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It’s almost the end of summer.
The heat is at its peak. Will enjoys going to Starcourt Mall with his friends—especially because of the cool air that offers relief from the heat outside—along with sneaking into the movies and grabbing ice cream at Scoops Ahoy.
But he can’t help feeling out of place. Not that that's anything new.
He feels it even more now because everyone tends to split off into pairs. Also, nothing new.
Though lately, the pairings had changed.
Where there used to be Dustin and Lucas, there was now Lucas and Max.
And where there used to be Mike and Will, there was now Mike and El.
So that left Will. Just Will.
Granted, between Lucas and Max and Mike and El, he naturally gravitated toward Lucas and Max. They were much more welcoming of having him around. Mike and El, meanwhile, would barely acknowledge him, leaving Will to pretend he didn't notice that his presence wasn't particularly wanted.
It chipped away at his heart a little more each time the same dynamic played out. This new reality, where he was no longer Mike’s best friend, still felt strange. Things between them had changed so much that he couldn't help feeling a little heartbroken.
Like he no longer fit where he'd once been so welcome.
He wished Dustin were there. It would've made these outings less awkward. He would've had someone to pair off with—someone who'd keep him from feeling so out of place, from feeling like he was intruding on everyone else for once. Someone to steer conversations away from relationship drama and the endless boys-vs-girls bickering. Someone who'd spare him from listening to jokes and conversations he wasn't part of and that left him quietly uncomfortable.
But that wasn't possible. Dustin had been away at summer camp.
It was awkward for Will for another reason, too. Most people at the mall dressed well. Even his friends wore flashy, colorful, brand-new clothes that looked light enough for the summer heat. Eleven had even gotten a whole new wardrobe with Max's help.
He had to admit she looked different, nice.
That wasn't the case for him.
Almost everything he owned had once belonged to Jonathan. And if that wasn't enough, his mom always found some way to make sure he at least had something comfortable to wear. For the summer, she'd cut one of Jonathan's old pairs of jeans into shorts.
They'd ended up a little too short. They made Will self-conscious. The hems rode up just enough that the edges of his briefs were almost always peeking out. He could only assume the reason people looked at him weirdly was because of his worn-out clothes and terrible sense of style.
Today was different, though. Dustin was finally coming back from science camp.
Will couldn't wait to hear all about it. Dustin was always coming up with something fascinating. He could already picture him returning armed with endless science facts, stories, and experiments, talking everyone's ears off.
It would finally shift the focus back to what actually mattered—all of them, as a group. Like they used to be, before relationship drama had started creeping into the Party.
To celebrate Dustin's return, Mike was hosting a sleepover in his basement. It was big enough for all of them.
Will had been looking forward to it all week. After all, it'd been a long time since they'd all hung out together. Or at least, that's how it felt to Will.
After spending most of the day hiking up the hill so Dustin could show off the radio he'd built to talk to Suzie, the girl he'd met at camp, who lived all the way in Utah, they headed back to Mike's house.
Another couple in their friend group. At least this one wasn't constantly making out in front of him. The failed attempt to reach her over the radio was about all Will had to witness.
He tried not to dwell too much on his place within the Party. Today was about celebrating.
They spent a couple of hours in Mike's basement watching movies and eating snacks before night fell and they started sorting out where everyone would sleep.
"El's sleeping with me," Max states matter-of-factly.
“Wait, what? Why?” Mike immediately cuts in. “Why aren't you pairing up with Lucas?”
Max pretends to think it over for a moment before shrugging. “Nah. Don't feel like it. Besides, we've known about your horny ass for a while now. Not gonna put El through that. Not on my watch.”
“Yeah, Mike. I am sleeping with Max,” Eleven chimes in flatly.
“Don't... don't say it like that...” Mike mumbles with a slight grimace while pinching his nose bridge. He lets out a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping before he quickly regains his composure. “Whatever. I'm pairing up with Will, then”
“So, I get Lucas?” Dustin pipes up.
“Hell no. You're on your own, man.”
“Dude, there's only so many places we can sleep. We've gotta pair up.”
“Nope. I'm good. I'll take the couch.”
“We're all sleeping on the floor, you guys. It's the only fair way,” Mike says.
“See? Told you.”
Lucas sighs in resignation. “You better not come anywhere near me, then.”
“Someone's not into cuddles, huh?” Dustin teases.
Max snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Mike is not into cuddles either,” Eleven chimes in once again.
“El!”
Scattered laughter echoes throughout the basement. It's fun. Cozy, even.
But Will can't shake the feeling that they're all slowly growing apart—leaving him behind.
It's weird now, Will thinks. Everyone suddenly seems so much older—talking about cuddling, horniness. Teasing each other in ways that feel completely foreign and awkward to him. Maybe someday he'll be able to join in.
Who is he kidding? He's different. In every possible way.
Even among his own friends, he's an outsider. Someone who no longer shares the same interests as the rest of them. Sometimes he wonders if they pity him for everything he’s been through. At least he's still invited, so there's that.
He just hopes he'll find his place in the Party again. The obvious place to start would be with his best friend. He keeps suggesting they do things together, just the two of them. Mike always humors him, but no matter how many ideas Will comes up with, nothing ever really changes.
Will doesn't take it personally that Mike picked him as a second choice. Honestly, he's just glad he's still a choice at all. At least he won't be the fifth wheel this time.
He understands the jokes about Mike being horny. He's noticed the tension during all the double dates he's tagged along on. He can feel it hanging in the air. He just tries to ignore it. Though that's becoming harder and harder as the summer goes on.
So, by the time they start sorting out the sleeping arrangements, Mike has already laid out the double sleeping bag where the two of them will be sleeping, already settled inside as Will walks over, ready to tuck in.
Once everyone's settled, they switch off the lights and continue talking into the darkness around them. Sometimes they take turns listening to one another; other times they all end up talking over each other.
Will lies on his back, occasionally laughing softly at whatever they're talking about—mostly teasing each other. They don't say much about him. There's really nothing to say. They really must pity him—maybe that's why they never really mess with him.
He notices Mike has shifted closer beside him inside the sleeping bag. Will startles slightly at the contact before slowly relaxing again. His brow furrows in confusion as he tries to make sense of the sudden closeness of the body beside him. Maybe he'd felt too far away from everyone else and wanted to be closer to the group to join the conversation. Mike keeps inching nearer until their bodies brush against each other.
"Alright, dumbasses, knock it off. I'm already tired, and if I don't get my sleep, some of you will suffer," a voice calls into the room.
"You hear that, Mike? If I were you, I'd sew my mouth shut."
Mike snorts. "Please. As if I were the problem. Not like I'm Dustin."
"I'm not the one who has to share my girlfriend with her. I'd tread carefully."
"So, neither Lucas nor I are talking anymore."
"Exactly."
"That is right, Mike."
Will keeps listening to their banter, smiling and quietly chuckling to himself, only half paying attention as he stays silent. He keeps his body perfectly still, trying not to move too much in case he disturbs Mike.
As if it'd somehow be his fault. But he'd shrink himself as much as he had to if it meant not disturbing Mike.
Eventually, the room falls quiet. As the minutes pass, soft snores gradually begin filling the room.
Will keeps perfectly still, a little uncomfortable. He even pays attention to his breathing, careful to keep it slow and quiet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
After a while, he feels Mike shift beside him, rolling onto his side to face him. His skin prickles at the sudden movement, suddenly aware of just how close his face now is. Nothing's happening, yet he feels warmth rising to his cheeks. Maybe he should turn onto his side too, maybe that's what Mike expected—to make a little more room.
Once he shifts positions, everything settles again. Time passes, and now he can hear Mike's slow, heavy breathing behind him. Eventually, he grows used to it.
His body finally relaxes and he lets his eyelids drift shut, giving his eyes a chance to rest. His breathing evens out, soft, absent-minded exhales escaping him without realizing it.
It lasts like that for a while.
But peace has never lasted very long for Will.
The first thing to react is his brow, twitching almost like an antenna sensing that something is wrong. Slowly, he opens his eyes, refocusing in the darkness. Nothing about the room seems out of place—so, his body begins searching the rest of his surroundings instead, trying to pinpoint what feels wrong.
Then he feels warm puffs of air from Mike’s ragged breathing brushing against the back of his neck, making his skin prickle once again. His eyes widen in realization.
Suddenly, he feels disconnected from his own body—distant from whatever his mind is trying to process. All his body can register, all it can focus on, is the firm bulge pressing against the curve of his ass, slowly dragging against it in deliberate, measured strokes.
Heat floods his cheeks, his lips part.
Was this...?
His eyes dart sideways without moving his head. He realizes he's afraid of confirming what he's already thinking.
Slowly and cautiously, he turns his head just enough to glance over his shoulder. He can't really see anything from the angle, just by out of the corner of his eye he catches the blurred outline of Mike's messy hair. Even that vague glimpse unsettles him—fear coiling in his insides. So, Will turns his head back immediately.
With his senses heightened, he realizes the panting comes from practically right behind his ear—now too scared to even move, let alone turn completely. He could also swear he feels the pressure against his ass growing, taking up more space, becoming increasingly invasive. His breath hitches at the realization.
A sudden, desperate grind, accompanied by a faint grunt just behind his ear, pulls a tiny whimper from Will. He immediately clamps his mouth shut. He swallows with difficulty, his eyes nervously darting around at what little he can make out in the darkness, panic written plainly across his face.
When no one else reacts—when everything around them continues as though nothing is happening—the rigid tension locking his body finally eases. Gathering what little courage he has left, and with his body slightly more relaxed, even as the steady grinding continues, he feels the need to intervene.
"M-Mike?" Will asks quietly, his voice trembling. "Y-you awake...?" The question hangs in the darkness.
Slowly, he begins turning toward him, to try and warn him about what he's doing. He doesn't want to embarrass him. He has to be careful.
But he's abruptly stopped when two firm hands suddenly clamp down around his hips. Fingers dig into his hipbones as they slowly but firmly begin guiding his hips back and forth, perfectly matching the grinding behind him.
Will’s got two layers of clothes between them, but the rough drag of Mike’s unmistakable erection along the curve of his ass is so invasive and humiliating it’s almost as if there were none to begin with.
So, Will freezes. He doesn't try turning anymore. Instead, he curls inward, allowing himself to be manhandled by the grip on his hips while an unfamiliar erection continues seeking friction against his ass.
Ragged breaths fan across the back of his neck. Fingers digging so hard into his hips that he begins to fear they may bruise.
Will feels himself slipping away from the moment—not entirely present mentally, even if his body still is. The only thing grounding him is the faint rustling of the sleeping bag's fabric as his lower body continues moving. It sounds distant though, despite it happening right beneath.
The movement from his hips is so measured and controlled that it barely disturbs the rest of his body. Somehow, that only makes it worse—dirtier. It makes his body feel like a rag doll, yielding effortlessly to the deliberate force guiding it. It also makes him feel as if he were merely his lower body—the rest of him nonexistent. Not important.
The thought leaves him staring blankly into the darkness, eyes unfocused, his breath lodged in his throat, unable to draw it into his lungs. He doesn’t even register when tears begin to gather in his eyes.
He's suddenly startled by low mutters behind him.
“Shit.”
“Fuck… yeah, keep still.”
“You like that, don’t you?”
Will’s eyes widen in realization.
He suddenly fears Mike’s not entirely asleep as he’d thought.
He snaps back into himself, his eyes refocusing as he blinks rapidly, and the breath caught in his throat finally rushes into his lungs. Slowly and cautiously, he turns toward to Mike, unable to shake the fear written all over his face.
"Mike?" he whispers, his uneven breathing giving him away.
In the darkness, all he can make out are Mike’s tightly shut eyes and furrowed brow. He finds himself slightly relieved not having to look at him directly, though he feels the need to do right by Mike and let him know.
"M-Mike...?" he tries again, fear bleeding into his voice.
Mike scrunches up his face in annoyance, letting out a quiet groan before cracking his eyes open just enough to leave them narrowed. "Ugh, Will. I was so close. Why'd you turn around now?"
Will’s brow twitches as he feels his eyes begin to sting. "W-what do you mean, Mike?" His voice cracks despite himself. A knot settles in his throat, tightening painfully. "W-what... what were you doing?" he whispers, fear etched into every word.
"Just tryna get off, jeez. You know the drill."
"W-what? Why…?" comes out as nothing more than a shaky breath. He becomes aware of his own heartbeat racing. He, now more than ever, doesn’t dare lower his gaze.
Mike shrugs, completely unfazed. "Dunno, you usually stay still. Thought you liked it that way."
The words echo through his mind.
How long had this been happening without him realizing it?
He swallows hard.
"C'mon. Turn back around. I wanna finish."
"Mike..." Will pleads in a whisper, forcing a weak, timid smile. “You can’t be serious.” A small and nervous laugh slips out before he can stop it.
Maybe that'll make things feel normal again.
"Why not?" Mike asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.
Will’s mouth falls open. The words die before they can leave his lips as Mike continues looking at him without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
He suddenly feels the urge to press his back flat back against the sleeping bag, keeping only his head turned toward him, if anything.
Time seems to stop. Everything around him feels impossibly surreal. As though he's watching himself from somewhere outside his own body.
"M-Mike... I-I... I can't turn around now. Not after that..."
Mike lets out a mocking little snort. "Yeah, right. Seen you walking around in those short shorts all summer." He gives him an incredulous look. "Seriously, what did you expect? You were practically begging for it." A smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "At least be grateful it’s me and not some old pervert like they used to say, y’know."
Tears finally bloom in Will’s eyes, blurring his vision. After a long moment, he gives a slow nod. "Yeah... you-you’re right," he whispers.
"But fine." Mike pauses, considering something. "Suck me off, then."
"W-what?" Wills asks, taken aback.
"Yeah. Think that'll work better, actually."
"Mike... this... uh... this is making me uncomfortable."
"Why?" Mike asks, sounding genuinely offended.
"B-because... I don't want to..." Will’s voice grows quieter as he lowers his gaze.
"It's not that big of a deal." Mike shrugs, unconcerned. "Just think of it like sucking on a popsicle," he offers.
"B-but... why?" Will looks back up at him with his eyebrows arched.
"'Cause I've never had one." Mike whines dramatically. "Wanna know how it feels."
"We're not supposed to do stuff like that, Mike... W-we're... we're not old enough."
"Of course you'd say that―but Max sucks Lucas off, like, all the time. He's always bragging about it." Mike rolls his eyes. "So? You gonna leave me hanging or what?"
"...Isn't that something couples do?"
Mike wrinkles his nose in apparent disgust. "I'm just asking you as a friend. You're making this way weirder than it has to be, Will."
"B-but... why don't you ask El?" Will asks hesitantly.
Mike’s expression immediately hardens. "Don't bring her into this." His tone sharpens. "She's not like that."
Will goes still, though his trembling lips betray him.
"C'mon, Will. I need this. Please." His voice softens this time.
"Mike... I-I'm not sure about this."
"Why the hell not?"
"I just... don't understand why you're asking me this..."
"Well, you did say you wanted us to spend more time together." Mike shrugs. "So here it is."
"...This is spending time together?"
"Yeah. What else does it look like to you?"
Will presses his lips together, falling silent as his head dips slightly in defeat. After a long pause, he quietly adds, "...Is this really the best time?"
"Well, yeah. I'm hard as fuck, and you're here. Plus, you already gave me blue balls."
Will swallows. Hearing Mike talk to him like this―like he’s never had―makes every muscle in his body tense.
"...Yeah. Okay." The words come out softly as Will gives a faint nod, his gaze lowered.
That earns Mike a grin. "Cool. Oh—but wait. First, stick out your tongue."
"...What for?"
"So you can lap at it, duh."
"...Is that really necessary?"
"Yeah. Wanna know how a tongue licking on my dick feels.”
"But I'm already—"
"Will."
"...Okay."
The corner of Mike’s lips twitches ever so slightly, betraying his barely contained excitement. He reaches down and starts undoing the drawstring of his shorts, his fingers clumsy and hurried as he fumbles with the knot, impatient to get it undone as quickly as possible. When he finally manages, he opens them just enough to slip a hand inside, down to his groin. He strokes himself a couple of times—slow, firm pulls. A quiet groan slips from his lips as he keeps his eyes fixed on Will’s mouth. Only his mouth.
"C'mon, get down."
Will glances anxiously over his shoulder before squeezing his eyes shut, trying to disappear from the situation altogether. When he opens them again and lowers his gaze, he's met with the sight of Mike pulling himself free from his shorts, the tip bouncing slightly as the fabric releases it. Flushed, leaking.
Will’s breath hitches and then he awkwardly lowers himself. At least the outer shell of the sleeping bag hides him from view, shielding him from some of the embarrassment. Though it also traps the air beneath it, making it feel almost suffocating. He almost wishes it would.
He positions himself in front of him, trying not to look directly at it. Mike wraps his hand firmly around his dick and subtly rolls his hips forward, bringing himself closer to Will’s face. Will instinctively tries to avoid him, turning his head from side to side as much as the cramped space beneath the sleeping bag allows.
Eventually, growing tired of his attempts to evade him, Mike places a hand on the back of Will’s head. He doesn't force him, he simply keeps it there.
"Lick the tip."
Will looks back up at him, silently pleading. He gets nothing in return.
"C'mon, hurry." Mike nudges his hips forward once more, closing what little distance remains.
Will exhales, averting his gaze again, guilt somehow flooding through him. He knows this is wrong―risky, even. Doing something like this while everyone else is asleep only a few feet away. But disappointing Mike somehow hurts even more.
Timidly, he parts his lips and sticks out his tongue, leaning forward just enough for it to brush against the flushed tip in a brief, tentative lick. Without meaning to, he catches the bead of precum that had been slowly gathering there, tasting its faint saltiness. It's... slightly strange.
The moment his tongue touches him—even if it's nothing more than a tiny kitten lick—Mike hisses softly, tightening his grip around himself. Eagerly, he pushes forward, chasing that fleeting warmth again. Will instinctively pulls his face aside.
"Shit," Mike mutters, squeezing his eyes shut in contained pleasure, before looking back down at Will, something firmer settling into his gaze. "Keep going."
So, Will does as he's told. Another lap and Mike hisses again.
Another, and a quiet whine slips past Mike’s lips.
"Okay... okay—yeah. Nice." Mike’s words come out short of breath now. He's smiling, and a breathy little laugh escapes him, excited. "Now open your mouth."
"Mike... w-wasn't that enough? W-what if somebody sees? I really don't—"
"Shh, c'mon, nobody will see. You're my best friend, Will, it'll just be our thing. Promise."
Will presses his lips together tightly before giving the smallest nod. "...Okay."
He hesitates for another moment. He doesn't even understand why he's agreeing. It's almost as though he's physically incapable of saying no to Mike.
Slowly, he parts his lips.
Mike guides himself toward his mouth, resting the tip against his tongue before quietly adding, "Now suck."
Will lifts his gaze once more, hoping it might all be some kind of joke, some sort of test to see how far he'd go. He finds nothing but Mike looking back at him with impatience. So instead, he chooses to close his eyes—as if it would all disappear. If he didn't see any of it, then it wouldn't be real.
He then closes his mouth around Mike’s tip.
He starts slowly, unsure. He can only guess by Mike’s muffled curses that he's doing it right enough. With his lips covering his teeth completely, pressing gently around the tip in his mouth, he traces his tongue around the entire head. The first licks are kitten like—hesitant and uncertain—but they gradually become broader, covering more surface―just to make it less uncomfortable against the inside of his mouth.
He licks the entirety of it, leaving behind a thick coating of saliva as he gathers the precum with his tongue and inadvertently swallows it.
Will hollows his cheeks around Mike’s tip, enveloping it in warm pressure as he sucks gently, earning a moan that slips past Mike’s lips—before he bites it back.
“God, your mouth feels so good,” Mike whines, biting down on his lower lip to contain it while squeezing his eyes shut.
Excited, Mike decides to push all the way in, sliding slowly but firmly over Will’s tongue while holding his head keeping him in place―until his length is fully engulfed in wet heat, stretching Will’s lips wide enough that he has to adjust just to fit him.
Will gets the hint and can't help letting out a soft exhale through his nose—too resigned to even try to hide it. So, he continues. Will attempts to lick as much of Mike’s length as he can reach inside his mouth without pulling back, until it's fully covered―lubricated enough to make it slide easier. The licking rips soft whines from Mike’s mouth.
Eventually, as he starts bobbing his head up and down as he sucks and the pace quickens, the obscene sound of suction begins to emerge, gradually becoming more noticeable, though still somewhat muffled by the sleeping bag draped around Will.
Mike seems to notice it, but instead of reacting the reasonable way—slowing down, or better yet, stopping altogether—he seems almost encouraged by it. So, Mike grips Will’s hair tightly and pulls him in harshly—dragging his mouth over him again and again, until he takes his cock completely, making Will retch lightly as he bumps repeatedly against Mike’s pubic bone.
Will can only respond with tears gathering on his lashes as his whimpers get stuck in his throat at the unexpected hair-pulling and deep throating—eyebrows arching in a pleading expression though his eyes remain closed.
The gagging sensation seems to do something to Mike as it rips him out moans every time it hits. The drag of Will’s mouth over his dick draws more wet sounds as his hips begin to rock with increasing desperation, feeling himself getting closer—completely lost in the moment.
“Shit, you—ah—yeah, you take it so well,” Mike mumbles between his teeth, almost to himself, between exhales.
A sleeping bag rustles somewhere in the distance—someone apparently stirring awake—and that alone makes Will’s eyes fly open in panic. Before he can even lift his gaze or pull his head away—impatient to chase his release before the moment is ruined, Mike brings both hands to the sides of Will’s head, holding him firmly in place as he drives his hips into his face, thrusting directly into Will’s mouth and forcing him to gag around his cock.
In an attempt to endure Mike’s roughness and not choke in the process, Will quickly realizes that if he pauses briefly—letting Mike alone thrust himself in and out—and takes a deep breath through his nose, his throat relaxes enough to welcome him without the urge of throwing up.
The yielding warmth of Will’s throat, now giving way so easily around him, draws muffled groans and curses from Mike. Every now and then, restrained moans escape from his lips.
Will, slack-jawed, mentally checks out as he lets Mike fuck his face—simply waiting for him to finish. Surrender written all over his face. As Mike had said—this was, after all, spending time together. This was what he'd asked for, wasn't it? What he'd wanted. So, he had to do it. To take all of it.
Saliva trails down his chin, tears coating his lashes, lips swollen around Mike’s girth.
The sounds in the distance become more noticeable. Suddenly, he even hears a groan somewhere across the room. Panic surges through Will’s body, making his eyes widen with fear once again as he turns them toward Mike, silently begging for some way out of the situation. Instead, he's met with Mike completely lost in bliss, his head tilted slightly backward, exposing the length of his neck, his Adam's apple standing out prominently.
“Fuck, Will—” Mike groans softly, his eyes still shut. “It's like you were made for sucking cock.” he mumbles softly.
Within seconds, Will senses that Mike is close. The grip on the sides of his head tightens, pulling him closer to Mike’s pelvis in rhythm with the desperate rocking of his hips against his lips. The movements grow shallower, more frantic, until Mike buries his hips in a sharp but firm and last movement against him, holding him firmly in place with both hands. Mike lowers his head again with a shaky exhale as he slowly releases into Will’s mouth, a quiet moan escaping his throat.
Will gathers the warm cum on his tongue while Mike gradually steadies his breathing―his exhales growing slower and heavier as his grip on Will’s head softens, finally letting him go.
Mike slowly pulls his hips away from Will's face, Will’s swollen lips dragging along Mike’s dick until he's completely withdrawn, ending with a soft pop as the tip slips free from Will's mouth.
The popping sound from inside the sleeping bag, in the middle of the quiet darkness, is obscenely loud.
Will begins to pull back at the same time, already about to spit what he'd gathered into his hand when he's stopped mid-motion.
“W-wait—don't spit it out,” Mike says, slightly out of breath, his chest still rising and falling.
Will looks up at him, confused and expectant.
“I wanna see you swallow it.”
Will blinks, his eyebrows arching. When Mike doesn't take it back, Will lowers his eyes and looks away, embarrassed by what he's about to do.
So, he swallows.
The motion is visible in the bob of his throat, the quiet gulp echoing through the otherwise silent room.
One corner of Mike’s mouth twitches upward in faint smug satisfaction.
Will wipes the saliva from his chin once show’s over.
He doesn't feel like he can even look at Mike in that moment. Embarrassed, he keeps his gaze averted as he settles back down, discreetly glancing around to make sure everyone is still asleep. Thankfully, it ended before anyone woke up.
Will lets out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Shit,” Mike says, suddenly sounding cheerful. “That was, like, really good, Will. We should totally do that again sometime.”
Will glances at him from the corner of his eye before awkwardly looking away again as he wipes the remnants of cum from his lips with the back of his hand.
“But, uh… just so we're clear—I don't do that kind of stuff, okay? So… don't expect me to do any of that.”
Will gives a small nod, keeping his eyes fixed on himself.
“Cool.” Mike flashes him a lazy smile, but a second later his expression hardens again before he clears his throat. “Also, uh―you better not be doing this with anybody else. Only me. 'Cause I'm your best friend. It's different, okay?”
Will doesn't answer, but presses his lips tightly into a fine line, gaze averted. He then nods once more, subtly and quietly.
Apparently satisfied, Mike grins dopily before settling down to sleep, turning onto his side―now with his back to Will. He falls asleep almost immediately, so relaxed that soft snores soon follow.
Will, on the other hand, remains lying there staring blankly into the darkness before turning to his side too, with his back to Mike as well—only his feels forced.
An uneasy feeling settles deep inside him, making it seem as though his whole body is trembling from within. Tears threaten to spill until they finally do, sliding silently down his cheeks as they gradually soak the pillow beneath him. He quietly stifles the sobs that accompany them, doing his best not to disturb the silence of the room.
He found it sweet that Mike would guide him. Mike also made sure he knew it was because they were best friends.
So, it was different this time.
It shouldn't bother him that Mike had asked him to do that.
It was out of love and care, right? After all, he did end up doing it willingly, this time. Not like it had been forcefully shoved into his mouth hard enough to leave his throat bruised the next day. Though he’s no quite sure about the last part.
It’s different, he repeats to himself like a mantra. It fit differently, too.
So, there was no actual reason for him to be crying now.
He can’t blame Mike either for not doing those kinds of things himself—those were reserved for Will. Only Will, as always.
It was kind of icky to do, too. Always left a bad aftertaste. He wouldn’t want that for Mike.
Especially not when the aftertaste won’t go away no matter how much time passes. At the very least, it makes it easier to go through with it every time after that.
He squeezes his eyes shut—letting tears run down his face, leaving his cheeks flushed—as he chokes on the knot in his throat, the sensation burning. He takes a few shaky breaths as his eyes slowly begin to open again—the knot suddenly loosening, no longer choking him.
The realization hits him with a quiet bitterness.
Maybe he was, in fact, made for that.