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Mike doesn’t know how he got here, hovering above Will, his body shaking with effort to keep from pissing his pants. Will’s fingers dig into his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He’s so turned on he thinks he might pass out.
Actually, he knows exactly how he got here.
Mike’s parents are out of town visiting his grandparents, Holly in tow. He hadn’t planned on inviting Will over, but Nancy left a few minutes after their parents to go to some party with Robin. And after everything, he really hates being alone. Sue him.
His intentions were pure. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, just the two of them, since the Byers moved back to Hawkins. Sure, there’d been plenty of gatherings with the rest of the party, but that’s different.
Mike’s had this itch in the back of his skull since that fight they had before everything happened with the Mindflayer. Then Will moved away and there was all this distance between them. Mike was able to ignore it for the most part.
But then he saw Will at the airport when he went to visit them in Lenora and something like an alarm bell had gone off in his head. That horrible itch came back in the form of a rush of blood straight to his crotch.
Instead of playing it cool, he’d been weird. Not hugging Will back properly, being (admittedly) stupidly jealous of the recipient of the painting, making a total ass out of himself at Rink-o-Mania. Then everything happened with El, then Max, then Eddie. The whole Vecna situation, actually.
And Mike can’t blame the group for wanting to be together all the fucking time . It was scary, not knowing where everyone was, if they were okay. He doesn’t even really mind it most of the time, but he misses Will .
So Mike asked Will if he wanted to have a sleepover. And he said yes.
Then Will showed up on his doorstep with a six pack and a wide grin and everything felt normal. They worked their way through it a little faster than they probably should have, the alcohol leaving Mike feeling a little lightheaded.
It might have been Will’s proximity, though. As soon as he finished his last beer, Will leaned heavily against Mike, his head resting on his shoulder. Mike thought about getting up to go to the bathroom; the drinks he consumed earlier started to make their presence known in his bladder. But getting up might have put an end to whatever has gotten into Will.
He could hold it.
Will’s weight against him made it easy to forget that he, honestly, really needed to pee. They didn’t say anything for a while, both making a lame attempt at watching the movie in front of them. Then he draped an arm over Will’s shoulders and was rewarded with a satisfied hum as Will settled in more firmly against him.
He let himself get lost in the idea of being able to hold Will like this whenever he wanted. It seemed like Will was enjoying himself but Mike worried he was reading too far into it. What if Will was just acting like this because he’s drunk? But they’ve drank together before, with the rest of the party. Will was never this clingy any of those times.
Then, he remembered El’s letter, the one he got right before leaving for Lenora. Will was painting something for a girl. Something El didn’t know about. There was someone else. The thought ate at Mike until he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to say something.
“You never told me about that girl you were painting for in California,” Mike blurted, immediately regretting his choice of words.
Will pulled away, brows knit together in what looks like confusion. Mike wasn’t sure, though, maybe he’d just caught him off guard.
“What?” Will asked when Mike didn’t clarify. He put a few inches of space between the two of them.
“El said you were painting something,” Mike said, trying to sound nonchalant. “That it was for a girl.”
“I wasn’t painting anything for a girl,” Will replied slowly, as his eyes roamed Mike’s face.
“Oh,” Mike said, feeling his cheeks heat up. He cursed himself for ruining the moment, for making it awkward. He turned away, focusing his attention on the movie. He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably, his waistband pressing on his bladder. “Okay.”
He felt Will’s gaze on him, but he didn’t turn toward him, hoping his friend would drop the subject and give him an opportunity to duck into the bathroom without it looking like he’s running from the conversation.
“Uh,” Will said finally, lacing his hands together in his lap. He seemed to be picking his words carefully, like maybe he wasn’t sure if he should say anything. “The only person I’ve painted anything for is you.”
If he’s the only person Will painted for then…
“But El said you were painting something you wouldn’t let her see,” Mike murmured, mostly to himself, trying to piece together what Will’s saying.
“Um,” Will said, stuttering again. “Did you talk to her about the commission?”
“No,” Mike replied. There hadn’t been much of a point. El broke up with him pretty much right after they got back. “I kept it when we broke up, though.”
“Good,” Will murmured, picking at the skin around the edge of his thumbnail. “She didn’t tell me what to paint.”
“Oh,” Mike said dumbly, not really following, distracted by the dull ache in his abdomen. Will made a noise of frustration, and Mike started to realize what he said. “So… she didn’t commission it?”
Will shook his head, unlacing his fingers. “No. She didn’t,” he breathes. “I, uh, I painted it for you.”
Mike stared at him, running through the whole speech Will had given him in the van when he handed the painting over. Even at the time it had seemed a little off, ‘El’s’ feelings not quite matching the things they argued over. He thought maybe it was coming from Will but then everything happened at Surfer Boy and…
Holy shit . Those were Will’s feelings.
“Will,” Mike said softly, coming back to himself. There’s a distinct look of relief on Will’s face, but also something akin to terror. “Is that really how you feel?”
“Yeah,” Will said, pushing himself further away from Mike. “It doesn’t have to change anything. Sorry if I was being… weird.”
“No!” Mike said, scooting closer to Will. “No, don’t be sorry.”
Will was frozen on the end of the couch looking a little hopeful. His eyes darted to Mike’s lips and Mike couldn’t help but surge forward, connecting their mouths in a searing kiss. It took Will a second to realize what was happening, but when he did, he responded enthusiastically.
Will pulled Mike forward, his hands balled in Mike’s t-shirt. It took Mike by surprise, pulling a sharp gasp from his lips. Will took the initiative, licking into Mike’s mouth like he’s trying to crawl inside of him.
And Mike wanted it too, couldn’t blame him, climbing onto his lap to get closer, hissing at the way the movement made his desperation a little worse. The sound made Will pull away from Mike slightly, a string of spit connecting their bottom lips.
“Sorry,” Will muttered, blushing wildly as he averted his eyes.
It takes Mike a moment to process what Will said; he gets distracted by the way his lips shine in the lamplight, his blown pupils.
“Why are you sorry?” Mike asked, looking down at his friend below, confused because he couldn’t find a single reason Will should be stopping right now.
As the thought crossed his mind, his bladder spasmed, reminding him that there is actually a valid reason to stop. He did his best to press his legs together from where he is on top of Will, but that makes Will pull further away.
“Are you okay?” Will asked, ignoring Mike’s question.
“Huh?” Mike muttered, shifting again, the need to go overwhelming if he stays in the same position for too long.
“You’re fidgety,” Will said.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” Mike said, voice small. “I just really need to pee.”
Then, something twitched against his inner thigh. Will was hard . His hands tightened around Mike’s waist, his gaze dropping to Mike’s lap. Then, his grip loosens.
“You should go to the bathroom,” Will said, still staring at Mike’s lap, his cock twitching again against Mike’s thigh.
It was almost like Will didn’t want him to leave, like Will’s into this. So Mike doesn’t get up right away, weighing his options. Realistically, there’s no way he could hold it much longer, so he should get up. But Will’s cock was twitching against his thigh and he really didn't want it to stop.
Another wave of desperation hit and his hand shot down to his crotch, holding himself to keep from leaking. And Will? Will watches the movement, his pupils still dilated, his breathing heavy. He thrusts his hips forward uselessly before jerking his head away.
“Sorry,” Will said again, blushing wildly but still not taking his eyes off Mike’s crotch.
“I can hold it,” Mike said, not knowing why . Because he definitely can’t.
“Mike,” Will murmured, looking back at him. Mike’s still holding himself through his jeans, his thighs shaking. “I don’t think you can. You can go to the bathroom, it’s okay.”
“I can,” Mike said again, leaning forward to kiss Will quickly. “I can hold it.”
And damn if that didn’t get Will’s cock twitching again. Mike would be just as hard if he weren’t about to piss himself.
“Are you sure about this?” Will asked, openly watching Mike as he grabbed himself and wiggled in his lap.
“Yeah,” Mike said, the urge somehow getting stronger now that Will knows. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I’m not going to let you up if you don’t get up right now,” Will warned, confirming what Mike had already inferred.
Will wanted him to piss his pants in his lap.
Mike was going to piss his pants in Will’s lap.
“I can hold it,” Mike lied, pleased when Will made a hungry noise, tightening his hands on Mike’s waist and surging forward to kiss him again, slow and filthy.
Will was much more confident than he was the first time, positioning Mike so he’s more squarely in his lap. Mike gasped as Will reached forward, prying Mike’s hands away from his pants, making it infinitely harder to hold his bladder.
Mike pulled away, whining. A stream of urine escaped from the tip of his cock; enough to wet the front of his boxers, but not enough to show on his jeans.
Which leads them to where they are now. Mike’s whole body is tense with the effort of holding back the floodgate. His face is hot, he can’t catch his breath and Will is making breathy, needy noises.
“What is it, Mike?” Will asks, stroking his thumbs against Mike’s hip bones. “You okay?”
“I’m gonna die,” Mike groans, hips jerking forward, cockhead rubbing against his damp underwear. His brain is fuzzy; on autopilot as he uses all of his strength to hold back the flow. “I have to pee so bad.”
Will swallows thickly. “I thought you said you could hold it,” he says, his voice low with arousal.
“I’m trying,” Mike whines, gasping as another spurt escapes, leaving a wet spot on his jeans. “Shit.”
“Hold it, Mike,” Will demands, staring at dampness. He moves a hand to Mike’s cheek, guiding their mouths together again.
Mike responds as best he can, but at this point he can’t sit still. Their mouths don’t quite connect, but neither of them mind. Mike rocks desperately in Will’s lap, threading his fingers into his hair. It’s clear he isn’t going to last much longer, but he wants permission.
He leaks again, but this time he can’t stop it, not completely. He’s pissing slowly into his briefs, enough that his ass starts to feel wet. It won’t be long until Will feels it.
“Will,” he says wildly, grabbing himself in a lame attempt to quell the flow. “Will, I can’t stop it.”
Will grabs his hands, pulling them away. “Are you pissing yourself, Mike? I thought you said you could hold it.”
“I’m sorry,” Mike whines, the stream growing more steady. His entire lap is soaked, the wetness now extending to Will’s thighs. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold it. I’m sorry.”
Mike keeps babbling apologies, pissing his pants in earnest now. Below him, Will grinds his dick against his ass. His hands twitch where they’ve come to rest at Mike’s waist once again, like he wants to reach out and touch.
Mike wishes he would but the only thing he’s able to say is that he’s sorry. Will’s saying something, too, but he doesn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. His whole body tingles as his stream finally tapers off. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life.
Underneath him Will’s movements get jerky, his head thrown back. It’s almost enough to make Mike come right there. He shifts his hips, finally getting a little bit of friction. A moan claws its way from his throat, a guttural noise he didn’t even know he could make.
Will pulls Mike closer, a hand buried in his hair. Mike pitches forward, aligning their bodies from chest to thigh. Their clothed, wet cocks brush against each other and that’s enough for Will. He keeps talking while Mike thrusts against him, getting louder and more frantic.
“‘S okay. Accidents happen. You tried your best, you couldn’t hold it. You’re good. Such a good boy.”
And then Mike’s right there with him. Hips stuttering as he comes into his piss-soaked pants. His head swims, the orgasm so intense his vision goes black. He whines pathetically, feeling small with Will still cooing praise in his ear.
He comes to, collapsed against Will’s chest. Will rubs circles on his back, pressing soft kisses against his hairline. Warmth blooms in his chest at the affection. Mike’s embarrassed as hell, but it seems like Will is doing everything he can to reassure him.
He thinks he might love him. Scratch that. He knows he loves him.
Mike lifts his head finally, giving Will a dopey smile. His face burns. His jeans stick uncomfortably to his thighs. Will is looking at him like he’s something special.
“I’m–”
“If you say you’re sorry again I’m going to scream,” Will says, teasing him. He reaches forward and tucks a stray strand of Mike’s hair behind his ear.
Still, Mike ducks his head again, hiding from Will’s gaze because he was going to apologize again.
“Oh come on,” Will mutters, shoving Mike upright so he can look at his face again. “I’m kidding. It was hot a few minutes ago. Don’t apologize now, though. I wanted you to do that.”
“Oh,” Mike says, blinking. “Right.”
“That was okay, right?” Will asks nervously.
“Yeah,” Mike says quickly, coming back to himself. That was so okay, more than okay. Nothing will ever be more okay than that. “Yeah, holy shit, Will.”
“Yeah?” Will says. He’s grinning now, the nervousness out of his body.
“Yeah,” Mike agrees, leaning forward to steal a kiss. “I liked, uh… the end.”
“When you pissed yourself?” Will asks, pinching at Mike’s sides, grinning at the way Mike’s face gets even redder.
“Will,” he whines.
“Oh,” Will says, nodding wisely. “You liked when you came, then.”
That draws a snort from Mike. “Well, yeah,” he says, kissing him again before settling back onto Will’s chest, cringing at the way his piss is cooling between them. They’ll need to clean up soon. “But, um. When you, uh.”
Will makes a noise of acknowledgement. The bastard is going to make Mike say it. He braces himself, swallowing audibly.
“When you called me that,” he says, unable to repeat it. He tries to get up, frowning when Will’s arms tighten around him. “We should get cleaned up.”
“In a minute,” Will promises. “After you tell me what you liked.”
“Will,” he whines, Will’s insistence making his brain short circuit. “You know.”
“I want to hear you say it, though,” Will says simply.
Mike looks at him miserably. He doesn’t know why this feels more embarrassing than wetting himself in his best friend’s lap. His voice gets stuck in his throat. Will brings his hand slowly up Mike’s arms, reassuring him with touch.
He’s looking at Mike expectantly, no judgment in his expression, only kindness. “What did I call you, Mike?”
“You said…” Mike starts, looking away from Will. There’s no way he can say it with Will looking at him like that but he really wants to take a shower, can tell Will is going to insist on them sitting here until he gets what he wants. “You said I was a good boy,” he whispers, closing his eyes as if preparing for impact.
“Because you are,” Will says, clearly pleased with himself. He drops his arms from Mike’s waist. “You can get in the shower. I’ll clean this up.”
Something twists in Mike’s gut at the thought of showering on his own. He doesn’t know why, exactly, but he can’t stand the thought of being alone right now. It must show on his face because Will frowns and tilts his head.
“What?”
Mike shrugs, feeling silly. He knows Will’s not going to judge him for asking but the thought of needing an escort is embarrassing. Still, he tries to articulate himself.
“I don’t know. I just thought…” he starts, trailing off because, quite frankly, he’s out of words.
“You want to shower together?” Will asks gently, smiling when Mike nods. He grabs one of Mike’s hands, pulling it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss there. “We can do that.”