closed.

Mike's moves don't falter, exploring Will in the most delicious way. He just knows where to touch. Every swipe and stroke makes Will's back arch and toes curl into the sheets. The sounds spill out freely, his mind too hazy to filter them or worry about the volume.

"Oh, Mike- So- Feels so-"

"Good?" Mike murmurs, just as hazy and out of breath. He's pretty much rutting against Will's hand.

Will nods, so hard and fast his hair flows with it, tickles Mike's face. For a bit they stay like this, panting and rutting against each other. The air grows thick and hot, the rest of the world fades away.

The coil in Will's stomach grows and tightens, fast. So much quicker than any times he's touched himself. He could never fully relax into it, the guilt and shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. But now, he feels so free.

Maybe Mike's presence also helps. His warmth, his scent, his touch, his wrecked voice directly in Will's ear. It's all Will could ever dream of, no fantasies come even close.

Judging by the way Mike's breathing quickens, he's getting close, too. They slow their movements at the same time, without even having to say anything. In sync, as usual.

They take a second to catch their breaths, let the tingle in their bones settle. Mike's muscles shake from holding himself up, but he stays like that. Just drops his forehead on Will's chest to rest.

"Fuck," he sighs, hot breath tickling Will's skin.

"Do you.. wanna keep going?" Will asks between heavy breaths, one hand drawing little patterns over Mike's back.

"Do I want a million dollars?" Mike jokes, lets out a few punched out laughs before lifting his head. He kisses Will's sensitive ear, nips at the skin there. "Baby, there's nothing I want more."

Will shudders, the sound of Mike's completely wrecked voice vibrating through his every nerve. Mike kisses his cheeks, eyelids, jaw, moves over the column of his neck and into the dips of his collarbones.

After landing one more squeaky kiss to Will's lips, he leans back. He sits up on his knees, looks over his boyfriend's frame as his own hands hang by his sides uselessly.

"Okay, let's see," he mutters, like he's about to start a new assignment. It's so ridiculous and endearing Will can't help but giggle. "I'll move your legs, okay?"

Will simply nods, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Mike's big palms land on the insides of his thighs, move him and position him just right. One leg gets pushed to the side, opening Will up. Mike wraps the other thigh over his own hip.

"Okay," he mumbles, now leaning forward and bracing himself against the mattress. Will latches onto his arms, buzzing with nerves and anticipation all at once.

From there it's a lot of shifting, huffing, rustling of blankets. A few get thrown aside onto the floor with quiet, annoyed curses. Mike's brows are furrowed in concentration, hands are restless and eyes jump everywhere.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Will asks eventually, giggling through the question. He lets himself be moved and adjusted time after time.

"No fucking clue," Mike laughs, adjusts Will's legs again, fingers digging into the golden skin. "Just.. trying to find the angle."

Once he's satisfied with the position, he experimentally rolls his hips forward. It pulls a synchronized gasp out of both of them. Mike repeats the motion a few more times, pulling all air out of their lungs with each.

"Fuck- Okay, I think I got it," he says in between sharp breaths. There's a bead of sweat already rolling down his temple. "Do you feel it?"

"Y- Yeah," Will whispers with a shaky nod. His fingers dig into Mike's biceps, holding on like it's the only thing keeping him anchored.

"F- Feels really good. You feel really good," Mike says in one breath, looming over Will and continuously grinding against him.

A string of breathy, raspy moans breaches Will's lips every time their erections rub against each other. He thought touching Mike was crazy, but this is something else. The heat, the electricity, the way they glide against each other like their bodies were specifically carved out for it.

Even with the two layers of cotton their bodies are on fire. Mike presses their foreheads together, pants against Will's face. His hand shoots down to hoist Will's thigh a bit higher, get the angle just right. Will complies, does his best to hold the position, even though his muscles feel like putty.

"Can- Can we kiss while we.."

"You don't have to ask that," Will giggles, pulls Mike in by his face.

They hum into the kiss, content and happy. It's soft and sweet, a contrast to the frantic movement of their lower bodies.

It starts off slow at first, a little clumsy with Mike trying to fall into the rhythm. Once he does, it's like he's been born for this. His moves grow more confident, faster, grinding down in long drags that pull all air out of Will's lungs.

"M- Mike- I'm- Oh, God-"

Will tries to talk, but every word breaks off into another moan, another desperate gasp. He claws at Mike's arms and shoulders, almost panicking at how fast he's approaching the edge.

"It's okay. Me- Me, too- Fuck," Mike rambles, groaning and sighing against Will's cheek. Quickly catches onto those broken syllables.

Will's hips start moving, lifting off the mattress and meeting Mike's halfway. Desperate to get over the edge, but so nervous about it at the same time. Will doesn't know what to do with his body, his face, if he should warn Mike or just let it happen.

Every thought in his mind melts into something gooey and incomprehensible. All he registers is Mike's length grinding against his own, just as heated. Then a palm cups his cheek, steers him until he locks eyes with Mike. He didn't even realize his head fell to the side.

"You're so beautiful," Mike says like it's a prayer, raw and unfiltered devotion. His thumb traces Will's brow bone, his eyelid, lashes, until it rests at his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

Will simply whines at the compliment, mind barely there to form a proper response. He hooks his legs around Mike's hips, pulling him impossibly closer. Punctuates the move with another thrust of his own.

Mike groans at the sensation, hides in the crook of Will's neck for a second before lifting back up, eyes locking on his face. Will can see his own reflection in those dark bottomless voids, and he stays there.

His own eyes are hazy, with some tears pricking in the corners. He isn't sure why he's almost crying. From how good it feels, how happy he is, the fear still nesting deep in his chest. Maybe a combination of all of it.

As the knot is getting closer to snapping, Will tenses up. It must be showing up on his face, too, because Mike looks worried all of a sudden.

"Hey," he says softly, caressing Will's rosy cheek. "It's- It's okay. I got you, okay? Just relax."

The tender tone is what ultimately sends Will straight off the edge. His back arches impossibly, feet dig into the sheets as he spills into his boxers with a shuddering whimper. It's warm, damp, kind of gross, but he's floating too far away to care.

"Oh, God- Oh my- Mike- Love, please- Kiss me," he chants, his voice completely cracked open, vulnerable and desperate.

Mike is immediately on him, kissing him deeply and tenderly at the same time. He keeps rolling his hips against Will, practically whining into his mouth. It doesn't take him long to spill into his own boxers.

"Oh, fuck- Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, every feature of his tensing up.

Will's flushed face, contorted in pure pleasure, his raspy broken voice, clinging hands is what ultimately does it for Mike. He keeps rocking his hips through the waves of his orgasm, much slower and more sluggish.

They're not even kissing anymore, just breathing against each other through this, letting the tingles settle. After some time Will's orgasm fades, and the grinds turn almost painful. He makes a small sound, but Mike is already off him, collapsing into the mattress face first.

Their chests rise and fall with every uneven breath. Will's eyes are closed, too spent to hold them open. Mike swings an arm around his waist. Tries to pull him in, but he doesn't have much energy either.

Eventually the panting steadies, then turns into quiet, breathy giggles. Their bodies shake with it, reality finally settling in their minds. They did that. And it was so good.

Mike turns his head towards Will.

"We're going out tomorrow," he blurts out.

"What?" Will turns back to him, slightly furrows his brows in confusion.

"I'm taking you out on a date," Mike says simply, grinning from ear to ear.

"Mike, it's Wednesday," Will chuckles. Their dates are usually reserved for the weekends.

"I don't fucking care," Mike chuckles back, props himself up on his elbow. His back is glistening with sweat, cheeks are still flushed and lips look raw. "We'll go somewhere nice and fancy, okay? Wherever you want. You can get anything you want."

"Okay," Will laughs, rolls his eyes fondly.

"I'm serious," Mike raises his brows to really make that clear. He leans in and kisses Will's lips softly. Then one more time, one more on his nose, forehead. "This was so good. Fuck. Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I really did," Will nods, feels his cheeks heat up all over again. He doesn't hide, though. He wants to, definitely, but keeps his hands down. "You.. You made me feel really good."

"Okay, good. Good, good, good," Mike chants quietly, folding in on himself like he does when he gets a compliment. With a shy smile on his face, a rosy glow over his cheeks. He nervously fidgets with the blanket under him.

"Come here," Will whispers fondly, cups Mike's neck and pulls him into another sweet kiss.

"I love you," Mike smiles into it, kisses Will's little bunny teeth.

"I love you, too," Will says through a giggle, then winces when he feels the cold dampness in his underwear.

"Right, tissues," Mike springs up, climbs out of bed so fast Will can barely register it. "Tissues, tissues, tissues."

He mutters to himself as he rummages through their nightstand. Finds nothing, curses under his breath and retreats into the living room, stepping over the mess of clothes and blankets all over the floor.

Will stays in the bed, breathing steadily and looking around their room. It's still the same, but charged with something new. Feels even safer than it already did. Will can't help but smile. He never thought he'd get this, do something so intimate with anyone, let alone Mike.

There's some commotion in the living room, a few more quiet curses, and Mike emerges from the darkness with a handful of tissues in hand. He gives about half to Will, his hand trembling slightly.

"Thanks," Will breathes out, lifts himself up on his elbow. He moves his hand towards his crotch, but stops. Glances up at Mike, who's already looking back with his mouth parted. "I got it."

"Right. Yeah. Of course," Mike rambles, quickly turns around to give Will some privacy.

They quickly wipe themselves down, as best as they can manage. Their bodies are slick with sweat and residue of desire. Hearts still hammer against their ribs frantically.

"Are you done?" Mike asks.

"Yeah," Will whispers.

Mike turns around, stares at Will nervously before stretching his hand out. Will balls up his tissues and hesitantly puts them in Mike's palm. Mike curls his fingers around them, nods a little awkwardly and retreats to throw them out.

Will finds it in himself to stand up, his legs still feeling a little like jello and cotton candy. He walks over to their closet, his bare feet slapping against the cold floorboards. As Mike returns, Will fishes out two pairs of fresh boxers.

"Thanks," Mike says as he's handed the clean fabric. "Do you wanna hit the shower first?"

"Sure, yeah. Thanks," Will nods with a soft smile. It's so safe, so normal. He moves to leave the room, but Mike stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Um," Mike clears his throat, nervously taps on Will's shoulder with his fingers. "So.. we're doing this now, right? Having.. sex."

"Um. I don't know if.. that exactly counts as having sex," Will scrunches his nose in thought.

"I say it counts," Mike shrugs.

"Okay," Will chuckles, looks up at him like he hung up the stars. "Then.. yeah. We are. We are doing this."

"Okay. Cool," Mike smiles.

"Cool," Will quirks his eyebrows up.

"We're gonna need.. stuff, though. Right? Like, lube?" Mike narrows his eyes.

"Um.. Yeah," Will voice climbs up in pitch. He shifts a little on his feet, glances over at the nightstand, at his drawer. "I, uh.. might.. already have some."

"Really? Since when?"

"I- I haven't used it, just.. Sam gave it to me," Will grumbles, recalling the embarrassing memory.

"Of course," Mike sighs and tips his head forward, pinches the bridge of his nose.

Sam is from Will's art class. She's nice, fun, but reminds Mike of Max too much. Younger Max specifically, when her sarcasm and bias against him were at their highest.

"Okay, I'll go," Will says, points at the door.

Before he can do that Mike leans in and kisses his forehead, lingers there. As he pulls back Will rises on his toes and kisses his lips, stays there even longer. They just breathe each other in for a few seconds, then separate.

"I wasn't kidding about the date," Mike adds as he watches Will stride towards the door.

"I bet," Will rolls his eyes, giggling, and disappears into the darkness.

Chapter Text

The date ended up being nothing fancy, despite how much Mike kept insisting on it. Will dragged him to the park, a few pretty spots in the city. They stopped at a cafe and got some milkshakes and fries.

Like they used to do a lot as teenagers. Dip the fries into the shakes, enjoy the delicious combination of sweetness and saltiness.

Even though Mike wanted this to be fancier, more extravagant, he still had a lot of fun. Kept kicking Will's feet under the table, bumping shoulders with him as they walked down the noisy streets.

New York is obviously much safer than Hawkins, but it's not some fantasy land where everyone is happy and accepting. After months of living here, the two have a rough idea of where they can hold hands or maybe even kiss, and where they have to default to shoulder bumps at most.

Unfortunately, the latter is much more common.

Evening rolls around quickly, air gets more crisp and starts biting at skin. Mike immediately offers Will his jacket. Will doesn't fight it anymore, just accepts the offer with a shy smile. Just a few months ago he would've kept refusing on a stubborn loop until Mike draped the jacket around him himself.

They make their way back to their building, talking quietly among the hum of traffic. After a long busy day their legs are tired, moves a little sluggish.

There's warm light coming from the first floor, the book store. Mike and Will simply exchange a glance, and walk in. The bell rings softly, the smell of ink and paper hits their noses.

Mike's ears perk up, like they do every time he comes in here. It's like his own little safe haven, a place where he can unapologetically nerd out over some comics and books.

There's already a stack back at their apartment, but he can't resist buying more with each visit. With his own money and access to so many more books, he can satisfy that curious little boy that still nests within him.

The two spend quite a bit of time here. Mike crouches and fully kneels on the linoleum floor, eyes sparkling and scanning the shelves. Will knows this is going to take a while, so he makes some conversation with the cashier.

Mike leaves with two new books tucked under his arm, already talking Will's ears off about them. Will listens with a fond smile, nods along, even if he doesn't fully understand what Mike is rambling about.

He's just happy to see him be his real, authentic self. Nerdy, clumsy, not knowing when to shut up. The boy Will fell in love with all those years ago.

They circle the building to get to the entrance. Will walks a few steps ahead, fishing around Mike's jacket for the keys. Mike himself stays back, glances around quickly.

Next thing Will knows, arms get wrapped around his waist from behind and lift him straight off the ground.

"Oh my-"

He yelps, bends his legs out of instinct. Mike locks his arms around him, pulls him up against his chest and spins around, laughing into his hair. Will starts giggling, too, grabbing onto Mike's forearms for leverage.

"What are you doing?" he squeals, wiggles to try and free himself.

Mike doesn't answer, just spins some more, bends backwards to lift Will even further, until he makes another high pitched sound. Once Will's feet meet the ground again, he's still trapped. Mike squeezes him harder, nuzzles his nose into his chestnut hair, lightly bites at the back of his neck.

It's just pure instinct. An urge caused by hearing Will's melodic laugh, seeing the soft smile decorating his face all day. Seeing him so pretty and dressed up, with Mike's jacket draped around him. The denim swallows his frame, fingertips barely peeking out from beneath the sleeves.

After yesterday, it's like he blossomed. Like he finally shed another layer of worry and doubt that was still bothering him.

It makes something bright and warm bloom in Mike's chest, and he needs to let it out. Even if it's through grabbing onto Will, spinning him around and nibbling on him like a misbehaving dog.

Mike himself feels lighter, too. The heaviness he didn't even realize was there is gone, making way for something new.

Still giggling and stumbling into each other, they make it up to their apartment. Will tries to open the door, his fingers shaking and buzzing with excitement. After a few failed attempts, Mike takes over. It takes him three tries.

They stumble inside, Will swings the door shut behind him and turns the lock with a hurried click. He already knows what's coming, can practically feel the heat on his back. A smirk tugs at his lips.

When he turns around Mike is already in his space, towering over him and crowding him against the door. His inky hair is fanning over his forehead, curls a little messy from the wind. He's panting, lips parted. They quickly curl into a playful smirk.

"Hey," he whispers, puts one hand against the door.

"Hey," Will whispers back, looks up at Mike through his lashes with a giddy smile on his face.

They don't say much else, just fall into their usual routine of kissing after a long, agonizing day of forced distance. Mike's hands find Will's face, run through his fluffy hair before tugging the jacket off his shoulders.

As soon as the denim falls and Will's arms are free, he wraps them around Mike's back, pulls him in with a pleased hum. Without breaking the kiss, they wiggle their legs and feet to kick their shoes off. Both pairs are abandoned in a clumsy, uncoordinated pile as Mike picks Will up and carries him into the kitchen.

They grin and giggle against each other as Will lands on the counter, as he often does on evenings like this. His legs fall apart, wrap around Mike's waist securely.

He dips his head to kiss down the sharp line of Mike's neck, tastes the salt of his skin, feels the scent of their full day. The grass from the park, vanilla from the cafe, paper from the book store. A pleasant hum escapes from his throat, vibrating against Mike and making him shiver.

"Are we.. doing anything tonight?" Mike asks, tangles his fingers in Will's hair, tucks a stubborn strand behind his ear.

"What?" Will pulls back by a fraction, furrows his brows ever so slightly.

"You know.. Sex.. stuff," Mike mumbles, cringes at himself as he says it. Will fully laughs at him, so hard he has to cover his mouth with his palm.

"Is this your version of dirty talk?" he jokes, giggling through the question.

"Shut up," Mike grumbles, drops his head against Will's shoulder in embarrassment. It's so sweet, the furthest thing from dirty. "Are we, though?"

"Yeah. I'd love to," Will whispers softly, caresses Mike's face on both sides. His thumbs trace the sharp corners of his cheekbones, draw little shapes around his freckles.

"Okay. Good. Me, too," Mike nods eagerly, with a sharp smile splitting his face in half. Kisses Will's nose, letting out the bottled up affection. "Should we do what we did yesterday?"

"That works," Will says, already feeling out of breath and they haven't even started yet.

Mike nods again. For a second his eyes wander, deciding what to do first. He looks overwhelmed, then his hands move to hover over the button of Will's jeans. He hesitates, quickly glances up to silently ask permission.

As soon as Will nods, Mike's trembling fingers clutch at the fabric. His hands are clammy, both eager and so incredibly nervous. He fumbles at first, the button slipping from his grasp.

He huffs and curses under his breath, making Will giggle. Will shifts, giving easier access. These jeans are tighter than what he usually wears. He saves them for special occasions. The tight fit makes them incredibly hard to take off, though, and his quickly growing erection definitely doesn't help.

Eventually, Mike opens the stubborn button. Almost exclaims a triumphant 'fuck, yes', but bites it down. That's probably a stupid thing to say right now. Totally unsexy.

The zipper doesn't offer much resistance. He grasps the metal, and pulls it down until the fabric falls open, revealing the damp patch already soaking through Will's boxers.

Mike's throat goes dry, brain short circuits for a second. Will shifts a little, suddenly feeling embarrassed. This whole time his eyes have been fixed on Mike's trembling clammy hands, the way his sharp knuckles flex and shift with every move.

"Okay," Mike mutters, more to himself than anyone else. A nervous thought slipping out.

He pauses again, thinking over his next move. Starts by hooking his thumbs into Will's belt loops, pulls him even closer. Their hips brush against each other. Barely there, but it still pulls a synchronized gasp out of both of them.

Will adjusts again, lifts himself up as much as he can, giving permission for more. Mike catches on quickly. Dips his fingers into Will's back pockets, pulls the fabric down in a few firm tugs.

Then he grabs onto the hem. The fabric gets stubbornly stuck, and Mike has to yank at it pretty hard to get it down. It quickly gets very unsexy and more so desperate to get this part over with.

On the last tug he almost pulls Will off the counter along with the jeans. They both yelp at the same time.

"Oh, shit- Sorry," Mike reacts quickly, grabbing onto Will's thighs and hoisting him back up onto the aged marble.

"It's okay," Will cackles, settles comfortably with his arms braced behind him.

They share a laugh, easy and a bit silly. The jeans bunch up around Will's ankles, and he clumsily kicks them off. Mike helps him pull the denim fully down when it gets stuck on his foot. Throws them aside like they personally offended him.

"Never doing that again," he mutters, going back to stand between Will's spread legs.

"Smooth," Will laughs some more, loops his arms around Mike's neck and pulls him into a sweet kiss.

Mike melts into it. His hands rest on Will's bare thighs, absorbing the dizzying heat of his skin. He teases the hem of his boxers with his thumbs, slipping under the fabric just a little before pulling away.

"Wanna keep these on?" Mike leans back just enough to speak clearly, lips brushing against Will's with every breathy syllable.

"Yeah," Will says after a brief pause, clings to Mike's shoulders a little harder, nervous.

"Okay," Mike says softly, goes back to kissing Will. His bottom lip, then the top. Traps the soft pink skin between his teeth. Not enough to hurt, but enough to pull another gasp out of his boyfriend.

"Mike," Will whimpers, immediately shuts his lips tight, cheeks going beet red.

"Can I touch you?" Mike whispers into Will's ear, nose dragging along his hot cheek. Will nods with a hum.

"Please," he adds, shifting his hips forward just a little more.

Mike stands up straight, keeps their foreheads pressed together as his eyes lock onto Will's crotch. It's practically calling his name, begging for relief.

He moves his hand. There's still a slight tremor in his fingertips, but it's more from anticipation now, rather than nerves or fear. He palms Will over his boxers, feels him buck his hips into the touch.

Mike's eyes jump between his own hand and Will's face, studying his reactions. His fingers explore, press down on different parts, speed up or slow down. He swipes his thumb across the tip, feels the already damp patch get even wetter.

Will bites down another whimper, much to Mike's displeasure. He pouts, uses his other hand to pry Will's lips open. Will complies, then repeats the action once Mike touches a sensitive spot.

"Stop doing that. Please," he whispers as his thumb prods at Will's lips again.

"Doing what?" Will rasps. His chest rises and falls in wide intervals with his uneven breaths.

"Holding your voice back," Mike complains, dips in to kiss Will's neck. Nips at the skin there. "Please, baby."

"Mike," Will sighs, makes a weak attempt to dodge Mike's thumb at his mouth.

"Come on," Mike pulls back, eyebrows curved. "I wanna know if I'm making you feel good."

"You are," Will breathes out. His entire body tenses up when Mike strokes him just right, like it's on purpose.

"But I wanna hear it," Mike murmurs, insistently kisses all over Will's cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

"I just said it," Will retorts, manages a small, flustered chuckle.

"It's not enough," Mike pretty much whines, his face a mask of total devastation.

"Oh my God," Will mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Please, baby. I love your voice," Mike pleads, presses more soft kisses to Will's face. Wherever he can manage. Eyelids, tip of the nose, chin, lips, cheeks. "Tell me what you want. How do you want it? I'll do it."

Words spill out of him, raw and unfiltered. Will's entire body shudders at the touches, Mike's broken voice in his ear, the overwhelming pleasure between his legs. He takes a second to pull his scattered thoughts together, enough to form words.

"Okay," he whispers, curls his fingers around Mike's wrist that's still steadily stroking him. Mike stops all movement, snaps his eyes back up at Will, round and eager to learn. "Um. Maybe.. here."

Will hesitantly moves their connected hands over his own crotch. He tries not to think about that too much, or his heart might just leap out of his throat.

Mike is soft and pliant in his hold, obediently waiting for instructions. Will swallows audibly, then hesitantly moves Mike's thumb until it's pressed under his tip. Drags it from side to side a little, setting the movement.

"Like- Like that," Will chokes up on a gasp. He lets go of Mike's wrist and grabs onto his shoulder again, anchoring himself. "That, um.. That feels nice."

"Okay," Mike nods, licks his lips quickly before recreating the movement, dragging his thumb on the underside of Will's tip. "Like this?"

"Y- Yeah- God- Yeah, like that," Will squirms, gasps in between words.

Mike smirks, looks over Will's face with pure adoration and a little bit of fascination. Like he's made a discovery. It definitely feels like it. He wants to learn everything Will likes, every reaction he can pull out of him. What part of his body causes a specific facial expression or sound. Everything.

This will do for now, so he just keeps repeating the movement, drinking in the sight of Will slowly cracking open from pleasure. His tongue loosens, finally. Tiny gasps and whines and even whimpers spill out of his lips, shooting straight into Mike's crotch.

He's been straining against his own pants for a while now, but that's on the far shelf of his mind right now. All his focus is on Will, the euphoric expression on his face, the way his muscles contort and tremble under the touch. Under Mike's touch.

Will gets lost in it, feels the coil in his stomach quickly tighten, tingles spread into his every nerve. He's approaching the edge a bit too soon for his liking. He realizes that this whole time he hasn't touched Mike at all, hasn't even initiated it.

"H- Hold on," he stutters, clings to Mike's wrist to stop him. All movement ceases immediately.

"Y- You okay? Was it bad?" Mike rambles, worry washing over his face.

Will shakes his head lazily, takes a few long seconds to catch his breath. His lower half feels like it's on fire, but numb at the same time. It's so much, and it's so good.

Mike waits, his face remaining tense until Will leans in and kisses the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows. He pulls back, smiles softly. His eyes are already hazy, catching the moonlight.

"That was.. That was really good," Will says, still panting. He clears his throat, drags his palms down Mike's chest and stops at his belt. "I wanna touch you, too."

"Okay. Yeah," Mike nods eagerly, takes a half step forward so Will can reach properly.

He presses his forehead against Will's shoulder, looks between their bodies and takes in the view. Will fumbles with the belt buckle, so nervous his palms are all sweaty and slippery. He huffs, quickly wipes the dampness on Mike's pants before returning to the belt.

Mike chuckles, helps get the clasp out so it falls open. He tries to help with the button, too, speed up the process, but Will gently swats his hands away. Mike doesn't mind. He just rests his palms on his boyfriend's trembling thighs, squeezing a little.

Will does better with the button. Opens it on second try, carefully pulls the zipper down. Makes sure not to graze Mike with his knuckles, nervous even though he knows he's about to touch him anyway. Can't help it.

Mike finds it painfully endearing, smiling from ear to ear and kissing Will's shoulder. His heart swells with affection.

The pants fall open, and Will starts tugging them down as far as their position allows. It's relatively easy. He just pulls them over Mike's hips, then gravity finishes the job for him. Thank you Mike for wearing baggy pants.

The fabric pools at the floor, and Mike simply steps out of it and carelessly kicks it aside. Will's eyes immediately lock on the tent in his boxers, very visible and eager. His brain tells him to look away, but he can't.

Sure, he's seen Mike in underwear before, plenty of times, but he never allowed himself to really look. Even after they got together. He would snap his eyes away every time, like reflex.

But now, he allows himself to look, fights the urge to turn away. He takes in the faint silhouette of Mike's length, the dark damp patch in the fabric. His throat goes dry.

When he finally looks up, Mike's voids of eyes are already locked on him. Focused, hungry, so intense Will practically feels the gaze pressing down on him. Then, as if sensing the tension, Mike smiles. His features immediately soften, reminding Will that he doesn't have to be nervous.

He exhales, feels his body relax and breathing even out. Lifts his hand, slots his thin wrist between Mike's long fingers. Mike curls them, gently holding on.

"Show me," Will whispers, his voice lowering to a velvety register. "Show me how you want it."

Mike's hold tightens. He nods, then moves their connected hands down. Will holds his breath without realizing, his entire body burning up with anticipation.

Once his palm slots over Mike's clothed erection, they both gasp. Mike folds forward, pressing his forehead into Will's shoulder, then he adjusts to hide in the crook of his neck instead.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes out.

He slots his palm on top of Will's instead of holding onto his wrist. It completely covers it. The sight makes Will shiver all over. He's always loved how big and sharp Mike's hands are.

Mike flattens their lined up palms against himself, presses on the tip. A groan rips out of his throat, hips jerk forward. His knees hit the cupboard, already standing as close as physically possible.

Will memorizes the movement, the position, where to focus the pressure. Waits for Mike to pull his hand away and let him take over, but he doesn't. Instead, he keeps their hands connected, slots his pale fingers between Will's as he keeps pretty much rutting against his palm.

The sight is intoxicating. Mike's broken groans and whines vibrating against Will's neck, the way he's using Will's hand for pleasure. Will finds his own breath catching, and he's not even the one being touched.

He dips his head to kiss the side of Mike's neck anywhere he can reach. Open-mouthed, teeth grazing the skin, tongue coming out to taste the salt. Mike's voice picks up in pitch, shoulders instinctively jerk to shield his neck.

Will can feel himself throbbing, leaking more and twitching at it all. Every sensation is so bright and sharp his mind swims. Mike's thrusts speed up, become uncoordinated and desperate.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, voice completely wrecked. After a few seconds, he abruptly pulls back, panting. "We should- We should move. Where- Where do you-"

"Couch," Will cuts in, securely locking his arms around Mike's neck and legs around his waist. His hand still burns and tingles, precum smeared over his fingers.

Mike doesn't waste time. He hugs Will by the waist, pulls him in and lifts him completely off the counter. He hurries the few steps over to their couch, turns around and drops down in the least graceful way possible. As he does it, a loud metallic pop breaks the silence.

The two freeze, eyes wide before their faces contort into grimaces.

"Fuck," Mike groans, throws his head back against the cushions.

"Is it broken?" Will asks, glances around the couch.

"Hold on," Mike shifts in his seat, bounces up and down, testing. All with Will still in his lap. Every movement is followed by creaking. "Shit. I think a spring broke, or something."

They both sigh, and Mike slowly shifts to the opposite end of the couch. It's clumsy. Definitely would be easier if Will climbed off, but they both refuse to let that happen.

After some shimmying, they settle on the opposite end. Mike still looks pissed, can already hear Jonathan berating him about this.

"We can blame it on Dustin," Will half jokes, trying to move on from the spring problem and get back to the good stuff.

Mike laughs, in turn making Will laugh, too. To be fair, it's not that bad of a plan. Dustin might come over on the weekend, and he stays on the couch whenever that happens. They could pretend he broke it.

Maybe even ask for compensation. That's mostly Mike's idea, though.

"Okay, so," Mike moves on.

"Take this off?" Will suggests, curling his fingers around the hem of Mike's sweater.

Mike nods, though his face looks a bit nervous. Will pulls the fabric until it goes over Mike's head, and throws it aside. There will be a lot of picking stuff up later.

Mike shivers at the evening air biting at his skin. His shoulders pull in, almost defensively. Will knows the move. He sighs softly, drags his warm palms over Mike's broad shoulders and lean chest, trying to coax him to relax.

"You're so beautiful Mike," he whispers, leans in to kiss the pale skin, each freckle decorating it.

Mike sighs, shifts in his seat. Will keeps peppering kisses on him, each one tender with all the love and adoration poured into it. He sucks a mark into a collarbone, on one of the biceps. Then he pulls back, squeezes Mike's face in his hands and gives him a look.

"Thank.. you," Mike mumbles, his face glowing red and getting darker in front of Will's eyes.

Will smiles softly, gives a small nod of approval before kissing Mike's nose. They quietly giggle some more, then Mike starts reaching for the buttons of Will's shirt. He doesn't even have to ask, Will just leans in and lifts his arms to make it easier.

Mike opens the few delicate buttons at the top on second try, then pulls the thin fabric off. Throws it on the opposite armrest. His hands immediately return to Will, feeling and mapping out as much of the honey skin as possible.

Will arches into the touch, feels himself twitch when Mike squeezes his waist almost possessively. He's always loved the feeling. Like he's taken care of, cherished and protected.

"Fuck, you're so hot. So perfect," Mike breathes out, voice dripping with desire and overwhelming affection. He looks up at Will and it's like his pupils have breached the irises, spreading so much further than physically possible.

Will keens at the praise, and finally feels brave enough to give an experimental roll of his hips. Their breaths catch at the same time, Mike's hands clamp on even tighter.

"Fuck," he hisses. His eyes are wide, jumping all over the place like he wants to take action, but he waits.

Will doesn't torture him, instead grinds against him again and again. His moves are clumsy, he has no clue how to really do this, but Mike's choked up sounds give him courage.

He braces himself against the cushion behind Mike's head, fingers digging into the rough fabric. Mike's grip on him never falters, holding tightly onto his waist, but he doesn't overstep. He simply stays there, keeps Will stable.

Will's thighs quickly start to burn, but he keeps chasing the delicious friction. He grinds their crotches together in an uneven rhythm, from short quick thrusts to prolonged and slow rolls of hips.

He focuses on the movement so much that his tongue is running loose, much to Mike's delight. Mike himself doesn't just sit there, either. He cranes his neck up to kiss Will's neck, collarbones, jaw. Anywhere he can reach. Sucks a mark into his shoulder, earning a delicious whimper.

"Oh my- Oh my God," Will gasps, collapses against Mike's neck, still grinding and thrusting. Mike rubs his back, shoulder blades, traces the delicate curve of his spine. "Does- Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good," Mike answers immediately, voice completely wrecked from pleasure. "So perfect. You're perfect."

Will's moves stutter, and he huffs in frustration. Exhaustion is quickly catching up to him, and he almost regrets not working out. Almost.

"Tired?" Mike whispers against his temple, lands a few soft kisses there.

Will slows, then stops completely. He nods, a bit embarrassed. His body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ablaze. The knot in his stomach is pulled tight, so close to snapping. He moves his hips in a tiny circle, just to keep that tension.

"I'm so close," Will says before he can catch it. A needy, desperate sound. He'd probably feel incredibly embarrassed about it if his mind wasn't floating somewhere else.

"I got you. I got you, baby, okay? I love you," soft praise keeps falling out of Mike's mouth. Each caring word sends a shiver down Will's spine. He could almost finish just from that tone alone.

Mike moves his hands from Will's waist to his hips, gets a more secure grip. Kisses Will's bare shoulder, then starts moving him. Will is putty in his hands, all soft and pliant while letting out muffled whimpers against his neck.

He's approaching the edge so fast it makes his vision fuzzy at the edges. Mike moves him just right, like he already knows every inch of his body and how to make him feel good. Maybe it just comes to him naturally, knowing and understanding Will, maybe even better than he knows himself.

"Mike- I- I'm-"

His voice breaks, and he clings to Mike's shoulders so hard his nails dig into the skin. Mike hisses in his ear, but his moves don't falter.

"It's okay. It's okay. Just- Fuck- Just let go. I got you," he rambles, kisses Will's hair and tightens his hold on his hips even more.

A few more strokes, and Will launches off the edge with a choked up sound that borders on a sob. He hides deeper in Mike's neck, every muscle in his body shaking and tingling with the force of his orgasm.

Mike keeps slowly rocking him through it, a lazy back and forth movement. Will is panting, drooling all over Mike's shoulder as he comes down from the high. He could fall asleep like this, tingling with pleasure.

Eventually, it passes and the friction of their bodies gets too sharp, too much. Will makes a small sound and blindly catches Mike's wrist. All movement stops. Mike relaxes his hold, starts drawing circles into Will's skin with his thumbs instead.

Will slowly pulls back. Almost collapses backwards, but Mike catches him, brings him back.

"Good?" he asks, those dark eyes looking so weirdly innocent in contrast to everything else. Will takes one more deep breath, his lungs refusing to cooperate.

"Yeah," he rasps, gives a shaky nod. "Really good."

Mike melts at the praise, smiling softly. He rubs Will's back tenderly, starts moving to get them both off the couch. Will looks down, sees the mess in his own boxers and winces. Then he shifts his focus to Mike's underwear, and notes the absence of the mess there.

"Did you..?" he asks, voice faltering.

"Hm?" Mike stops what he's doing, follows Will's gaze to his own crotch. "It's fine. Just breathe."

"No, wait," Will protests weakly, resists when Mike tries to pull him off his lap.

"You're sensitive. It's okay. I'll take care of it later," Mike tries to protest. Will uses the last of his strength to sit back in his lap, grabs onto the cushion again.

Mike could easily break out of this. They both know it, but he doesn't do that. Instead he sits there, adjusts Will's position so he's more comfortable.

"Will, give yourself a minute," he says softly, swipes the damp chestnut strands out of Will's eyes.

"I can use my hand," Will exhales, looks at Mike with almost pleading eyes.

Mike feels like he's about to die, in a good way. A very, very good way. He throws his head back against the cushion, mentally thanks whoever is up in the sky for blessing him with Will.

"Okay," he rasps, nods eagerly and licks his lips.

"Okay," Will repeats, brings his hand up. "How do you-"

"Whatever you want. Do whatever you want," Mike cuts in, says everything in one aroused breath. His hips buck up as much as their position physically allows. He gets some friction against Will's thigh, chokes up on a breath. "You'll make me feel good no matter what."

Will feels himself twitch again at how wrecked and desperate Mike sounds, but he ignores it. Instead, he moves to palm Mike's length again. He's more confident this time, curling his fingers around the firm heat, pressing where Mike showed him earlier.

"Oh, fuck- Yeah, just like that," Mike moans, melts into the cushions. His hips jerk, but Will's weight keeps him in place.

Will gets lost in it, lets his inner perfectionist take over. His eyes never leave Mike's crotch, focused and steady. Every move is thought through, deliberate.

He presses the heel of his palm against the tip, notes how Mike's voice climbs up in pitch every time he does it. Strokes up and down, the movement long. Will licks his lips, drinks in every reaction.

Mike responds eagerly, moaning and almost whining in Will's ear, kissing him wherever he can reach, grabbing onto him. Will feels confident enough to experiment, change up the rhythm and pressure.

The fabric is pulled just from how hard Mike is, twitching and leaking under Will's tender touch. Will traces the shape, then curls his fingers around it, just under the tip. He gives it a few testing strokes, and Mike collapses under him.

"Oh, fuck- That's so good. Fuck, that feels good," he rasps, breathless. He cups Will's face and kisses him hungrily, slips his tongue into his mouth.

Will fully moans at the intrusion, his hand speeding up. His strokes grow more confident, until he's pretty much jerking Mike off through his boxers.

It feels obscene, Will can barely wrap his head around it. He feels the heat, every curve and vein. Can almost imagine what it would feel like without the cotton barrier in between.

Mike throws himself back against the couch and spills into Will's fist with a groan. His face is all tensed up, brows pinch together in pleasure. Will's breath stutters at the sight. He could never even dream of seeing Mike like this, completely wrecked and cracked open for him.

Will gives him a few more slow strokes until he feels the heat dying down. He pulls his sticky hand away and lets it awkwardly hover at his side.

Mike takes a second to catch his breath, his neck so tense every single muscle stands out. Will watches him, his own breathing uneven. He wants to say something, but as soon as he open his mouth, he gets pulled into a hug.

Mike wraps his arms around him, pulls him in, rubs up and down his back tenderly. Will uses his clean hand to hug Mike's neck, ruffle his curls in the back. They tuck their faces into each other's shoulders and stay like this, something so much softer and sweeter than what they were doing just a minute ago.

They breathe against one another, draw absentminded patterns across each other's skin. Will kisses Mike's freckled shoulders. Mike nips at Will's neck and ear.

"I love you," he murmurs into the honey skin, nuzzles deeper into it, like he wants to climb inside. He loves saying it, how the words taste on his tongue and slip past his lips. How Will's breath catches every time, still.

"I love you, too. So much," Will whispers back, giggles quietly. His stomach flutters every time he gets to say it. He used to dream of this, being able to tell Mike how he feels about him, honest and open.

They pull back and kiss some more. Just a few short sweet pecks, giggling in between. So easy and comfortable. Mike shoots a glance at Will's dirty hand, clears his throat.

"Do you, uh.. Do you want tissues, or just shower?" he asks, voice cracking just a bit.

"I think shower," Will mumbles.

"Okay. You can go first."

"No, Mike. You should-"

"You've been sitting in it longer," Mike blurts out. Will winces at the obscenity of that sentence, snaps his lips shut. Mike taps on his thighs, encouraging. "Come on."

Will sighs, but ultimately climbs off. His legs feel a little wobbly, the boxers stick to his skin unpleasantly. He keeps his dirty hand outstretched, way more dramatic than necessary. He almost stumbles over abandoned jeans.

"Could you.. clean up?" he asks, gesturing around the floor riddled with clothes.

"On it," Mike says from the couch, gives a thumbs up.

Will chuckles at him fondly, admires the view for a second. Mike's long limbs draping all over the couch, his flushed skin glistening with sweat. Some bruises are blooming on him, contrasting against the pale canvas. His lips are red, swollen and parted, letting out shallow breaths.

Will feels a twitch in his boxers and quickly retreats to the bathroom. He cannot deal with this right now.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning is slow, as usual. Warm sun bleeds into the apartment through the windows, soft yellow beams gliding along the floorboards. The air is thick with the smell of coffee and tea, the sounds of hushed, hurried breaths.

"Mike-"

"Shh, it's okay."

Will is perched up on the kitchen counter, already a mess of flushed skin and quiet whimpers. Mike is deep in his neck, kissing all over the honey skin like he's a starving man.

His big palm is rubbing between Will's legs, the sensation bright and overwhelming even through two layers of fabric. Will arches into it, squirms away and chases the friction at the same time. His thin fingers dig into Mike's shoulders to the point it's painful.

His thighs spasm, shift around outside of his control. He feels like he's on fire, every nerve amplified. When Mike swipes over the tip, he whimpers.

Their mugs are sitting off to the side, steam slowly dissolving and the liquids cooling down. Breakfast is long forgotten on the stove, an omelette they spent way too long making.

"When- Oh, God- When's Dustin coming?" Will mumbles between gasps and whimpers.

"Um," Mike hums against Will's skin, pulls back to glance at the clock. He narrows his eyes, trying to see without his glasses on. "In, like, an hour. Probably. We still have time."

He goes back to kissing Will's neck, tasting the skin. He swears it's actually sweet, fresh after sleeping. Just Will.

"Take- Take these off. Please," Will stutters, tugging at the hem of his own shorts.

Mike doesn't waste a second. His hands snap to the fabric, fingers curling around it and pulling down. He wraps one arm around Will, slightly lifts him off the counter and keeps him stable enough to tug the shorts down his hips.

Gravity does most of the work from there, the fabric sliding down Will's smooth legs until it gets stuck on his ankles. Will huffs, tries to kick the shorts all the way off as he pulls Mike into a hungry, urgent kiss.

The attempts are futile. Mike catches on quickly, reaches down to help before returning, grinning against Will's lips. The shorts fall to the floor uselessly, abandoned.

Mike takes a second to admire Will's bare thighs. His skin looks almost golden, glowing from the sun. Moles and old faded bruises scatter all over it, decorating it, the fine hair catches the light. Mike traces his fingertips over the faint lightnings of stretch marks. He'll never get tired of this.

His hand moves to Will's crotch, and gets met halfway by an eager thrust. Will shudders, whimpers against Mike's lips, the sound vibrating between them and settling in their bones.

"Fuck, baby," Mike groans. His features tense up in pleasure, even though he's not the one being touched. Like seeing Will, making him feel good is all he needs.

"R- Right there- God, so good," Will gasps, tips his head back until it hits the cupboard.

Mike presses his palm there, rubs Will's hair soothingly. So worried and caring even when his mind is clouded by lust. Will whimpers as the gesture, feels his stomach do a clumsy flip.

Sometimes the softness Mike shows him is better than any physical touching.

"Yeah?" Mike smirks, but it's almost bright and excited. Like he's achieving something.

His long fingers envelop Will's length just right, like they were specifically carved out for this. No matter what he does, where he presses, how fast he strokes, Will feels like his body is about to crack open.

He's quickly approaching the edge, pressure building up in his abdomen in rapid succession. His breathing stutters, muscles tense up, bracing for the peak.

"Oh, Mike- I- I'm-"

His pleas get cut off by loud banging on the door.

Will freezes, every muscle in his body turning to stone. His eyes snap open, wide and alert. Mike's moves don't falter. He keeps rubbing Will over his boxers while kissing his shoulder.

"M- Mike," Will mumbles, squirms a little.

The banging resumes, a bit more urgent. It makes Mike groan and roll his eyes. Will taps on his shoulders, tries to nudge him away despite really not wanting to.

"Maybe it's the guy from upstairs? Mixing up the door again?" Mike ponders as he keeps pressing lazy damp kisses over Will's skin, moving from his shoulder to his jaw.

"M- Mike, wait," Will stutters, makes very weak attempts to stop their ordeal, but ends up giving in. He grabs onto Mike's hair at the nape, steers him to pull him into a deep kiss.

Mike circles his thumb over Will's sensitive tip, just how Will showed him. Feels the damp patch in the fabric spread, a sign of Will's pleasure. It brings an actual smile to his face, almost proud.

Another round of banging echoes through the apartment. Loud, sharp and insistent.

Mike breaks the kiss and looks up at the ceiling, swallows the wave of curses threatening to spill out. His hand keeps moving, determined to bring Will over the edge.

"Mike, wait," Will pants and latches onto Mike's wrist. All movement ceases immediately. Mike's head snaps back down to Will's face, expression attentive and worried.

"We can just pretend we're not home," Mike almost pleads, curving his brows with a tilt of the head. Will takes a second to catch his breath, limbs tingling with lingering pleasure.

"What if it's Dustin?" he rasps.

"There's no way it's Dustin," Mike replies, brows furrowed. Still, he pauses and listens, like prey looking out for a predator.

It's silent for a long moment. Just the hum of their fridge, Will's shallow shaky breaths. The bangs don't return, so with a relieved sigh, Mike moves to resume what they were doing, his palm buzzing with anticipation.

Rattling of keys in their lock shatters all of that.

"Shit, it's Dustin," Mike whisper yells, and they both scramble.

The next few seconds are far from graceful. Will hops off the counter, snatches his shorts from the floor in a hurry and practically runs into the bedroom. At the door he looks back at Mike, standing uselessly in the middle of the living room. He gives him an apologetic scrunch of the nose and hides.

Mike throws his arms out, but doesn't have time to complain as the lock clicks. He quickly tugs at his shirt to cover the borderline painful strain in his sweats. The door swings open, almost colliding with the wall.

"Morning," Dustin stretches, with a giddy smile on his face. He spins the spare keys around his finger before shoving them into his pocket.

"Hey," Mike mutters, unable to hide his displeasure.

Not that it really matters. Dustin pulls him into a bone crushing hug, pats his back so hard it knocks all air out of his lungs. Mike coughs, his face all unhappy wrinkles and creases.

Dustin makes his way around the apartment like he lives here, drops his backpack on the couch. Strides into the kitchen and takes Mike's cup of coffee.

"For me? Oh, you didn't have to," he says dramatically and takes a long sip. Grimaces at the taste and temperature, but keeps drinking because he knows it gets on Mike's nerves. "Ew. It's cold."

"You're early," Mike deadpans, arms crossed tightly on his chest.

Dustin pauses. With his hands up in the air, he glances around the apartment like he's searching for a hidden camera.

"I'm sorry, did I miss something? Was I supposed to book an appointment?" he says sarcastically, eyes round.

"Whatever, man," Mike just sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose out of pure, unfiltered frustration, thick with their lifelong history.

Will emerges from the bedroom, smiling wide and bright like nothing happened. He has fresh clothes on, his hair is patted down. The pink flush on his cheeks remains.

"Hey, buddy," Dustin says softly, hugging Will tight.

"Hey," Will replies through a nervous giggle, pressing his cheek into his friend's shoulder.

Dustin pulls back, but keeps his hands on Will. Measures him, takes him in. All with a fond smile on his face that makes his eyes squeeze shut. He looks over the two, then suspicion washes over him. Mike swallows.

"Did I interrupt something?" Dustin asks, narrowing his eyes.

"What?" Mike and Will say at the same time, exchange a quick glance. Not sneaky at all.

"You're kinda.. red," Dustin says to Will, gestures at his face.

"Oh, um," Will presses a palm to his cheek nervously. "We- We were just.."

"Making breakfast," Mike helps.

"Yeah. Breakfast. Just.. steam," Will nods, makes a few vague gestures.

"And shit," Mike finishes, and they both nod.

Most people would've immediately gotten busted, stumbling over their words and finishing each other's stories like this. Luckily, Mike and Will aren't most people, and everyone who knows them on a level above acquaintance is aware that this is a regular thing for them.

So, Dustin shrugs it off. Thank fuck.

"What the fuck is that?" he asks, staring with wide eyes at the corner of the room.

Mike and Will turn around in sync, follow his gaze to the easel. On it is a canvas with a painting still in progress. It's a mess of blues and reds, smearing and melting together into a vaguely humanoid silhouette. It's mostly smudges and rough strokes, except for its eyes that almost look alive, following you as you walk past it.

"Oh, that's my next project," Will says, voice light and excited. A little smile pulls at his lips. Dustin blinks at him, baffled.

"Right," he says slowly, eyes avoiding the canvas and snapping to literally anything else. "What's the theme? Horrors beyond human comprehension?"

"It's acrylic, actually," Will explains, even chuckles a little. "But the actual subject is 'Inner World'. Like, we have to create a painting based on how we see ourselves. Total creative freedom."

He smiles, the same little grin he would wear as a kid showing his crayon doodles to his mom. Mike admires the canvas before giving Will a supportive nod. Dustin stares between them like they each grew an extra head in front of his eyes.

"Right. That's.. nice," he squeaks.

The rest of the day flies by in familiar chaos. Dustin makes himself comfortable, spreading on the couch and shamelessly eating the food from the fridge.

This is a semi regular thing. With him living just about two hours away, he hops on a bus and barges in whenever he feels like it. Will loves it, for Mike it depends on the day.

If the visits were more structured, maybe he'd enjoy them more. Dustin tends to come over later or earlier than they agreed on, even if he's the one setting the time. Often he doesn't even bother calling, just shows up at the door. It became so frequent he was given spare keys.

And now, in this new stage of Mike and Will's relationship, these spontaneous visits are just not ideal. Not that Mike isn't happy to see Dustin, though.

As evening rolls around, the apartment is a symphony of the kettle whistling, loud conversations and tiny explosions of popcorn in the microwave. The three crowd the couch, the TV already on with a commercial break going before the movie starts.

Dustin is at the armrest, elbow digging into it to prop his head up. There's a bowl of popcorn in his lap, still steaming.

Mike is next to him, legs spread wide. Enough for Will to settle between them, with the other bowl in his lap. Mike has his arms wrapped around Will's waist, palms resting across his stomach and drawing little patterns on it.

It's nostalgic, peaceful. Mostly.

"This is so ugly," Mike grumbles at the screen.

"Dude," Dustin rolls his eyes.

"It looks like there's a piss filter over the entire scene! Who thought this looked good?" Mike gets way more passionate than necessary, sharply pointing at the TV with a genuinely disgusted grimace.

"Oh my God. Shut the fuck up. Please," Dustin groans, throws his head back against the cushions and stares up at the ceiling.

They keep bickering, throw popcorn at each other until Will scolds them and makes them clean up. As the movie ends, finally, and credits roll, they start getting ready for bed.

Dustin tries to pull the couch out, like he always does when he comes over. On the first tug, he hears a snap that travels through the apartment like a gunshot. He freezes, arms up in the air.

"Did you break our couch?" Mike jumps on the opportunity, crosses his arms on his chest. Puts on the best performance of his life.

"I don't.. Hold on," Dustin mumbles, starts checking everything with a glint of fear in his eyes. "Shit, did I? I'm sorry."

He actually looks very guilty, gives the two an apologetic look. That goes on for a bit, and Mike wants to keep the lie going, but Will steps in.

"Mike's just kidding. It was already broken," he says, pats Dustin's shoulder. Mike gives him a look from across the room. Will shoots him a glance back, and he folds.

"Uh, yeah. It was," he mutters, like a child being forced to apologize. Even pouts. Will gives him another look with a tilt of the head. "Sorry."

"Actually?" Dustin asks, still looking unsure.

"Yeah," Will nods eagerly, reassuring. "We broke it the other day. It's fine."

He regrets it as soon as he says it, now avoiding Mike's eyes. Dustin seems reassured enough, now just looking over the damage.

"What were you two doing to make it break like that?" he asks after a pause.

They don't answer that question.

___

Mike comes out of the shower with water droplets running down his temples from his hair. Dustin is fluffing up the pillows on the couch. He stops once he sees his friend.

"Dude, can you please turn that thing around?" he whispers, urgently pointing at the easel. In the dim light the painting looks even more menacing.

"What, you don't like it?" Mike jokes, grabs onto the wooden frame and carefully turns it.

"Fucking love it," Dustin says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I feel like it's gonna steal my soul while I sleep."

Mike chuckles at that, a quiet fond sound. Despite everything, he loves having his friends around. Even if they show up unannounced and eat all his food.

"Is it cool if I use your shampoo?" Dustin asks as he pulls a towel out of his backpack.

"If I say no, are you gonna listen?" Mike deadpans.

They just look at each other. A fond smile spreads on Mike's face outside of his control, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Goodnight, dude," he says over his shoulder and shuffles to the bedroom.

Will is sprawled out on the bed. His body is stretched sideways across the mattress, legs hanging off the edge. The bedside lamp is on as he tries to read. He's propping his face up on his elbow, palm digging into his cheek. The book is laying flat on the mattress.

He blinks slowly, clearly fighting sleep. Mike crosses the room and pulls his shirt off, hangs it on their closet door. His eyes find Will's softly illuminated profile, and he stays there, as if hypnotized.

Will yawns into his fist, then twitches his nose like an actual bunny. Mike smiles wider, feels his heart swell with affection. His gaze glides over Will's waist, how the fabric of his shirt drapes over it. How his shorts hug his hips and thighs. So perfect even as he's practically falling asleep.

"Are you done?" Mike asks softly, hand finding the small of Will's back and rubbing it soothingly.

"No, but.. I can't do this anymore," Will sighs, scrubs at his face as he groans. "The words are all melting together."

Mike laughs quietly, picks up the Art History textbook and puts it away on the nightstand. He grabs his glasses laying off to the side, and slides them between the pages as an improvised bookmark.

With another soft yawn, Will rolls over to his half of the bed by the wall, the blankets rustling under him. Mike turns the lamp off and settles right next to him, puts an arm under his head.

Like instinct, Will adjusts so he's snuggled up against Mike's neck. Blindly grabs a blanket and lazily pulls it over the two of them. Manages to get it past their hips, then gives up.

"How's Dustin?" he whispers, rests his hand on Mike's chest, right over his heart.

"In the shower. Using up all of my fucking shampoo, probably," Mike mumbles, feeling himself slowly drifting off to sleep.

From beyond the door, the hum of the water stops.

"Oh, nevermind," Mike says, suddenly more energized. He sits up a little, listens in for the noise.

Will mirrors him, sleepiness immediately gone. They both sit and wait. There's more humming of the water, then sounds of Dustin brushing his teeth and loudly gagging. Mike and Will wince at that. After a bit, the door creaks open.

"Okay, he's out," Mike mutters, and Will shushes him.

A few quiet steps, then the couch groans. The two fully sit up, almost eager. Will counts the seconds on his fingers, while Mike mouths the words.

One, two, three, four-

Loud snoring rips through the silence. Dustin is asleep.

"Four?" Will whispers, looking at his own fingers, then at Mike. "That's a new record, right?"

"I think so," Mike nods.

They both snort. It quickly turns into quiet giggles as they fall back onto the pillows. The snoring echoes and practically rattles the walls. Even the closed door doesn't help. They both hate it, so might as well make it entertaining, at least.

"I wish I could fall asleep that fast," Will pouts.

"Tell me about it," Mike rolls his eyes.

They keep shifting and twisting, desperately trying to drift off to sleep in the short silent intervals of Dustin's snoring. It doesn't work for either of them. After a while, they just lay flat on their backs, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's worse than my dad," Mike grumbles, his face a permanent scowl.

"He's worse than Hopper," Will adds, voice raspy and so, so tired.

Mike lets out a pained sound at that. The snoring feels like drills to his ears, every new wave filling him with unexplainable rage. He's never getting used to this.

"I just- I just wanna, like- Just," he rants, makes a pinching gesture with his hand.

"What? Pinch his nose?" Will mumbles, his shoulders shaking with weak giggles.

"Yes," Mike whisper yells, makes more pinching gestures. "I just wanna, like, pinch it and hold it."

"He'll suffocate," Will laughs.

"But then it'll be quiet. So quiet, and we can sleep," Mike whines, eyebrows pinching together in delirious desperation.

"Come on. He can't help it," Will rasps, catches Mike's frantic hand and softly interlaces their fingers.

"There are nose strips. We should- We should buy him that- No, we should get him a whole pack," Mike rants more, his free hand flying around in more irritated gestures. "Or even better, a huge fucking box of them. So he can have enough for the next, like, ten years."

Will quietly laughs at all the frantic sentences stumbling over each other. Mike always gets so dramatic with his complaints, especially when it comes to his sleep being interrupted. He loves it.

The snoring suddenly stops, and the two freeze. They wait. The usual short silent interval passes, and it's still quiet. Mike holds his breath, is about to sigh in relief, then the snoring starts up all over again. It feels even louder now, somehow.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Mike wails. He starts clawing at the headboard, twists and silently screams into his pillow, flops around the bed like a fish out of water as he continues whining. "I just wanna sleep. Please, let me sleep. Please."

Will fully cackles at him, with tears pricking at his eyes. Mike grabs the pillow and smacks it over his own face, presses it over his ears to escape the noise. He keeps complaining, now muffled.

"Stop," Will whispers through a laugh, barely manages to get it out. Pulls the pillow away to reveal Mike's absolutely miserable expression.

"I'm losing my fucking mind," Mike says in one quick breath.

"I can tell," Will nods.

They lay down, go back to staring up the ceiling. Mike can almost physically see the lamp shaking with every snore. Each new one feels louder and more grating than the one before it.

Mike huffs, annoyed. His mind is running loose, now that he knows he's not falling asleep anytime soon. He thinks of this morning, how Will felt in his palms, all warm and pliable and whimpering from pleasure. His throat goes dry.

"Hey," he whispers. Will hums in response. "I have an idea."

"Oh, boy," Will sighs.

"Come on, you don't even know what it is yet," Mike whispers, turns on his side and props his face up with his palm. Looks down at Will, eyes sparkling even in the dark.

Will sighs once more, deep and raspy, then turns to face Mike. Tries to look annoyed, but the corner of his mouth twitches when they lock eyes.

"So," Mike starts. Moves his free hand to Will's stomach, draws little tickling patterns over it. "I was thinking.. Since we're definitely not sleeping now.."

He nuzzles deeper into his own palm, quirks his eyebrows at Will. Waits for him to connect the dots.

"What?" Will does not collect the dots.

Mike sighs, drops face first into his pillow, suddenly embarrassed. Saying all this stuff out loud is still a challenge. He flattens his palm against Will's stomach, tugs the hem of his shirt up before slipping beneath. Feels Will slide his own hand on top, carding their fingers together.

Finally, he got it.

"You wanna cuddle?" Will giggles.

He didn't get it.

"Will," Mike groans, turns until he's peeking up at his boyfriend from the pillow.

"What?"

"We got.. interrupted," Mike mumbles, feels his cheeks getting warmer. "You know.. in the morning."

His palm stills, and he squeezes the honey skin lightly. Feels Will tense up, and waits. Will furrows his brows, then the realization hits him. A little gasp breaches his lips.

"Oh my- We- Mike," he stutters, flushing up all over. From the tips of his ears down to his chest.

"You don't wanna?" Mike asks, curving his brows in a way that makes his already big eyes look even bigger. Will sighs.

"I- I mean.."

He pauses, looks like he's actually considering it, weighing out his options. His hand, carded with Mike's, tightens.

"Dustin is out there," he says eventually, barely above a whisper.

Mike opens his mouth to reply, but gets cut off by another snore. It's so loud and grating it vibrates through the floorboards. Mike waits for it to pass before speaking again.

"I don't think he cares right now," he says, scrunching his nose.

Will scoffs, hides his face in his palms. Mike moves, looming over him. Slots his knee between Will's thighs, braces himself up against the mattress. Leans down to kiss his tan knuckles, touch feather light.

"It's okay," he whispers, warm breath ghosting over Will's skin. He moves to kiss his wrists, then his sensitive ear. "We'll be quiet. I'll make you feel really good. So-"

Will cuts him off by pinching his nose, turning whatever he was going to say next into a wet snort. He chokes for a second, then looks at his boyfriend with a baffled expression.

"What was that-"

"Be quick," Will cuts Mike off, then lifts himself up to kiss him.

"Yup. Okay. Got it," Mike rambles and nods against Will's mouth, runs his palm down his torso.

The sounds of their lips sliding against each other are loud, wet. Luckily drowned out by the snoring. Mike runs his tongue along Will's bottom lip. Will, all pliant, opens his mouth and welcomes the intrusion with a soft sigh.

"Then you'll have to be quiet," Mike mumbles when he pulls back to get some air. Will scoffs at him.

"You always complain about me being too quiet," he rambles, laughing every other word.

"Then this should be easy for you," Mike teases, kisses the tip of Will's nose before climbing off to pull his sweats down.

He does it in a hurry, stumbling and cursing under his breath when the drawstring doesn't cooperate, then the fabric gets stuck around his pale ankle. Will uses that time to take his own shorts off. He's a lot more graceful with it, pulling the fabric over his hips and lifting himself off the mattress to make it easier.

As Mike climbs back into bed, he helps by pulling Will's shorts off the rest of the way, holding up his smooth legs. He abandons them at the foot of the bed, too eager to get on with it.

He settles down on his side, facing Will. Snakes his arm around his back and pulls him in, until their bodies are connected from chest to hip. They're both slightly hard already, the friction pulling quiet gasps out of them.

Will cups Mike's face and kisses him again, hungry and desperate, but still painfully tender. Their hips start rolling against each other. Clumsy at first, the angle a bit awkward.

Mike throws his leg over Will, adjusts until their limbs tangle just right. Will has to bite down on his lip hard to hold his voice back. The friction is so delicious, position so intimate it makes his head swim and heart vibrate hard in his chest.

He reaches out, blindly grabs a blanket and pulls it up over their bodies. Something in him screams for some kind of shield. Mike tries to push it back down, but Will latches onto his wrist. He shakes his head and makes a displeased sound into the kiss.

"What are you-"

"Please, just leave it," Will whispers, voice already wrecked. His hand shakes from how hard he's holding onto Mike without him even realizing. He has to remind himself to manually relax his grip.

"Okay. Okay, baby. We'll leave it," Mike says softly and nods, pulls the blanket up even higher.

"Th- Thanks," Will breathes out, voice shaking like a leaf in the breeze. Mike softly chuckles at him, how polite he is even in a situation like this.

They keep grinding against each other in a steadily progressing rhythm, the pleasure spiking so high they can't even kiss anymore. Instead they just breathe against each other, trying to remember to be quiet while focusing on the pleasure at the same time.

Mike pulls Will even closer, grinds against him in slow, prolonged drags that always pull the sweetest whimpers out of him. Right now he gets shaky breaths, along with short nails digging into his back where Will clings to him.

Will tries to say something, but as soon as his lips part, he gasps. Mike cradles the back of his head, tucks his face into his own neck.

"Shhh," he whispers, lips brushing against Will's temple.

Will huffs against him, bites his lip down even harder. His body fights between just relaxing into the pleasure and worrying about being too exposed. His mind is scrambled.

Suddenly, Mike stops. Takes a second to catch his breath, panting like he just ran a marathon. Then he shifts, grabs Will by the waist to steer him how he needs him, then looms over him again.

He looks wrecked. Face flushed, lips swollen and glistening, chest expanding and shrinking with every uneven breath. He moves Will's legs to wrap them around his own hips, brings their erections together again.

They both bite down a moan. Mike leans forward, lining their faces up until their breaths mingle. He quickly pulls the blanket over them, then uses that arm to hug Will around the waist. His other hand is digging into the mattress, holding his weight up.

In this position they're lined up just right, amplifying every sensation. Will loops his arms around Mike's neck, tangles his fingers in his inky curls. His legs wrap tight around his waist, pulling him in just that little bit more.

The thrusts return, now a little more frantic and desperate, chasing relief while they still both have the energy. Mike starts to subtly move Will with the arm around his waist, meeting his own hips halfway.

He buries his face in Will's shoulder, bites down on the sheets beneath him to hold the sounds in. This feels so good he could scream about it from the rooftops.

Will's mind is floating somewhere far away. Tears pool up in his eyes, blurring his vision around the edges. He's so close to the peak it's overwhelming, his limbs tingling. He needs more, craves more.

"B- Baby," Will mumbles between shaky breaths. Barely audible, but Mike hears it clearly.

"Yeah?" he lets go of the sheets and lifts himself, enough to look at Will.

"T- Touch me. Please, touch me."

Mike reacts instantly, sitting up and adjusting their position so fast Will barely registers it. It only occurs to him when Mike curls his fingers around him over his underwear, right under the tip.

Will's hips buck up into the touch, and he can't help but gasp. He snaps his lips shut, swallows hard. It feels like electricity just shot through him.

As Mike strokes him, he uses his free hand to rake Will's shirt up, until it's all bunched up around his shoulders. Will swears he can see Mike's eyes grow, pupils expanding beyond what's physically possible.

Tears blur Will's vision. He blinks, and a few run down his temples in hot paths. He's writhing against the sheets, unable to stay still for even a second. His muscles go slack, legs slide off Mike's hips onto the mattress.

The strokes don't falter. The damp cotton of Will's boxers is stretching far. He dares to glance down, and the sight makes his breath hitch.

Mike is pretty much jerking him off, the underwear the only barrier. Just like what Will did for him the other day. It's so obscene and so much Will loses all self control, lets out a high pitched moan.

It gets cut off quickly. Mike slaps his palm over Will's mouth, silencing him. At the same time, the snoring stops. The worst timing possible.

Mike stills, listens for any noise. He can feel his own heartbeat in his ears. If it comes to it, they could pretend they were sleeping. Maybe Will had a nightmare. That should be convincing enough.

As his brain scrambles for an escape plan, the snoring returns once again. A new wave. Mike exhales, his entire posture slouches in relief.

Will's vision goes black at the edges.

His whole body feels numb, the only sensation is the pressure over his mouth. It's too dark, his skin is too damp, the air is too cold, he can't move his mouth and his lungs refuse to pull in air.

He latches onto Mike's wrist with a trembling hand, starts desperately clawing at it until his nails dig into the pale freckled skin. Needs the pressure off. His chest stutters with quick short breaths.

Mike catches on and looks down, concern flashing over him. He pulls his hand back immediately, focuses on making sure Will is okay.

"Woah, hey," he says, voice small and careful. Gently cups Will's cheek, leans in to see his face better. His dark eyes jump all over the place, taking in every detail.

Will is fully crying, cheeks flushed. His bottom lip is trembling, breaths stutter violently. Mike's own face contorts in pain. He ignores Will's nails still digging into his wrist. That's the least of his worries right now.

"Hey, hey. Will. Baby, it's okay," he keeps whispering, caressing Will's face and pushing his damp bangs out of his eyes. Every touch tender, careful not to spook him further. "You're okay. You're okay."

Slowly, Will seems to settle. His eyes gain focus, breathing slows into a more acceptable rhythm, though still shaking. He seemingly realizes that he's still gripping onto Mike to the point it's painful, and lets go. Leaves marks behind.

"You with me?" Mike's tender tone breaks through the fog. Will blinks back to reality, swallows the lump in his throat, and nods.

"Y- Yeah," he whispers, shaky. His skin still burns from Mike's hand. "S- Sorry."

"Don't be," Mike replies without missing a beat, leaves a soft kiss on Will's forehead.

He stays there, and they breathe together. Mike holds Will's face on both sides, impossibly soft and careful, yet it feels like a solid shield. The safest place Will could ever be in.

Eventually, the panic vanishes. Will softly grabs onto Mike's wrists, strokes apologetically where he dug his nails in. Mike doesn't even flinch, stays right where he is.

"Better?" he whispers, pulls back just enough to have a good look at Will. Gets a nod in response. "What was it?"

"Um," Will rasps, then slowly puts his own palm over his mouth. There's still a lingering tremor in his fingertips.

"Oh," Mike exhales, looks like he's in physical pain. He gently strokes Will's cheek with his thumb. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't know," Will whispers. His lips curl into a small smile. He slides his palms over Mike's, sharing the heat.

"But you're crying," Mike swipes at the tears still hanging onto Will's lashes.

"It's.. It's not from.. that," Will mumbles, hides in Mike's hands, flustered. Mike still has that pained look on his face, every feature tense. Will clears his throat. "It's.. Um. I just.. felt really good."

"Oh. Okay," Mike sighs in relief, smiles back now that the tension has left his frame. "So.. no pinning down, and no covering the mouth. Right?"

Will gives him a small nod.

"Noted," Mike says, then kisses Will's hair.

He moves, starts fluffing up the pillow under Will's head, getting him comfortable. Sits back up on his knees, fixes Will's shirt, pulling it down his body. Then he climbs off the bed, searching for something.

Will watches his every move, growing more and more confused as this goes on. He lifts himself on his elbows, sees Mike pick up his sweats off the floor.

"What are you doing?" Will whispers.

"Hm?" Mike straightens out, unfolds the pants like he's about to pull them back on. "We don't have to continue if you don't wanna."

"What?" Will asks, even quieter than before.

"I, like, totally ruined the mood. Probably," Mike lets out a dry chuckle. Waves a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. We can just go to sleep."

"Mike, wait," Will scoots closer, catches Mike's hand. "I'm okay. We don't.. We don't have to stop. I don't want to stop."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Will nods, squeezes Mike's hand harder. "If you want."

"I do," Mike whispers, dips his head to hide the flush on his cheeks.

They share a few quiet giggles, then go back to what they were doing. Mike climbs into the sheets, drapes a blanket over their bodies. Settles between Will's legs again.

He hesitates at first, eyes gliding over Will's frame, looking for any doubts or signs that he might change his mind. In response Will spreads his legs further, open and vulnerable and trusting. Mike smiles down at him, moves in closer.

His eyes lock onto Will's crotch, still so eager and begging for relief. He slowly licks his lips, eyes hazy and unmoving. Will finds his hand among the sheets, interlaces their fingers.

That seems to snap Mike back into reality. He looks into Will's eyes, shiny and full of trust. From here all doubts simply evaporate.

Mike starts stroking Will again, just how he did before. Firm, rhythmic movement that makes Will's back arch and breath stutter. His prominent front teeth dig into his bottom lip, holding any sounds in.

"Don't hurt yourself, baby," Mike mutters, his own breath shaking despite not being touched.

Like reflex, Will releases his lip, the skin red and irritated. Instead, he bunches up his shirt and bites down on the collar.

"Oh, fuck," Mike chokes out, keeping his gaze on Will's mouth around the cotton.

He starts thrusting his hips against nothing, body seeking friction on its own. Squeezes Will's hand harder, strokes him even faster, rubbing the tip just how he likes.

Will gets lost in all the sensations. He's quickly approaching his orgasm, his mind swimming. He doesn't even register it when Mike starts pretty much humping his thigh, letting out his own little sounds.

As the peak approaches, every muscle in Will's body goes rigid, until the knot finally snaps. With a long, shuddering breath he spills into his underwear, soaking through the cotton and onto Mike's palm. The shirt falls out of his mouth, damp.

After getting so close and being interrupted multiple times, this feels so much brighter, so intense Will swears his vision goes white for a second. Wave after wave, his body trembles, muscles spasm outside of his control.

Mike rubs him through it, still rutting against his soft thigh. His eyes are never leaving Will's face, completely wrecked from overwhelming pleasure. He's quickly approaching his own peak, the humping not enough.

He collapses forward, mouth latching onto Will's neck and leaving hungry kisses all over it. Will is putty under him, breathing through the aftershocks.

Mike lifts his hand, sticky with Will's release, and shoves it into his own boxers. Wraps his fingers around his length that's been painfully straining against the fabric for what feels like forever, and starts stroking himself. Fast, desperate.

Will just sees the jerky movement of Mike's shoulder out of the corner of his eye, but keeps staring up at the ceiling. Mike breathes into his neck, leaving the skin damp and overheated. The slick, wet sounds of skin gliding against skin fill the room.

It doesn't take long for Mike to launch off the edge. A few more desperate tugs, and he finishes with a deep inhale. Will feels something warm drip onto his stomach, his body tensing up at the sensation.

Mike collapses on the mattress, clumsily tucks himself back into his underwear as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He's wheezing, his lungs burn from the effort.

For a bit, it's quiet. Just the two of them breathing into the vacuum of the room, broken up by Dustin's muffled snoring. Once Mike doesn't feel like putty anymore, he rolls over and kisses Will's bitten lips. Soft, tender, like he's trying to take away the sting. Will smiles into it, lazily kisses him back.

"I'll get tissues," Mike breathes out, drags himself off the bed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Mike nods, bends down to pick his pants up off the floor. Pulls them on haphazardly. "They're on the desk."

Will tries not to think about the implications of that.

Mike doesn't wait for a response, just disappears into the darkness of the living room. Will is left alone, still breathing heavily. His stomach feels cold, he can sense the foreign liquid pooling at his navel, moving every time he does.

Will feels curious, lifts himself up on his elbows to take a quick look. It's right there, the pearly liquid catching the moonlight, trailing down his skin. Will's breath hitches at the sight.

He realizes that with everything they've already done, they haven't even seen each other completely bare yet. It hits him like a physical blow.

He moves his palm to his navel, fingers tingling. When his fingertip makes contact with the liquid, he hears approaching steps and quickly snatches his hand away, hides it in the blankets.

Mike comes back with the tissues, closes the door behind him. This time, though, instead of grabbing a handful he just brings the entire box. That makes Will laugh.

"How many do you think we need?" he jokes.

"It's just smarter to have them here, I guess," Mike mumbles, holding back a laugh.

He puts the box on the nightstand, pulls out a few tissues. Will lifts his hand to take them, but Mike is already on him, wiping his stomach carefully. A gesture so caring and so natural he doesn't even blink. Afterwards he pinches the little roll of skin there, making Will squirm.

They wipe themselves down, leave the balled up tissues in a pile on the nightstand. Mike grabs them both fresh underwear, and they change with their backs turned to each other.

Their bodies feels heavy, exhaustion suddenly catching up to them. They settle into the sheets, limbs wrapped around one another.

Mike lays on Will's chest, ear right over his steady pulse. It might as well be a lullaby. Will strokes his hair, brushes their fingers together. It's peaceful, if they ignore the persistent snoring from beyond the door.

"I'm kicking his ass tomorrow," Mike grumbles against Will's chest, presses a kiss there.

Will laughs quietly, and soon their bodies finally give in. They drift off to sleep, snoring be damned.

Chapter Text

They sleep in until noon, feeling completely drained from last night. Mike blinks his eyes open slowly, lashes fluttering against Will's chest.

He feels gentle fingertips carding through his hair and tracing shapes along his back. Touch so soothing he almost drifts back to sleep.

All his senses are thick with Will. His scent, his warmth, his heartbeat vibrating in Mike's skull. Right where he's meant to be, the only place in this universe where he feels truly at peace. Feels his soul settle.

He could stay like this for eternity, but the fantasy gets shattered by loud clanking in the kitchen. Right. Dustin is still here.

With a quiet huff, Mike shifts. Adjusts until he locks eyes with Will. He's already looking back, the softest smile beaming off his face. The kind where his front teeth poke out and cheeks look extra pinchable.

"Hey," Mike mumbles, grinning from ear to ear. His curls fall over his eyes.

"Hey," Will whispers, pushes the tar black strands back.

For a beat they simply look at each other, basked in sunlight, tangled in the sheets. Their bodies still tingle from last night, a pleasant hum under their skin.

Mike catches the gentle hand in his hair and brings it to his lips. Kisses every finger, each tan knuckle. Moves over the bone at the wrist, the thin skin where the pulse vibrates the loudest.

Will melts into the affection, with a flustered smile and rosy cheeks. As Mike's lips move higher up his arm, he dives deeper into the blanket, tries to hide.

Mike catches the fabric and pries it down, starts kissing Will's neck. Will squirms, lets out a few breathy giggles when the pecks tickle him.

"Mike, I'm gross," he protests weakly, makes very unconvincing attempts to push Mike off. Just puts his palms on his shoulders, and leaves them there.

"No, you're not," Mike pouts, starts kissing more insistently. Cups the other side of Will's neck to keep him from squirming away.

"I need to shower," Will fully laughs, kicks his feet under the blankets. 

Mike simply hums against his skin, unconvinced. Runs his tongue along Will's neck in a wet path leading to his jaw to really prove his point. Will winces at the gesture, but doesn't put any more effort into stopping this.

The kisses get louder, practically squeaking. Dustin can definitely hear them from the living room, but Mike could not care less right now. He drags his nose along Will's cheek and inhales. Smells like vanilla almost. Always so perfect and sweet.

Mike moves to Will's lips, but gets stopped by a palm. Will uses his hand as a barrier, pushes Mike's face back.

"Morning breath," he grumbles.

"Come on," Mike mumbles against Will's hand, brows curving.

"No," Will chuckles fondly. Yawns into his fist, nose scrunching.

There's noise coming from the living room. Sounds like a bunch of pots and pans falling over, despite Mike and Will only owning one of each.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Mike mutters, his face a scowl.

"No clue," Will shrugs, starts climbing out of the sheets lazily. His bare legs swing over the edge, make contact with the cool floorboards. "I'm pretty sure I heard him open your soda."

"Of course he did," Mike sighs deeply, pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Will quietly chuckles at him.

"Alright," he says, slaps his knees and stands up. Stretches his back, his shirt riding up and revealing a stripe of bare skin above his underwear. "Shower, and we should probably change the sheets, too."

"I'll do it," Mike nods, yawns so deeply it takes over his entire face. Smacks his lips right afterwards, a habit from childhood.

"I can do it."

"You do the pillows, I'll do everything else."

"Fine," Will rolls his eyes.

He fishes some pants out of the closet, starts pulling them on. Mike watches him from the bed, eyes gliding over his softly lit up silhouette. Will's moves are graceful, as usual. He has to bounce a little to get the fabric over the curve of his butt.

Mike licks his lips involuntarily, another stubborn habit. He's paid attention to Will's butt before, for sure. Used to straight up stare at it, and his stupid teenage brain convinced itself it's a totally normal thing best friends do.

Now, though, he can really appreciate it. Everything about Will is mesmerizing. He's truly grown into his body and features, every part of him coming together perfectly. His delicate hands and arms, the slim curve of his waist, toned legs, and his butt really completes the picture.

Will looks breathtaking without even trying. He doesn't work out and still looks great, while Mike has to go on runs and stay on his feet as much as possible or his muscles will evaporate again.

Everyone that comes across Will loves and adores him, the sunshine he naturally carries within himself. He's kind, talented, beautiful, and hot, as a bonus.

And Mike gets to have it all, see parts of him that are hidden from other people. All the overwhelming good and the unfortunate bad that still haunts him. But Mike would not trade it for anything. He'd be lying if he said he doesn't feel at least a little smug that Will is his boyfriend.

"Okay, go shower-"

"You can go first," Mike interrupts.

"No, you go first," Will shakes his head, smoothes his hair down.

"But-"

"Mike, you stink," Will laughs, walks towards the door. "I'll get the coffee started."

"Okay," Mike sighs, drops his shoulders in defeat. "Thanks."

Will gives him the warmest smile and a nod in return. Always so sweet and considerate it makes Mike want to crawl on walls. How did he get so damn lucky?

___

"I don't know how you guys do it," Dustin grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

"Do what?" Mike furrows his brows, sips on his coffee that's made perfectly to his taste, as usual.

"Live here. It's so loud, I barely got a wink of sleep last night," Dustin complains, dramatically waving his hands around.

"Right," Mike deadpans.

They keep talking in the kitchen, sounds of traffic outside serving as background noise. Meanwhile Will is in the shower, slowly stripping his clothes off and, once again, obsessively looking over his own body.

His skin is decorated with hickeys at different stages of fading. Reds, purples, mostly yellows. He drags his thumb over his scar, winces at it. Still can't look at it without thinking of all the memories it brings up, how much he wishes it wasn't there.

Then he curls his fingers around the elastic of his underwear, and pulls down. Avoids the mirror as much as he can, until the fabric pools around his ankles and he carelessly kicks it aside. Stands up straight, and looks.

There he is. Totally naked and vulnerable. No hiding.

Will's never done this, looked at himself completely bare outside of a few short accidental glimpses. It was strange, like he wasn't seeing his own reflection. For a while he felt like his body didn't actually belong to him. Like it was something foreign.

Now, it's deliberate. He looks, takes in every detail, fighting the urge to drop his gaze to the floor. This is him, right here, it's his body and this is how it looks. Mike is going to see all of this eventually.

The thought both scares Will and excites him. Being intimate with Mike like that, trusting him completely with every inch of his body. It makes Will's limbs tingle pleasantly, but when he thinks about taking that first step, he feels a pit in his stomach form.

What if that shatters everything? What if when Mike sees all of him, sees that he's a guy, in the flesh, he freaks out? The boxers have been a shield in a way, but what happens when all of Will is out in the open?

Will pushes those stubborn thoughts down, swallows the lump in his throat and climbs into the shower.

___

"I could come over next week?" Dustin ponders, fixes the backpack strap on his shoulder.

"Please don't," Mike deadpans.

They're at the bus station, seeing Dustin off. He keeps making plans to visit next week, and Mike groans more with every new proposition. Will looks fondly over the two of them, though there's something dull behind his eyes.

Eventually, Dustin's bus arrives. The three hug tight, like it's the last time, and there's that. Dustin gets on, waves some more out of the window until the bus pulls away.

The two return to the car. Mike opens the door for Will, and only then gets into his own seat. They buckle up, Mike starts the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

Once they're on the road, his hand finds Will's thigh, like usual. A gesture so natural at this point neither of them flinches or blushes at it. It's just part of their routine, fitting in seamlessly.

Only this time, his hand moves. Instead of resting just above Will's knee, Mike drags it higher, until his pinkie grazes the crease in his jeans.

He stays there, feels Will tense up slightly under the touch. It's much warmer there, the heat radiating even through the thick denim.

Will swallows, risks a glance at his boyfriend. Mike is looking ahead, his gaze steady and focused. His hand curls around the steering wheel a bit tighter than usual, knuckles sharper and tendons standing out.

Once they stop at a red light, Mike moves again. His hand dips to Will's inner thigh, pulls. A gesture much more heated, spreading Will's legs as much as the car allows.

Will chokes up on a breath, shifts in his seat to accommodate. Mike finally looks back at him, eyebrows twitching nervously.

Once their eyes lock they have to bite down their grins. Mike blushes, the rosy glow very noticeable against his pale skin. He pushes his lips to the side and keeps driving, the light now green.

Will turns towards the window and smiles into his palm. Mike holds him like this the rest of the way, gives his thigh a soft squeeze from time to time.

___

This week is busy, packed with so many classes, tests and projects that Will doesn't have time to think about much of anything outside of that. It's kind of nice, in a way. It allows all his worries and insecurities step back for a bit.

Will spends his evening in the living room, waiting for Mike to come back from work, as he often does. The TV is on, mostly as background noise. He can't work in complete silence.

On the coffee table there are textbooks with a cup of lukewarm tea off to the side. Will has been reading and writing non stop for a few hours now, the words blurring and melting together so much it might as well be a different language.

Despite that, Will keeps going. He wants to keep his mind as occupied as possible, keep the anxious thoughts out. Every time his attention shifts from the homework, his heartbeat picks up, fingers go a little numb.

He and Mike haven't done anything intimate this week so far, way too busy with everything else. It doesn't seem to be an issue by any means, though. They still kissed and talked before bed, but that was that. They went to sleep soon after so they can be rested enough for another loaded day.

Today it's Friday, though, and Mike has the weekends free. They can potentially go to bed much later without consequences.

Will twirls a strand of his hair around his finger, mind wandering somewhere else again. He realizes he just went through the same paragraph without retaining any of it again. With an annoyed huff, he tosses the book aside.

He lays flat on the couch, rubs at his face roughly. He's tired, a little sleepy and weirdly anxious. There's this persistent hum under his skin, like his body is bracing for something, unsure what exactly.

A few raindrops bang against the window, soon turning into proper rainfall. Will stands up and closes it, blocking out the sound. He thinks about Mike leaving without a jacket earlier, saying he will be fine. At least he's driving.

Will busies himself with tidying up. Sorts Mike's notes, books, comics. Washes the few forgotten dishes in the sink. Even fluffs up the pillows on the couch, though he knows it's pretty pointless.

Once there are no more tasks for him to cling onto, he moves on to dinner. He really doesn't feel like cooking right now, but there's nothing better for him to do.

He fishes out a cookbook from a drawer, the one Mike bought in their first month of living here. It's completely transformed now, filled with color coded sticky notes and little corrections to the recipes.

The pages are marked for their favorite dishes. There are lots of notes with substitutes or even reviews of certain recipes. Everything Mike has tried making so far, catered to both of them. Mostly Will.

It brings a warm smile to Will's face. Mike loves him enough to do all of this, take time to not just cook him breakfast every morning, but personalize it, make it fit his exact taste, despite how specific it can get sometimes.

That determination bleeds into everything Mike does. The two come together like puzzle pieces, perfectly carved out for each other.

Surely, seeing Will naked is not going to shatter that, right?

The sound of keys rattling in the lock pulls him out of his thoughts. The book goes back in the drawer, and Will leans on the counter, his posture tense. He feels so nervous all of a sudden.

In the few seconds before the door opens, he pats his hair down, stands up straighter, quickly sniffs his shirt. Should probably change it. He hears Mike enter the apartment, panting slightly. With a steadying breath, Will steps out.

He strides around the kitchen towards the front door, and stops. Mike is drenched. His shirt is soaked through, the fabric darkened and clinging to his body. His already black hair is even darker, thick beads of water dripping off the ends.

He looks flushed, cheeks red. One of his arms is twisted behind his back, but Will doesn't see that.

"Mike!" he gasps, steps closer with his hands already up in the air.

"Hey," Mike chuckles, acting like nothing is wrong despite his teeth clattering against each other from the cold.

Will cups his face. The pale skin feels like ice under his palms. Mike relaxes into it, even closes his eyes, absorbing the heat. Will swipes at a raindrop still hanging from the tip of his nose.

"Oh my- You're freezing," he rambles, hands frantically jumping all over Mike. Pushing his hair back, rubbing his shoulders, anything to warm him up.

"I'm fine. Just a little rain," Mike dismisses. He dips down to kiss Will's forehead, then smiles wide. "I got you something."

He pulls his hand out from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of bright yellow marigolds, wrapped in pretty paper with a ribbon holding it all together. Will completely melts at the sight, his brows jumping up to his hairline.

"Mike," he says softly, a little startled laugh falls out of his lips.

"Sorry, it's a little wet," Mike adds, lightly shakes the flowers to get rid of the leftover rainwater. The droplets fly all over the carpet, and usually Will would scold him for this, but he does not care right now.

"Thank you," he says instead, tears pricking in his eyes.

"Of course," Mike replies softly, and gives Will the bouquet.

Their fingers brush in the process. Will takes a moment to look at the flowers, eyes sparkling, then retreats to the kitchen. Meanwhile Mike kicks his wet and muddy shoes off, pinches at his soaked shirt with a shudder.

Will searches for a vase, but Mike is already behind him. He puts one hand on the small of Will's back, a casual gesture he doesn't even have to think about, while the other stretches to the top of the cupboard.

"What's the occasion?" Will asks, pinches at one of the flowers to fluff it up.

"Do we need one?" Mike shrugs. "It was a shitty week, and it's been a while since I got you flowers."

He pulls the vase down, the glass covered in a thin layer of dust. It really has been a while. Mike quickly rinses it, fills it with water, and Will carefully slides the flowers inside.

It all ends up on the coffee table, the bright yellow petals catching the lamplight and almost looking like their own little sun. Will can't stop smiling, happy little shocks running through his entire body.

"You like them?" Mike whispers, emerging behind Will and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"I love them," Will whispers back, melts into the touch. Slides his palms on top of Mike's. They still feel so cold. "Thank you, Love."

Mike's breath hitches at the nickname, and he huffs against Will's shoulder. Will is a little more reserved with the pet names, so it's always a bit of a shock, even after months of dating.

"You're welcome, baby. I missed you," Mike murmurs, starts kissing the side of Will's neck. Feels a flinch, and pulls back. "Sorry, I'm cold."

"It's okay," Will giggles, starts rubbing up and down Mike's arms. "Go warm up."

Mike nods, but doesn't leave without another cheek kiss and a squeeze of the waist. Will giggles some more, then they separate. Mike grabs fresh clothes and locks himself in the bathroom, while Will stays in the living room for just a beat longer.

He looks at the bouquet, imagines Mike rushing to the flower shop, despite the pouring rain. He really did not have to do that. Will likes flowers, likes getting them from Mike, but it's still not a huge deal to him. And yet, here they are.

Will smiles, and decides to go through with his plan.

He walks into the bedroom, pulls his pants and shirt off. Almost instinctively, his hands jerk towards the closet, but he stops. Instead, he stands in front of the mirror, looks over himself once more.

Adjusts the elastic of his underwear, tries not to overthink it. Yeah, it digs into his stomach a bit, but there's nothing he can do about that right now. The scar on his hip catches the light. Right. The light.

Will turns the overhead lamp off, goes for the one on their nightstand instead. Feels safer, smoothes over some of the imperfections of his body. His hands tremble and get impossibly damp in seconds, and he keeps having to wipe them on his boxers.

The hum of water from the shower feels like a countdown, and with every second that passes Will wants to abandon the plan more and more. His heart bangs against his ribs like a trapped bird, limbs feel almost numb from the nerves. His skin heats up, from the tips of his ears down to his neck.

Then the hum stops. Mike must be out of the shower. Will exhales, forcing his body to relax. This is it. He's doing this. Tonight he's being more vulnerable than ever before, with the one person he trusts the most.

He keeps those thoughts on a constant loop, reassuring himself. This is fine. It'll be fine.

The door swings open, warm light from the living room bleeding inside before shrinking again. Mike steps in, drying his hair with a towel. He's wearing a fresh sweater and thick sweats, along with some mismatched socks.

Will gulps. He's standing in front of the closet in just his underwear, a stark contrast. His hands move to cover himself on reflex.

Mike stops mid step, looks over Will slowly, from head to toe, before returning to his face. His brows twitch in that way they do when he processes things, like they're choosing what expression to show.

"You okay?" he lands on eventually, hangs the damp towel on a nearby chair.

"Y- Yeah. Um," Will stutters, manually puts his hands at his sides, clammy all over again. He hesitantly lifts them, makes an inviting motion with his fingers.

Mike follows, stepping closer and taking Will's hands into his own. Will is practically shaking, or at least he feels like it. Every move is a little stiff and almost rehearsed, his limbs refusing to cooperate.

He steers Mike until they're both standing in the middle of the bedroom, hands connected. Mike's palms feel warm now, comforting despite him not even doing anything. Just feeling the skin on skin contact is enough to settle Will's heart. Mostly.

The lamplight burns Will's bare back, the cold floorboards bite into the soles of his feet. He stares into Mike's collarbones, too nervous for any eye contact. Mike still tries, though, tilting his head with that worried look on his face. Still, he doesn't ask any questions, just waits, soothingly rubs Will's knuckles.

Will lets go, watches Mike keep his hands in the air for another second before lowering them at his sides. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something, but holds the urge back.

Another steadying breath, and Will curls his shaky fingers around the elastic of his underwear. He keeps his gaze down at the floor, otherwise he might flee.

In one clumsy move, he pulls the fabric down, hears Mike's breath hitch. The boxers pool at Will's ankles, and he steps out of them. Tosses them aside, and far. Just so he can't backtrack no matter how much he wants to.

This is it. He's standing completely naked, in front of Mike, in the middle of their bedroom.

Air hits his skin in places he isn't used to. His hands keep jerking to cover himself, but he resists with everything he has. Holds them at his sides, pulled into tight nervous fists. So tight his nails dig into the tender skin of his palm.

Will grits his teeth, and just waits. His eyes are stuck to the floor, the small gap between the boards. For a long moment, the whole world goes silent. Neither of them speaks, or even breathes.

It's torturous. Will feels like he's suspended on a tight rope, completely at Mike's mercy. He's either going to pull him back, or cut the only flimsy thing still holding him upright. So Will waits, his hands trembling violently.

"Oh," Mike says eventually, voice so quiet Will barely registers it.

Will lets out a weak exhale, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. Tries to breathe again, but not too much. Like he might spook Mike if he overdoes it.

"You're, um.. naked," Mike continues, a bit louder now. His fingers twitch again.

Will swallows, and nods. His fists tighten for a second, before he manually relaxes them. There are definitely marks in his skin.

"Can you look at me?" Mike whispers, his voice small and almost desperate.

Will hesitates for a second, then lifts his gaze. The sight takes him aback. Mike looks back at him in complete awe, eyes two bottomless voids, lips parted, brows curved. The amber light only amplifies it all, accentuating every feature of his face.

"Will," he breathes out, a punched out sound.

His eyes wander, unsure where to rest. Will's face, his shoulders, lower. His chest rises and falls with his uneven breaths, Adam's apple jumps with a thick nervous swallow.

Will feels fingertips brushing the bare skin of his hip, the touch electric. He flinches at first, looks down to see Mike's big hand inching closer. Fingertip by fingertip, he palms Will's hip, caresses it gently.

Tears blur Will's vision at the edges. He's never been touched there before, and this tenderly. His knees buckle a little, but he keeps himself upright. Lifts his eyes again, sees Mike much closer, already staring back with devotion written all over his face.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, warm puffs of air imprinting themselves on Will's trembling lips.

"M- Mike.."

First tear slips out, runs down Will's cheek until Mike catches it. He wipes it away with his thumb, kisses the skin there. His grip on Will's hip gets more solid, grounding. The soft fabric of his sweater brushes against Will's bare chest.

Mike kisses a path from his cheek to his reddened eyelids, down the slope of his nose, then hovers over his lips. This feels almost nerve-wracking now, something so impossibly intimate.

Will waits, feels Mike's shallow breaths ghost over his lips, the warmth radiating from him. Then Mike pulls back abruptly.

For a moment, Will feels like the ground has opened up beneath his feet. His stomach drops, body goes ice cold in panic.

Mike starts pulling his own sweater off in a hurry.

The fabric gets caught on his nose, abandoned on the floor just mere seconds later. Mike's pants are next, getting tugged down in a way far from graceful. Mike hops on one foot, trips over a bit, curses under his breath.

Then he grabs onto his underwear, hesitates for a second. With a huff, he strips completely bare, clothes tossed aside haphazardly.

Will watches him in stunned silence, averts his gaze when Mike's boxers slide down his hips. Then, Mike is standing in front of him, just as naked and vulnerable, breathing heavily.

"Was feeling left out," Mike jokes, his voice cracking pathetically halfway through.

He cringes at himself, but Will snorts. He fully bursts out laughing, folds forward with a melodic sound that makes Mike melt completely. Eventually he joins in, giggling until his shoulders shake.

"Oh my God," Will says through a laugh, both amused and so incredibly relieved.

"C'mere," Mike whispers, stretches his arms out in an inviting gesture.

Will steps into his space, feels gentle hands grab onto his bare hips. He gets pulled in, until he feels the heat radiating from Mike's body against his skin. Not a completely new sensation, but it's so much more intimate now.

Mike looks at him with a mix of pure adoration and hunger in his eyes, pupils nearly breaching the irises. Will loops his slightly trembling arms around his neck, lifts himself up on his toes.

Their noses nudge against each other, smiles pull at their faces, almost shy. Mike leans in slowly, barely brushes his lips against Will's, before capturing them in the softest kiss.

It almost reminds Will of the start of their relationship. Hiding in Mike's room, trying to be quiet, blushing and grinning when their hands barely brushed. Asking permission before every kiss, followed by a hesitant press of lips that set every nerve in Will's body on fire.

Past him would freak out if he knew what the future has in store for him.

Mike's hands roam, tracing every newly found curve of Will's body. Thumbs drag across the hip bones, palms brush over the curve of his butt before sliding up to his waist, and pulling. Will follows, arching his back into the touch until their hips come together.

The sensation is something else. They both gasp against each other's lips, feel the shared heat in places it's never been in before. Will pulls Mike in by his neck, until their chests press together.

The kiss grows more frantic, hands explore and dig into skin with hunger. To Will, this is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to him. Their bodies coming together, like it's natural. Opening up like this to the only boy he's ever loved, his best friend, his boyfriend. Not just that, but being trusted in return. Seeing the complete, unfiltered devotion in Mike's big dark eyes.

"Bed?" Mike whispers, pulling back by just a fraction.

Will nods eagerly, breath stuttering.

Mike smiles, so soft and giddy. He takes Will's hand into his own, cards their fingers together and pulls him towards the bed. Gives Will a gentle push until he plops down on the mattress, sitting on the edge. He looks up at Mike with those big shiny emerald eyes, completely trusting.

"Lie down, baby," Mike whispers, leaning down to kiss the crown of Will's head.

Will follows, pulling his legs up on the bed. He still feels a little awkward, his moves slightly stiff and unsure. There's a permanent blush decorating his cheeks, bright and hot, ever since he stepped into the room with the plan barely brewing in his head.

The sheets feel soft and soothing against his bare skin. He stays in a half sitting position at first, hesitant. His hands are clasped tightly over his lap, subconsciously covering the most intimate parts of himself.

Mike climbs on afterwards, kneeling in front of Will, eyes searching. They land on Will's hands, before lifting back up.

"You okay?" he asks, that same tender tone that still makes Will's heart skip a beat.

"Nervous," Will shrugs. A small chuckle slips out.

"Me, too," Mike giggles back, pulls his shoulders in by a fraction.

For a beat, they just stare at each other. Say everything they need with a shared look.

I love you. I trust you.

Will pulls his hands away from his crotch and lowers them to the sheets, fists at the soft fabric. He shifts, laying down onto the pillows. Mike scoots to the side to give him room, gaze fixed on his face. Once their eyes lock, they simply smile.

"What do you-"

"Just relax," Mike cuts in gently, moves to hover over Will. Braces himself against the mattress, free hand cupping Will's rosy cheek. "I- I'll take care of you, okay? But- But if you wanna stop, just say the word, and I will."

Will giggles at the stuttering, the tiny nervous cracks in Mike's voice. And yet, this is the most protected and safe he's ever felt. His body goes putty under Mike's touch, thoughts turning into something gooey and syrupy.

He nods. Offers himself up completely.

It starts with more kisses on the lips. Soft and gentle at first. Will feels the tremor in Mike's lips, though he himself isn't that much better. They quickly get more into it, teeth coming in to tug at the soft pink skin, gasps escaping in between.

Mike's mouth moves, explores what feels like every inch of Will's body. He kisses the mole above Will's lip, every delicate feature of his face. Nips at his earlobe, where the silver hoop catches the amber light.

As he moves to the warm neck, Will's breathing grows unsteady. His pulse speeds up, Mike feels the vibration with his lips. Will throws his head back against the sheets, giving even more access, to Mike's delight.

He latches on, sucks on the skin at Will's pulse point. Usually, he would avoid this part. Too visible, hard to hide, but it feels so right in this very moment. Every nerve in Mike's body is telling him, screaming at him to leave a mark, a purple-red claim, a promise.

So that's what he does. He pulls at the sweet honey skin, grazes it with his teeth until Will whimpers and arches into his touch. Mike licks the spot to soothe it, apologize for the sting, and pulls back.

His breath hitches. He's always mesmerized by how the bruises look on Will, decorating him so perfectly. His collarbones, stomach, thighs. It's always beautiful, but this is just breathtaking. Right there, out in the open, for everyone to see.

"F- Fuck," Mike mutters, feels all the blood and heat in his body rush downwards.

He dips lower, mouths at Will's Adam's apple before moving over his collarbones. His hand caresses Will's chest, brushes a nipple. An accidental touch, but Will gasps at it.

It feels nice. He almost wants to ask Mike to do it again, but all words die in his throat, and the kisses move lower. Will swallows, leaves those thoughts for another time.

Mike leaves a damp trail behind him, along with a few more marks. Not as dark and branding as the one blooming on Will's neck, but noticeable enough. Will makes these sweet little sounds above him, trembles and shifts around the sheets.

When Mike reaches Will's lower stomach, he lingers there. His fingers tap nervously against his boyfriend's hips, brain trying to keep up. He looks up, sees Will laying back, chin to the ceiling, chest rising and falling in wide intervals. He feels soft, warm puffs of air tickling his newly bared skin, blood quickly rushing there.

Mike is starstruck, seeing this new part of Will. The skin is much paler there, always hidden away from the sun and the rest of the world. It's decorated with more moles. Mike pokes at them, draws circles around them, kisses them.

"I didn't know about these," he murmurs without even realizing, a thought slipping out. Even chuckles quietly.

Will lets out a soft sound, a mix of a giggle and a whine. Tightens his hold on the sheets. Mike finds one of his hands, interlaces their fingers as he keeps kissing down Will's already oversensitive body.

He bites down on the inner thigh, the softest part that always makes Will kick his feet. It's exactly what happens, a short jerky motion that makes Mike laugh. Will huffs, trying to sound annoyed, but his flustered grin betrays him.

From there Mike latches onto his thighs like a starving man, biting and sucking at the skin like never before. Will's legs keep trying to clamp shut out of reflex, pressing on either side of Mike's head. That doesn't stop him. If anything, it just eggs him on.

Mike loves Will's thighs, how they seem to be perfectly carved out for him to stay between. The softness, the heat, the sounds he can pull out of Will by messing with them. It's dizzying.

The room gets filled with wet sounds of Mike's lips against skin, Will's shaky breaths and quiet whimpers. His back arches off the mattress repeatedly, so overwhelmed he's not sure what to do with himself.

His skin burns everywhere Mike kisses, but it's a pleasant burn. A reassuring, grounding heat soaking into him, spreading through his bloodstream and making him feel solid. Making his body feel solid, his own.

He moves, lifts himself up on his elbows to glance down. Mike is in the process of sucking another mark into his thigh, looking like he's drinking water after being stranded in a desert. His eyes, though, are fixed on Will's erection, already standing up high and eager.

Will swallows, needs to remind himself to breathe. Mike's gaze is so intense he can practically feel it burning his skin. Then Mike pops off, leaving another bruise behind him. With his eyes still on Will's dick, he licks his lips.

Right.

Mike moves up, his chin covered in his own spit. He keeps landing soft kisses against Will's leg as he goes. Presses one more to the knee before fully sitting up.

His eyes are hazy, scanning over Will in a way he's never seen before. Intense, focused, hungry. Then something else flickers behind that. Adoration, awe.

He drags his big palms up and down Will's ribcage, his plush thighs, soft stomach. All while looking down at him like he's something otherworldly.

"God, Will," he breathes out, an almost pained sound. "You're gorgeous."

Will's breath hitches painfully, tears glaze over his vision immediately. His bottom lip wobbles, and he cries. Hot tears run down his temples and fall into the sheets, all the overwhelming feelings spilling out. All the touches, the looks, the praise.

"Hey," Mike whispers, impossibly soft. He leans to cup Will's face, wipe the tears away with tender touches.

"S- Sorry," Will hiccups, roughly scrubs at his already sore eyes. Mike gently pries his hand away, kisses the irritated skin.

"Don't say that," Mike whispers more, with the softest smile on his face. "You're beautiful, Will. I- I mean, I already knew that, but.. God."

They both let out a few wet chuckles. One more tear rolls down Will's face, quickly caught by Mike's thumb. Will nuzzles into the touch, feeling so safe and happy his heart is about to leap out of his chest.

"You're beautiful, too," he whispers, voice shaking just a fraction.

Mike melts. His head drops down against Will's chest, like it's too heavy for his neck. He stays there, shoulders shaking. A few sniffles can be heard, then he sits up again and quickly wipes his teary eyes.

"God damn it," he says through a wet, snotty laugh as a few more tears roll down his face.

"Mike," Will says fondly, shifts until he's properly sitting up. He gently cups Mike's face, smiling softly.

"This is supposed to be, like, hot and sexy and shit. Fuck," Mike complains some more, rapidly blinking up at the ceiling, willing the remaining tears to soak back in.

"It's okay. I'm not complaining," Will laughs, soothingly rubbing the side of Mike's neck.

Mike shakes his head fondly, still looking up at the ceiling. Will tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. He lets his eyes trail over Mike's sharp frame, contoured by the shadows. The sight is breathtaking, even when Mike's skin is all blotchy from crying.

He should probably touch Mike now, make him feel good so they can continue with this. As he tries to think of the next step, his eyes shift lower. Before he can stop, he looks at Mike's crotch, where he's already very hard, without even being touched.

Did that happen just from kissing Will?

He grabs Mike by the face and pulls him into another kiss. Hungry, all teeth and tongue and remnants of salt mixing together. Mike melts into it, grabs onto Will's waist until his fingers dig into the skin.

"T- Touch me. Make me feel good," Will whispers against Mike's lips.

Mike nods rapidly, already moving them into a better position. Guidance seems to provide him a weird comfort, all tears immediately drying up, replaced by that hungry, steady focus.

Will lands back on the pillows, his chestnut hair framing his face. Mike slots between his legs, looms over him like it's part of his nature. His hand trails down, fingers wrap around Will's bare length at the base. 

Will gasps, bucks his hips up like reflex. This is so different than anything he's ever felt before, better than any fantasies. Mike's bare palm, big and pale, wrapped around him, enveloping him so perfectly.

"Oh my God," Will breathes out, voice climbing up in pitch.

Mike licks his lips, but more in concentration than anything else. As he gives Will a few testing strokes, his eyes take in every small reaction. Like he's studying him, learning.

Will responds eagerly, whimpering and moaning, thrashing against the mattress and trying to hide his face in the pillow.

"It's too dry," Mike mutters to himself, swipes his thumb across Will's tip to gather the precum already there.

"Oh God-"

Will gasps, his back arching into the touch. Mike looks at him in awe, genuinely smiling.

"Better than through underwear?" he asks, feeling bold.

Will nods against the sheets with a hum, tears already collecting in his eyes. It truly is so much better.

Mike smiles wider, tries to use the precum as lubricant. Strokes Will more, twists his wrist with every upward move. Sees if what he likes works for Will, too. The response seems to be positive, judging by the whiny sounds spilling out of Will's throat, but it's still off.

"Fuck. Not enough," Mike hisses, and lets go.

He brings his palm up to his face, starts gathering saliva. Will notices, and immediately springs up.

"Ew. Don't do that," he grimaces, covers Mike's mouth with his own hand. Mike pauses, looks back at him for a moment, confused. Then it clicks.

"Lube. Right," Mike says, brows jumping up into his hairline. "Where is-"

"There," Will cuts in, points at their nightstand without looking at it. His already red face flushes over even more, voice shrinks. "Bottom drawer. In the, uh.. In the back."

Something flashes over Mike's face for a second. Intrigue, mostly. That Will has not only been keeping something like this in the house, but right next to their bed, and Mike had absolutely no idea.

"I- I can-"

"I got it," Mike interrupts, voice strained as he stretches across the bed to reach the drawer.

It's filled with Will's stuff. Some loose pens and notebooks, chewing gum, earplugs and a sleeping mask. Just things he might need while in bed. Mike blindly fishes around, definitely ruining whatever system is going on in there.

Finally, his fingers hit a small plastic bottle. He bites down a 'fuck yeah' again, sits back comfortably. He's never seen stuff like this before this up close.

He takes a second to read the label, turns the bottle around, inspects it out of pure curiosity. Then he realizes there's some of the liquid missing, sees a noticeable gap in the bottle.

"I thought you said you haven't used it?" he says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"What? I haven't- Oh my God, shut up," Will groans, grabs a pillow and throws it at Mike's head.

Mike doesn't budge, just lets it hit his face and tumble uselessly to the floor, all while he giggles to himself. He pops the cap open, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet room, like a gunshot.

"I'm just kidding. Sorry," Mike laughs more, quickly pecks Will on the lips as an apology.

"You're so annoying," Will huffs, then looks to the side, blushing. "I just.. I just wanted to feel it. I didn't- I didn't use it on.. myself."

He makes a few gestures, like he's rubbing something between his fingers. Risks a glance at Mike, who's already looking back at him with an amused smile.

"How was it?" he asks.

"You're holding it in your hands, Mike," Will deadpans. The corners of his lips twitch up by the end, betraying his annoyed act.

"Right. Yeah," Mike nods, letting the joke go.

Will sits up more comfortably, stares at Mike's hands as he swirls the bottle around, watching the clear liquid move. Will spares another look at Mike's erection, practically screaming and begging for some friction. So far all attention has been purely on Will. He feels almost guilty about it.

"Can we.. touch each other at the same time?" Will suggests, front teeth tugging at his lip nervously.

"Fuck yeah. Please," Mike practically beams, finally tilts the bottle, right over his own length.

"Wait, it's-"

As soon as it hits Mike's skin, he shudders, barely holds in a high pitched yelp. His shoulders jump up to his ears, startled. Will grimaces in sympathy, hand hovering in the air mid gesture.

"-cold," he finishes, scrunches his nose.

"Yup," Mike squeaks, gradually relaxes as the lube warms up against his skin. Gives himself a few weak strokes, spreading it. "Jesus."

Will snorts, manages to hold back a laugh. He takes the bottle from Mike's hand and squeezes some on his own palm. Lets it pool there, waits for it to warm up nicely.

"Can you lay down?" he asks, looking up at Mike through his long lashes. He already knows the answer.

Before they know it, they're in a completely new position. Mike is laying flat on his back, his inky curls fanning over his forehead, damp with sweat. Will is straddling him, wincing when his bruised thighs sting. He's perched up on Mike's legs, their erections just mere inches away from colliding.

He feels nervous all of a sudden, almost wants to lay back down and just let Mike take over, but he doesn't. Instead, he wraps his lubed up hand around Mike's thick base, listens to him gasp and groan as his big hands dig into Will's hips.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes out when Will starts to stroke, applies pressure on the underside.

This is crazy. Will can feel every curve, every vein, the heat, the direct friction of skin against skin. His brain can barely wrap itself around the fact, around the sight.

"You're.. Um.. You're big," he mumbles. It was supposed to remain an inside thought, but he's being bold tonight, so screw it.

"Thanks," Mike chuckles, his stomach jumping with it.

Will holds in his own laugh, focuses on making Mike feel good. His own erection doesn't get left alone, either. Mike starts to stroke him again, movement much smoother with the added lube.

"Oh, God," Will gasps as he stares down at their bodies.

Their fists rhythmically glide against their rigid lengths, the skin there flushed and glistening with lube. Will's thighs tremble, both from the effort of holding himself up, and just how amazing he feels. The pleasure blooms, spreads through his every nerve, making his brain swim.

When Mike twists his wrist, Will keens, folds in on himself until he has to manually straighten out. It takes all his focus to keep his fist moving.

He looks over Mike's frame, the way his bicep flexes from the rhythm of his strokes. Will wants to bite it, wants to just collapse on top of Mike and drown in the delicious friction.

Throughout all of this Mike keeps whispering compliments and praises to Will. How can he not, with a view like this. Will perched up on top of him like it's his personal throne. Thighs decorated with bruises and bite marks, quivering from pleasure.

His face is all screwed up, eyes glassy, brows curved and lips all bitten and parted. High pitched little moans keep slipping past them. Mike can tell Will wants to just relax into it. It's clear by his hazy eyes, burning holes in the most intimate parts of the two of them.

"Hey," Mike says, but it comes out more breathy than he planned. Will doesn't seem to hear it at first. Mike clears his throat, tries again. "Baby."

Will lifts his eyes. Looks like it takes him extra effort to focus. Mike licks his lips, slows the movement of his fist. Will mirrors him, until they both stop to catch their breath.

"Can I do something kinda crazy?" Mike asks, voice cracking.

Will thinks for a second, then nods, too delirious to form words, let alone sentences. His muscles tremble, enough to hold himself up, but not much else.

Mike grabs him by the backs of his knees, and pulls. Closes that small distance between their erections, until they glide against each other. They both gasp at the sensation. Will collapses forward, braces himself against Mike's chest.

"Together?" Mike says, the best his brain could conjure up. Will just nods, bites his lip down.

Mike wraps his hand around both of them, the contact sharp and bright. Will bucks his hips into it with a high pitched sound.

"Oh my God," he mutters, keeps almost collapsing forward and catching himself.

Mike snakes his hand up Will's back, pulls him in. Will tucks his face into the curve of Mike's neck, wraps his shaking arms around him and just relaxes into the delicious friction.

Mike starts stroking them both at the same time, his own head falling back against the pillow. It feels insane, the skin to skin, their oversensitive tips gliding against one another, slick with lube and more precum.

They both tremble against each other, breathe and moan into the vacuum of the room. Will whimpers against Mike's neck, keeps weakly thrusting into his fist with the energy he still has.

"I'm close," he whispers, barely audible.

"Fuck- Me, too," Mike hisses, speeds up his strokes.

Will keens, pulls back to press their foreheads together. He looks like he's floating somewhere else, eyes nearly rolling back into his head, lips bitten and cherry red.

They try to kiss, but end up gasping against each other as they get closer. The pressure builds, the knot tightens. Will brings a hand down and rubs it over their flushed tips. Mike's entire body jerks at the contact.

"Oh, shit-"

He ends up toppling over the edge first, spilling into Will's palm and over his own knuckles with a groan. Will follows him just a few strokes later. A sound bordering on a sob rips out of his chest, a few stray tears slip and fall on Mike's cheek.

"Fuck," Mike says between deep breaths.

All energy leaves Will's body, and he collapses completely. Winces at the warm liquids smearing all over their stomachs. Mike wraps his clean arm around his waist, holds him close.

They stay like this for a bit, heartbeats merging into one, chests rising and falling in an almost matching rhythm. Kiss any skin they can reach. Necks, shoulders, temples.

Will feels like he might be in Heaven. His skin is heated everywhere it touches Mike's, the contact sending goosebumps through his body.

He did it. He opened himself up completely, and Mike accepted him. It almost makes Will want to cry all over again, if he still had the energy.

Mike draws little patterns over his sweaty back. Connects the moles dotting the tan skin into constellations, the placement memorized so intimately he doesn't even have to look.

Meanwhile Will runs his fingers through Mike's curls, shaping and untangling them. Gestures so natural to the two of them by this point.

"I love doing this with you," Mike says softly, kisses Will's temple.

"Having sex?" Will mumbles.

"I- I mean, that, too, but.. Just being with you, I guess," Mike stutters, then shrugs. Will huffs against his neck, a quiet laugh.

"I love being with you, too, Mike," he whispers, feels his voice starting to stumble. His heart jumps in his chest, swells so much it feels too big for his body.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Will shifts, moves so they can be face to face. Feels the stickiness between their bodies, now cooling down, and winces.

"Clean up. Right," Mike springs up, reaches out for the tissues on the nightstand, but stops. Pauses for a moment. "Actually, give me a second."

He grabs onto Will's waist and gently steers him until he's laying down in the sheets again. Will's body feels like clay, so he lets himself be moved. Mike kisses him quickly, then climbs off, disappears into the living room.

Will waits, staring up at the ceiling as he tries to calm his racing heart. He can faintly hear water running, the floorboards creaking. Mike comes back in shortly after, with a damp towel in hand.

He stands over Will, looking hesitant for a second. Then he brings the fabric down to Will's body, and starts gently wiping him down. His hand shakes a little, but he quickly grows more confident. Gets all the mess off Will, the warmth and softness soothing his skin.

Will sighs contently. He'll probably feel embarrassed about this in the morning, but right now it doesn't matter. He lets his eyes fall closed.

The rest of the world fades away. The mattress dips beside him, then comforting arms wrap around his frame and pull him in. Will instinctively curls into it, tucks his face into the warm crook of Mike's neck.

A blanket gets pulled over them. Mike kisses the crown of his head, whispers more sweet nothings into his hair, but Will doesn't register most of it, mind already drifting away. They fall asleep like this, bare bodies tangled together.

Chapter Text

This morning is one of the most pleasant Mike has had in a while, if you take away his clogged nose. Should've grabbed a jacket yesterday. He blinks one eye open, and gets met with a breathtaking sight.

Will is already looking back at him, with the softest, sweetest smile on his face. He's laying on his stomach, his flushed shoulders catching the morning sun. His beautiful face is propped up with his palm, head tilted.

The elegant curve of his back and waist disappears into the thick blanket. The chestnut bowl cut is messy and fluffy, making Will almost look younger.

There's this completely new glow to him. For a second Mike feels like he's looking at an actual angel, enveloped by a fluffy cloud.

"Hey," he mumbles, voice rougher than he expected. Feels the scratch in his throat.

"Are you sick?" Will's smile falters, replaced by worry.

"I guess," Mike shrugs, shifts until he's facing Will. One hand finds its way to his bare waist. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just looking at you," Will giggles at the sudden accent change.

"How long have you been up?" Mike asks, then sniffs. He's definitely sick.

"Not long," Will shakes his head slightly, eyes never leaving Mike's face.

They just look at each other for a bit, taking in every detail, letting the air of last night settle. They're still bare under the sheets. The fabric is soaked with their shared warmth, air feels lighter than ever before.

Mike thought this would be so much scarier, opening up like this to someone. He never thought he'd be able to. Imagined he would have to just power through it until he gets used to it.

With Will it's so easy. Everything is easy with him.

Mike stretches his hand out, brushes his thumb against Will's cheek, over his bottom lip before shifting to the dark, angry bruise on his neck. It almost looks like a rose, reds and purples blending together.

"Gonna have to cover that," Mike whispers, gently tracing the shape of the hickey.

Confusion flashes over Will's face for a second. He furrows his brows, pauses, then the memories seem to flood back in. His cheeks redden, nearly matching the bruise, and a flustered smile spreads on his face.

He dips his head into the pillow with a huff. Mike laughs back, returns to caressing Will's waist. His hand slots into the curve perfectly, like it was personally molded for him to hold.

"You look so beautiful right now," Mike whispers.

Will chuckles into the pillow, turns to peek at Mike. His nose is scrunched, like a bunny. Mike wants to bite it.

"So do you," Will whispers back.

He lifts his head again, starts caressing Mike's frame. His face, sharp jaw, long neck, faint bicep. Mike's muscles are not big by any means, but it seems to be plenty enough for Will. He always has this particular sparkle behind his eyes when he looks at them.

"So handsome," he adds, almost like a thought slipping out.

Mike smiles wider, feels his own cheeks heating up. He still doesn't know how to behave when Will compliments him. It's such a strange feeling, in a good way. The way Will says it, so genuine and loving, looking at Mike with those deep eyes. He means it, every word.

Mike hopes he can see it himself someday.

Will closes the distance, captures Mike's lips in a soft, sleepy kiss. They grin against each other, stay like this for a long moment. For a bit, the rest of the world fades away. All the responsibilities, the homework they need to catch up on, the rapid traffic outside.

All that matters is this. The contact, the closeness, the trust.

"What about morning breath?" Mike jokes.

"Shut up," Will grumbles, deepens the kiss.

Mike responds enthusiastically, tilts his head, matches Will's rhythm. Will sinks his hand into his obsidian hair, lightly tugs on it. Mike cups Will's face and steers them both, until Will is laying halfway on top of him.

It feels like finally taking a breath after being submerged underwater. Pure euphoria, satisfying every craving there is. Limbs get tangled, lips glide against each other like the most intricate choreography.

The grumbling of Mike's stomach cuts the moment short. Will physically feels the vibration of it. They pause. Mike looks mortified, eyes falling closed like he's waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Will has to tightly press his lips together to prevent himself from bursting into laughter.

What should be an awkward and embarrassing moment quickly turns into something even more romantic, somehow. Will giggles softly, a melodic sound that ultimately breaks Mike out of his mortification. He joins in on the laughter, even snorts.

"Okay. Breakfast," Mike says once the giggles die down, rubs his stomach and climbs out of bed.

Will stays in the sheets for a bit longer, watches as Mike crosses the room. His bare silhouette in the morning sunlight looks like it's actually made of marble, dotted with freckles. Will takes in the way Mike's muscles shift as he walks, stretches his sore back. Memorizes the curve of his spine as he bends to pick up the scattered clothes all over the floor.

Mike fishes fresh boxers out of the closet, pulls them on. His moves are sharper, a little clumsy when his long limbs get in the way, but Will is never going to get tired of it. Some days he still can't believe he gets to wake up to this every morning.

Without having to be asked, Mike grabs another pair of underwear for Will. When he turns around and catches Will's eyes already on him, a rosy blush spreads on his cheeks. His eyes fall to the floor for a second, shy, before he hands the boxers over.

"Thanks," Will says, smirking.

He sits up, swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and starts pulling the underwear on. Tries to look calm and collected, but his hands still shake just a bit. No matter how comfortable he is with Mike, that stubborn little voice in the back of his head remains, snags on the roll of his stomach, the scar on his hip.

Mike's eyes jump around the room awkwardly, before finally landing back on Will. Unsure if he's allowed to look at first. He smiles at the little roll of skin on Will's tummy, a reminder that he eats well and is much happier now. Mike is proud to be part of that.

Will stands up, now fully dressed. Mike chokes up on a breath, it turns into wet coughs. He keels over, heaving into his fist. Feels how raw his throat is.

"I'll make you some tea, okay?" Will says softly, rubbing Mike's back.

___

"How do you want me?" Mike asks, shifting around in the chair.

"Just sit how you normally would," Will chuckles.

"I don't know how."

"Mike."

The two are in the living room. Will is on the couch, with a sketchbook open in his lap and a freshly sharpened pencil between his fingers. He has a loose shirt on, hanging slightly sideways with a collarbone peeking out.

Mike is still in just underwear, sitting opposite to Will in his chair, trying to situate his long limbs. He's been at this for a few minutes now, huffing and cursing under his breath.

"Mike, stop overthinking it," Will says, slowly losing his patience.

"Just tell me what to do," Mike nearly whines, throwing himself back against the chair.

"The point is to draw a human body in its natural state. If I tell you how to sit, it's not natural," Will explains, tapping on the sketchbook to punctuate his words.

Mike sighs, manually situates himself. He's suddenly very aware of every inch of his body. His legs, spread wide, big feet, slouched posture and hands unsure how to rest.

He grabs onto the armrest on one side, adjusts at least five times. The other hand lands on the desk nearby. Mike repeatedly flattens it against the wood then pulls it into a fist, on a nervous loop.

Will catches the movement, sighs. Mike stops, lets the hand rest however it wants to. It gets quiet from there. Will focuses on the blank pages in front of him, his eyes jumping between the paper and his stiff model.

Mike feels like his legs are spread out too wide. Sure, he does sit like that naturally, but it doesn't look particularly good. He tries to adjust, moves his leg, but Will catches on quickly.

"Don't move. I already started," he says, voice unusually firm. Mike obeys, returns into his previous position without a word.

For a bit the silence gets filled with sounds of a pencil gliding against paper. Will's moves are precise, from long smooth strokes to short and quick ones. His tongue pokes out in concentration, eyes are focused and steady.

Mike loves when Will gets like this. Unguarded, focused purely on what's on the page. His lashes flutter as he takes in the details of the sketch, delicate fingers enveloping the pencil. It's always a fascinating sight, has been since they were kids.

It does get a bit boring, though. As much as Mike enjoys his view, keeping his mouth shut is like actual torture. Sitting still is already difficult enough.

"Hey," he starts, gets a hum in response. "Can we talk during this, or is it gonna be, like, distracting?"

Will looks up at him through his lashes. His focused gaze softens, a smile spreads on his face.

"Of course we can talk. Sorry," Will chuckles, adjusts in his seat. "Also, you can change the pose now."

Mike nods, decides to cross his legs and clasp his hands over his knee. Now that he's allowed to talk, he feels a little less robotic. His limbs slot over each other a lot more naturally.

Will goes back to sketching, and neither of them speaks for a bit. Mike zones out, focuses on the way Will's hair fans over his face, framing it perfectly, on the bruise decorating his neck.

"Do you wanna start talking?" Will says when the silence gets way too awkward to ignore.

"Right. Yeah," Mike sits up straighter. It comes out cracked, so he clears his throat. That just sends him into another coughing fit.

"Drink the tea," Will suggests, pointing at the cup sitting on the desk, neglected so far. It's full of tea with honey, lemon and some ginger, a thin strip of steam travelling upwards.

"I'm good," Mike stubbornly shakes his head, lets out the last of the coughs. Will winces, but lets it go, goes back to sketching. "Last night was fun."

"Fun?" Will smirks, raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Mike nods with a smile, shrugs. "That's the best word I can think of."

Will smiles. 'Fun'. So simple, almost childish, but he can't think of a better descriptor, either. It was fun. Everything is fun with Mike.

"That was, um.. That was really brave. What you did," Mike continues, stumbling over his words a bit. His palms itch to scratch his head or rub his neck, but he keeps them in place.

"Get naked?" Will half jokes. A nervous chuckle slips out.

"Yeah. That.. That must've been scary," Mike says quietly, brows twitching. Will pauses for a second, taken aback by the sincerity.

"Kinda, yeah," he shrugs, resumes the movement of his pencil. "I was worried you'd, like, freak out."

"Why would I freak out?" Mike furrows his brows in genuine confusion.

"I don't know, just.. Everything out in the open, no hiding," Will says, shrugs sheepishly. Mike looks at him, even more confused than before. Will swallows. "That I'm a guy."

"I.. already.. knew that?" Mike says slowly, raises an eyebrow.

"Well- I mean, y- yeah. Obviously," Will stutters. "It's just.. Whatever. Nevermind. It's.. dumb."

Pain flashes over Mike's face. It hurts him to know that these thoughts still plague Will. Doubts still sit stubbornly in his mind, like a parasite. From what Mike's heard, they're not nearly as loud and persistent as they used to be, but the remnants are still there, like a scar.

"I mean, I guess I did freak out a little bit," Mike says. Will gives him a questioning look. Mike smiles. "'Cause of how beautiful you looked."

"Oh my God," Will scoffs, shakes his head fondly.

"I mean it," Mike adds, voice firmer but still impossibly soft. "Everything about you is perfect, okay? Everything."

Will feels tears pricking at his eyes, his vision blurs at the edges. The words hit him right in the chest, the tender tone strengthening the blow. He looks back down at the sketchbook, his bangs a protective curtain. Swallows the painful lump in his throat, wills the tears to soak back in.

"C- Can you, um," Will starts, voice breaking. He clears his throat. "Can you turn your head to the side?"

"I thought this was supposed to be natural," Mike jokes, but follows the order, turning his head.

"Shut up. It's a tricky angle," Will mumbles, smiling outside of his control.

Mike sits, staring at a crack in the floor, suddenly at a loss for words. He just listens to the sounds of graphite scraping against paper, feels his leg starting to go numb from the position.

"Was it.. scary for you?" Will breaks the silence.

Mike pauses, thinking. Looks up at the ceiling, purses his lips, hums. After a few seconds of that, he shakes his head.

"Weirdly, no," he answers, furrowing his brows.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Mike shrugs, keeps the frown on his face.

"Do you just.. get naked in front of people?" Will teases.

"What? No! I just.. Well," Mike scoffs, then settles down. Softens his voice again. "I guess it's because.. it's you. When I saw you, it just.. It felt natural. To open up to you like that."

Will feels another wave of tears wash over him. His bottom lip trembles, and he bites it down. His heart swells with affection, a feeling so overwhelming he doesn't know what to do with himself. One tears rolls out, and he quickly wipes it away with his stained finger.

"Thank you.. for trusting me," he says eventually, voice breathy and quiet. Mike gives him a soft smile in return, even though Will keeps his gaze on the sketchbook. "You can change now."

Mike shifts. Stretches his legs out that were already falling asleep, crosses his ankles. Leans back like he's in a recliner, arms crossed behind his head. Will watches him, leftover tears still glistening in his eyes.

"Do something else with your arms," he says, going back to his focused voice. Raspier, lower, but still gentle.

Mike bites down another snarky comment, instead throws his head back and groans at the ceiling. His arms fall at his sides, limp, before he crosses them on his chest.

"That's better," Will approves, goes back to sketching.

Another silent pause stretches. Mike almost falls asleep, the hum of their New York life serving as a lullaby. Will continues drawing, glancing up at Mike more than usual. He lingers, looks like he's thinking about something each time he does it.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, nervously twirling the pencil between his graphite stained fingers.

"Always," Mike answers without skipping a beat, barely lets the question end.

"Okay, um.. Is there.. anything you wanna try?" Will asks, does his best to keep his voice steady as his face gains a red tint. Bites the inside of his cheek. "Like, in bed?"

Mike pauses to think again. The more that goes on, the redder his cheeks get. Will keeps staring down at the sketchbook, the pencil idle, frozen mid stroke. He tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, waits.

"I don't know," Mike says after a while, shrugs. Will's head snaps up.

"You don't know?"

"That's what I just said," Mike laughs, but Will doesn't share the sentiment. He looks serious, a little worried. His brows knit together, forming a wrinkle in between. It takes Mike aback, the humor leaving his voice. "Why do you ask?"

"We just.. We usually do what I like," Will starts, fights through the embarrassment. Sets the sketchbook aside to focus on the conversation. "You always ask what I want to do, or I decide."

"Okay?" Mike nods, clueless on where this is going.

"That's.. not fair," Will says weakly, scratches the back of his head from the nerves. Suddenly everything feels uncomfortable, so he shifts on the couch again, pulls his legs under himself. "There has to be something you like. Anything?"

"I like making you feel good."

Will tries to ignore the way his heart flutters at the words. His thighs tense up, press tighter together like reflex.

"Mike," he sighs, hides his face in his palms before looking up again. "I mean, like, things that you like. What I can do for you. Something we haven't done yet."

"Well," Mike pauses again. His eyes jump around, like he's actually digging through his brain for an answer. He pushes his mouth to the side, blushes more. "Maybe.. there are a couple things."

"Okay," Will nods encouragingly, sits up straighter. "W- What are they?"

 Mike lets out a weak, flustered laugh, and collapses back against the chair. He drapes an arm over his eyes, bounces his leg from the nerves. The other hand taps on the desk.

"I guess, um," he starts, but quickly gives up again. Groans at the ceiling some more.

"Just say it. It's okay," Will encourages gently. Mike takes a steadying breath.

"A blowjob," he blurts out finally.

They both go silent. After a moment, Mike starts up again, now rambling non stop, but Will doesn't hear it. Every muscle in his body goes rigid. All he can hear is ringing in his ears, drowning out the rest of the world.

His blood turns to acid in his veins, limbs feel like stone. Lungs close up painfully, refusing to pull in air. That is not the answer Will wanted to hear.

Just the thought makes him nauseous. Something going into his mouth, down his throat. The feeling of flesh, warm but cold and slimy and disgusting. Will tries to swallow, but it seems like his body fights against it.

He does his best to calm down, pulling in air in long drags, exhaling just as slowly. After a few passes, his muscles relax. Will wiggles his fingers to encourage circulation. Mike's voice finally breaks through the fog.

"-I mean, I've never given one before, so I can't promise it'll be any good-"

"Wait," Will interrupts, focused once again and relatively calm.

"Hm?" Mike pauses.

"You.. You mean you wanna.. give me one?" Will asks slowly, brows furrowing more with each carefully picked word.

"Yeah," Mike nods easily, like they're talking about something casual. "I've read that they feel really good, so if it's something you're into, we could.."

"Oh," Will says distantly, brain trying to keep up. For a split second he feels like this is just another vision, his mind playing tricks on him. "But that's still.. Wait. You've read about it?"

"Yeah," Mike nods again. Will stares at him for a second, a little baffled.

"Is there, like, a secret section downstairs I don't know about?" Will tries to joke.

"Oh, no. Not here. Back in Hawkins," Mike blurts out, then looks embarrassed immediately after. Will stares at him again, eyes round and brows up in his hairline.

"I'm sorry. What?" he deadpans. "In- In Hawkins? When did- Where- Why- Huh?"

"I just.. Fuck," Mike groans into his palms, his face crimson red. "After you came out to us, I wanted to.. research it."

"Right."

"In case you wanted to.. Um.. Talk to me about it, I guess," Mike mumbles, practically folds in half in the chair. Will barks out a laugh, immediately slaps a palm over his mouth.

"That's.. kinda sweet? I think?" he says, voice climbing up in pitch. He tilts his head as he says it, squints one eye shut.

"It made sense to me in the moment," Mike mumbles, drags a palm down his face, cringing at his past self.

Will fully laughs, feels all tension leave his body. Of course Mike would do something like that.

"Anyway," Mike cuts through the laughter, looking as red as a ripe tomato. Flushed from the tips of his ears down to his chest. "Do you, uh.. wanna try that?"

"Um.. Y- Yeah. Sure. We can- We can try that," Will stutters, nodding and shrugging repeatedly. Sees Mike's frame relax. "Are you sure, though? That you wanna do that?"

"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't," Mike says easily, chuckles.

"Okay," Will whispers, suddenly feels warm all over. He reaches to grab his sketchbook again. "What are the other things?"

"What?"

"You said there are a couple things you want to try," Will pulls the book back into his lap, settles more comfortably.

"Oh, we don't have to do everything at once. We can take it slow," Mike waves a dismissive hand, shaking his head rapidly.

"Okay," Will doesn't bother arguing, nods at Mike so he gets back to posing.

The room falls back into comfortable silence. Will continues sketching, his cheeks retaining that faint rosy glow from the conversation.

Mike's offer intrigues him. He's never thought about doing something like that before. The idea always scared him, because it was about him doing it to someone. It didn't even cross his mind that he can be on the receiving end.

That poisonous voice in the back of his mind still chants that this is a bad idea, that when it gets to it, Mike will freak out and Will's dream life will shatter right in front of his eyes. He pushes those thoughts down, as far away as he can.

"So," Mike breaks the silence, constantly shifting in his seat like a dog excited to go for a walk. Will lifts his eyes at him. "When can we, uh.. You know."

Will can't hold back a giggle. He swears if Mike had a tail, it would be wagging wildly behind him, knocking over furniture.

"Not when you're sick, Mike," he says, shaking his head fondly.

"What?" Mike deflates, looks genuinely hurt. His voice shrinks, scratchy from his sore throat. "I'm not.. I'm not that sick."

"Mike."

That's all it takes. The now lukewarm tea on the desk gets emptied halfway in about three seconds. Mike fishes out the slice of ginger floating around, and straight up chews on it, feels the prickly burn go down his throat.

___

Mike recovers in four days, a personal record. Usually fevers have him in a chokehold for at least a week, purely because he's too lazy to take medicine on time.

This time, though, he's drinking at least three cups of tea a day, chews on ginger like it's chips, and constantly checks his temperature like a maniac. It's miserable, but it pays off. Now he can breathe fully and doesn't fall into a coughing fit every time he speaks.

He's at work, unable to focus on much of anything outside of Will. His limbs buzz and tingle with anticipation. The conversation from a few days ago replays in his mind on a constant loop.

Mike almost feels like he's preparing for an important test. Nerves buzz in his stomach, he can't stay still for even a second. He wants to do good, make Will feel nice and hopefully not totally embarrass himself in the process.

He keeps thinking about it as he polishes yet another glass, eyes fixed on a random crack in the wall. A dopey grin spreads on his face outside of his control.

The bell rings softly, ripping Mike out of his daydreams. His head snaps towards the source, annoyed at the distraction. It fades away once he sees the intruder.

"Hey," it's Will, with a food container in hand. He's smiling wide, looking as effortlessly divine as ever.

"Hey," Mike melts, abandons the task he wasn't all that committed to in the first place. His legs carry him across the counter. He leans over it, propping his face up.

"You forgot your lunch," Will says, hands the food over.

"Oh. Right," Mike mumbles. He was too busy daydreaming, and just ran out of the house without a second thought. Did not even realize it until now. The food gets set aside, Mike's eyes never leaving Will's. "Thanks."

"Yeah, of course," Will smiles, nervously drums on the counter with his fingers.

"I'm not sick anymore," Mike says abruptly.

"Yeah?" Will raises an eyebrow.

Mike nods. Gets a skeptical look in response, so he opens his mouth to prove it. Will immediately shuts it down, shoving a palm into Mike's face.

"Okay, okay. I believe you," he laughs through the words.

"So," Mike stretches, leans in closer and lowers his voice to a playful whisper. "Can we.. you know. Tonight?"

"You mean.."

"Yeah," Mike wiggles his eyebrows. Will quietly laughs at how giddy he is about this.

"Sure," he replies.

"Sure?" Mike suddenly gets more serious. A worried wrinkle forms between his brows.

"Yes, Mike. Yes, we can do.. that," Will corrects, rolls his eyes fondly.

"Okay. Cool," Mike huffs, shoulders shaking happily.

"Cool," Will holds in another laugh.

They stay like this for a bit, murmuring and whispering to each other. Eventually the manager pops out, shoots a death glare at Mike. He deflates, rolls his eyes so hard it has to be painful.

"The place is fucking empty, anyway," Mike grumbles through gritted teeth, every facial feature tense and sharp.

"Okay. See you later?" Will chuckles, starts pulling back.

"Yeah. See ya," Mike replies, voice immediately softening.

He taps on the counter three times. Will stops, mirrors the gesture. They smile at each other once more, saying everything they need. Will turns and leaves, all the warmth disappearing with him.

Mike sighs, snatches the rag like it personally offended him and goes back to polishing. He does it with so much force he swears he can hear the glass straining under his fingers, threatening to break.

___

The drive home is so fast Mike is surprised he doesn't crash. He kills the engine, leaps out of the car so fast his vision goes fuzzy for a second. Skipping half of the stairs, he makes it to their apartment door.

He fumbles with the keys, fingers refusing to cooperate. His mind is racing, flickering through endless scenarios of how he wants this to go. Imagines Will already waiting for him by the door, or maybe laying in bed, all soft and trusting. His throat goes dry at the thought.

After about seven tries and dropping the keys three times, Mike opens the door. He's met with an empty apartment, a thin strip of light bleeding from under the bathroom door. Judging by the hum of the shower, Will is in there.

Not exactly the sexy and hot fantasy Mike had in mind, but he'll take it. He takes his time to tug his shoes off, shed his jacket, try and fix his hair in the mirror.

He's already sweating, purely from nerves. He keeps licking his lips, picking at his thumb nail, pacing around the apartment. His glasses repeatedly slide down his nose.

He practically jumps when the bathroom door swings open, ripping him out of his little internal crisis. A soft cloud of steam spills out into the living room, then Will emerges from it, looking like an angel descending from the Heavens.

His hair is damp, sticking to his forehead. Some stray water droplets run down his body, glistening and looking like actual honey against his golden skin. Those long lashes of his are clumped together, almost doll-like.

"Oh," Will says, startled. He looks at Mike, eyes wide, clutching the towel wrapped around his hips. "You're.. a little early."

"Yeah, I just- Well.. Um. Yeah," Mike fumbles completely, cringes immediately after.

They stay quiet for a bit, a little awkward. Will relaxes his grip on the towel, along with his posture. Mike's palms get clammy like never before, and he clumsily wipes them on his jeans.

He's been thinking about this for days, daydreaming about it. Now that they're both here, though, Mike is lost. All the planning, the jokes he was saving completely escape his mind, leaving only fuzzy static behind.

"Should we-"

"Are you-"

They both speak at the same time, voices nervous.

"You go first," Mike says immediately, palm up in the air.

"Are you hungry?" Will asks.

"No, I'm good," Mike shakes his head. Pauses, thinking, then continues before he can stop himself. "Actually, I kinda am."

"Okay. I can throw something together," Will ponders, starts making his way to the kitchen. Mike catches him by the shoulder.

"No, I meant.. like, not literally hungry. Like, hungry for something else. Hungry for.. you, I guess. Um. It's, like, a joke," Mike explains, pathetically tripping and stumbling over every word. Sighs deeply right afterwards, until his chest burns.

Will stares at him, unblinking. His lips twitch like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

"I need to shut the fuck up," Mike mutters under his breath, barely audible.

At this point he wouldn't mind if the floor opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole. His cheeks are burning, heart bangs against his ribs so hard it feels like they're about to crack. His grip on Will's shoulder gets slippery, the clamminess of his palms returning, even worse than before.

Will takes a second to process everything, blinking rapidly. Once it settles, he chuckles. Quiet at first, holding back, then it turns into full on cackles. His shoulders jump with it, cheeks puff up.

"Don't laugh at me," Mike grumbles, fighting back his own grin.

"Sorry. That was.. Wow," Will keeps giggling as he speaks, palm coming up to cover his mouth. He steps closer, stretches his arms out. "Come here."

Mike accepts the invitation, stepping into Will's space, hands finding the curve of his bare waist. Will loops his arms around Mike's neck, and pulls him into a kiss. Finally.

He still grins and barely holds back his giggles. Mike gives in, huffing and smiling, too. They fully hug, arms wrapping around each other tight.

"Fuck it. Can I give you a blowjob?" Mike blurts out, all in one breath. Like he's leaping off a cliff, ripping off the bandaid.

"Oh my God," Will pulls back, wincing.

"Can I?" Mike repeats, voice much softer and more tender.

"Yes," Will sighs, smiling. "Yes, you can, Mike."

"Thank fuck," Mike breathes out, practically leaps forward and captures Will's lips in a proper kiss.

This one is deep, mouths smacking and teeth knocking. Will melts into it, opens up when Mike's tongue nudges against his bottom lip. Hands roam, tangle in hair, caress faces, cling to fabric, dig into skin.

"Where do you want it?" Mike whispers straight into Will's mouth, refusing to pull back by even a fraction.

"You decide," Will answers without missing a beat, his voice gravelly, hungry. It vibrates through Mike's entire body, makes him shudder.

Throughout this, they stumble through the living room, the kiss never breaking. Mike trips over the carpet, steers Will when he nearly crashes into the couch. They cross the room like this, eyes open halfway, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

Mike dips, scoops Will up into his arms and puts him on the desk. Will yelps, braces himself against the wood.

"Here?" he whispers with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Uh huh," Mike simply nods, his curls flowing and glasses sliding down his nose. With an annoyed huff, he goes to pull them off, but Will stops him.

"Keep them on," he whispers, holding onto Mike's wrist.

"Okay," Mike blushes, takes a second to catch his breath. Obediently slides the thin frames back into place.

He dives to kiss Will's neck, worships every inch of the honey skin he can reach. It smells clean. Mike almost misses the natural scent of Will, the one he gets in the morning after a good night's sleep.

He kisses, nips, sucks at the skin. Goes over the half faded hickey at Will's pulse point, makes sure it stays there longer. Steadily moves from his neck down to his collarbones, across the dip of his chest. Leaves a small mark above his heart.

"Mike-"

Will gasps, arches into the touch. He grips onto Mike's shoulders, tangles his fingers in his hair. Throws his head back when Mike kisses down his stomach, where the heat and the tingles rush to.

Mike lingers there, feels the warmth radiating from under Will's fluffy towel. Kisses above the belly button, nips at the hip bone, pinches the little roll of skin because he can't help himself.

"Stop doing that," Will says through a breathy, light giggle, batting Mike's hand away.

"It's cute," Mike murmurs against Will's skin, sucks another hickey around one of the moles there.

His thumb traces the strip of fine hair leading down under the towel, ghosts over the fabric where it's most heated, tenting. Will whimpers at the light touch, hips chasing it.

Mike sinks to his knees, bones harshly colliding with the floorboards from how eager he is. Will temporarily breaks out of his daze, soothingly rubs Mike's shoulders.

"Get a pillow," he says between deep breaths.

"It's fine," Mike dismisses, palms Will's bare thighs.

"Mike," Will says more firmly, gripping onto his boyfriend harder. "Grab a pillow, or we're not doing this."

Mike deflates, shoulders slouching. Will can practically see his ears folding back in defeat, like a kicked puppy. Pouting, Mike stands back up. He groans, his knees crack way too loud. No matter how much he works out, this still happens.

He shuffles towards the couch, snatches one of the pillows and returns to the desk. Carelessly throws it to the floor at Will's feet and kneels on it. Settles more comfortably, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

"Better?" he says, looking up at Will.

"Much," Will nods, almost smug. Pats Mike's hair just because he can.

"Okay," Mike sighs, prepares himself.

This is it.

Mike scoots closer, puts his palms on Will's knees. He gently nudges them apart, just a little. Will lets him, watching him intently and bracing himself against the desk. His thighs tremble in a mix of nerves and anticipation.

Mike stops, glances up at Will with a silent question in his eyes. Asks permission.

Will swallows, his Adam's apple jumping. With a slightly shaky hand, he loosens the knot on his towel, the fabric going slack and draping over his lap, accentuating every curve of him. His thighs, hips, erection already begging for relief.

As he does it, he holds eye contact with Mike. His eyes are so dark and dilated Will can clearly see his own reflection in them. Breathing heavy, lips parted, marks already blooming across his torso.

He spreads his legs further. Slow, deliberate. The towel drapes more, now just a useless barrier. Mike licks his lips involuntarily. His eyes jerk to look down, but he keeps them on Will. Takes in every little detail of his beautifully dazed face.

Will gives him a small nod, barely there, but it feels like everything.

Mike leaps forward, slotting between Will's legs. He grabs him by the hips, pulls him even closer with a firm tug. Will gasps at the gesture. It breaks off into a moan when Mike starts nosing against him through the towel.

He drags his nose over the curve, mouths at the soft fabric, breathes in the scent. Takes his time with it, exploring and learning before getting to the real deal.

Even this contact pulls sweet whimpers and delicious gasps out of Will. He grips onto the desk, Mike's shoulders, hair, hands, before returning to the wood. Like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Wanted to do this for so long," Mike murmurs, presses his mouth right over Will's sensitive tip.

"Oh God-"

Will's body jerks, hand grips Mike's hair like he might float away if he doesn't hold on tight enough. Mike groans at the sting, the sound vibrating against Will and sending electric shocks right up his spine. He whimpers, a high pitched shaky sound.

Mike feels himself painfully straining against his own jeans, but that's the least of his problems. All that matters to him right now is making sure Will feels good. It's almost technical to him, as he recalls his research. It's been a while, but the information is burned into his brain like a brand.

He keeps mouthing around Will's length, feeling it out through the fabric. Prepares himself for what's to come. He drags his palms up and down Will's thighs as he goes, dips under the towel, teasing.

"M- Mike," Will breathes out, muscles quivering.

"Feels good?" Mike asks, keeps his lips on Will as he looks up at him. The sight knocks all air out of his lungs.

"Y- Yeah. So good," Will nods, looking wrecked already. His skin is glistening with sweat, flushed down to his shoulders. Hips are slack against the desk, held up by gravity and Mike's big palms. Eyes are already glassy and only half open, but still locked on Mike's.

Mike smiles, proud of himself. He fully slides his palms under the towel, the fabric shifting out of place. Squeezes Will's thighs until his fingers dig into the skin, pins him in place.

"M- Mike. Baby, please," Will babbles, voice breathy and broken. He tries to buck his hips, chase some friction, but it's futile. Mike's grip doesn't falter. If anything, it only tightens.

"Please, what?" Mike whispers, feeling a little evil. Will huffs, turns away to hide his flustered blush.

"Mike," he grumbles, grips onto the edge of the desk so hard his nails scrape against the wood.

"I'll do whatever you want, just say the word," Mike says softly, rests his chin on Will's thigh. Gently strokes the other with his thumb, teasing the hem of the towel.

"I hate when you do this," Will mutters, turns away further.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," Mike deflates, his confident act dissolving in a blink of an eye. He peppers kisses over Will's thigh, strokes it some more. "No more teasing. I swear."

Will sighs, the sound a mixture of frustration and arousal. He turns to face Mike once again, his lips in a permanent pout.

"Can you get this off already?" Will mumbles, wiggling his hips against the desk.

"I can do that," Mike laughs quietly.

He kisses Will's thigh once more, then curls his trembling fingers around the hem of the towel. This time he doesn't tease or prolong the process. Instead, he pulls the fabric aside, revealing the most intimate parts of Will.

His erection springs free, the tip flushed and glistening. Will's stomach tenses up at the air hitting his newly exposed skin, his breath stutters. Mike fully licks his lips at the sight, this time deliberately. Preparing for the next step.

"Okay," he breathes out, almost hyping himself up. Scoots a little closer, shaky breath ghosting right over Will's rigid length. 

His hands go a little numb, brain scrambles for a plan of action. It's one thing to read about it, but actually kneeling down and being just mere inches away from doing it is something else. Mike nervously taps on Will's thighs, eyes jumping all over the place.

"Mike," Will grumbles up above him. Shifts his hips, desperate for any kind of friction. "You said no more teasing."

"I'm not. Promise," Mike's head snaps up, voice shrinks into something small and sincere. "Just.. nervous."

"Oh," Will deflates, his frustration fading away. He runs his fingers through Mike's hair, soothing. "I mean, you don't have to.."

"Will," Mike sighs, smiling fondly. Slowly, he moves to wrap his fingers around Will's length at the base. Squeezes until he hears a sweet gasp. "I wanna do this so bad. I just.. need to get into it, I guess."

"O- Okay," Will stutters, breath already uneven.

"Just keep your expectations low," Mike adds, giving Will a few tentative strokes. He nervously chuckles to himself. "Like, extremely low. This is probably gonna be really bad."

He gathers the bead of precum with his thumb, uses it to make the slide smoother. Will bucks his hips into it, a shaky moan slipping past his lips. Keeps his hand in Mike's hair as an anchor, something to ground himself.

Mike continues stroking him, keeping a steady rhythm as he kisses his thighs, hips, moving closer and closer to where Will needs it most. It's right there. All Mike has to do is lean in, but the cluster of nerves in his stomach prevents him from doing so.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, twists his wrist, making Will whimper and arch his back. "You'll tell me if it's bad, right?"

Will hums in response, too delirious and lost in pleasure to form words. Mike leans in closer, breath ghosting over Will's flesh. He slows his fist, keeps it at the base.

"Or if you want me to, like, change anything? Or stop completely?" He continues, rambling at this point. His lips barely brush over Will's tip.

"Yeah," Will gasps, nodding rapidly. His eyes wrench shut at the new sensation. "And- And you, too. Okay? Stop whenever you want."

"Yeah," Mike smiles softly, feels the tension finally leave his body. This is just Will. No need to be so nervous.

He kisses Will's tip, starting slow. Feels the heat, the salt. Mouths at the sides, traces every curve and vein with the tip of his tongue. He starts pumping his fist again, just short lazy strokes down at the base.

His moves are clumsy, muscles locking from lingering nerves. Lips tremble as he goes to fully wrap them around the tip, gives it an experimental suck.

"Oh my God," Will gasps, his grip on Mike's hair growing painful. His other hand finds Mike's shoulder, fingers digging into skin and muscle even through his shirt.

The contrast hits Will just now. Mike is still fully dressed, clothes smelling of outside and wrinkled after a long busy day. While Will himself is fully bare, the towel just laying uselessly beneath him. It sends a thrilling wave of goosebumps up his spine.

Mike, on his knees, worshipping and loving Will's body like it's second nature to him. Will could almost cry from the realization, how cherished it makes him feel.

Mike grabs his thigh and throws it over his own shoulder, searching for a better angle. That knocks Will off balance for a second, but Mike's free hand is on him immediately, steadying him. 

He sucks on the tip some more, tries to sink lower, but ends up scraping Will's skin with his teeth. Will hisses, tugs on on Mike's hair out of reflex. Mike pops off him immediately, mouth glistening.

"S- Sorry," he pants, licks his lips before he can stop himself. "This is.. harder than I thought."

"It's okay," Will chuckles, catching his breath. Relaxes his hand, apologetically pats Mike's head where he tugged.

"You're pretty big," Mike blurts out with a dumb smile on his face.

Will chokes on a breath.

"Do you.. wanna continue?" he asks carefully.

"Fuck yeah," Mike nods eagerly, eyes round. Leans in again, kisses up the side of Will's length, now more confident. "Does it feel good?"

"Y- Yeah. Really good," Will whispers, voice breathy and completely cracked open.

"Any notes?"

"Oh my God," Will rolls his eyes, annoyed. Mike keeps staring at him with those big curious eyes, so he gives in. "No teeth."

"Obviously," Mike rolls his eyes in response. Keeps softly pumping his fist, keeping that pressure. "Anything else?"

"Um.. God- Maybe, uh.. hollow your cheeks?" Will mumbles, desperately trying to stay focused as his body feels like it's melting under Mike's touch. His brows furrow in concentration, hands ache from the tight grip.

"Okay," Mike nods, shifts his focus back to Will's crotch in front of him, his own fist gliding up and down. Quickly fixes his glasses, slides them back up his nose like a nerd stereotype. "I- I'll try to go deeper, okay?"

"Just don't overdo it-"

Will's voice breaks off into a shuddering moan. Mike sinks down onto him again, teeth retracted, the seal of his lips tighter. He hollows his cheeks as he sucks on the tip, and Will feels warm all over.

His muscles turn to putty, every nerve set on fire. The tight heat of Mike's mouth is dizzying, making Will's vision fuzzy at the edges. He's never experienced anything like this before.

His body screams, aches for more. Hips want to thrust forward, chase that delicious wet warmth, but he resists. Keeps himself upright the best he can.

The sounds Mike's mouth makes are obscene, cutting through the vacuum of the room like the sharpest blade. Spit runs down his chin in a thin strip, arm aches from stroking Will pretty much non stop. His jaw quickly starts to feel sore, but he ignores it all.

He slows, takes a steadying breath before sinking lower. Feels the heavy weight of Will on his tongue, more salt of his skin. The sound that escapes Will's lips shoots through him like a gunshot, sending blinding heat directly into his own crotch. Quivering, high pitched and delicious.

Will's back arches impossibly, body feels like it's about to melt into a pathetic puddle. He falls back, half laying on the desk. Holds himself up on his elbows, head bumping into the wall.

Mike grabs his other leg, completely slack against the edge of the desk, and throws it over his other shoulder. Pulls Will in more, closing the already miniscule distance that remained between them.

He starts bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks and stroking everything his mouth can't reach. He's not that deep yet, barely under the tip, but Will still looks like he's floating somewhere else. That must mean Mike is doing a decent job, at least.

Will fists at his curls, just holding on, letting out the tension in his body. It takes all his energy to stay still, keep himself from either thrusting into Mike's mouth or going completely slack on the desk.

Loud moans and whimpers spill out of his mouth every time Mike sinks down. He doesn't bother holding them back anymore, wants Mike to know how good it feels. His thighs keep trying to clamp shut, pressing on either side of Mike's neck.

Mike pulls back, keeping his lips on the sensitive tip. Takes another steadying breath, and slowly sinks back down, tries to go deeper than before. Tears start pricking at his eyes, vision blurring around the edges.

Despite his body protesting, he persists. Lets his jaw go slack, swirls his tongue as much as the position allows. Will melts completely, collapsing further, head falling back. 

"Oh my God, Mike," he gasps, lets out a moan so needy it almost sounds foreign. Mike wonders how a voice so raspy and velvety can produce a tone like that.

Will doesn't know what to do with himself, pawing desperately at everything he can reach. The desk, the towel all wrinkled under him, Mike's shoulders and hair. All he can focus on is the tight heat, the overwhelming pleasure filling all his senses.

"Love- Oh God, I'm close- You need to-"

He tries to string words together, rationality coming through the fuzzy fog. The knot of pleasure in his stomach quickly tightens, eager to snap. Everything in him screams to get Mike off of him, before this gets embarrassing.

Unfortunately for him, this only eggs Mike on. He speeds up his movements, bobbing his head faster and twisting his wrist with every other stroke. Will thrashes against the desk, all warnings and worries dissolving on his tongue.

Mike gets eager, wants to sink even deeper. He just goes for it, tries not to overthink. He gags immediately when Will's length hits the back of his throat.

He pulls back abruptly, coughing and blinking away more tears. Will whines at the sudden loss of contact, the cool air hitting his skin, then shakes out of it when he sees Mike.

"Are- Are you okay?" he asks, voice cracking. His hands find Mike's face, fix his crooked glasses, caress his cheeks gently.

"Yeah," Mike rasps, coughing into his fist. He clears his throat roughly. "Sorry. Got ahead of myself."

He chuckles, wipes the drool hanging off his lip with the back of his hand. Will can't stop staring at him. Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening. He's panting, looking up through his fogged up lenses, brows curving in that way that always makes Will's knees buckle.

Will gets so mesmerized by the sight he temporarily forgets where they are, about his interrupted orgasm. He tries to burn the image into his memory, possibly sketch it later in between his assignments.

"Can I keep going?" Mike asks, swallowing. His eyes drop to Will's erection, twitching and aching, before lifting back up, almost pleading.

"Y- Yeah," Will nods, stuttering. Tenderly pats Mike's hair. "Just be careful."

"Don't worry about me," Mike murmurs, kissing a wet path up Will's thigh back to his dick. Licks up the length slowly, savoring the feeling. His voice shrinks to a whisper, needy and eager. "I've jerked off thinking about this so many times."

Will barely processes the words as Mike swallows him again, the intoxicating warmth wiping his mind clean. It almost feels sharper now, the peak approaching much faster.

Mike doesn't mess around this time, sinks down only as deep as he can handle comfortably. It's not much, and he keeps stroking the rest that he can't reach.

Will's breathing quickens, chest expanding and shrinking with every gasp and sigh. His limbs feel heavy, refusing to cooperate. It's like Mike is sucking the energy out of him, leaving him bleary and teary eyed.

It doesn't even register to Will when a tear rolls down his cheek, a warm path of pure pleasure. His moans slowly turn to little sobs, mouth trying to form words but failing.

Mike starts to moan around him, the vibrations amplifying everything. Will keens, his entire body tensing up. He feels the pressure building up quickly, every stroke and dip of Mike's head bringing him closer to the edge.

"M- Mike- I- I'm gonna-"

The blabbering makes Mike speed up even more, pumping Will so fast his fist becomes a desperate blur of motion. The grip in his curls becomes as strong as steel. Will pulls, yanks Mike off of himself right before he topples over the edge.

With a sob, he spills over Mike's fist, his own stomach. A drop lands on Mike's chin, and he doesn't even flinch at it. Will collapses completely, his body tingling with indescribable pleasure. He's never experienced anything like this before.

Mike keeps slowly stroking him through it, until the contact becomes almost painful. Will makes a little strained sound, and all movement immediately stops. Mike presses his cheek to Will's thigh, stays there.

They take a minute to catch their breaths, their voices wrecked. Will is draped over the desk, with Mike still sitting between his legs. It's quiet for a bit, but not the heavy or awkward kind. It's oddly peaceful, comfortable.

"Fuck," Mike rasps, cutting through the silence. Soothingly strokes Will's thigh.

Will lets out a weak laugh, gathers all his leftover strength to lift himself. Catches a glimpse of Mike, looking like he's floating somewhere else. His glasses are nearly sideways, hair is a mess. He grins when their eyes lock.

"You okay?" Will asks, brows curving in worry.

Mike nods against his thigh, delirious. Will chuckles at him, then sits up properly. His brain is scrambling for the next step, a plan for how to return the favor. His eyes drop down, and he freezes.

Mike's hand is shoved down his own jeans, the zipper open. Will swears he can see some pearlescent streaks decorating his stomach right above his boxers.

"Did you..?"

His voice falters, cheeks turn crimson red, like a ripe apple. Mike blinks up at him, then glances down. With a little gasp of realization, he pulls his hand out. It's sticky, no denying that.

"Oh, yeah," Mike says distantly, his brain still catching up. He carelessly wipes the mess on his own shirt, like it's no big deal.

Out of habit his arm stretches towards a desk drawer, where he kept his tissues before moving them. He finds nothing, and groans, throwing his head back.

"For fuck's sake," he mutters, carefully untangles himself from Will's legs. Situates them comfortably against the desk.

Will watches as Mike stands up, pants still unzipped, and makes his way around the apartment. He disappears in the bathroom first. There's humming of water, then Mike gargling, seemingly cleaning out his mouth.

He returns shortly after with a wet towel in hand, snatches a blanket off the back of the couch on his way. Drapes the thick fabric over Will's bare shoulders. Just in time, as Will started to feel the evening air biting at his skin once the tingles have passed.

Mike pulls up a chair for himself, his wobbly legs barely holding him up. He sits, scoots closer and starts carefully wiping Will down with the warm towel.

Each soft swipe is followed by a kiss. On Will's lips, his hands, shoulders, cheeks, chest. Quick pecks, like a reward. For what, Will isn't sure. He simply melts into the affection, smiling and giggling.

"So," Mike starts, voice a little rough.

"So?" Will raises an eyebrow.

"How'd I do? Was it okay?" Mike asks, brows twitching.

"It was good, Mike. Very good," Will chuckles. When Mike finishes cleaning him, he wraps the blanket tighter around himself, nuzzles into the warm fabric.

Mike smiles softly, lets out a flustered huff. The towel gets thrown aside onto the floor. Mike pulls Will's legs onto his lap, caresses his thin ankles.

"How would you rate it?" he blurts out, fixes his glasses.

"Rate it?" Will squawks, barks out a laugh.

"Yeah," Mike nods like it's the most obvious and simple thing in the world. "How would you rate your experience?"

"Mike, I- I don't have anything to compare it to," Will says through a loud laugh. The desk shakes from the force of it.

"So it's gonna be unbiased. Come on, baby," Mike argues, taking this way more seriously than necessary.

"Come on, Mike. I already said it was good. It felt really good," Will groans, rolling his eyes.

"That's not good enough feedback," Mike insists, squeezing Will's ankles. "Rating is simple! Or you can get more specific."

"Oh my God," Will says through an exasperated sigh, patience wearing thin. He tries to pull his legs away, but Mike tightens his grip.

"Then give me notes," Mike murmurs, starts tickling Will's heel as he talks, with an evil glint in his eyes. "Did you like me jerking you off as I did it? Was it too slow? Should I have been faster?"

"Stop!" Will squeals, laughs hysterically as he tries to squirm away from the tickling. Mike persists.

"I'll do even better next time," he rasps, hugs Will's legs to hold them in place, kisses the skin he can reach. "You looked so pretty like that, Will. So fucking beautiful. I wanna do this again-"

"It was a seven!" Will yells out, kicks Mike's hand away.

Mike pauses, his grip on Will's legs loosening. He stares up at him with his mouth hanging open in silent shock. Slowly, feature by feature, his face molds into an offended grimace.

"A seven?" he echoes.

"Seven isn't bad!" Will argues.

"Will, that's awful," Mike deadpans, looks like he's having an identity crisis.

"It's not," Will laughs, lightly kicks Mike's stomach to get his attention back. "It was really good, okay? You made me feel really good."

Mike melts at the praise, his face softening into a flustered, almost proud smile. He looks accomplished. His hand tenderly strokes Will's bare leg, rests at his knee. He leans back in his chair, limbs relaxed and draping over the wood.

"You need to stop talking sometimes," Will grumbles, hides his cherry red face in the blanket.

"Whatever," Mike mumbles, biting down his grin as the memories of everything he's blurted out tonight flood back in.

Chapter Text

"Is this a new one?" Mike asks, eyeing Jonathan's jackets on a rack.

"Don't even think about it," Jonathan practically barks, batting Mike's hand away. "I'm still waiting for the leather one you stole."

"I didn't steal it! It's.. in the wash," Mike scrambles for an excuse. It's not. It's hanging right by their front door, and Mike likes it too much to give it back.

Jonathan and Nancy's apartment is unusually chaotic, dinner preparations in full swing. It's loud, the air smells of cigarettes and spices. Jonathan is restless, looming over the stove with an apron haphazardly tied around his waist. Nancy is setting up the TV. Will and Mike join in on the process to help.

The first month after moving this was an almost daily thing. Will and Mike coming over for dinner, catching up, trying to get used to this completely new rhythm. It's not nearly as frequent anymore, but always a pleasant time nonetheless.

Having their older siblings here, with more New York experience, living just a few buildings away, is a huge advantage. They're always there to help out, check in, lend something.

A good chunk of Will's and Mike's apartment is hand-me-downs. From old furniture that Nancy was going to replace, to Jonathan's clothes and literal car.

Will is still reluctant every time they offer help, his face contorting into a guilty expression, tongue rushing to decline. Mike is the opposite. He accepts every offer without a question, even makes his own requests. He does overstep sometimes, but can't bring himself to care.

The four sit at the table, the TV serving more as background noise than anything else. Conversations flow. About classes, work, family. They jump from topic to topic, passing plates and enjoying the food. It's comfortable, painfully familiar.

"Oh, also," Jonathan pipes up, raises his fork. "I'm gonna need the car back for the week."

Mike pauses mid bite, the view almost comical. He stares at Jonathan across the table, eyes wide. After a few seconds, he swallows.

"Sorry, what?" Mike mumbles, tries to pretend he just didn't hear what was said. It's not convincing.

"I need my car for the rest of the week," Jonathan repeats, a little louder and more firm.

Mike looks almost offended. Brows furrowed, lips pursed, every feature sharpened. Everyone stares at him, but especially Nancy. Her piercing blue eyes burn holes in his face, baffled at the audacity.

"Is that what this is about?" Mike complains, gesturing at the dinner table.

"Maybe partially," Jonathan confirms, tilting his head.

"But- But we need it," Mike tries to argue, voice weak.

"Mike," Nancy practically growls, eyes shooting daggers at her brother.

"What?" Mike whines like he's twelve again. "He can take your car!"

"You can't be serious," Nancy says through an exasperated sigh, slouching in her chair.

The Wheeler siblings continue bickering, voices climbing up in pitch as they curse each other out. Jonathan and Will share a silent look, shake their heads fondly.

"It's not your car! Stop being an asshole!" Nancy yells, pointing a sharp finger across the table.

"We need it!" Mike argues, practically jumping up in his seat and waving his fork around. "We need it to get to class!"

"Jesus Christ, it's not even ten minutes away. You can walk," Nancy drags her palms down her face, irritation radiating off of her.

"Will isn't walking to class!" Mike grimaces, looking deeply offended.

Will whips his head towards him so fast he almost gets whiplash. He looks annoyed, but his stomach does a clumsy flip and heart skips a few beats. Mike doesn't look at him, eyes fighting off Nancy's glare. Will tugs at his collar, tries to hide the waxy patch of foundation on the side of his neck.

"Look, it's a work trip. I can't just take Nancy's car," Jonathan gently joins the conversation, tries to ease the tension.

Mike deflates, sinks into his seat with his brows still furrowed, almost connecting into one displeased line. He pokes around his plate, fork scraping harshly against the porcelain. Looks like a dog being denied a treat, pouting and huffing.

"Where are you going?" Will chimes in, pulls a smile on.

"California," Jonathan answers.

"California?" Will squawks, a bite of salad almost falling out of his mouth.

"Yeah," Jonathan chuckles. "Need to meet some important people, see Argyle hopefully."

"The most important person," Will jokes, and the table erupts in easy, light laughter.

Mike doesn't join in, still staring down into his plate with his face all scrunched up. This development throws off his entire schedule. He's already calculating when he and Will have to leave the house to get to NYU on time, then how long it will take them to get home. Work doesn't even cross his mind. He'll figure that out.

"So, I'll drop by and grab the keys tomorrow. Be back next week," Jonathan continues, twirling pasta around his fork. "You two will be okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Will nods, smiling, then turns to Mike.

He's still upset, ignoring everyone. Will sighs, pinches him in the ribs. Mike jerks, barely manages to hold in a yelp.

"Yeah," he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot.

"God, you're impossible," Nancy mutters just under her breath, shaking her head in disappointment.

___

Mike complains the entire walk home, filling those few minutes with enough word salad to last hours. Will keeps quietly laughing at his dramatic reactions, rolls his eyes at times.

It continues as they get to the apartment, change into pajamas, brush their teeth and climb into bed. Will takes his spot by the wall, with Mike curling up behind him, limbs tangling together.

They settle into the sheets, every muscle relaxing. Mike keeps ranting quietly about how inconvenient this all is, and how stupid it is that Nancy won't let him borrow her car just because he spilled coffee over the console that one time. Will kicks his shin to shut him up, trying to drift off to sleep.

His attempts are futile. No matter how quiet it is and how nice Mike's long arms feel around him, Will can't fall asleep. He keeps shifting and adjusting, looking for a better position, huffing out of frustration.

He moves again, seeks warmth and comfort, hoping it can help with his problem. Scoots back against Mike, then stops. He feels something warm and firm press up against him, making his cheeks glow pink.

"Mike," he whispers, gets a few sleepy sounds in response. Of course Mike is already drifting away. "Y- You're, uh.."

He doesn't finish that sentence, the words dying on his tongue. Doesn't move, either, stays right where he is.

Mike slowly blinks his eyes open, mind floating somewhere far away. He sighs sleepily. After a few seconds of silence, realization hits. His eyes shoot wide open, round like a pair of plates.

"Shit- S- Sorry. So sorry," he says all in one breath, pulling his hips away from Will. His face goes crimson immediately.

"Why are you apologizing?" Will asks, chuckling. Turns until he's peeking back at Mike over his own shoulder.

"Didn't mean.. to do that," Mike mumbles, avoids Will's eyes.

Will feels heat pooling in his own stomach, warm and tingly. Mike's arms squeezing him only add to it, solid and safe, even though Mike himself is a flustered mess right now. Always shielding and protecting, no matter what. Like his body does it naturally.

"Sh- Shouldn't you, um," Will stutters, voice cracking from nerves. He clears his throat. "Shouldn't you take care of that?"

Mike goes still as a statue, presses his lips shut. Will does his best to keep up the teasing act, despite feeling like his heart is about to leap out of his throat. He stares at Mike, lashes fluttering, eyes sparkling. Waits for him to return the gaze, but he keeps looking literally everywhere else.

"It's fine," Mike spits out eventually, his voice still manages to crack. He shifts a bunch, blankets rustling. "It's late. We should.. We should probably sleep."

He does not sound convincing, and still does not look at Will. Focuses on his shoulder instead, the gaze so intense it's almost a physical weight.

Will glances over at the alarm clock, the red numbers bright in the dark room. A little smirk pulls at his lips.

"It's not that late," he murmurs, voice dropping to a velvety, raspy register.

It's like a switch flips in Mike. His eyes shoot at Will, wide and intense, pitch black in the dim lighting. It almost looks unnatural, the pupils eclipsing over the irises.

He springs up so fast the entire bed shakes with it. Will can't help but flinch a little. Mike's hands are still on him, fingers twitching against his waist. Wanting to do something so bad, but patiently waiting for permission.

That shoots more tingles into Will's crotch, now almost painfully straining against his underwear and shorts.

Will feels brave. He turns, now laying on his back. Puts one hand on Mike's thigh, feels the muscle twitch under his palm. Uses the other to trace up his boyfriend's arm, fingertips gentle and tender, until he cups his neck.

"Come here," he whispers, and it's like the dam breaks open.

Mike latches onto him like a starving dog to a bone, mouths sliding against each other, tongues brushing and teeth knocking. It's intense from the start. Will needs a second to catch up.

He cups Mike's face, fingertips tracing the sharp corners of his cheekbones and jaw. A soft sigh slips out when Mike nips at his bottom lip, just a little. Will returns the gesture, trapping the pink skin between his teeth and tugging.

"F- Fuck, that's so hot," Mike breathes out, so fast the words almost come out as one syllable.

His hands are restless, caressing and grabbing onto Will, tugging his pajama shirt up. He kisses all over Will's face, nips at the shell of his ear, the sensitive skin underneath. Tries to move down to his neck, where the remnants of waxy foundation catch the moonlight, but Will is faster.

"Not here," he says, slapping his hand over the spot.

"Come on," Mike pouts, curves his brows.

"No," Will persists, giggling. When Mike moves again, he covers the other side of his neck, shielding himself completely. "Not the neck, Mike."

"But it looks pretty," Mike mutters, lowering himself to kiss Will's collarbones instead.

"It- It's annoying to cover up," Will's voice already starts trembling, breathing stutters.

"Then don't," Mike shrugs, glances up at Will with a sharp smile on his face.

"Shut up," Will blushes, turns his head to the side.

"Hey, don't look away," Mike says softly. Lifts himself until their faces are lined up again. Settles so he's looming over Will, knee resting between his thighs.

He kisses his temple, fluffy hair, the soft line of his jaw. With each peck Will's grin widens, despite how much he tries to hold it in. Eventually, he gives in, turns to face Mike again.

His lips immediately get captured in another kiss, this one softer but no less hungry. Not as bruising. Will straight up moans into it, at the tenderness of it.

He flattens his palm against Mike's bare chest, drags it down his sharp frame until he's palming him through his sweats. Mike groans at the contact, the sound vibrating through Will and rattling his bones.

"How long have you.. been like that?" Will pulls back a fraction, just enough to speak clearly. Despite feeling much bolder than usual, his voice still cracks and proper words refuse to come out.

"I don't know. Since you changed into these, probably," Mike shrugs, slips his hand under Will's shirt. Their lips brush against each other with every word he says.

He drags his big pale palm up Will's torso, taking the butter yellow shirt with it. Will arches into the touch, gives Mike's erection a few tentative strokes through the thick fabric.

"Fuck," Mike hisses, eyes wrenching shut from pleasure. He moves, grinds down against Will in a slow roll of hips, feels the firm heat mirroring his own. "And you?"

"Since we came back," Will answers immediately, swallows thickly right afterwards.

Mike smiles wider, a little laugh slips past his lips. He dips his head, forehead resting on Will's chest. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, teeth coming out to nip and graze against it. All while rolling his hips slowly, feeling the delicious friction even through layers of fabric.

Will gasps and whimpers at the contact, fully moans when a mark gets sucked above his heart. His legs move on their own, wrapping around Mike's waist securely. The blankets around them slip and get pushed aside, some fall uselessly to the floor.

"Can I blow you again?" Mike whispers into Will's ear, his hot breath tickling the skin there.

Will tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth, and nods, too nervous to speak. The words hit him like a physical blow. A mix of embarrassment, arousal and a sprinkle of worry shoots through him. His mind can't help but feel anxious, forming a cold, slimy pit in his stomach.

"Can you say it?" Mike murmurs, sounding completely wrecked already. Punctuates it with another drag of his hips.

"Y- Yeah. You can," Will says between gasps, grips onto Mike's shoulders until his fingers dig into the freckled skin. "P- Please."

That's all Mike needs. He retracts his hips, immediately missing the contact. His hands continue roaming over Will greedily, tracing what feels like every inch of skin.

He pulls Will's shirt off and carelessly tosses it aside, drags his palms over the newly bared chest and shoulders. Leaves a wet trail of kisses from the collarbones down the trembling stomach.

Will keens and whimpers, jerks when Mike brushes his nipples on accident. He feels hot all over, every nerve in his body set on fire, making his mind swim. Mike palms him over his shorts, starts to impatiently tug at the thick hem.

He scoops Will's legs up, pulls the fabric over the smooth length of them. The shorts get abandoned in the tangle of sheets. Mike dives to mouth over the firm heat hidden under Will's boxers, the fabric stretched and soaked with arousal.

"Baby- Oh my-"

Will gasps, tries to both escape the sharp pleasure and chase after it. His voice climbs up in pitch, cracks when Mike's soft lips wrap around his tip. Will's hands fist at the sheets beneath him, the fabric wrinkling and tendons standing out from the tension.

Mike is eager, running his tongue along the cotton, darkening the fabric. Feels the salt and the heat, and gets drunk off of it. The whimpers and moans above him shoot straight into his own crotch, make him groan deep in his throat.

He presses the heel of his palm against his erection, trying to relieve some of that tension. Doesn't bother doing anything more, or at least taking his pants off. That's not his priority right now. He wants to hear more of those delicious whimpers.

"Hey," he murmurs, grabs onto Will's thighs and throws them over his own shoulders. Traps himself in place, not that he wants to escape, anyway.

Will manages to make a small sound. His breathing is uneven, fingers ache from digging into the sheets as much as he has been. Mike stops all movement, just resting between Will's legs. That allows Will to catch up, and he lifts himself up on his elbows, his core straining.

Mike is already staring back at him, his eyes two bottomless voids. His lips are glistening, catching the moonlight. Will's thighs are securely enveloped by those big palms, long bony fingers caressing the skin. The sight is so intense Will forgets how to breathe for a second.

"Keep your eyes on me," Mike whispers, his voice dropping to an unusually deep and gravelly tone.

All Will can do is nod, his lips parting on a shuddering exhale. Mike is immediately on him again, nosing and licking over his length, teeth tugging at the elastic of his boxers. Will feels like he's in a dream, brain unable to wrap itself around the sight.

Mike fully bites down on the elastic, and pulls. The fabric brushes against Will's sensitive skin, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of him. His back arches off the mattress, every muscle tenses up, but he keeps his eyes on Mike.

The boxers get pulled down as far as their position allows, stretching and straining against Will's upper thighs. His rigid length springs free, the tip weeping and sensitive. A pearly puddle is already glistening on his lower stomach.

Mike just stares at first, eyes clouded and breathing heavily through his mouth. The warm air hits Will's already overheated skin, making him shiver all over.

"This is the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me," Mike rambles, syllables rushing out and stumbling over each other. Will laughs in response, breathless. "I'm not kidding. Fuck, this is- You're so perfect."

He dips his head, softly kisses over the tip. His curls fall forward, tickling Will's stomach. He tastes the salt, and it doesn't compare to any meal he's ever had. His long fingers curl around the base, stroke steadily until Will writhes under his touch.

"Is it good?" Mike asks, lifting his eyes. Meets Will's gaze immediately, clouded with tears. It makes something warm bloom in his chest.

"Y- Yeah," Will says through a whine. His thighs tremble against Mike's shoulders.

Keeping the intense eye contact, Mike holds Will's erection upright, presses his sharp cheek against it. Kisses up the side of it, runs his tongue over a vein, then finally sucks the tip into his mouth.

Will's entire body shudders, the sound of pure pleasure spills out of him. Prolonged, shaky and delicious. Mike hollows his cheeks, sucks with much more confidence compared to last time. Doesn't sink much lower for now, just running his tongue over the tip.

"Oh my God," Will gasps when he feels velvety, wet pressure against his slit. It shoots electricity straight through him. Still, he keeps his head upright, eyes fixed on Mike's.

"I love you so much," Mike pulls back just a bit, his slick lips repeatedly brushing against Will. His fist pumps in soft and short strokes, just keeping the pleasure constant. "So fucking much. God, you're so- So fucking perfect. This is so much better than jerking off."

The best Will can give is a breathless laugh, baffled and flustered all at once. Mike says all these things so easily, just blurts them out no matter how obscene they sound. Will still can't bring himself to do it, keeps biting his tongue in fear of shattering this.

"You've, um.. thought about this?" he tries, voice small and unsure. His shoulders pull in, posture slouches almost defensively.

"Yeah," Mike nods, brows jumping up into his hairline. "Like, a lot. Wanted to make you feel good."

His voice is hoarse, lips keep pressing against most sensitive parts of Will, the contact warm and wet. Will's body keeps threatening to give out and collapse, his core aching from holding himself up so long. He doesn't give in. It's like a magnetic pull, those dark brown eyes keeping him anchored.

"I.. I heard you.. one time," Will confesses, worries his lip between his front teeth. 

"Yeah?" Mike brows quirk up, a mix of surprise, mortification and something darker, hungrier.

"Yeah," Will nods sheepishly, hot blush spreading over his cheeks.

"I.. might've heard you, too," Mike whispers. His lips curl into a sharp, teasing smirk.

"Y- You did?" Will's face goes crimson, eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"Uh huh," Mike nods, rests his cheek against Will's trembling thigh. Kisses the faded bruise there just because he can. "In the shower."

He soothingly rubs Will's thigh, stops stroking him, instead resting his hand at the base. Will swallows, his throat visibly working through it. The memory flashes before his eyes. Mike's startled face, him stumbling over every word, staring at Will with his eyes all wide.

Of course he heard it. Will tried to convince himself he didn't, or he would've eaten himself alive from the guilt.

Now, though, the thought makes him visibly twitch in Mike's hand, heat rushing downwards.

"Were you thinking about me?" Mike whispers, brows curving.

"Yeah," Will nods, resists the urge to pull his eyes away. Takes a steadying breath, buries one hand in Mike's already messy curls. "I.. I thought about.. h- how you hold me. How you look at me. H- How you make me feel."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Mike's stare intensifies, voice gains a teasing edge. He gives Will a few firm strokes, watches his chest stutter.

"S- Safe. You make me feel safe," Will breathes out, voice cracking from pleasure. His nails scratch at Mike's scalp, then rub soothingly as an apology.

Every feature of Mike's melts, crumbles into something painfully fond and sincere. It's a stark contrast against their current position. He smiles, all soft and almost shy.

He makes Will feel safe.

"And how many times have you.. t- touched yourself?" Mike continues, his confidence cracking around the edges just a bit.

"Once," Will breathes out. His neck visibly strains as he keeps himself from turning away, glassy eyes staring straight into Mike's soul.

Mike freezes, a look of surprise washes over his face. His lips part, but nothing comes out for a few long seconds.

"Wait. Actually?" he says finally, genuinely taken aback. Will furrows his brows a bit, then nods. "Just one time?"

"Yeah?" Will tilts his head, confused.

"That's.. Um," Mike mumbles, doesn't finish that thought.

"What? Is that weird?"

"No, no. Of course not," Mike shakes his head rapidly, reassuringly pats Will's thigh.

"What about you?" Will retorts.

Mike shuts his mouth. His face flips through a few different expressions, all varying degrees of awkward and embarrassed. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, tries to move on.

"What was that?" Will tugs on Mike's hair a little, to bring his attention back.

"Don't worry about it," Mike dismisses, eyes wrenching shut.

As Will wants to question further, Mike sinks down on him again. All worries simply evaporate from Will's mind. The only thing he can focus on is the overwhelming pleasure.

Mike sinks lower this time, lets his jaw go slack as the heavy weight of Will drags over his tongue. He bobs his head, the rhythm shallow and slow to start. Jerks the rest that he can't reach.

It's intoxicating. The sweetest, neediest sounds escape Will's lips, bounce off the bedroom walls. They're followed by increasingly loud and wet noises of Mike's mouth as he speeds up his movement.

Will keeps whispering Mike's name like it's a prayer, pulls at his hair out of reflex. After a particularly strong tug he lets go, his hand falling limp into the sheets.

Mike immediately catches it, fingers curling around the wrist. He brings the hand back into his own hair. Curls Will's fingers into a fist, obsidian curls stuck in between them. 

Will holds on, but it's not enough. Mike tightens the fist, then tugs. Uses Will's hand to pull at his own hair.

"M- Mike," Will stutters, tries to get his hand out.

Mike looks up at him, makes a displeased muffled sound that vibrates straight through Will's core. He pulls again, encouraging. Gives a small, barely noticeable nod as he keeps bobbing his head.

Will bites his lip down, then repeats the action. Pulls at Mike's hair with more force. Mike fully groans around him, starts moving even more enthusiastically.

Will keens, his back arching off the bed and facial features contorting in pleasure. His brows curve, eyes wrench shut until they're just creases, bunny teeth come out to dig into his pink bottom lip.

"Oh God- Love-"

The pressure builds up in Will's stomach. He feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge, every muscle in his body tensing up. He tightens his fist in Mike's hair, and without even realizing starts to push.

He steers Mike's head, bucks his hips to meet every movement. His brain feels like putty, and all he cares about is chasing the intoxicating tight heat.

Mike's moves stutter at first, not expecting it. He quickly recovers, swallows Will even further than before. He hits the back of his throat a few times, fights against his natural reactions. Tears pool up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"Close- So- So close- God, I- I love you so much-"

Will blabbers, tongue running loose without a filter. His grip tightens until Mike's scalp start to sting, and he moans. He wants to sink even lower, starts to steady his breathing, but Will pulls him off abruptly, before he can even try.

Will topples over the edge with a sob, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he spills over Mike's fist and his own stomach. Mortifyingly, some lands right across Mike's cheek. Will would be incredibly embarrassed if he felt more present in the moment.

He finally collapses back onto the bed, panting so hard it almost turns into wheezing. His legs twitch against Mike's shoulders, every muscle goes completely slack. He feels like he's floating, body weak and weightless.

Mike gives Will a few more strokes as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm. All while catching his own breath. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, carefully untangles himself from Will's legs.

"You okay?" he asks, sits up on his knees and looks down at his boyfriend. Keeps stroking his legs, touch gentle and soothing.

Will nods lazily, his chestnut hair fanning out on the pillow. Gives a thumbs up because he feels like it. Mike giggles at it, smiles down at him softly.

The tent in Mike's sweats catches Will's eye. Even in his hazy state he wants to return the favor. He stretches a hand out, makes an inviting gesture. Mike thinks he wants to hold hands at first, but Will bats him away.

Mike furrows his brows in confusion, then scoots closer. Will nods. He hooks his fingers around the hem of Mike's pants, uses the little energy he has left to tug them down. He tries. Manages to get them down just an inch.

"Hey, it's okay," Mike says softly, catches Will's wrist.

"Wanna help you," Will mumbles, voice weak and tired.

"Give yourself a minute," Mike laughs, rubs his thumb at Will's pulse point.

Will huffs, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Mike keeps doing this, neglecting his own needs in favor of Will's. It makes him feel almost guilty, no matter how much reassurance he gets.

"What else did you want to try?" Will asks, moves his hand to card his fingers with Mike's.

"Will, it's okay-"

"Please," Will curves his brows. His eyes pool up with tears all over again, like on cue.

Mike gives in, his shoulders slouching. He pauses to think, pushes his lips to the side. Will waits patiently as he catches his breath and rubs Mike's sharp knuckles.

"Okay, um," Mike starts, nervously chewing on his lip. He looks around the bed, like he's putting a plan together in his head. "There is.. one thing. It's, like-"

"Yes," Will interrupts. Mike huffs out a laugh.

"You don't even-"

"Yes, Mike. Yes," Will says more firmly, squeezes Mike's hand. "I trust you."

Mike melts again, shakes his head fondly. He shifts, the mattress dipping under him. Settles between Will's legs again, sits up on his knees. His hands are shaking a little, eyes keep nervously jumping all over the place.

"What should I-"

"You don't have to do anything," Mike interrupts gently, squeezes Will's hand one more time before letting go. Grabs his ankles instead. "I- I'll move your legs, okay?"

Will nods, relaxes into the sheets. His limbs still feel heavy, like his bones have turned to stone. It stings that Mike is still doing all the work, but Will can't do much right now either way.

Mike's grip is firm, but careful. He pushes Will's legs together, then lifts them. Stops for a second, thinking of his next move, then presses Will's ankles against his own shoulder. Will is like clay in his hands, soft and pliable and ready to be sculpted.

"This okay?" Mike asks, brows curving in worry.

Will nods, though he's not sure what is happening and where this is going. Still, he doesn't resist. His boxers remain halfway off, stretched and digging into his upper thighs.

Mike pauses, looks over Will's frame one more time, nervously sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Then he moves. He clumsily tugs his pants and boxers down with one hand, the other arm wrapped around Will's legs.

All Will can see are the hurried movements, the most intimate parts hiding behind his legs. He feels something warm brush against the back of his thigh. A little gasp slips out.

"Okay," Mike breathes out, his gaze focused and steady as he decides what to do next. After a few seconds, he shuts his eyes with a sigh. "Fuck."

He carefully puts Will's legs back down into the sheets. His tall lanky frame stretches across the bed, reaching for the nightstand.

Now Will can see Mike's erection, rigid and desperate. The sweats and boxers stretch across those sharp hips. Mike rummages in the drawer in a hurry, grabs the now familiar bottle and returns to his previous position. Grabs Will's legs again, holds them up against his shoulder.

He spends way too long trying to open the lube with one hand, his fingers shaky and sweaty. After a few quiet curses, Will reaches out.

"Let me," he says, barely holding in his laughter.

Mike gives it away without a second thought. His movements are twitchy, impatient. He stares as Will opens the bottle, his hands a bit sluggish but much more stable and calm in comparison.

"Thanks," Mike breathes out, goes to grab the lube back.

Will catches his hand, turns it over gently. He tilts the bottle, lets the clear liquid pour out into Mike's big palm. When a small puddle forms, he holds the lube upright.

"A little more," Mike whispers. "Please."

Will oblidges. Pours out some more of the liquid, until he gets an affirmative nod and more barely audible gratitudes. He closes the bottle and puts it on top of the nightstand, as far as he can reach from his current position.

Mike settles, holds his hand upright and brings it to his crotch. Gives himself a few long strokes. Will can only see the rhythmic movement of his shoulder. He's still not sure where this is going.

Mike carelessly wipes the leftover lube on his pants, and scoots closer. His length rubs against Will's thighs, contact unmistakeable now. Will feels the heat, combined with the slippery liquid spreading over his skin.

"Cross your ankles for me?" Mike says softly as he gently strokes Will's leg.

Will listens, crosses his ankles with all the energy he has. Mike helps, holding them in place. His fingers are long enough to use just one hand. The thought sends tingles all over Will's body. He can almost feel himself twitch all over again.

Mike takes a long, steadying breath. He curls his fingers around himself, and pushes forward. Will feels pressure between his thighs, the lube running down his skin, until he can see Mike's tip poking out.

"Oh," he breathes out. The sight is something else. It knocks all air out of him.

Mike's dick slips out in between Will's plush thighs, slick with lube and precum. Mike pretty much hugs his legs, holds them in place. His face is already screwed up in pleasure, a groan emerges from his throat.

"Fuck," Mike hisses, looks down at himself. Will swears he can physically see his eyes darken beyond what's scientifically possible. "Can- Can I do this?"

"Y- Yeah," Will nods, breathless.

"Thank you. Fuck- Thank you, baby," Mike's voice climbs up in pitch, all whiny and needy as he starts thrusting.

Will can't look away. His eyes lock on the way Mike disappears and emerges in between his thighs. The sounds of slick friction and skin slapping against skin fill the quiet room.

"Can- Can you make it tighter, please?" Mike stutters. Will does as told, tensing up his legs and pressing them closer together. Mike lets out a long, shaky moan at the new sensation. "Just Like that. Fuck- That's perfect. So fucking perfect."

Will keens at the praise, feels his own erection come back to life. This has never happened to him before. His brain swims all over again, rational thoughts scatter like terrified animals in a forest. All that's left is pleasure.

It's like his hands move on their own, despite feeling heavy and tired. One snakes up his own chest, fingertips brushing the heated skin until he finds a nipple. He's careful at first, unsure, then pinches.

He can't hold back a loud gasp that escapes him. His back arches off the sheets. Mike's eyes lock on the movement, sharp and focused. He licks his lips, thrusts speeding up by a degree.

Will's other hand moves towards his crotch, wraps around the base before stroking. His eyes practically roll back into his head at the sensation. This time it feels so much sharper, skin still a little sensitive from the previous orgasm.

"F- Fuck," Mike mutters. His eyes jump between the rapid movement of Will's fist and his fingers brushing over his nipple. The sight is so intoxicating he feels like he's about to pass out for a second. "Fuck, that's so hot. God-"

The thrusts stutter from sheer surprise, before speeding up again. The rhythm is so punishing Will gets pushed up the bed with every stroke. The sheets shift beneath him. The pillow is the only thing preventing him from banging his head against the headboard.

Mike hugs Will's legs tight, pulls him closer in one sharp tug. Will is like a ragdoll in his arms, letting himself be moved across the bed.

"I love you so much," Mike gasps, leans to kiss Will's ankles.

"I- I love you, too," Will moans at the tenderness of the gesture, feels tears rolling down his temples and soaking into the sheets.

The air is thick with friction, skin gliding against skin, shaky breaths and moans. It all comes together into a symphony of love and arousal. It's not long before they both launch off the edge.

Mike topples over first, a loud groan cutting through the room. He spills over Will's knuckles and stomach, keeps slowly thrusting through the waves of pleasure.

Will follows just a few needy strokes later. Pinches his own nipple harder, and shoots out a few weak pearly ropes across his stomach. His entire body goes rigid with the intensity, legs squeeze together so hard Mike hisses.

"Oh my God," Will pants, his chest rising and falling in wide intervals. His arms go limp, falling back onto the sheets.

"Jesus," Mike wheezes, slowly pulls out and gently sets Will's legs down. Gives them a few more comforting strokes, kisses the knee. "Fuck, that was so much better than I imagined."

Will is too spent to properly respond, but he does blush at the words. Mike clumsily tucks himself back into his pants, and collapses onto the mattress face first. Deeply sighs into the pillow, every muscle melting and going slack against the fabric.

Their hands find each other, and they hook their pinkies. Something small and so innocent compared to everything else. Mike turns his head, one eye peeking out at Will. That clouded hunger is gone, replaced by the usual care and adoration.

"Thank you," he says through an exhale.

"Why are you thanking me?" Will laughs weakly, shoulders shaking. Mike shrugs.

"Because I love you."

Will rolls his eyes fondly. Mike connects their hands properly, brings them up to his lips to kiss them. Pecks every knuckle of Will's, each touch feather light. They stay like this for a bit, let the air settle.

"Okay, let's get you cleaned up," Mike sits up, groaning from the stiffness in his bones.

He looks over Will's frame, the sticky mess on his stomach and the lube still glistening between his thighs. The sight makes him swallow audibly, but he pushes any unneeded thoughts aside.

"I'll run you a bath," he says, climbing off the bed.

"A bath?!" Will squawks, eyes round. He doesn't remember the last time he took one. They always rely on quick showers, saving water and all.

"Yeah. You earned it," Mike smiles softly, starts moving towards the bedroom door.

"Mike, I- I didn't even do anything," Will argues. "You did all the work."

"I don't mind," Mike shrugs, leans against the doorframe with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Oh my God," Will sighs, it turns into a giggle.

"Do you not wanna take a bath?" Mike asks slowly, brows climbing up his forehead. He tilts his head, challenging.

"I do," Will gives up, grumbling. "I do want that."

"Awesome. Then I'll run you a bath," Mike nods, proud, and disappears into the living room. "Be right back!"

Will chuckles to himself, runs a palm down his face. He feels like a dish rag squeezed dry, but oddly in a good way. There's a pleasant hum under his skin. His bangs, damp with sweat, cling to his forehead.

He winces at the stickiness on his stomach, already cooling from the night air. Takes a quick peek, then lays back down. He's covered in both of them. It makes his insides do a clumsy flip.

He grabs onto his boxers that are still uselessly stretching over his thighs, and pulls them off. Uses them to wipe off as much of the mess as he can, and tosses them aside. That's when Mike comes back in.

"You wanna stay in bed for now?" he asks, leaning down to kiss Will's forehead.

"No, it's kinda gross," Will winces, lifts himself up on his elbows.

"Yeah," Mike laughs, scrunching his nose. Stands up straight, makes an inviting gesture with his hands. "Come on."

Will drags himself out of bed, feeling the ache in his lower back and just how weak his limbs are. Stumbles a little, but Mike's hands are immediately on him, steadying him.

"Careful," Mike murmurs, hugs Will around the waist. His grip is firm, but gentle.

Will nuzzles into Mike's neck, leans his weight on him. He didn't expect to feel this weak, his knees buckling pathetically.

They manage to take a few more clumsy steps before Mike stops them. He swings Will's arm around his own neck, then crouches and picks Will up in one fluid motion. Holds him up bridal style, arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Mike!" Will squeals, clings to his boyfriend's neck like his life depends on it. It kind of does.

"I got you," Mike says, voice strained as he tries to keep his own knees from buckling embarrassingly.

"You're ridiculous."

Their melodic laughs echo through the small, dimly lit apartment as they stumble towards the bathroom. Mike's shoulder collides with the doorframe, then he almost slips on the tiled fogged up floor. It's clumsy, but there's no other place they'd rather be in.

Chapter Text

"Are we late?" Will asks, hunched over in front of the bathroom mirror with foundation all over his fingers. He keeps tapping and rubbing at his neck in a hurry, trying to cover up the remnants of a hickey.

"No, we're good," Mike shakes his head. He's standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his chest as he leans against the wooden frame. His demeanor is much more relaxed in comparison.

This morning is a bit chaotic. Neither of them set up the alarm for earlier, so they didn't have time to lay in bed or talk like usual. Will is stressing, eyes wide and frantic as he dreads the idea of being even a little late to class.

Mike tries to stay calm to balance it out, though he keeps nervously checking his watch every other minute. His brain is running, calculating each second, constructing plans of action.

As they move to the front door, Mike's hand instinctively jerks towards the car key on a hook. He stops himself, huffs in frustration. Jonathan is supposed to pick it up at some point today.

They tug their shoes on, Mike helps Will pull a jacket on. Will's cheeks are already rosy from nerves and the rush.

"What time is it?" he asks for the third time in the last minute.

"Will," Mike sighs fondly, can't help but laugh. Looks at his watch again. "We're still on time. If we walk fast, and there isn't traffic or too many red lights, we'll get there in, like, twelve minutes, at most."

"Okay," Will breathes. His hands are hanging in the air, eyes scan the apartment. He bends to grab his heavy bag off the floor. "And how much do we have left?"

"Fifteen," Mike says, already turning the key in the door. Then he pauses.

His lips curl into a little smirk. He turns around. Will is about to swing his bag over his shoulder, but Mike is quicker. He grabs onto the thick leather strap, and snatches it away. Hangs it on his own shoulder.

"Mike," Will scoffs, a mix of frustration and fondness.

He doesn't get an answer. Mike steps into his space, crowds him against the wall with an almost evil glint in his eyes. His hand comes up to cup Will's cheek, head dips to press their lips together.

Will makes a few weak and unconvincing attempts to push Mike off. Simply rests his palms against his chest. He quickly gives in, smiling into the kiss and ruffling Mike's curls. No matter what, he'll always melt.

In the rush they didn't even get to kiss properly until now. No lazy pecks in bed, no caressing in the kitchen. So, Mike wants to make the most of it in these few extra minutes.

He doesn't waste time, starts kissing Will more insistently, enough to compensate for the upcoming hours of forced distance. He dips, grabs the backs of Will's thighs to lift him. Braces him against the wall easily, wrinkling his carefully picked out outfit.

Will giggles against Mike's mouth, clings to him harder. More for the contact than balance. The shelf behind them rattles, assortment of keys jingling and jackets swaying slightly. The kiss quickly grows fast and impatient, like they've been starving for it.

"Okay, we gotta go," Will whispers, but he doesn't sound like he wants to stop at all. His thumb traces Mike's cheekbone, pulls at his pink bottom lip.

"Just a little more. Okay, baby? I love you," Mike rambles, more air than actual words. The syllables melt together into something needy and desperate.

"I love you, too," Will laughs, latches onto Mike's lips with a soft sigh.

In the frantic rhythm they completely miss steps approaching the apartment, muffled sounds echoing. The doorknob clicks, door swings open.

Mike and Will jump like never before. Their foreheads knock together, but they don't even register it from the shock. Will hides his face in his own hands and Mike's neck. Mike himself whips his head around so fast he swears he hears something crack.

Jonathan stands in the doorway, clutching the handle. His eyes are so round it looks unnatural, mouth is open around a greeting that never comes. After a second, he closes the door, leaving a gap just big enough for him to put his arm through. Shields the apartment from the rest of the world.

He slowly puts his arm through the opening, reaches for the car key on the hook. Grabs it, goes to close the door, then stops. His eyes lock on a leather jacket hanging off to the side. His jacket.

He stares at Mike, his gaze sharp and annoyed. Mike's lips press into a straight, guilty line, and he shrugs. Jonathan sighs, snatches the jacket away and finally closes the door. As soon as it clicks, the two exhale.

"That was fucking terrifying," Mike mumbles.

"I wanna die," Will groans straight into Mike's neck. Pushes his shoulders, now much more firm. "Put me down."

"Can I have one more?" Mike leans in instead, pursing his lips.

"Go. Now," Will shoves a hand into Mike's face, wiggles out of his hold.
___
The following days are busy, loaded with classes and tests. The lack of a car really throws it all off balance.

For Will the difference isn't that noticeable. He just feels a bit more tired, having to walk everywhere, but it's more than manageable. Mike, though, looks and feels like a used dish rag squeezed dry.

He gets home much later than usual, to Will drowning in assignments. Uses the few hours he has before bed to catch up on his own work. The two end up not having energy for any serious intimacy, outside of a few kisses before and after sleep.

Mike tries to initiate when the chance presents itself, but Will doesn't follow through. He's either too tired or too busy. Mike doesn't push, because why would he. If Will does not want to do anything, then he doesn't, either.

Will still feels incredibly guilty about it, though. It stings to reject Mike, but he can't help the pit of anxiety forming his his guts. Seeing the lack of pushback and the complete understanding just makes it worse.

The little voice in the back of his mind has risen once again. Stubborn, poisonous. And Will is all alone with it, battling it whenever he's in Mike's proximity.

He can't really talk to anyone about it, either. As much as he likes his friends from class, they're just that. Friends from class. He can talk to them about art, gossip about their professors, hang out from time to time, and that's that. They don't know the deeper, much more personal and intimate parts of him.

Talking to Mike about this feels even more terrifying now. Will wants to, definitely. As soon as he gets a chance to, though, it's like his body locks up. Every fibre of him screams to retreat, so he does.

It keeps gnawing at him, peeling at him more and more, and it's unbearable. He needs someone in his corner. There is one person he knows he can trust.

Will steps into the apartment, abandons his bag at the door and steps inside. Doesn't even bother taking his shoes off. Mike is at work, and will be for a few more hours.

Will doesn't waste time. He practically jogs into the kitchen, towards their phone. Tugs at a postcard pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Looks at the faded image of sunny California, then flips the card over. Dials the numbers written on the bottom, fingers buzzing.

With every ring his heartbeat picks up its pace, vibrating through his entire body until he can hear the rhythm in his ears. His palms get damp, and he wipes them on his jeans. When a click cuts through the silence, Will sighs in relief.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Max," Will smiles wide without even meaning to. Just hearing a familiar voice settles his soul, makes him forget his troubles for a minute.

"Will," Max's voice softens, sweet as maple syrup. Her smile is obvious through the tone alone. "Hey, what's up?"

"Um, nothing much," Will shrugs, scratches his head. He forgets everything he planned to say. "How are you guys?"

"The usual. Classes, work, chores," Max rasps. Probably rolls her eyes as she says it.

"Same here," Will manages a small laugh, but it's dry.

"You okay?" Max notices immediately. Always observant, even through the copper wires.

"Um," Will drags, shuts his eyes tight. "I need, like, a second opinion on something?"

"Okay," Max says easily, and Will immediately feels so much lighter.

"It's, like.. a.. sex.. thing?"

Will winces right as he says it, braces himself. For a few agonizing seconds, all he gets as a reply is deafening silence. He feels more and more uneasy the longer it stretches.

"M- Max?" he mumbles eventually, unable to take it anymore.

"Sorry," Max replies immediately, voice a little rough. "I just.."

"Sorry, we don't have to talk about that. God. I'm sorry," Will rushes. His face goes crimson, regret written all over him. He wouldn't mind if the ground opened up beneath his feet.

"No! No, that's fine," Max reassures immediately. "I just need to, like, forget we're talking about.. Wheeler. Jesus, give me a second."

Will can't help but laugh at the genuine, unfiltered disgust in her voice. He can imagine the grimace on her face, misses it dearly. Looks over at a small cardboard box on top of the fridge. Their savings for the summer trip to California.

"Okay," Max breathes, like she's hyping herself up for this conversation. "So, what's going on?"

"Uh," Will is suddenly at a loss for words. He pauses, desperately trying to string words together in his head.

"Did he do something?" Max cuts in through the crisis, voice sharp.

"No!" Will chuckles, then sighs deeply. "I'm just.. in my head, I guess."

"About what?"

"Can.. Can I ask if you and Lucas.. Um," Will mumbles, presses his forehead into the nearest wall. Each word feels like he's pulling his own teeth out with his bare hands.

"Have sex?"

"Yeah," Will rasps.

"Yeah," Max says easily, like it's no big deal. That eases the tension in Will's spine a bit.

"Okay. Um," he tries, but words refuse to come out. He huffs, growing frustrated.

"Are you guys.. there already, or, like.. getting there?" Max helps, and God, the wave of relief that washes over Will is like no other.

"There already," he says, a shy smile pulling at his lips.

"Okay. And.. what's the issue? Is it bad?" Max keeps going.

"No, no," Will shakes his head, twirls the curly cord around his finger as he speaks. "It's.. good. Great, even. I- I mean, we haven't done that much yet, but.. It's great."

Max pauses. Probably to gag quickly.

"Okay," she says, barely containing her disgust. "So what's bothering you?"

"I guess it's just.. Can I ask about you and Lucas again?"

"Shoot."

"With you guys.. Is it, like.. mutual?" Will asks carefully, stretching the phone cord.

"I'm not following," Max deadpans. Will looks up at the ceiling with a broken sigh.

"Like.. He does things for you, you do things for him. That kind of thing?"

"I guess, yeah," Max says after a brief pause. "Why?"

Will pulls the receiver away from his face, lets out a little pained sound. That's not the answer he was hoping to hear.

"Is it, like, one sided with you guys?" Max asks when the silence stretches for too long. Will brings the phone back to his ear.

"Kinda?" he says, turns and leans against the wall behind him. Hears a gasp on the other end of the line.

"That fucking asshole," Max all but growls, words rushing out. "Do you need me to fly out there? 'Cause I will. I'll kick his ass so hard he'll be crawling at your feet apologizing-"

"Max!" Will interrupts. Lets out a startled laugh. "That's- It's not- It's not like that. I meant, like.. one sided from my end, I guess."

Max hums on the other end, pauses. Will swallows the last of his nerves, slides down the wall until he sits on the floor, getting comfortable.

"Mike.. He just.. He does most of the work," he continues, with a permanent blush decorating his cheeks. Twirls a strand of hair around his finger, fidgets with the phone cord. "I just kinda.. lay there most of the time. Then he.. cleans me, even runs me a bath afterwards."

"Damn it," Max rasps.

"What?" Will furrows his brows in confusion.

"We don't have a bathtub here. Fuck, I miss having baths," Max nearly whines, stretching her words and probably throwing her head back.

"Oh," Will says through a laugh.

They pause for a bit, then another voice comes through. Muffled, distant, but enough to be recognized.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lucas says on the other end.

"Is Lucas there?" Will asks, shifts where he's sitting.

"Oh, yeah. Should I kick him out?" Max replies urgently.

Will barely has time to open his mouth before he hears muffled voices coming from the receiver. He pulls it away from his ear, wincing at the sheer volume. Can make out a few words like 'out' and 'personal business', before the chaos on the other end of the line dies down.

"Anyway," Max returns. "So, Mike- He's taking care of you. He is, right? He better be."

"Yes, he is," Will giggles, rolls his eyes fondly.

"And the sex is good?"

"Yeah," Will says sheepishly after a brief pause. Hides his face in his hand, even though he's alone in the apartment.

"Then I fail to see the problem," Max concludes.

Will sighs deeply, rubs his eyes. Looks up at the ceiling again, like he might find the answer among the moldy stains. The back of his head collides with the wall with a dull thud.

"I guess I kinda.. feel bad?" he says.

"Why?" Max asks, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"Because the focus is always on me," Will shrugs. Feels his face tensing up the more he speaks. "Like, Mike makes sure that I feel good, then ignores his own.. needs."

"Right," Max says, sounding like she's two seconds away from throwing up.

"And I mean, it's not like I just lay there, either. I do things for him, too, but he just does so much more," Will rambles at this point, gradually losing his filter. This is so much easier with Max, with the shield of distance. "And.. there are things he does for me that I just.."

"Don't wanna do?" Max helps.

"I can't do," Will's voice breaks on the word, a few hot tears blur his vision. He roughly wipes them away with his forearm, feels that prickly tremor in his fingertips. "I can't.. return the favor."

"Okay," Max breathes, pauses briefly to think. "Has he.. asked you to do those things?"

"No," Will answers without hesitation. "He's so understanding about it, actually. Like, painfully."

He lets out a wet, snotty laugh. More tears pool up in his eyes, stinging. He takes a second to catch his breath. Max stays quiet, patient. Will wants to hug her so badly.

"I just.. It feels unfair," he continues, sniffles right afterwards.

"Well, do you wanna do more work? Return the favor?" Max asks carefully.

"I mean.. I have to, no?" Will says sheepishly.

The pause that follows is so heavy Will can practically feel it pressing down on him. He even stops breathing.

"Will," Max says. It comes out pained, almost broken. "You.. You don't have to."

The soft, sympathetic tone makes Will want to cry all over again. He's not even sure why. He pulls his knees up to his chest, hugs them tight.

"I mean, I'm not an expert, but.. You don't have to do that," Max continues, her voice wobbling at the edges. "It- It's different for everybody, okay? Some couples are more.. equal, I guess, but it's not the standard."

"Yeah?" Will whispers, quiet and unsure.

"Yeah," Max says firmly. "Sometimes it's more like.. you guys. One person takes initiative."

"Oh."

"Has Mike said anything about this?"

"I guess not," Will shrugs. "He just.. He always says he likes to.. make me feel good."

Will swears he can hear a muffled gag on the other end. Bites down his grin, holds back a laugh.

"So, I guess he's right where he wants to be," Max says, voice rough. Will chuckles in response. "Look, I love you, but I think you're creating a problem when there isn't one."

"You think so?"

"Yes," Max says firmly. "Have you talked to him about this?"

"Um.. N- Not yet," Will winces.

"Will."

"I know," he groans, taps his head against the wall behind him in frustration. "I- I'm gonna. I just.. I needed to talk to someone else first."

"Okay," Max says softly, and Will exhales in relief. "We do have our own sex ed on speed dial, so-"

"I'm not calling Steve about this!" Will exclaims with a loud, baffled laugh, his voice echoing through the apartment.

"I'm just saying!"

"Oh my God," Will laughs, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

"I'm sure it will be fine, okay? Mike is an idiot, but he loves you. You know that, right?" Max's voice shrinks to something impossibly sincere.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Will whispers, feels something warm and bright bloom in his chest.

"But if he pulls something.."

"Max," Will rolls his eyes fondly. "He won't."

"Well, you know my number," Max says ominously.

"Okay, hanging up now," Will announces, rising back up to his feet. "Thanks, Max."

"Always."

"Say hi to Lucas for me?"

"Of course. Miss you."

"Miss you guys, too. Bye."

"Bye."

Will hangs up, the click ringing in his ears. He feels so much lighter. That stubborn voice finally seems to quiet down.
___

Mike leaves work looking like he just got dragged through a torture chamber. Eyes dark with deep, almost blue shadows under them. Hair is sticking out in every possible direction. His already pale skin looks even paler, shirt is sticking to his chest.

To top it all off, it's fucking raining. A pour so thick and fierce there are rivers running down the roads. For a bit Mike just stands at the door, looking up at the sky with dead eyes. As if he's sending a message to nature itself.

Jonathan is still away, and so is his car. Mike considers waiting, staying until the rain dies down. After a few minutes, it only intensifies. With a groan, Mike walks towards the nearest phonebooth.

Nancy pulls up shortly, the beams of her headlights slicing through the thick rain. She parks abruptly, swings the passenger door open with wide eyes.

"Jesus Christ," she mutters as Mike walks up to the car, sluggish, with rainwater rolling off of him.

"Hey," Mike mumbles, drops into the passenger seat and closes the door. Doesn't bother buckling up, just melts into the leather.

Nancy's car smells nice. Like her floral freshener, hairspray and cinnamon. Mike leans forward to punch the glove compartment open, grabs a few tissues to wipe his soaked face. Keeps holding onto them, rubs them between his fingers until they turn to pulp.

He feels Nancy's gaze on him, piercing blue eyes scanning him from head to toe. He turns towards the window, stares at his own reflection. Nancy buckles his seatbelt for him, turns the heater on and pulls back onto the road.

"When's Jonathan coming back?" Mike mumbles about halfway through the ride.

"Soon, Mike. Soon," Nancy answers. Mike huffs, turns away from her more. "You are really overstepping it with the car, don't you-"

Mike interrupts her with another, louder huff. Like a displeased, misbehaving dog. Nancy's jaw drops, and she glares at him.

"You can't be serious- You know, I could've just stayed home," she complains, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gesture sharply at her brother. "I was having having a nice evening. Eating dinner, watching TV. But I still came out here."

"Well, if you let me borrow your car, you wouldn't have had to do that," Mike fires up, swings his body around to look at Nancy.

"No," she says, firm and final.

"Why not?" Mike whines, scrunching up his entire face.

"Because I need it?" Nancy nearly screeches, her eyes round like a pair of plates.

"Oh, what could you possibly need it for?" Mike fires back, even if what he's saying doesn't make a lick of sense. Just arguing to argue.

"My job?" Nancy furrows her brows so hard they connect into a single, sharp line.

"You have a job?" Mike stretches sarcastically. His body language grows more dramatic and annoying.

"Yes, I do. You know, my adult job that I'm at all day?"

"Are you?"

"Yes. I am. The job I need to get to by a car. That I need a car for. That job."

"Right, right."

It's a miracle they don't claw each other's eyes out by the end of the ride. Nancy drops Mike off, and he makes his way into the building. His legs feel like two dry twigs, about to snap if he steps on them wrong.

He barely carries himself up a single flight of stairs before nearly colliding with someone. It takes his tired brain a second to register it, but once it does, all his problems simply wither away.

"M- Mike! Oh my God," Will gasps.

He looks flushed, hair messy like he just woke up from a nap. He's still in pajamas, plaid pants pooling over his shoes, with a jacket draped over an old shirt. He has an extra jacket under one arm, two umbrellas in the other.

"Hey," Mike says, grinning like an idiot. He's drenched, ice cold water running down his skin and he doesn't pay it any mind.

"You- You're back," Will breathes out, still looking startled.

"Yup," Mike nods, starts walking further up the stairs. Will stares at him for a second, then follows.

The apartment is warm, comfort enveloping Mike from head to toe as soon as he steps inside. Will is circling him, hands restless. He runs around to grab towels, fresh clothes, quickly make some tea.

"Were you gonna pick me up?" Mike asks in the middle of the chaos, a stupid grin never leaving his face.

"Y- Yeah. I didn't- I lost track of time, and- and saw it was raining," Will rambles as he goes, pacing around. "I tried to call Nancy, but she wasn't picking up, so-"

"I called her," Mike interrupts gently, makes his way towards the kitchen.

"You did?" Will temporarily stops pacing.

"Yeah. She gave me a ride," Mike nods, grabs the fresh tea and takes a sip. Sighs right afterwards, feels the heat soak into his palms through the porcelain.

Will rushes him to take a nice hot shower, change into dry clothes, drink at least two cups of tea to make sure he's really warmed up. Mike does all of it obediently.

They settle on the couch. There's some gameshow playing on the TV that's getting mostly ignored. Mike has a reheated box of takeout in his lap, Will curled up against his side. He rants about how awful his day was, recalls every rude customer, complete with horrible voice impressions.

Will listens intently, laughs from time to time. His hands roam over Mike, keeping him warm. His chest, arms, neck. Will pays special attention to those big bony hands, gently tracing each curve, brushing their fingers against each other, almost teasing.

Mike keeps talking, hands flying around. When he goes to take the last bite of his chicken, Will catches him by the wrist. Pulls it up to his own mouth, and steals the meat for himself. Makes a show of chewing on it, humming at the taste.

"Hey," Mike complains, but it has no bite to it. His lips stretch into a sharp smile as he watches Will swallow. "That was mine."

"Oh, was it?" Will bats his lashes, licks some of the sauce off his bottom lip. Mike's eyes lock on the movement.

Suddenly, all thoughts leave him. His mind becomes a constant, insistent loop of 'WillWillWill'. They both lean in at the same time, lashes fluttering.

Mike blindly puts the now empty takeaway box on the coffee table, moves in closer. Tries to push Will back onto the cushions, but gets pressed down into them instead.

Will's hands come up to Mike's shoulders, solid and sure. He pushes him against the back of the couch, settles in his lap. Their lips barely brush against one another in the process, breaths ghost over faces.

Like instinct, Mike's hands move to grab Will's waist, but that gets cut off, too. Will catches them, presses them into the back cushion with surprising strength. Mike feels air leave his lungs for a second.

"Woah," he mutters, can't help himself. Feels a twitch in his pants.

"C- Can I make you feel better?" Will whispers, his voice all velvety and raspy. His brows pinch together, green eyes catch the dim light as he looks up.

Mike nods before Will finishes the question. Nods hard and fast, his hair flowing with it. A little incoherent sound of agreement slips past his lips, before he leans forward.

The collision of their mouths is clumsy, teeth knocking against each other. They sigh into it, start kissing at an almost bruising rhythm.

The TV explodes with a corny laugh track, ruining the mood. Mike breaks the kiss reluctantly, digs between the cushions to look for the remote.

"Shut up," he grumbles at the screen, mutes it by pressing on the button with way more force than necessary. Carelessly throws the remote aside, then latches back onto Will's smiling lips right afterwards.

With shaky hands, Will reaches for Mike's sweats. Finds the string, unties it in a hurry. Tugs the fabric open roughly, shoves a hand under to palm Mike over his boxers.

"Ah, fuck," Mike moans against Will's mouth, can't help but try to grab onto him again. His waist, thighs, hips, face.

Will pulls his hand out and latches onto those bony wrists again, shoves them off himself. Crosses them behind Mike's head the best he can.

It's not the smoothest. He loses his grip, has to scoot forward to reach properly. His one palm is not nearly enough to hold both of Mike's wrists in place, but he still plays along. Stays right where he is, unmoving.

"Okay," Mike says, impressed. Smirks sharply, his eyes gain a certain sparkle.

He can break out of this easily. He's not even being held down, really. But there's something about the way Will looks as he takes the lead. Brows furrowed in concentration, gaze steady and focused, darker than the usual sunshine radiating off of him.

Though, Mike can tell there are nerves behind that. Will's prominent front teeth come out to worry his bottom lip, palms are sweaty and shaky. He keeps shifting and adjusting in Mike's lap, unsure how to situate himself.

It's painfully endearing and impossibly hot.

Will shoves his free hand back into Mike's pants, starts stroking him over his already damp boxers. Mike bucks his hips into the touch, or tries to, at least. Will puts his whole weight on him, tenses up deliberately to limit movement.

Mike can't stop the groan that escapes his throat. Will's hand is soft, a little hesitant. His strokes are gentle, though they still send electric shocks through Mike's core.

After days, he feels even more sensitive than usual. Cranes his neck, trying to catch Will's lips. Will dodges at first, a teasing smirk decorating his face. Once Mike full on whines, though, curving his brows, he gives in.

Their mouths meet in another kiss. This one not as bruising, but no less hungry. Mike licks over Will's bottom lip, pushes in. Will welcomes him, opening his mouth and meeting Mike's tongue with his own. Synchronized moans travel through the living room.

Will gives up on holding Mike's arms down, clings to his shoulder instead to steady himself. Mike doesn't move them. Keeps them right where they are, crossed behind his head despite the ache creeping in.

The strokes of Will's palm quickly catch up to the rhythm of their mouths. He speeds up, traces the shape of Mike with his fingers, presses just right. Swallows each moan and groan that falls out of his boyfriend's lips.

"Fuck- Will, more- Please, baby- More," Mike mumbles, voice cracked open and impossibly needy.

Will smiles. Moves to kiss over Mike's sharp cheekbone, leaving a wet path. His hand slows, fingers curl around the elastic, then tug. Just a little at first, teasing.

As his lips drag over Mike's jawline, he pulls at his boxers again. Lets go, hears the elastic snap against Mike's already tense stomach.

"Fuck," Mike chokes out, his entire body jerking at the sensation. His eyes flutter closed at the jolt of pleasure, head tilts until his temple is pressed against Will's hair.

Will tortures him a little longer. Repeats the action once more, pulling at the elastic and letting go, just a bit lower this time. Right over Mike's length, the tip already red and weeping, begging for friction.

His legs tense up at the snap. A deeper, more gravelly sound escapes him. It almost sounds unnatural to his usually softer tone of voice. His fingers dig into the back cushion, knuckles going white.

Will kisses all over his long pale neck, feels each sound on his lips. Runs his tongue over the Adam's apple, sucks a mark into the freckled skin. High up, dark and obvious. A small revenge.

As he does it, his hand finally snakes under Mike's underwear. The skin to skin contact feel like an explosion, bright fireworks blooming and sparkling.

Will wraps his fingers around Mike's erection, his grip much more confident now. He gives him a few testing strokes, pulling a pretty pathetic sound out of Mike. High pitched, needy and desperate as he tries to buck his hips to meet the friction.

The contact abruptly stops, and Mike's eyes shoot open in protest. The warmth between his legs is quickly turning to an ache, dull and persistent. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get to.

Will brings the palm he used to touch Mike to his own face. Hesitates for a second, before licking it. Mike's pupils blow up even more, mouth goes dry.

"Holy shit," he mutters, excited like he just saw a cool trick.

Will's hand is back on him shortly after, the friction now much smoother. The kisses move, too. Will presses more soft pecks across Mike's shoulder and collarbones, like he's counting the freckles there with his lips. Follows with a few new hickeys across the chest and on the upper arm.

Mike's hands twitch against the cushion, buzzing with want. Still, he keeps them in place. Will put them there, so he'll keep them there. Mike is not a strong man, however, so his patience is wearing thin.

Will keeps stroking him, the rhythm increasing. He leans back, looks down between their bodies with his eyes clouded. Swipes his thumb over the tip, gathering more lubrication. His tongue pokes out at the corner of his lips, the same way it does when he's focused on a painting, trying to get it just right.

Mike's body keeps melting into the cushions then tensing up all over, on a constant loop. He feels hot everywhere, his brain is floating somewhere far away.

"Will- Can- Can I hold you, please?" Mike says between gasps and moans. His arms jerk to move, and he grips the cushion harder to stop himself.

Will glances up at him, his emerald eyes looking even more saturated than usual. Magical almost. He's lit up from behind by the TV screen, making it seem like he's glowing from within. He licks his lips. Mike's eyes, naturally, snag on the movement.

"Please, baby. I need to hold you," Mike's brows curve, twitch upwards in that way that makes his eyes look even wider. That has always crumbled Will's defenses.

Mike is a weak man, but Will isn't that much stronger. This feels weird without Mike's big comforting hands on him, incomplete. So he nods.

He nearly gets knocked off balance with how fast Mike clamps onto him. Those long bony fingers curl around Will's waist, wrinkle his shirt. Drag up and down his ribcage, over his chest, drop to his thighs and hips. Catching up on the lost time, touching everywhere he can before he gets denied again.

Will shivers under the touch, arches into it with soft, high pitched exhales. He jerks Mike faster, the friction making very obvious noises. Loud and wet, skin gliding against skin.

Mike cups the back of Will's neck and urgently pulls him into another kiss. Like it's his lifeline, as if he'll die without it. Definitely feels like it.

His thumb draws little patterns into the skin there, right where it used to be freezing cold and prickly, made Will's body lock up out of fear. Now, Will sighs at the touch, going slack against Mike.

The tension builds in Mike's stomach, getting tighter and tighter with every flick of Will's wrist, each soft breathy sound he makes and the tender touches. His voice cracks, growing even more needy. Something he would be incredibly embarrassed about at any other time.

Mike drags his palms over Will's chest, finds the two little bumps under the fabric, and deliberately swipes his thumbs over them. Feather light, could look accidental.

"Mike," Will gasps, jumps up in his seat. His strokes stutter, but Mike doesn't even notice.

"You like it here?" he asks, repeats the action one more time, adding more pressure.

Will moans at the touch, cups Mike's cheek as he collapses against his shoulder. He gives a shaky nod. Mike can feel the blush spreading on Will's face, warming up against his neck.

Mike smiles, wide and sharp. A little pleased laugh slips out. As Will continues jerking him, he strokes his back. Traces the delicate line of his spine over the fabric, the contours of his shoulder blades. Moves up to his nape, presses his fingers there.

Will sighs, his warm breath ghosting over Mike's already overheated neck. That just makes the pleasure even brighter, sharper.

"C- Close- Fuck- I'm close," Mike says through gritted teeth, wrenches his eyes shut.

Will leans back, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He pulls Mike's sweats and underwear lower, as low as their position allows. All while steadily pumping his fist

He rakes Mike's shirt up to his chest, revealing more flushed freckled skin, all tensed up from the coil quickly tightening. The fabric falls back when Will pulls his hand away to grip the couch.

He huffs, tugs the fabric upwards again, out of the line of fire. Keeps holding it there, but it's not enough. He wants to hold onto Mike. Grip on tight, until his fingers dig into muscle. Needs to feel that heat.

His eyes snag on Mike's mouth, parted and eager. They exchange a glance, saying what they need without words. Mike parts his lips further, a silent invitation.

Will takes it. He pulls the shirt even higher, shoves the fabric into Mike's mouth. Mike bites down on it, holding it in place. Will's face cracks at the sight, and he fully moans despite not being touched. His hips start to rock against nothing, the tent in his pants now painfully obvious.

His now free hand moves down. He flattens his palm over Mike's weeping tip, and rubs in tight circles as his other fist keeps pumping. Mike almost knocks him off the couch with how hard his body jerks upwards. A muffled groan cuts through the apartment.

It's not long before he spills over Will's hands and his own stomach. He curses into the cotton still in his mouth, now damp with saliva. His head tips backwards against the cushion, chin to the ceiling. Chest heaves with uneven breaths.

Waves of pleasure float through his body, set every nerve on fire. He forgets about his shitty week, the rude customers, the ruined schedule. All that matters right now is this.

Mike sighs, satisfied and content, as Will softly strokes him through the last of it. Gives one more slow glide from head to base, before pulling away. Mike's eyes flutter closed as he breathes through it, lets himself melt into the couch while his brain settles back in place.

The weight lifts off his thighs, leaving lingering warmth. Soft steps travel through the apartment, before returning. Mike feels gentle hands on his stomach, wiping him down. He blinks his eyes open, now more focused and clear. Catches Will's wrist as it pulls away. Spits out the shirt finally.

"Thank you," Mike mumbles, mouth still feeling dry.

"Do you feel better?" Will asks, balls up the used tissues in his hands and tosses them on the coffee table.

"So much better," Mike nods before Will can even finish his question. A crooked grin spreads on his face.

Will smiles back, looking accomplished. He bends to fix Mike's pants, pats his hair down, kisses him softly. Goes to pull away, but Mike just tightens his grip on his wrist. Not strong enough to hurt or scare, but enough to hold in place.

"What?" Will asks, looks genuinely confused with his eyes all round.

"It's your turn," Mike murmurs, steers Will until he's standing between his spread knees.

His long arms wrap around Will's waist, pull him even closer. He buries his face against his stomach, presses kisses there over the soft cotton. Will holds onto his shoulders, grip weak and almost hesitant.

Mike pulls Will's shirt up, just enough to reveal the burn scar on his hip. He brings his thumb to it, gently traces the outline without even having to look at it. The shape is burned into his mind like a brand, as well as the memories surrounding it. Still, it's part of Will, so he loves it just as much as the rest of him.

"Mike," Will breathes.

He gets a hum in response. Mike tugs his shirt higher, starts peppering kisses over his soft stomach and ribs. Every mole gets a peck, gentle and almost innocent.

Mike's hands stay on Will's hips, kneading the honey golden skin, pulling him closer even if there isn't any more distance left to close. His mouth grows hungrier, teeth grazing and leaving red marks behind.

Will squirms in his hold, lets out some quiet syllables that break off into shaky breaths. That only eggs Mike on. He moves higher, Will's shirt falling over his head like a veil. Kisses his chest, rubs his plush thighs.

"Mike," Will whispers, voice cracking on the word. He presses down on Mike's shoulders, but it's weak, unsure.

"Wanna blow you again. Can I?" Mike murmurs against Will's skin, moves his hands to the soft curve of his butt, resting there.

"It- It's fine," Will stutters, pushes Mike back with more force. Enough for him to register it properly and pull away.

"You don't wanna?" Mike asks, brows curving with concern. His hands stay on Will, thumbs rubbing absentmindedly.

"You.. You don't have to.. do anything. It's fine," Will says slowly, grabs Mike's wrists and pulls them off himself. He picks up the trash from the coffee table and turns towards the kitchen.

"Are you sure?" Mike asks sheepishly, stands up from the couch and follows without a second thought.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Will replies, opens the cabinet below their sink and throws the trash out.

"But.. you're, um," Mike's voice falters. He looks down at the tent in Will's pants, lips pressed tightly together.

"It's- It doesn't matter," Will blushes, pulls his shirt lower over his hips. "I'll just.. take care of it later."

"You don't have to do that," Mike says quietly. He steps into the kitchen, unintentionally cages Will in.

"Mike, it's okay. Seriously. I just.. Just wanted to help you," Will reassures, leans back against the sink with his arms crossed.

"So it's fair that I help you," Mike replies with no hesitation. It comes out a bit more hurried than he planned. He takes a quick breath, slows down again. "If you want."

Something flashes over Will's face. It's quick, blink and you'll miss it, but Mike doesn't. Mike knows him too well, has every little expression of his memorized. The tiny twitch of his eyebrows, the light dulling in his eyes, the press of his lips.

"Hey," Mike steps closer, keeps his voice as soft and careful as possible. Steps off to the side, leaving an escape route for Will if he decides to take it. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Will mumbles, looks off to the side.

"You're lying."

"What?" Will lifts his eyes, his brows furrow slightly.

"You are," Mike insists, keeps his tone gentle. Takes another step, slouches so they're more eye level. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Will subtly rolls his eyes. Mike just looks at him, unconvinced. "Nothing. Nothing is going on. I'm just.. not in the mood."

"There's something else," Mike keeps pushing.

"Mike," Will sighs, drops his gaze to the floor. His bangs fall over his eyes like a shield, a protective curtain.

"Baby," Mike pleads, finds Will's hand and brushes their fingers against each other. Careful, trying not to force anything. Will holds on, still looking down. "Look, it's fine if you don't want it, but I just.. You look.. bothered."

Will doesn't say anything. He sinks more into himself, his hands start trembling. Mike can feel the tremor against his own fingers. It painfully tugs at his heart. He wants to understand so badly. 

"Was I bad?" he asks.

"What?" Will finally looks up at him again, confused.

"The.. The blowjobs," Mike mumbles, sees Will wince slightly at the word. "Was it bad? Is that why?"

Will pauses, just stares at him for a second. His mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes. Mike keeps looking back at him, patient as ever.

"Mike," Will huffs out a baffled laugh, shakes his head fondly. "I- No, it wasn't bad. It was.. good."

"So why, then?" Mike squeezes Will's hand harder. Will sighs, looks away again. To Mike it feels like a shot to the chest. He bends more, desperately trying to meet Will's eyes. "I just- I just wanna know the reason. Is it something I did?"

"No," Will rasps, voice dropping. His bottom lip wobbles ever so slightly. He tries to pull his hand out of Mike's hold, and it feels like peeling his own skin off.

"I don't understand," Mike mutters, sounding weak.

Will tries to respond, but whatever he was going to say turns into a breathy sob. His lip trembles violently, hand shoots up to cover his face. Mike feels like the ground has evaporated from under him, knees buckling. His heart dips painfully.

"Woah. Hey," he launches forward, gently cups Will's face. Feels the wet heat on his cheek. "Will, what is it?"

"Mike, please," Will cries.

His palms press against Mike's chest, like he wants to push him back. Mike stops in his tracks, as if his feet have merged with the floor. Will's hands tremble, refuse to cooperate.

The push doesn't come. Instead, his delicate fingers curl around Mike's shirt, clench the fabric like it's the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Hey. Hey, it's okay," Mike comforts. His hands stay on Will's face, wiping away the hot bitter tears. That seems to only fuel them, a new wave washing over Will as his chest heaves violently.

"I- I'm-"

"Shh, it's okay. Take your time," Mike whispers, voice gentle and tender. Pulls Will in just a fraction, leaving the option open. The distance shortens by a bit.

Will clings to Mike's shirt harder, until his hands tremble from the force. Mike starts breathing audibly. Long inhales, slow exhales. Rhythmic, steady. Without saying anything, Will mirrors the pattern. Feels himself slowly calm down.

"That's it," Mike praises, softly pats Will's sore cheeks. "Good, good. Just like that."

Will manages a small smile. His lungs still stutter, but he feels like he can finally speak. Mike gently rubs his thumbs against his sore eyelids, a soothing touch.

"Better?" he asks, dipping his head to look at Will's face. His own expression is pained, tense. There are tears barely dangling on his lashes, but he pays them no mind.

"Yeah," Will breathes, gives a shaky nod against Mike's palms. Sniffs, scratches his nose.

"I'm sorry for pushing," Mike whispers, leans in to press a firm kiss to Will's forehead. "I should've.. should've just left it alone. I'm sorry."

"Mike," Will shakes his head, slots his palms on top of Mike's. His expression softens, but he still looks troubled. "You didn't. It's.. It's not that."

"Okay," Mike nods. Wants to ask further, but bites it back. He just looks down at Will, his brows twitching nervously.

Will takes another second to catch his breath, steps closer. They're still not touching outside of their hands, but the air between them is warm, familiar. Shared heat of their bodies merging into something new, something that's just theirs.

"Um.. I guess I just.. I worry that.. God. Um," Will tries, really tries. Words keep jumbling, thoughts refuse to come together. He huffs, frustrated, feels more tears pricking at his eyes.

"It's okay," Mike encourages, leans in to lightly knock their foreheads together. That pulls a little wet laugh out of Will.

"I.. I like when you.. You know."

"Suck you off?" Mike supplies.

"Yeah," Will rasps, blushing. "I like it a lot. Just.. I don't.."

Another pause stretches. Mike waits, eyes scanning Will's face, hoping to find the answer there. A pit forms in his stomach, anxious and worried, dreading what could possibly come next. Will takes a quick breath.

"I don't wanna do it back."

It's out. Open, honest. Hanging in the air between them.

Will drops his eyes to the floor, braces himself for the reaction. Mike feels how tense he gets. His shoulders rise, the usually soft angle of them sharpening. Every muscle in his body goes rigid, hands leave Mike's and fall limp at his sides.

Mike's palms remain on Will's face, unmoving and warm. He blinks a few times, processing the words. His mind prepared for something awful, something that could flip everything upside down, so this knocks him off balance.

"That's.. That's okay," he says, tucks a strand of hair behind Will's ear, moves to cup his neck. "It's okay."

"Yeah?" Will hesitantly lifts his eyes. His voice sounds small.

"Of course," Mike nods, smiles softly. He feels a wave of relief wash over him. "Of course it is. Will, I- God, I thought- Baby."

He rambles, laughs between words. Leans in to press a lingering kiss to Will's lips. It tastes of salt and worries, and Mike wants to take it all away. Absorb it and get rid of it forever, so it doesn't plague Will anymore. Will's arms gently wrap around his back, palms flattened over his shoulder blades.

"God," Mike laughs, keeps their foreheads pressed together. One hand snakes back to Will's nape, fingers diving into the silky chestnut hair. "We're taking things slow, right? There's no rush. I would never make you do anything you don't want."

"I know," Will whispers, but his face does that thing again. Twitches in pain, before snapping back to a mask of normalcy. Mike opens his mouth to comment on it, but Will speaks first. "It's.. You know, like, with the pinning down, and.. covering the mouth.."

"Yeah?" Mike gives an encouraging nod.

"It's.. It's like that for me," Will swallows, throat working through it. Looks up at the ceiling for a second. "I.. It's not that I don't want to do it. I just.. I don't know if I can. Like, ever."

Will avoids eye contact once again, focusing on a tear in their linoleum floor. Mike furrows his brows. This seems like something he should have a big reaction to, a big deal. No matter how much he searches, he can't find it in him to care that much. In his mind it's simple. If Will doesn't want it, then neither does he.

"Okay," he says, shrugging.

"Okay?" Will echoes, brows climbing up his forehead.

"Yeah. Okay," Mike shrugs more.

"Mike," Will breathes. "I- I mean it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to do it."

"That's fine."

"D- Don't you think it's unfair?" Will's voice shakes all over again, tears returning in full swing.

"Unfair? To who?" Mike raises an eyebrow.

"You?"

More thick tears run down Will's cheeks. He roughly wipes them away with his forearm before Mike can move.

"You- You keep doing all these things for me, and- and taking the lead, and I- I can't even do this one thing for you," Will fully sobs, scrubbing the tears away until his face feels raw.

"Will," Mike reaches out, but Will just keeps going, heaving through his words.

"I- I wish I could. I really do. But it just- Just the thought makes me feel- feel cold, and- and so scared, and I don't know what to do with it."

Each word is like a blade to Mike's flesh. He doesn't even notice when he himself starts to cry. Seeing Will like this, tormented, violent sobs ripping through him is like the worst kind of torture. Mike reaches out, grabs Will's arms. Feels him shaking beneath his palms.

"Come here," Mike whispers, pulls Will against his chest.

The sobs get louder, drowning out whatever Will was going to say next. He simply buries his face in Mike's collarbones, cries against his shirt. Mike tightly wraps his arms around him, grounding and shielding.

He presses his cheek into Will's hair. Tears roll down his face and soak into the chestnut strands. He feels like he's about to crumble, hearing those muffled sobs against his skin, having Will's frame shake violently in his arms.

His own chest contracts painfully, lungs snap shut. He keeps rubbing Will's back, kissing his hair with shaking lips. Does everything he can to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," Will gasps into Mike's chest, clings to him more.

"Don't say that," Mike replies without wasting a second, pulls Will even closer. Their socked feet slot together, bodies press against each other as much as physically possible. Warm, grounding. "It never even crossed my mind, Will. Okay? This isn't unfair. You don't have to do anything that you don't want. You don't owe me anything, okay?"

Will nods against him, hiccups from the force of his cries. Mike can't hold back a chuckle. Will lightly bumps his shoulder, ends up giggling quietly anyway.

"I'm serious. You could tell me tomorrow that you don't wanna have sex ever again, and I'd do it," Mike rambles, keeps rubbing comforting circles into Will's back.

"No way," Will says through a snotty giggle.

"Yes way," Mike fires back, voice gaining a teasing edge. "I wouldn't even complain. Just having you with me is enough."

"I mean there's no way I wouldn't want to have sex with you," Will fully laughs, shoulders jumping.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Will sniffs, nuzzles deeper against Mike's neck. Breathes in, exhales slowly. Mike feels him relax in real time.

"Okay. Um.. That's- That's good to hear," he stutters, immediately cringes at himself.

"Yeah. It is," Will giggles more, pats Mike's curls at the nape.

Mike starts lightly rocking the two of them from side to side. The air finally seems to settle. Hum of traffic outside fades as the world slowly falls into slumber. The blue light from the TV illuminates the living room.

It's just them. Mike and Will. Will and Mike. In their little cramped apartment in New York, far away from the horrors haunting Hawkins.

"I'm sorry," Mike whispers into Will's hair.

"For what?"

"I'm just sorry," Mike shrugs, feels the sting in his eyes.

Truly, he can't express just how sorry he is for everything. All the awful, terrible things life has thrown at Will. The trauma, the torment. How Mike himself treated him as a confused teenager.

It's all in the past now, burned to a crisp, a distant memory, but Will still has to carry it all with him. It's woven into him. How he hides and closes off to not be a burden, the nightmares shaking him awake in the middle of the night, the way his body locks up when he's cold.

Life has been so unfair to him from the very start, even before the monsters and other dimensions. 

Mike wishes he could just wrap him in a blanket and protect him from feeling sad ever again. He doesn't deserve that. Will deserves to live a nice, stress free life. Paint as much as he wants, smile every second of every day, laugh so much his belly hurts.

Mike thinks of the people he sees at work. Their biggest stress is having to wait a few extra minutes for a damn cup of coffee, or their favorite dessert being sold out. They complain, grumble, even cry and yell about it. They're so lucky, and don't even realize it.

Will stayed kind through everything. Nothing that was thrown at him managed to crush his spirit. He always remained the kindest, sweetest, most beautiful person in the entire universe. In Mike's eyes, at least. He's honored to take care of that sunshine for the rest of his life, make sure it doesn't ever dim, only gets brighter.

"I love you," he says, kisses Will's temple like it's something sacred.

"I love you, too," Will laughs, pulls back so they can look at each other.

"I love you so much. I really, really do," Mike repeats. Tears breach his eyes, roll down his face in hot paths, but he doesn't react. Caresses Will's face instead, like he's holding the sun itself.

"Mike," Will breathes, melts into the touch. Reaches up to wipe the tears from Mike's eyes.

"I mean it, Will. I love you so much, and I'm so fucking lucky to have you," Mike squeezes Will's cheeks on both sides, scrunches up his own nose from how overwhelmingly happy he feels. "I have the best boyfriend in the whole world."

"I think mine's better," Will teases, scrunches up his own face. Mike peppers it all with rapid, squeaky kisses. His nose, over his sore eyelids, cheeks, flushed lips.

"Fuck, I love when you make that face," Mike mumbles against Will's cheek, smiling wide. "So fucking cute."

"Oh my God," Will giggles, tries to dodge the tickling kisses. Pinches Mike in the ribs, but he doesn't budge.

Their lips connect softly, and they linger there. Just warm, familiar contact. Their heartbeats merge into one, rapid but not from fear or worry. From pure, unfiltered happiness.

It only lasts a few seconds, but feels like eternity. They slowly pull back, staying close enough to feel each other breathing. Mike blinks his eyes open, sees Will already looking back. Their grins widen even more, until their cheeks ache.

"Hey, sweetheart," Mike whispers before he can stop himself.

Time seems to freeze. Will's face becomes a mask of pure surprise, green eyes wide and round like never before. The apples of his cheeks become crimson, almost resembling the actual fruit.

Mike isn't much better. He snaps his mouth shut, as if he said something he shouldn't. His face looks feverish, red and hot all over. He stares at Will, taking in his reaction. Sees those pink lips curl into a shy smile.

"Sweetheart?" Will echoes, tilts his head to the side.

"Uh.. Yeah. Yeah," Mike nods slowly, lets the nickname settle. His first instinct is to backtrack, but he decides not to. "That's what you are."

Will melts, his eyes gloss over again. Always so sentimental and easy to cry, no matter if it's from sorrow or pure joy. He drops his forehead against Mike's shoulder, and hugs him.

Wraps his arms around Mike's waist, just like how he did as a kid. Palms tightly locked together, face hidden from the cruel world. Like the crook of Mike's neck is the safest, most secure place he can be in.

"You're so good to me," Will whispers.

Mike can feel the fabric of his shirt growing damp again. He wraps his arms around Will's frame, mirroring his own younger self. Shielding, protective. Big palms flattened against his back, grip tight and secure.

His vision blurs, and he finds comfort in Will's soft hair. It smells like his shampoo, different from the one he used growing up, but it's become so familiar by now. Mike inhales, smiles against Will's skin.

"I try to be."

Chapter Text

Mike and Will stumble into the bedroom with their mouths still connected. They barge in sideways, narrowly avoid colliding with furniture. Their hands are restless, clinging to each other anywhere they can reach. Faces, hair, shoulders, hips.

Mike kisses Will's pink eyelids, trying to take away the leftover soreness from his tears. Will giggles at the tickling touch. They twirl some more, before stopping in the middle of the room. A strip of blue light from the TV bleeds in, mixing with the soft moonlight coming in through the window.

"Wanna take the lead again?" Mike asks, pressing their foreheads together.

Will pauses, thinks about it for a second. Slowly, his nose scrunches, and he shakes his head.

"It's so much work," he says. Mike keeps staring at him, challenging. Will rolls his eyes, corrects himself. "Too much work."

"Yeah, I bet," Mike laughs, plants a few more firm kisses to Will's lips. Hugs him by the waist, leans in so much Will has to bend backwards, like they're in a dance.

"A- Are you sure it's okay? For you to.. take over?" Will mumbles against Mike's mouth, still unsure. His fingers curl around those broad shoulders, looking for an anchor.

"Will," Mike sighs, can't help but smile. Cups Will's face on both sides, firm and warm. "I love it, okay? I just wanna take care of you, so you can enjoy yourself without lifting a finger. When you feel good, I feel good."

His voice is steady, a little deeper than usual. Thumbs absentmindedly trace Will's smooth cheekbones as he speaks. Dark eyes never falter, stay focused on those emerald rims with golden specks mixed in. He presses another kiss to Will's plump lips, before pulling back with a pop.

"That convincing enough?" Mike says, chuckles.

"Yeah," Will melts a little, as if the kiss erased his every thought.

"You like when I take care of you?"

"Yeah.. I do," Will blushes, tilts his head down to hide that fact. Gently hugs Mike's neck. "It's.. nice."

"It's settled, then," Mike smiles wider, huffs out a soft laugh. Feels proud, accomplished.

"I guess so," Will shrugs weakly, grins so wide his cheeks ache. Mike kisses him once more, firm and final.

"Now, let's get naked," he says and starts pulling his clothes off.

Will snorts at the ridiculousness, but does the same. By the time he grabs onto the hem of his shirt, Mike's is already flying to the floor uselessly. He tries to pull it off over his head, but the fabric gets stuck on his nose and ears.

After a few unsuccessful attempts, Mike helps, giggling. Tugs the shirt off and tosses it aside. Kisses Will again because he just can't help himself. Their bare chests press together, and they can feel one another's rapid heartbeats.

Will's hands find their way to Mike's sweats, untie the string and pull until they fall. Without breaking the kiss, Mike does the same. Grabs onto Will's pajama pants, tugs insistently until gravity finishes the job for him. Boxers get abandoned somewhere on the way to the bed.

Mike lands on top of the sheets first, shaking the entire frame. Immediately pulls Will on top of him, hands locked around his narrow waist.

They keep kissing, deeper, hungrier, as their hips lazily grind against each other. Quiet moans and gasps disappear in the air between them, get swallowed up before they can even escape.

"Sit on top of me," Mike whispers, lips brushing against Will's.

Will obeys immediately, moving up and adjusting until he's comfortably seated in Mike's lap, their erections barely brushing against each other. He moves forward, tries to close the distance, but Mike grabs the backs of his knees, tugs slightly.

"Closer, baby," he says, voice breathy and eager.

Will furrows his brows in a silent question, scoots forward. Their groins are pressed flush, making them both gasp, but Mike keeps pulling, tightens his grip.

"Closer," he repeats, looks up at Will with wide, clouded eyes. Licks his lips before he can stop himself.

Will is still confused, but follows. Lifts his hips, practically crawls forward until he's hovering over Mike's ribcage. This position already feels mortifying, sending hot flushes of blush all over his body. He goes to lower himself, but Mike grabs the backs of his thighs and tugs him forward one more time.

"Mike," Will gasps as he's seated over Mike's chest.

"Like this," Mike says simply, drags his big palms from Will's thighs to his waist, squeezes.

"M- Mike, this is.."

Will doesn't know what to say. This is painfully embarrassing and the most intimate thing that's ever happened to him at the same time. Heat rushes downwards outside of his control, and his already weeping erection visibly twitches, tip brushing against Mike's chin.

"This okay?" Mike asks in that soft and caring tone, lust stepping back for a bit.

"I- I guess," Will stutters as his brain desperately tries to wrap itself around their position. He grabs onto the headboard to steady himself.

"Get comfortable," Mike moves Will's legs, kisses his knee.

"God, Mike," Will laughs nervously, covers his mouth with his palm. Lets himself be moved, until his knees go over Mike's shoulders, trapping him in place. "Is- Is it okay for you?"

"Yeah. More than okay," Mike nods, starts softly kissing the side of Will's length, lightly licks over a vein.

"God- But you're, um.. You can't really- Ah- Move like this," Will squirms, his breathing stutters. One hand moves to cup Mike's cheek, skin already heated.

"I kinda like it, I think," Mike chuckles, noses at Will's dick before licking at his tip.

Will lets out a breathy laugh that breaks off into a moan. His hips buck forward like reflex, chasing the intoxicating heat and friction. His precum smears over Mike's cheek and lips, catching the moonlight.

When Mike finally takes the tip into his mouth, Will feels like he's floating. His skin burns all over. Under Mike's mouth, those bony fingers digging into his thighs and waist, dragging up and down like they can't decide which part they want to caress more.

Will's fingers curl tightly around the headboard like it's the only thing keeping him upright, while other hand is tangled in Mike's hair. Mike hollows his cheeks around him, runs his tongue over the tip and into the weeping slit. So many sharp sensations coming together and turning Will's brain to putty.

"So good- So, So good- God," Will whimpers, throws his head back in pleasure.

Mike sinks lower, the wet heat of his mouth gets tighter, deeper, somehow even more intoxicating. Will can't help but tug at his hair, until it stings. He doesn't even have the mind to apologize, like usual. Luckily for him, this only eggs Mike on.

He moans around Will, muffled and vibrating through his core. His own hips thrust up against nothing, just craving relief.

"O- Oh God," Will gasps, folds in on himself before sitting upright again. His thighs try to clamp shut around Mike's head, press against his ears before he manually spreads them again. "S- So good. You're- You're doing so good."

For once, the words don't get stuck in his throat, refusing to come out. Now that they've talked, Will feels so much lighter. He wants to let Mike know how good he is, how well he's taking care of him.

The praise seems to rile Mike up even more. He tugs Will closer, sinking on him even lower. As one hand digs into Will's hip, the other snakes up to his chest. He brushes the skin there, heated and heaving with each uneven breath.

Will seems to shiver even under this small touch, barely there. Mike can feel the vibration of his heart beneath his fingertips. Then he moves over to the nipple, swipes his thumb over it.

That pulls a high pitched gasp out of Will. He jerks away at first, as if his body is trying to escape the foreign sensation. When Mike does it again, Will melts into it. His back curves, and he leans forward, right against Mike's hand.

"That's.. That feels so nice," he mumbles between deep breaths.

His speech starts to slur, words merging together, breaking off into more whiny moans and shaky sighs. Will looks down at Mike's flushed face, lips tightly wrapped around him, slick with spit. His cheeks are hollowed, looking so much sharper than they already are naturally.

Will runs his hand through Mike's damp hair, pushes the curls back out of his face. Their eyes lock, and the rest of the world fades away. Will's thumb traces Mike's eyebrow that feathers out into his hairline, dips across the bone there, drags down the sharp line of the hollowed cheek.

"You make me feel so good, love," Will whispers, presses his lips together immediately after. The way Mike is looking up at him almost feels like a physical weight. He wants to turn away, but doesn't. Feels the hot flush dust over his cheeks.

He reaches back, drags his hand down Mike's lean stomach, over his sharp hips before he finds the trail of hair. Still holding eye contact, he curls his fingers around Mike's erection, squeezes gently

Mike makes a sound, muffled as Will is still occupying his mouth, but he doesn't seem to be pulling off anytime soon, anyway. He thrusts up into Will's fist, bobs his head faster despite the ache in his neck. Pinches Will's nipple gently, earning more sweet sounds.

"R- Right there. God- Just like that," Will moans, shifts where he's sitting. 

His hand leaves Mike's hair to grip the headboard again. The other starts to stroke Mike, from head to base, firm and steady. The air gets thick with arousal, full of breathy moans and slick sounds of bodies pleasuring each other.

The rhythm quickly grows. Mike bobs his head, dips deeper until he can feel Will hitting the back of his throat. His eyes water, vision blurs at the edges, but it's easier this time.

Slowly, Will himself starts to move. He gets so lost in pleasure his eyes practically roll back into his head. His mind feels foggy and gooey at the same time. All the troubles, problems, work he needs to catch up on leave him, float somewhere far away.

He bucks his hips forward, shallowly thrusts against Mike's mouth. Keeps stroking him throughout it, twisting his wrist at the tip, rhythm stuttering when Mike sucks him just right. Doesn't even notice when the first tear rolls down his cheek, hot with pleasure.

Mike slows his own movement, lets Will set the pace. Keeps him steady with the hand still on his hip, the other swiping over his nipple. Tender touches, pinching sometimes, twisting. Still careful, afraid to hurt. Will responds eagerly to every type of touch, gasping and whispering Mike's name like a prayer.

The coil in Mike's stomach tightens quickly, too quickly for his liking. He stops playing with Will's nipple in favor of tapping on his arm, asking him to stop. Will does, lets go of Mike's erection and looks down at him with a silent question in his eyes.

Mike grabs his now free wrist, brings it to his own hair. This time Will curls his fingers around the inky locks himself, grabs on. Mike adjusts, feels the sheets sticking to his sweaty back. Firmly holds onto Will's hips, and tugs at him, encourages him to move.

"M- Mike," Will panics a little, resists the pull.

Mike subtly rolls his eyes, pulls off of him with an obscenely wet pop. Takes a second to catch his breath, chin covered in his own spit.

"What are you-"

"Just use me," Mike interrupts, breathing heavily. He looks hungry, almost animalistic. Eyes even darker than usual, every feature sharpened. He licks his lips, holding heavy eye contact. "Do it how you like."

"Y- You sure?" Will asks as his body moves forward anyway. Mike nods eagerly, his mess of hair rustling against the pillow.

"I need to fix my score," he says, smiling.

Will fully snorts at him, laughs almost hysterically. A mix of embarrassment, arousal and pure, unfiltered fondness. Mike joins in, chuckling.

"Just, you know, don't go all the way," he says, kisses Will's knee, rubs his thighs gently.

"I wasn't gonna," Will breathes, braces himself against the headboard. His tip brushes over Mike's slick lips, and he sighs softly.

"I love you," Mike adds, glancing up at Will before taking him in his mouth again.

Will's entire body shudders. His fist around Mike's hair tightens so much his knuckles go white. He leans forward until his forehead meets the wall, and starts shallowly thrusting. Just a little, careful not to do too much. Even this feels like electric shocks running through his every nerve.

He gets lost in it, letting out breathy syllables that are meant to be praise but don't quite connect into words. Mike starts to meet the short thrusts, moving his head forward. The sounds it all makes are obscene, but Will is not present enough to register them.

Mike keeps holding onto him, teasing his nipple before latching onto his waist and thighs again. Even moves him towards himself, pushing him in just a little deeper. It all feels unreal. Will's weight on him, the heat, the salt, the way his legs keep pressing against his ears, muffling the rest of the world. His lungs start to burn, demanding oxygen, but he ignores it.

The dull pressure in the back of his throat doesn't make his body lock up anymore. If anything, he wants to try and take more.

Mike uses the last of his brainpower to remember his research. The words and images printed across yellowed pages, illuminated by his old flashlight as he hides under his blanket to read them.

He steadies his breathing, tries to relax his throat. His current position isn't the best for this, but he still tries. Will's thrusts grow more urgent, voice climbs up in pitch as he approaches his peak

"M- Mike," Will mutters, starts tugging at Mike's hair. It's weak, his muscles feeling like gooey honey.

Mike doesn't hear it, keeps sucking and tasting the salt, running his tongue along the underside as he mentally hypes himself up. He takes a deep breath, willing his body to relax, and sinks lower than any other time before it.

Feels the heat and the heavy weight of Will moving in, breaching his throat. His muscles contract, try to reject the intrusion, but he fights it. His vision is foggy, tears pool up in his eyes.

Will makes a sound so sweet and delicious Mike nearly explodes on the spot. A high pitched, prolonged moan, breaking off into a sweet gasp. His bitten lips part, brows curve, eyes flutter closed from pleasure.

For a second, it feels just like Heaven. Mike nearly blows his load right there, purely from the sight and the sound, echoing in his skull. The next moment, Will tugs on his hair harder, making his throat lock up again.

Mike jerks back out of reflex, starts coughing wetly and blinking away the tears. That's all he can focus on at first, until Will's weight leaves him. Mike springs up, his body moving before his brain can even process what's going on.

He rubs his throat, blinks his eyes open. Will sits on the edge of the bed with his back turned, feet meeting the floorboards. Mike's stomach dips painfully.

"Will, you-"

"Sorry, my leg fell asleep. Sorry," Will says all in one quick breath, stretches his leg out to encourage circulation.

Mike sits there and just stares for a second, then snorts so hard he nearly chokes on his own spit. Coughs some more, scoots forward to laugh against Will's shoulder.

"Jesus," he says, his entire body shaking with the force of his giggles.

He glances over at Will. His face is even more red than it was less than a minute ago. He's focused, brows furrowed as he tries to stay as still as possible. Mike smirks, kisses his shoulder before moving his hand towards Will's thigh.

"Don't," Will bats him away, winces when he feels a billion needles pricking at his skin from within.

"Sorry," Mike says, not sounding sorry at all. He rests his chin on Will's shoulder and just stays there, steadies his breathing.

Their bodies still tingle with lingering pleasure, especially Will's. He was right at the edge, but he couldn't ignore the static in his leg anymore. Slowly, the needles fade away as his blood flow returns. Will wiggles his toes, testing.

Mike kisses a path over his shoulder, going up the side of his neck. Soft touches, barely there. Will melts into it, leans back against Mike's bare chest with a content sigh.

"Good?" Mike murmurs, gives Will's thigh a squeeze.

"Yeah," Will giggles, turns his head so their eyes lock.

He just looks for a bit, drinks in the sight. Mike is so beautiful like this. Skin flushed, freckles even brighter than usual, eyelids heavy yet staying open just to keep staring at Will. 

Will's gaze drops to Mike's lips, pink and glistening, parted on an exhale. Without thinking, he leans in, kisses Mike deeply. Slips his tongue into his mouth, feels the salt of his own skin.

Mike is stunned at first, eyes wide. He quickly melts into it, squeezing Will's thigh harder and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Their noses bump against each other, lips slip and glide until Will pulls back, panting. A thin string of spit connects them, before snapping.

"Holy shit," Mike mutters, giddy.

Will flushes all over, bites down a grin and turns away. Mike stays where he is, stunned. Feels more blood rush downwards. He presses his mouth against Will's shoulder. Just rests there first, then sucks. Leaves a mark because he can.

"Mike," Will hisses quietly, relaxes again when a tender kiss gets planted over the bite. Soothing the sting.

"Should we.. keep going from where we left off?" Mike whispers, kissing the back of Will's neck, behind his ear. Nips at the earlobe, teases the silver earring with his teeth.

Will softly hums, absorbs the affection. He swallows audibly, then slots his palm over Mike's that's still digging into his thigh. Cards their fingers, moves lower.

"Do you wanna.. use my thighs again?" Will asks, barely above a breath. Slides Mike's palm to his inner thigh, spreads his legs a little.

Mike lets out a hot breath against his neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. Plants more kisses there, firm and loud, hungry. Peeks over Will's shoulder again, kisses his hair.

"Is the grass green?" he jokes, squeezing the honey skin under his fingers.

"Mike," Will grumbles, rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Mike says against Will's skin, feels him shudder at the nickname. Laughs to himself. "Yeah, I want that. Really want that."

"Okay," Will breathes, fidgets nervously for a second before moving back to the bed.

He lands onto the sheets with an exhale. Mike is immediately kneeling in between his legs, palming his knees. Will grabs a pillow for himself, shoves it under his head.

Mike's eyes scan their surroundings, like he's piecing a plan together in his mind. His brows furrow in concentration, long limbs stretch over the bed. He grabs another pillow, fluffs it up in his hands.

"Lift up for me?" Mike says softly, taps on Will's hip.

Will furrows his brows slightly, but listens, lifts his hips. Mike slides the pillow underneath, and he lays back down.

"Comfortable?" Mike asks, rubs his thumb where it rests on Will's hip.

"Yeah," Will breathes, gives a shaky nod.

This is different. Will has read about this in a magazine once. Keeping the hips lifted on a pillow. It's comfortable, but he can't help but feel like they're about to have proper sex.

He knows they won't, trusts that Mike won't try anything they haven't agreed on, but his heart still stutters at the thought. It leaves just as quickly as it came.

Mike stretches, uses his long limbs to his advantage and reaches for the nightstand. Fishes out the lube, squeezes some of it onto his hand. Slicks himself up carefully. He's so sensitive right now even this makes him hiss quietly.

Will keeps his legs pressed together, knees bent. Patiently waits for direction, hands fisting at the sheets under him.

They smell like laundry detergent, freshly changed, now mixed with their shared arousal. The fabric is still soaked with Mike's heat, feeling like a grounding, comforting touch against Will's back.

"Okay," Mike mutters, wipes the leftover lube on the nearest blanket. Shoots Will a guilty look, and gets an eye roll in response. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Will nods, licks his lips in anticipation.

Mike grabs his legs, brings them up to his own shoulder. Will crosses his ankles without having to be asked. Mike smiles, kisses the skin he can reach as a reward.

Now that Will knows what to expect, this feels so different. The warm, slippery pressure, the glide against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. The heavy weight dragging before Mike's weeping tip peeks out, and he sighs.

"Fuck," Mike dips his head, eyes nearly rolling back into his head. Will tenses his legs up, makes it tighter. "Just like that- Fuck, Will- God, you feel so fucking good. So perfect."

He starts thrusting, filling the room with slick sounds of friction. His hips slap against Will's thighs, fingers dig into his skin with an almost bruising force.

"Shit- I'm not gonna- Ah, fuck- I don't think I'm gonna last long," Mike babbles, eyes wrenching shut.

"It's okay," Will pants, moves to pinch at his own nipple.

He feels like he's on fire. Mike keeps grinding against most sensitive parts of his thighs, pulling more whimpers out of him. Will pinches his nipple harder, arches into it with a broken whine.

"You're so pretty like this," Mike mumbles, quiet, almost like an inside thought slipping out.

"Mike," the best Will can manage. As if it's the only word his lips can curl around as his mind gets foggy.

Mike's hand moves. Slides down the smooth curve of Will's leg and right towards his neglected length. Flushed, with a pearly puddle forming. Mike wraps his big hand around it, squeezes before stroking in rhythm with his thrusts.

Will arches off the mattress with a gasp. His head tilts back, chin to the ceiling. Mike's rhythm stutters at first, trying to keep up with both tasks at once, but he quickly falls into it.

"Mike- God- So good," Will whines, new tears rolling down his temples and soaking into the pillow.

"Yeah?" Mike smirks, speeds up his movement.

Will's reply dissolves in another moan, bordering on a sob. He manages a nod, lets his head fall sideways against the pillow.

Blankets get pushed aside, some fall to the floor uselessly, hanging off halfway. Will barely has strength to hold his legs in place, but he keeps trying. Tenses them up repeatedly, muscles pulsing around Mike.

"Shit, baby- Fuck, feels so good," Mike groans, face scrunching up. He almost looks like he's in pain. His hips stutter as he gets closer and closer. "Do you feel good?"

Will nods with a broken hum. Mike swipes his thumb over his tip, presses down. Will keens, more tears roll down his face.

"C- Can you say it? Please?" Mike stutters, resumes his strokes.

"I feel so- So good, Mike," Will uses the remnants of his mind to speak. It comes out wobbly, broken up by more needy sounds. "You- You make me feel s- so good. Oh my God-"

He's putty against the sheets, limbs heavy and limp, tongue running loose, eyes unfocused. He ends up launching off the edge first, spilling into Mike's fist with a moan that turns into a sob.

Mike follows shortly after, eyes practically devouring unravelled Will. There are salty puddles at his temples, his hair is a mess, face is pink and so relaxed. A weird mix of peaceful and dishevelled.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Mike chants as he keeps rocking into the gap of Will's thighs. Doesn't even register that he should probably stop stroking him.

His fist keeps pumping, rushing through the waves of Will's orgasm until the touch becomes too sharp, too much. Will squirms, makes weak attempts to stop it, but his arms feel too heavy, as if his bones have turned to stone.

He makes more teary noises, sniffles as his body tries to turn away. The friction is so bright he almost feels scared of it, too much at once. At the same time, deep down he doesn't want it to end. Each stroke seems to wipe his mind clean all over again.

"M- Mi- Mike- Bab- Plea-"

Will babbles as he finally catches Mike's wrist, fingers curling around it with all the strength he has left. All movement stops immediately. Mike thrusts through the last wave of his orgasm, and sighs. Pulls out slowly, gently puts Will's legs back onto the mattress.

"Shit, you okay?" he asks when he gets a glimpse of Will.

He's crying quietly, there's a string of drool running down his chin. His skin is glistening with sweat, chest is heaving in wide intervals. Hair is clinging to his forehead, limbs tremble with the aftershocks.

Will blinks a few times, and his eyes seem to slowly focus again. Mike looks down at him with concern written all over his face. His mouth opens with a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't get to ask any.

Will stretches his trembling arms out towards him with a little smile, a silent invitation.

Mike sighs in relief, tension leaving his shoulders. He practically collapses on top of Will, arms enveloping him in a tight, sweaty hug. They ignore the various sticky substances smeared all over their skin. All they need right now is the warm contact.

Faces get tucked into necks, heartbeats vibrate against each other, breaths settle. They stay like this for a bit, soaking in each other's heat as the world outside gets darker, stars poke out through the pitch black sky. 

Mike is the first to pull away, but not before pressing a firm kiss to Will's sweaty forehead. He finds the lube in the tangle of sheets, tosses it back into the drawer. Clumsily climbs off the bed, picks up the blankets that fell to the floor.

"Bath?" Mike asks, glancing down at Will. He looks like he's about to melt into a puddle right here on the bed.

Will nods, his eyes falling closed from exhaustion. Mike nods back. He tosses the pile of blankets into the corner of the bed, pulls his boxers back on and steps out into the living room. Turns the TV off, finally.

Will stays in the bed, and for once he doesn't feel guilty about it. Maybe it's because he's still a little loopy from everything they did tonight.

A smile spreads on his face outside of his control, and he sighs. There's water humming in the bathroom, sounds of Mike's bare feet slapping against the tiled floor.

Some time passes, and Will feels awake enough to sit up and start moving. He groans quietly from his sore back, finds his own boxers in the mess on the floor. Goes to put them on, but stops.

He ends up wiping himself down with them instead, then walks towards the bathroom completely bare. Once he steps out into the living room, it's like the air feels different. Not as charged, much lighter, colder. It hits Will's skin and sends goosebumps up his arms.

The apartment is dark, except for the strip of white light coming from the bathroom. The door is cracked, and Will opens it with a creak.

A scent of pine hits his nose, he has to blink a few times for his eyes to get used to the bright light. Mike is hunched over the bathtub, one hand swiping across the water, feeling the temperature.

"Oh," he says stupidly, eyes round. Jumps a little when he sees the intruder.

"Bubbles?" Will chuckles, looking at the mountain of foam forming in the bathtub.

"Uh, yeah," Mike visibly blushes, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes jump around Will's bare frame before he whips his head back towards the water.

With a wide smile, Will walks over to the fogged up mirror. Swipes at it, looks at his own reflection. The sight should feel foreign, but it doesn't. If anything, Will doesn't remember the last time he felt this present when looking at himself.

His fingers trace over the new marks left by Mike's mouth and teeth. The heat of every touch still clings to his skin, tingling. Will stays in front of the mirror for a bit, just looking, taking it all in.

This is him. He's here. This is his body and it's taken care of.

Mike emerges behind him, kisses his shoulder, then temple. The water is now off, the apartment falling into complete, peaceful silence. Will hums, leans back against Mike's chest. It feels like the most solid brick wall that will hold him up no matter what.

"Need help getting in?" Mike murmurs against Will's neck, hands snaking around to hold his waist.

Will shakes his head, slots his own palms on top of Mike's for that extra contact. Mike plants another firm kiss to his jaw, and starts to pull away. Will stops him, tightening his hold.

"Do you, um.. Do you wanna get in?" he mumbles, blushing so hard his entire face feels like it's on fire.

"I'll just shower afterwards. This is for you," Mike shrugs.

"No, I- God, Mike," Will laughs, twists around until the two of them are face to face. "I meant, like.. together."

Mike's pupils blow up, brows jump into his hairline. He blinks a few times, and his cheeks go a soft pink.

"Oh," he says dumbly. Once the static passes, he starts nodding eagerly. "I- I mean, yeah. Of course. Yeah. Yes."

"Okay," Will giggles, hides his crimson red face in Mike's neck.

"I should probably drain some of the water first, though. It's, like, pretty much full," Mike rambles, scratching his head.

"Yeah. That- That makes sense."

Mike does exactly that. Finds the plug, pulls it. They both stand at the bathtub for a minute, watching the water and the bubbles slowly lower. Will shifts on his feet, nerves washing over him now that he's fully present and processing the situation.

They're about to bathe together, naked, with bubbles surrounding them. He couldn't even dream of this. His stomach does a clumsy, happy flip at the thought, knees buckle a little.

They've bathed together as kids a couple times, when the sleepovers stretched long enough to need it, or if they were covered in mud and grass from playing outside. Even then, they had underwear on, and kept playing to the point it was more like their own little pool party in the Wheeler bathroom than actually getting clean.

This is entirely different.

"Okay, that's good, I think," Mike says, bending to put the plug back in.

They just look at each other at first, unsure. Will's palms are sweaty, clasped tightly over his crotch. Wants to cover up, even though Mike literally had his mouth on him not that long ago. The images flash before his eyes momentarily, making his blush even deeper.

"Okay," Mike breathes, pulls his underwear off again and tosses it towards the laundry basket. Misses completely.

He climbs in first, maneuvering his long limbs. When his toes make contact with the water, he hisses. It's hot, there's even some steam rising up in between the soap bubbles. Just how Will likes it. Mike prefers more lukewarm water.

Still, he keeps going. Slowly puts one foot in, then the other. His face is a permanent grimace, every feature scrunched up. He grips onto the edge of the bathtub like he'll die if he doesn't hold on tight enough. His knuckles whiten, porcelain strains under his fingers.

Will stands there and watches him, a little concerned but mostly amused. A laugh threatens to break out of his throat when Mike finally sits down and lets out a high pitched gasp.

"We could've waited for it to cool down," Will says. A little chuckle breaches his mouth, can't help it.

"Well, I'm already in here," Mike deadpans. Jerks his head to the side, inviting. "Get in."

With a soft sigh, Will moves. Mike immediately offers him a helping hand. Will takes it, but not before rolling his eyes. His legs do feel a bit wobbly, though.

He climbs in much easier. The hot water immediately soothes him. If anything, it's a little colder from how he usually likes it.

This bathtub definitely isn't meant for two grown men to sit in it. Will can barely get comfortable in here by himself. Mike pulls his knees up to his chest, making room. Will sits at the opposite end, facing him. Pulls his own legs up, hugs them to take up as little space as he possibly can.

"Like this?" Mike asks.

"Yeah," Will nods, but then sees an almost pained look flash over Mike's face. "We can-"

"No, this is okay," Mike waves a dismissive hand, then it disappears under the bubbles again.

"Okay."

They settle, surrounded by steam and the smell of pine. Uneven soapy mountains frame their flushed shoulders, water splashes every time they move and adjust. It feels weirdly nostalgic.

Will stares at the bubbles, how they catch the overhead light. He's too consumed by nerves to do anything else, even move. As if that might shatter everything, somehow.

He feels another bare foot nudge his own. Lifts his eyes, to see Mike already looking back between the foamy peaks.

"Hey," he says, smiling.

"Hey," Will chuckles.

"So.."

"So?"

"What's my, uh.. What's my score?"

"Oh my God, Mike," Will fully laughs, throws himself back against the bathtub.

"Answer the question," Mike presses, with a look of theatrical anger on his face.

"It was better," Will shrugs.

"That's not what I asked," Mike deadpans.

"It was much better."

"That's still not what I asked."

"Oh my God," Will sighs, rolls his eyes so hard it's borderline painful. He looks up at the ceiling, humming in thought. "I guess.. an eight?"

"An eight?!" Mike squawks, jumps up where he's sitting. Some of the water flies off the edge of the bathtub and smacks against the floor. "You said it was much better!"

"It was!" Will's voice climbs up in pitch. "But nine feels like.. too much."

"It's still less than ten," Mike argues.

"Ten is, like, absolutely perfect. Nine is almost there. Eight is perfectly reasonable," Will argues, one hand coming up from under the bubbles to gesture and punctuate his words.

"It's still not 'much better' than seven," Mike grumbles.

"Okay, maybe I was too generous the first time," Will raises his hands in defeat, shrugs. Gets a gasp in response, so loud it bounces off the tiled walls.

"You're kidding."

"You're taking this way too seriously," Will laughs, splashes some water at Mike's chest.

"Well, I have to," Mike complains more, then shrinks. Lowers his voice to almost a whisper. "I wanna take good care of you."

"Mike," Will melts a little. "You do."

He nudges Mike's foot with his own, feels him returning the gesture. They share a quiet, shy laugh, scoot a little closer. As much as the bathtub allows.

"So, what should I fix? Any notes?" Mike keeps pressing, earning another eye roll.

"I don't know," Will shrugs. That's clearly not enough, with Mike's eyes burning holes in his face. "Okay, to be fair, I didn't even.. finish.. from that."

"'Cause you keep stopping me!" Mike fires up, points an accusatory finger at Will.

"What?" Will squawks.

"You do!" Mike stretches. Notices how loud he's being, and settles down. Keeps the playfully angry tone. "You pull me off at, like, last second. You can't include that in your ranking."

"Well, I don't wanna.. do that in your.."

"My mouth?" Mike supplies.

"Yeah," Will winces, nodding.

"I don't mind."

"What?"

"I don't mind," Mike repeats, firmer and a little louder. Like Will simply just did not hear him, not because this is kind of a crazy thing to say.

"Mike."

"What?"

"Come on."

"What?"

"It- You can't be serious," Will scoffs, laughs in disbelief.

"I am," Mike furrows his brows in confusion.

"Mike, it's- What?" Will stutters, thoughts rushing and stumbling over each other.

"What?" Mike curves his brows, his shoulders pull in a bit. "You worry too much. Seriously. You keep thinking about it, waiting for the right moment to pull me off, when you could just relax and enjoy yourself. Let it happen."

Will winces slightly, lowers his eyes back to the soapy bubbles, slowly dissolving. Mike's words cycle through his mind on a loop, sounding more and more convincing each time. He pulls his knees closer to his chest, hugs them tighter.

"But.. what if.. What if it's gross?" Will mumbles.

"What if it isn't?" Mike fires back immediately.

"Mike," Will sighs. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Mike shrugs. Will just sinks into himself more, presses his forehead against his own knees with a quiet groan. Mike sighs. "Baby."

He scoots closer, until their knees meet each other. Water splashes around them, bubbles pop against their skin, tickling. Will looks up at him, bottom half of his face still hidden. The tips of his ears practically glow with blush.

"I just.. I don't want you to, like.. freak out, or something," he mumbles, muffled by his knees.

"I won't," Mike says firmly, but Will still doesn't look convinced. "Okay. I don't think it's gonna be gross, for the record, but if it is.. We just won't do it again. Simple."

 Will just huffs, hides in his knees again. Mike nudges his foot, tickles his ankle, pinches his thigh. Will squirms, but ultimately gives in, giggling and splashing more water around.

"Stop," he says through a laugh, batting Mike's hands away.

"Come here, baby," Mike scoots back, stretches his arms out in an invitation.

Will moves, carefully twisting around in the narrow bathtub until his back meets Mike's chest. More water flies to the floor as they settle, slipping and bumping against the porcelain.

Mike's arms wrap around Will's waist securely. The cold bathtub bites into his back, a sharp contrast to the water, but he pays it no mind. He kisses every part of Will he can reach. The crown of his head, temple, pink cheek.

"This is so nice," Will whispers, lays back against Mike's shoulder. His eyes flutter closed, pleased and so, so happy.

"Yeah?" Mike murmurs, pulls him even closer. Their legs tangle together, bent to fit in the bathtub.

"Yeah," Will nods, turns so they can kiss properly.

Mike's mouth tastes like mint. He must've brushed his teeth already. Will almost misses tasting himself on his tongue. This kiss is sweet, lips lingering there before pulling apart with a soft pop.

"I love you," Will says, nuzzling against Mike's warm neck.

"I love you more," Mike smirks.

"Shut up."

Mike huffs out a laugh, pinches Will's tummy as retaliation. It's so warm and peaceful. The bubbles dissolve more, staying a thin layer of foam on top of cloudy, almost milky looking water.

Mike lazily picks some of it up, spreads it over Will's chest. They were supposed to clean themselves.

"Did you actually research this stuff in Hawkins?" Will breaks the peaceful silence. His voice sounds quiet, a bit distant like he's sleepy.

"Uh, yeah," Mike nods, rubs the soap over Will's shoulders.

"Where did you even find it?" Will can't help but laugh. The idea of Hawkins having a gay sex manual somewhere sounds more ridiculous than it splitting in four and having monsters roam its streets.

"Uh, you know.. the library," Mike mumbles, hides his face in Will's hair.

"The library?"

"Yes."

"You're serious?"

"Where else was I supposed to go?" Mike complains, pushes Will slightly forward to wash his back.

They both pause for a bit as Will thinks. Hums quietly to himself, then shrugs.

"I don't know."

"Exactly," Mike says, then pulls Will back against his chest. Finds his arms, starts washing them slowly, taking his time. "It.. It made the most sense to me at the time, okay? And it worked."

"Was it, like, a book? A magazine?" Will asks as he watches Mike tenderly spread soap over each of his fingers.

"Book. It was, like, falling apart a little bit. The cover was kinda random, too. You wouldn't think it was about gay sex," Mike laughs, interlaces their fingers because he can't help himself.

"Well. Didn't expect it to be in Hawkins, of all places," Will chuckles.

"Yeah, me neither. I had to dig through the entire fucking library," Mike groans, recalling the memory. Can practically feel the ache in his back after he was done. "It was, like, kinda hidden, and dusty. And there was just one. No copies."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Mike rasps, clears his throat. "I, uh.. I always thought that they.. probably threw the rest out, or something. Just.. missed that one."

"Oh."

The atmosphere sours temporarily. They stay in the now lukewarm water, hands connected as thumbs brush over knuckles. Will feels every breath Mike takes, every quick beat of his heart.

"Is that.. where you learned about the.. the thigh stuff?" he asks carefully.

"Maybe," Mike mumbles against Will's hair.

"Oh," Will chuckles. "Got it. Must've been a thorough book, then."

"I guess, yeah," Mike shrugs. "There was, uh.. There were a lot of things in there."

"I bet."

"Whatever," Mike whines, nips at the shell of Will's ear until he yelps. "Do you wanna get out?"

"Not really," Will purses his lips.

"Good. Me neither."

"Good."

They fall into comfortable silence, stretching for what feels like eternity. The water cools down slowly, the bubbles disappear completely. Mike throws his head back against the edge of the bathtub, and lets out a jaw cracking yawn.

"It's probably past midnight by now," Will mumbles, feels sleep tugging at him, too.

"Probably."

Neither of them moves.

"We should probably get out."

"Probably."

Still, they don't make any attempts to climb out.

"Mike," Will groans.

"What? I can't get out 'til you get out," Mike groans back, words starting to melt into each other.

Will huffs, tries to move forward, but Mike pulls him right back. His long arm is wrapped tightly around Will's waist, not budging.

"Come on," Will sighs, but still melts into him.

"Can we just stay here?" Mike whines, nuzzling deep into Will's neck.

"We'll get sick," Will argues, grabs onto Mike's arm. Gets more whiny noises in response. "You have class tomorrow."

"So do you."

"I don't have anything until ten," Will replies, feels a devastated groan vibrating against him.

"Lucky," Mike all but growls. He loosens his hold on Will, loathes the small distance between their bodies. "I'll just skip."

"You shouldn't do that," Will chuckles, looking back at Mike over his shoulder.

"I can."

"You'll get eaten alive."

"Who cares?"

Mike goes on a long rant about his professor, words stumbling over each other and barely connecting into proper sentences. Will rolls his eyes. He wants to sleep so bad.

In one fluid motion, he turns the shower on. A fierce pour of water falls right over Mike's head, jolting him awake and cutting his incoherent rambling short.

"Jesus Christ!!"