Chapter Text
They don’t talk about it.
It hangs around the apartment like a weight on their shoulders, making what used to be casual morning conversations awkward and stilted, their interactions focused on avoiding eye contact and keeping expressions neutral. Pretending like they don’t know the taste of each other’s skin.
Will thinks he’s going insane.
---
It started as an accident. A friend’s birthday party in a loft in Soho, a little too much to drink, and a bad idea planted in Will’s head.
He knows how it looks when they interact. He’s not oblivious. He knows that when Mike leans in to whisper in his ear, grabs him by the waist to get his attention, or rests his head on his shoulder after a long day, that it implies something Will would kill to have.
Normal friends don’t look at each other the way Mike looks at him. Touch each other the way Mike touches him. Friends don’t ignore other people in social situations, choosing to whisper quiet jokes no one else would ever understand.
Wills had a fair amount of awkward interactions with friends or acquaintances that always ends up with him stumbling through excuses, trying to explain the weird codependency everyone else but Mike can see.
“No, yeah, he’s not-It’s not like that.”
Usually, Will just gets a look of pity in return. The poor gay guy being led on by his straight best friend. How original.
Will is probably a little pathetic, knowing those moments of tenderness don’t mean the same to him as they do to Mike; treasuring them softly, trying not to be greedy with how much Mike is willing to give.
Jenna had invited him to a birthday party, and though he doesn’t really like Jenna, her roommates play good music and usually have some sort of liquor on hand. He hadn’t been out of the house in a couple of weeks, and he figured he’s only a trashy college student once- why not make the best of it?
Mike came with. He always comes with. Something about them being a package deal, or not wanting Will to stand in the corner all alone and bored.
It’s a flimsy excuse, and they both know it.
Unfortunately, the universe seems to hate Will, and after a couple of drinks mixed by an overindulgent alcoholic, Mike had become rather clingy. He was burying his head into Will’s neck and running circles with his thumbs along Will's shirt. Mumbling something about bright rooms and the cologne Will has taken to wearing as of late.
Will pretends to ignore the looks the other party goers gave him, passing a joint back and forth, watching Will snuggled up next to his roommate on the couch, silently questioning if Will had been lying about the nature of their relationship. He wished he were. These feelings bubbling around inside him would be so much easier to handle.
Mike eventually looks up at him, brown eyes silently pleading as he asks to go home… despite still lying half on top of Will and resting his cheek against his shoulder.
Will caves, despite still wanting a hit of the joint and maybe to get them to play some Eric Clapton, peeling himself off the couch and out from underneath Mike. He’s a weak, weak man.
They say their goodbyes, and as they’re leaving, Will hopes Mike didn’t hear the innuendos about him “Getting lucky tonight”, scared that Mike would stop touching him if he knew what people actually thought.
Stumbling home, they hold onto each other like a lifeline, liquor making them immune to the night chill but getting rid of their balance (and apparently Will’s cognitive ability for appropriate judgment).
They practically fall through the doorway, tripping over themselves and throwing their unused jackets on the floor. They rest side by side, leaning against the peeling door, breathing heavy and trying to cool down. Three blocks is a long way to walk after spending the past couple of hours sipping on grain alcohol.
If anyone ever asks in the future, second-hand pot smoke and too much Everclear are why Will decides to poke the metaphorical bear.
“You were… You were uh, clingy tonight.” Will slurs his words more than he thought he would.
Mike, at some point, had closed his eyes, but he turns his head towards Will. “Hm?”
“Tonight. You were like cuddling…. Me. I guess”
“Oh. M’ sorry. I just like touching you. You’re… soft.” Mike shrugs.
Wills not sure if he heard that right. “I’m soft?”
Mike giggles. It’s out of character, but nice to hear. “And broad! Like your shoulders, man, are all… I can” Mike shuts his eyes again, using the little brain capacity he still has to mince his words. “I can stop. Don’t wanna make you uncomfor…uncomfortable.”
“No. No. s’ nice.”
Mike moves over to lean into Will, both of them still leaning against the door. He starts mumbling, seemingly not really expecting Will to respond.
“Wanna touch you more. Don’t like it when people-” Mike hiccups and laughs again. “Don’t like it when people look at you. You’re-You’re mine.”
“What?” Wills' face scrunches up in confusion, and he tries to move away from Mike, but ends up stumbling forward and pulling them down together in a tangle of limbs. Will is now flat on his ass with Mike leaning over him, one hand gripping Mike’s shoulder, the other on the ground supporting his weight. Jesus. Get it together Byers.
“They don’t… They don’t know you.” Mike reaches forward and holds Will's jaw gently. “You’re-You’re mine.”
Will stares at Mike’s lips, too drunk and too close to really care how it makes him look. “Oh…Okay. Sure”
Mike runs his thumb across Will's bottom lip, and the air turns thick and charged. They’re almost at the point of no return. One of them can back out now- go to bed and pretend they don’t remember anything from the whole night when they wake up. Maybe they won’t.
“Tell me- Tell me you’re mine, Will. I need to hear it. I need you to tell me. Please tell m-”
Will nods. “I’m.. m’ yours.”
The atmosphere is so heavy. Will can barely breathe.
“You’re all mine. All mine.”
Something changes, like a match to the fuse. Will's not really sure who moves first, but in a flash, Mike is straddling him and licking into his mouth. They kiss open-mouthed and messy, all drunken passion- moving too fast and trying not to think about how much of a mistake this is.
Will works his jaw back and forth, moving in tandem with Mike, moving his hand up to grab black hair and bite down on Mike's bottom lip.
Mike lets out a soft whine, seemingly without noticing it, and Will pulls back to gasp against his mouth.
“Mike…”
Mike holds Will's head gently, visibly breathing heavy. His pupils are dilated to the point where no brown remains, and his lips are bruised. Will tries to burn the image into his retinas, knowing he’ll never see this Mike again.
“I can-I can make you feel good.” Mike’s lips curve up into a hazy smile, both shy and confident at the same time. His hands move down to hover above Will's belt, waiting for permission. “Let me make you feel good. You’ll feel so good, sweetheart.”
At Mike’s words, Will suddenly becomes aware of how hard he is, in desperate need of friction, his jeans suddenly too tight.
“Yeah. Yeah sure. Whatever you want. Do whatever you want.” Will starts rambling, too lost in lust to be embarrassed about how needy he sounds.
Mike audibly moans at that, hands working fast to undo Will's buckle, and Will starts running his hands through Mike's hair- almost petting him.
Will lifts his hips a little above the ground so Mike can push his underwear and pants down, pressing kisses into his stomach at the same time.
“M’ gonna make you feel so good. Gonna cum so hard, baby. Never want anyone else.” Mike seems to be talking just for personal enjoyment, lost in emotion, turned on just by his own words.
“Yeah? Go…go on then.” Will doesn’t really know where this confidence is coming from; he’s mostly running off shit he’s read in the trashy paperbacks he found in his Mom’s closet as a teen- he’s never had anyone to ever talk to about sex before. Most of his friends were ok with the fact that he was gay as long as it was conceptual. As long as he didn’t verbalize it or they didn’t have to see it.
Mike looks enraptured, all his focus on Will, panting and gripping Will's hips tight enough to leave bruises.
“L-lean against the door. Spread… spread your legs. Please...”
Will drops his hands from Mike's hair and awkwardly scoots back until he hits the door, jeans still bunched up around his legs. His chest is heaving up and down, and he’s still trying to convince himself this is actually happening. That he’s not going to wake up any second, sweaty with sticky sheets and a suffocating sense of shame.
Mike crawls towards him, slowly, still drunk. Maybe he’s trying to be sexy. The thought is so absurd that it makes Will tip his head back and audibly laugh.
“C’mere.”
Mike does as Will says and finally comes close enough to kiss him again. It’s sweet this time. Too tender. The apartment is almost completely dark, with moonlight and flickering streetlights filtering through the windows. For a second, Will forgets the fact that he’s hard on the living room floor, and that Mike is just horny and drunk. He forgets that this doesn’t mean anything. Because it doesn’t. It can’t.
Mike pulls back, situating himself between Will's knees. He looks at Will’s crotch.
“Can I?”
Will doesn’t know what he’s asking for. It doesn’t really matter- he’s pent up to the point he would let Mike Wheeler do whatever he wanted and probably thank him. “Please.”
Mike pulls Will's boxers all the way down, and his cock springs free, cool air against the heated skin, making Will gasp.
Will expects him to use his hands, or just some awkward drunk grinding- anything that can’t be construed as inherently gay. Just warm genderless bodies. But Mike moves backwards, then suddenly leans down and runs his tongue along Will's shaft, and nothing else seems to matter.
The sensation shocks Will, and he hits his head against the door.
Mike licks Will's tip hesitantly, then takes Will all the way into his mouth. He goes down as far as physically possible, then covers what he can’t reach with his hand.
Will gasps. “Jesus Christ…”
Mike hollows out his cheeks and starts to suck. It’s a strange position, Mike spread out in between Will's thighs, his legs splayed behind him. But Mike looks up at him through his lashes, pathetic with watery eyes, and Will knows it’s the best blowjob he’ll ever get in his life.
Mike starts to bob his head up and down, one hand slowly rotating the base of his shaft and the other pressed hard into Will's stomach. It's sloppy and eager, and spit, and precum dribbles down Mike's chin, his lips shiny and his cheeks flushed.
Will's cock hits the back of Mike's throat. Mike whines. Like some sort of pathetic puppy. Eager to please, tear-filled eyes begging for approval. The thought sends another jolt of arousal through Will.
“Is this- fuck- Is this what you’ve been waiting for all night?” Will can barely catch his breath.
Mike nods slightly.
“No. No, tell me. Tell me that this is what you fucking wanted.” He pulls Mike's hair. Hard.
Mike pulls off with a pop and moans, fingernails digging into Will's stomach where his shirt has ridden up.
“Say it, Michael.” Will feels drunk on power. When he sobers up in the morning, he’ll no doubt look in the mirror and cringe. For now, he can cosplay as some dominant machismo asshole who has any sort of sexual experience.
“I need it so bad.. I…” Mike closes his eyes and whimpers, swallowing, trying to use all his brain power to respond. “Need you to fuck my mouth. Touch myself think-thinking of kneeling in front of you… thinking of being.. of being yours.”
Will loses all self-control and pushes Mike’s head down. “Go-go on then.”
Mike happily takes Will into his mouth again, and Will bucks his hips up into Mike's face, all rough and unrestrained. He can see Mike grinding into the hardwood floor, seemingly turned on just by pleasing Will- and the arousal in Will's gut starts to build. Spit is leaking down onto his jeans. Will is digging his nails into his own thigh, sweating buckets, flushed red all over. He’s still buzzed, so the liquor in his system makes all sensations stronger and blur together, head full of white noise.
“Mike- m’ gonna.. m’gonna come.”
Mike hums in response, letting Will hit the back of his throat every time he bobs his head down, seemingly sucking more emphatically than he has all night.
“No, you need to.. fuck- you need to pull off I’m going.. I’m going to-”
Will doesn’t finish his sentence as his orgasm hits him on all fronts. His limbs lock up, and he chokes. Mike continues swallowing, milking Will for all he’s worth while he rides through the aftershocks. His nerves are on fire- he didn’t know he could feel this good. It’s really gonna suck now that he has to go back to just using his right hand and imagination.
Will starts to come down as Mike lets him go and sits back on his haunches. He’s flushed and pretty, face tear-stained and lips bruised. Will never even touched him- he feels like an asshole.
“Do you want me to um… y’know..” Will gestures weakly to Mike's crotch.
“Uhm. No.” Mike shakes his head, looking dizzy, like he’s about to fall asleep or tip over. “I already…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The thought that Mike came just from giving Will a shitty, drunken blowjob on the floor sends a thrill through his body. He feels weirdly powerful.
Mike starts to look around, seemingly ashamed. It’s probably just now hitting him the implications of what he did. Will wants to beg him not to hate him, that he knows it doesn’t mean anything, and that Mike just got some drunken wires crossed.
“I’m gonna…” Mike gestures to his room.
“Yeah. No, of course. I’ll.. I’ll clean up here.” They spit and cum on the hardwood floors. At least they weren’t on the carpet.
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
Mike heads to his room. Will pulls up his boxers and stares at the ceiling- sweaty and vaguely disgusted with himself.
Fuck.