Chapter Text
“Is this a gay club?” Mike squinted up at the neon sign.
Max waved a hand at him, non-plussed. “Don’t be a prude, Mike.”
Well, that wasn’t a yes, he supposed. Mike’s boss had flown him up here last week, something about wanting a ‘real New York perspective,’ whatever the hell that meant, but he’d made the mistake of telling Lucas that he was coming up for a week, which of course meant Max knew too. Mike was rapidly beginning to regret that decision, since she’d practically dragged him out of his hotel room and interrupted a particularly riveting episode of Stargate to get him out to the bar.
“I spent like, a year, in a coma, I have to make up for it!” She had said, but Mike thought the coma excuse might’ve lost its charm after five years.
They weren’t really friends, to be clear- it was by the virtue of their shared Upside Down trauma that had mellowed out their animosity to a grudging respect. Max and Lucas had moved up to Queens last year, following her residency, so they were perhaps his only friends within a hundred mile radius.
But, he still felt a little guilty about basically vanishing off the map for a few years there, and Mike decided that he should probably make an actual effort to reconnect with his old friends before he ended up sad and old in a nursing home. A morbid thought for someone not even in their mid- twenties. He’d started with Lucas first, because Lucas had always approached these things with a sense of maturity that Mike envied.
So he’d let Max show him the ropes of the club scene, just the two of them, because Lucas worked late nights, and Mike tried not to feel too weird about it. And now he was on the lower west side of Manhattan, weirdly out of the way from Max's neighborhood.
“Are the drinks good, at least?” He asked.
“Duh,” she responded. Her eyelids were silver and shimmery, and every time she blinked Mike got a little bit blinded. “Heavy pours.”
The bouncer asked for Max’s ID, but not his. Mike tried not to feel too bitter about that, and then they were in. He made a beeline for the bar and ordered a beer for himself, a Moscow Mule for Max. She chugged it in record time.
The music was really, really, obnoxious, which was the first thing he noticed- that, and the flashing lights, in time with the beat. Tonight, a Saturday, the club was packed nearly wall to wall, and it made Mike a little claustrophobic. He could hardly see a foot in front of him on the floor, but the DJ’s stage was brightly lit.
“It’s kind of loud,” he yelled into Max’s ear.
She shot him a nasty look and tugged on his arm, motioning towards the crowd. “Dance, have fun,” she said, rather than an answer.
When did she get so bossy, he thought, but followed her anyway. Max was a social butterfly, that much was clear- she easily slid into the crowd, throwing her arms up and swaying to the music. Mike hung back on the edge of the crowd, near the bar, keeping a careful eye on her. He felt out of place, the elephant in the room, and scuffed his sneakers on the floor. Everyone here was dressed to the nines, mesh and crop tops and nose rings and dyed hair, and Mike had never felt more out of his depth.
Rather than ruminate too long on his own social ineptitude, Mike focused on the DJ- some sandy-haired man- as he fiddled with the dials. From the corner of the booth, another man walked up, offering the DJ a bottle of water.
The second man looked- weirdly familiar, the more Mike thought about it, tapping his finger against his leg. Like, really, really, familiar.
Brown hair, artfully tousled, big, thick arms, and when the man turned to blow a kiss to the crowd, Mike could see a mole right above his lip, and-
Oh, shit.
That was definitely Will, he thought. Will, glowing and bright on stage, under the flashing lights of a random club in the Village.
And Will looked really, unfairly good, actually- his hair was longer than it had been back in Hawkins, grown out on the bottom and curling just a bit around the back of his neck. He didn’t have that bowl cut, anymore, and the way he lifted his hand to push his hair out of his face, laughing, made Mike’s knees feel a little bit weak.
Mike felt abruptly underdressed, in his stupid polo that Max had poked fun at approximately eighty-five times in the cab ride over, because Will’s white tank top was tight around his chest and rucking up at the bottom, showing just a peek of the band of his briefs, and even from the crowd, Mike could see the sweat darkening the neckline. Mike swallowed, thickly.
On stage, Will barked out a laugh and whispered something into the DJ’s ear, and Mike’s stomach curdled. The DJ wasn’t even that good, really, he’d played like, the same beat over and over again and Mike didn’t think it even counted as mixing a song if everything was the same tempo. In his very, very limited experience at clubs, of course.
But Will was eating it up, it seemed, swaying his hips to the beat, and Mike watched in nothing short of horror as he leaned in to kiss the DJ. Aggressively.
Oh.
Mike shrank back a bit, hunching his shoulders, and downed his entire beer in one go. Max had floated closer to the edge of the crowd, close enough that she could probably hear him. “Can we go,” he said, straining over the pounding music.
“WHAT?” Max yelled back at him, hair whipping over her shoulder. The music really was loud, shaking the floor a bit. “HEY, WHAT?”
“CAN WE GO?” He tried again.
Max gave his shoulder a semi-friendly punch, but that mule must’ve hit her harder than he thought, because it sent Mike stumbling a little bit. He winced, rubbing at his shoulder. Jesus, that girl could throw a punch. “WE LIKE, JUST GOT HERE, WHY WOULD YOU-”
Mike could pinpoint the exact moment that she saw Will, because her face lit up in a huge grin. Oh, no.
“WILL! OH MY GOD! IT’S WILL!” She waved her hand wildly. “WILL!”
Nnnnoooo, Mike’s brain screamed. “Max, let’s not-”
She didn’t hear him, or didn’t care to, because she jumped up and down frantically, until Will’s head tilted in confusion and found Max’s hair in the crowd.
Mike couldn’t hear Will’s response, but Will smiled wide, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled something in response, and in a smooth movement, leaped off the stage and into the crowd.
Mike could physically feel cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck. He didn’t want his first time seeing Will, or even talking to him since their awkward last D&D game in the basement, to be in a club in Manhattan, and Mike wasn’t even half-drunk yet. He was also pretty sure he had been wearing the same jeans for the past week straight.
“MAX!” Will cried, delighted, pushing his way through the crowd back to the bar. “Oh, my god! What are you even doing here! I thought you lived in Ridgewood?”
Max laughed, pulling Will into a tight hug. “No, Astoria- Trying to have a good time, what are you doing here?”
“Adam got a last minute set, and I had to-”
Mike wondered if the bartender would let him hide underneath the counter, if he tipped really well. Will looked even better up close, and Mike wiped his palms on his jeans.
Will’s tank top was nearly see-through, this close, and a delicate gold chain hung from his neck. He had obviously been having a great time up there, because sweat plastered the edges of his hair to his cheekbones, and he heaved, out of breath. He had an earring now, Mike noticed, just a simple gold ring, from his right ear.
Right around the time Mike was seriously considering if he should start quietly making his way to the fire exit, Will noticed him.
“Oh,” Will said, genuinely surprised.
Mike held a hand up awkwardly. “Hey.”
Will’s smile had dimmed a little bit, but he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and tried amicably to lift his face back up. “Wow, ha, it’s been forever, right?”
“Yeah, um. I guess so.” Mike kind of felt like he should crawl in a hole and never come out. He hadn’t even sent Will a letter, when he’d went off to college, and then he didn’t for the next five years. It wasn’t intentional, or anything- with everyone leaving and starting their lives in brighter, shinier cities, Mike had just sort of faded into the background. He thought he might’ve spent a solid year pickling his brain in cheap, plastic-bottle vodka, because that was the sort of thing you did when you were stuck in Hawkins, Indiana, and all your friends were having a grand ol’ time without you.
Max’s eyes flicked between them with the delighted expression of someone watching a cat toy with a bird. Mike was starting to think he might've been set up- because Max and Will definitely talked, and if Will was in town, there was no way she hadn't known about it.
“So, um. How have you been?” Mike asked, because that was what you were supposed to ask people you hadn’t seen in a while. Privately, a bitter little part of him wanted to ask who’s Adam, but he wasn’t sure if he would like the answer.
Will flapped one of his hands. His nails were painted shiny green, like his eyes. “Oh, you know- it’s been kind of crazy. I just got accepted to this gallery, in Chelsea, and well,” he shrugged a shoulder, “my friends brought me out to celebrate. Adam could get us in without a cover.”
And that was right- Will had gone to university, UCLA, on a full scholarship. Mike was sure he still had his dorm address written down on a scrap piece of paper, back in Indiana. When Nancy came down to visit last year (Thanksgiving and Christmas, as required) she mentioned something about Will’s old art professor recommending him for a spot in a gallery, but he didn’t realize it was in New York, or even realize Will had apparently moved up here sometime in the past few years. He didn’t even know where Nancy’d heard it from- down the Robin-Steve-Jonathan telephone tree, probably. Mike hadn’t seen any of Will’s newer pieces.
“Oh, that’s, uh. Cool?” Mike tried not to stare at Will’s chest, the shirt so thin he could see a dusky nipple through the fabric. He settled on a spot right behind Will’s head. “Cool.”
“Cool,” Will agreed listlessly. He shook his head like he was trying to clear a thought, and coughed into his fist. “And you?”
“Um.” Mike had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. That he hadn’t ended up going to college up in Chicago, like he told everyone he was going to, and instead ended up at Hopper’s cabin the first winter everyone left and cried on the porch until someone thought a deer was dying and called Sheriff Callahan, but his parents weren’t in town so they had to call Steve to pick him up. And then there was that awkward period where he didn’t talk to anyone about anything that had happened for the next year, until his dad told him he either needed to get a job or get out. “Uhhhh,” he said instead, very intelligently.
“Mike’s a writer now!” Max blurted, with a devilish grin. She grabbed Mike’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “Right, Mike?”
“Yeah! Um, it’s just ghost writing, now. So. Just visiting for the week, I guess.”
Will had a vaguely bemused expression on his face, at Max’s antics. His eyes crinkled in the corner. “Cool,” he said, but it was less awkward and more teasing.
“So, Adam?” Max wiggled her eyebrows and gave Mike a squeeze when he jolted a little at the name. “What happened to Carlton?”
Will smiled sheepishly. His teeth were shiny and white in the pink lights. “Just talking, right now.”
“That didn’t look like talking,” Mike blurted, and then immediately regretted it when Max stepped on his foot with a heel. He hissed between his teeth.
But Will seemed pleasantly surprised, and let out another barking laugh. “I missed you, Mike,” he said, entirely too fond.
“I’M GOING TO GET A DRINK.” Mike said, very normally. He spun on his heel and marched to the bar, heat on the back of his neck, like Will’s eyes were still on him. Max giggled as he left.
Mike leaned up against the sticky counter, drumming his fingers. He never thought he’d see Will like this- the shy, awkward boy from their youth blooming into probably the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Confident, all around. It begged the question, though, what else Mike had missed in those years apart? Will had a piercing now, was that the only one? What about tattoos? His shirt was like, really short, so maybe the only tattoos would be under his-
Mike cut that thought off, before he could start thinking too hard about what was under Will’s jeans. His tongue felt thick, mouth dry. He flagged down the bartender and ordered a shot of the cheapest, strongest, tequila they had, and nearly snatched it out of her hands and downed it one go. He hacked out a cough, throat burning, and swallowed down the instinctive wave of nausea.
“Hey,” Will said, loudly, right in Mike’s ear.
Mike jumped about a foot in the air. “Oh, Jesus- sorry, you scared me.”
Will waved a hand, just three fingers, at the bartender, a bored-looking girl with red hair and a metallic nose ring. “I’ll have what he had.”
She made a disgusted face, but poured another shot of tequila and slid it across the counter.
Will’s nails reflected the lights as he held the shot. He gave a playful wink, and it made Mike’s chest ache. “Can’t let you drink alone, right?”
He took the shot a lot smoother than Mike had, and Mike greedily watched his throat bob around the liquid. Mike felt oddly hungry, like he’d spent three days in the desert and Will was the first meal they’d put in front of him.
“Right, “ Mike echoed.
“So, writing! You were always really good at that, right? With your campaigns? And you got the whole-” Will waved a hand in front of his face, gesturing to Mike’s glasses. “Professor thing going on.”
Mike touched his glasses a little self-consciously. His vision had gone to shit over the last few years, and Hawkins only had one optometrist whose options varied from Ted-Wheeler-special to judgy old lady in church, so he’d went for the ones that at least weren’t made for women. He drummed his fingers on the counter erratically. “Professor thing?”
Will gave a sheepish chuckle. He played with a ring on his pointer finger- gold with a little ruby. “Like a professor from a movie. Very Professor Jones of you.”
The conversation lulled, for a moment- Mike still felt that lingering awkwardness, and he didn’t want to start it up again by asking about Will’s maybe-boyfriend. Just the thought of it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Will, on the other hand, seemed perfectly casual. His glowed in the light, smooth and tan, and Mike couldn’t help but stare at the swell of muscle underneath his skin, a bicep curled across the countertop.
“I’m sorry-”
“Did you-”
They said it at the same time, and Will hid his mouth with his hand. Mike felt a smile twist his lips.
“You first,” he said.
“Did you like the music?” Will asked.
Mike considered it, seriously, for a moment. “It’s- uh, interesting,” he decided on, trying to be a little diplomatic.
Will held in another laugh. “It’s okay, it sucks. You can say it!”
And maybe it was the tequila, but that was what finally made him snort, nearly doubling over onto the tacky counter. “Shit, it’s so bad, Will,” he wheezed.
“I know! I keep telling him, he has to change the tempo!” Will flagged down the bartender again. “Another?”
Fuck it, Mike thought. What else were you supposed to do when you ran into your old best friend who, by-the-way, got a lot hotter than you did, kissing his maybe-boyfriend? He nodded, and this time, Will handed him the shot when the bartender poured them. Their fingers barely brushed, but it felt like a jolt of electricity- Will had always had this strange effect, a gravity field that drew Mike in.
“What were you gonna say?” Will licked his lips, chasing the last drop of tequila.
“Oh- nothing, I guess.” Mike fiddled with the glass. He hadn’t taken his shot yet, and the tequila spilled a little bit onto the wood. “I just wish I’d sent you a letter, or something. I was kind of in a rough place after everything and,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. I got weird about it. So I’m sorry.”
He sighed, and choked down the tequila. Will was staring at him again, with an odd expression. Sympathy, fondness, and another one that he couldn’t place. His eyes were so, so bright, even in the lighting. The set was winding down, ‘Adam’ fading out the last notes of a deep, bass-heavy song.
“Do you want to go outside for a smoke?” Will asked. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.
Mike didn’t smoke, but Will was looking at him, expectant, and whatever Will did, he’d always want to follow, so he nodded. He scrambled for his wallet and slapped a twenty on the counter, hoping that was enough to cover their drinks. Max said ‘have fun,’ and standing outside in the cold watching Will wrap his lips around a cigarette sounded infinitely more entertaining than listening to the tail-end of the set.
Will tugged him through the crowd, not back to the entrance Mike had come from earlier, but through a side door with a big, red, exit sign. He glanced at Mike every so often, like he was checking that he was still there. His hand was a hot brand on Mike’s arm.
The air was brisk outside, and Mike breathed a sigh of relief. His breath fogged in the cold, but Will seemed unaffected by the temperature. They’d ended up in a largely unoccupied alleyway, just the flashing of the streetlights to keep them company.
“Better?” Will questioned.
“Yeah, I don’t really- do this often?” Mike scratched at his face. “If you couldn’t tell.”
Will had dimples when he smiled- Mike didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before. “It’s quieter, out here. Less bad music.” He nodded towards Mike. “You can smoke, if you want.”
Mike leaned up against the brick wall. It scratched at him through his shirt. “Oh- um, I don’t actually smoke?”
Will let out another choked half-giggle. “Ohmygod,” he said, like it was all one word, “I don’t even smoke either- it just- seemed polite?” He snorted.
He was really, really, pretty when he laughed, Mike thought, momentarily dazed. Mike’d had a whole thing, a year or two back, once he’d taken a good look at his record collection and noticed the common trend between Bowie-Mercury- Emerson and called Nancy in a frantic panic, who told him she was definitely not qualified to tell him if he liked boys or not, which he most definitely did. So he'd done his big gay (bisexual? Mike wasn't with the times anymore) crisis a few years back, but besides from a few drunk tugs to some shamefully-bought magazines of brown-haired, flexing men, he didn't really think about it much.
Thinking about Will- like that- felt dirty, and it wasn't out of any sort of guilt. They hadn't seen each other in so long that Mike's only reference was the Will of 1989, just barely growing out of his teenage gangliness. And now, Will was just something out of Mike's reach, so unattainable that he didn't even want to imagine what it would be like to touch him, run a hand over the plane of his stomach and watch the muscles jump. Mike was feeling the tequila now, though, and he really, really, wanted to touch him.
“Can I tell you a secret? If we're being honest now,” Will asked, leaning up against the wall of the alley. Their shoulders brushed.
“Of course,” Mike replied, automatically.
Will flushed a little, and fidgeted with his ring. “It's kind of weird, I guess, that I still think about it, but- when you came to visit me up in Lenora, and I gave you that painting- do you remember?”
Of course Mike remembered- it was hanging on the wall of his studio apartment right now. It didn't make him sad to look at anymore, but it did make him feel lonely. He nodded.
“God, this is embarrassing,” Will laughed. “I used to have the biggest crush on you, back then, and I made up this whole story about a- commission, or whatever, and I always told myself I was going to come clean about it someday.” He shrugged, and the movement jostled Mike a bit. “But I made it for you.”
It took Mike's brain a second to parse through what Will had just said- it was like someone had done a hard reset on his entire nervous system, and when everything came back online it lit up every synapse in his body.
“Oh,” Mike crooked. His throat was very, very, dry, despite the saliva pooling in his mouth.
“Sorry!” Will looked like he hadn't meant to say that much, a ruddy flush across his cheeks. “Is that- sorry, that's probably, like superweirdtosay.” He trailed off into a mumble.
“No!” Mike coughed into his fist. “No, no- I just- used to?”
Mike didn't know why that was the first thing he focused on, because the painting- The Painting!- the one he'd always thought came from El, commissioned with love, actually came straight from Will, and he'd never known it. And Mike had probably stared up at that painting every night missing the both of them. But- Mike was reminded of all the brushed elbows, the secretive shared looks that he and Will shared, and thought-
Oh, my god. I've been in love with Will Byers the whole time.
“-my options were kind of limited, I mean, I think everyone had a crush on Steve for a second too-” Will was rambling nervously, like he was afraid Mike was mad at him.
“Will,” Mike blurted, cutting him off. “I really want to kiss you.”
And Will turned, just his head, but they were so close that Mike could see all the fine details of his face. His mouth opened in a little ‘o’, wet and red in the light, his pupils wide like black holes. Will had smeared some burgundy pencil around his eyes- Mike hadn't noticed in the club.
“Please,” Mike asked, and pretended like he wasn't begging.
Will laughed, more of a sigh, really, and said, “I've been waiting for you to say that for ten years, Mike.”
When Mike leaned in, he knocked their teeth together- he hadn't kissed anyone in a long, long time, and he felt extremely out of practice, but Will moaned into his mouth. Will tasted like that shitty tequila, and Mike chased the flavor with his tongue. He wanted to devour him.
“Oh, god,” He groaned into Will's mouth, barely a whisper. Will was a lot better at this than Mike was, and he threw his arms around Mike's shoulders, turning them so that Mike was pressed uncomfortably hard against the wall- he was sure he'd have bruises the next day, and just the thought of that made him ache in his jeans. Will bit at his lip, and Mike felt himself make a choked-off whimpery noise that he'd never made before. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he settled for pushing Will's tank up and squeezing his hip bones. Will made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.
“Wait,” Mike broke off, gasping. His head was spinning, kiss-drunk and probably a little bit actually drunk, and Will wasn't helping as he bit at Mike's neck, but he abruptly remembered- “What about- Adam,” he moaned when Will's teeth hit his jugular.
“He was a shit DJ anyway,” Will said into the side of Mike's neck, and then dropped to his knees on the pavement.
Oh, fuck, Mike thought, and had to actively focus on not coming in his pants right then and there, like he was a teenager. Will was better than any wet dream, any wild fantasy, he could have conjured up, eyes lidded and hands fumbling with Mike's belt buckle.
“Can I?” Will's voice was lower than Mike had ever heard before, raspy and needy, and Mike was already nodding before he'd even started talking.
Mike was so hard in his jeans it physically hurt, and he hissed between his teeth when Will's hand brushed his dick through his jeans. He'd never actually done anything like this before, like, ever, but he'd let Will do whatever he wanted as long as he just kept touching him. He was entirely too overwhelmed, already sweating and panting, and all they'd done was chew at each other in the alleyway.
Will's eyes were dark, from where he stared up at him- barely just a ring of green around his pupils. He kept that eye contact, intense, as he stroked Mike through the thin fabric of his boxers. Mike's knees went a bit wobbly.
“Will,” he breathed, desperately. Will was going to kill him, he decided, and he hadn't even gotten his dick out of his underwear yet.
“Sorry,” Will responded with a cheeky grin, and pulled Mike's boxers down a bit.
Mike put a hand over his mouth- he was genuinely afraid that he'd make another one of those embarrassing punched-out whiney noises. The cool air felt heavenly, against his skin. Will put a palm on Mike's stomach, like he was holding him in place. Mike felt his muscles jump in response. Will was just- staring, eyes roving greedily. “Um, is it- okay?”
Will snorted. “Yes, Mike, your dick's okay.” He stared up at him through his lashes. “Just appreciating.”
Appreciating? Mike thought, but his brain went fuzzy and white when Will abruptly took him into his mouth, and then everything was just warm, and wet, and inviting.
Mike let his head fall back onto the brick with a moan. Will was doing something with his tongue, rolling it up and down and around. “F-fuck,” Mike mumbled into his hand.
Will's tongue just barely dipped into his slit, lapping at the beads of precum. He sunk down, lower, and lower, and Mike couldn't resist grabbing the back of his head and pushing further into that wet heat. Will choked, just a bit, throat spasming and working around Mike's length.
“Shit, Will, sorry,” Mike babbled, and immediately released Will's head.
“No,” Will coughed. Jesus, his voice was wrecked. “‘S'okay, do it again.”
And he sounded so hungry for it, eyes blown and mouth soft and red, that Mike returned his hands and guided his dick back to Will's waiting mouth. Will eyed him expectantly, and Mike gave another careful thrust.
Go on, Will's eyes said. He tapped at Mike's thigh.
Mike thrust again, and again, into Will's loose throat. His knees were shaking, heart pounding, and Will was just taking it- slobbering for it, really, saliva running down the side of his mouth. Mike let out a shaky gasp. He didn't think he could ever live without this, he didn't know how he was living without it before. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.
Will hollowed his cheeks, tongue running up Mike's frenulum, and on the tail end of a thrust, he felt the sharp edge of a molar on his tip. Heat built in his stomach, so much he couldn't bear it, like he was just about to plunge off a cliff, and-
“Stop, stop-” Mike had to pull Will off of him by his hair, gasping.
Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You okay,” he croaked out, voice hoarse.
Mike nodded, dazed. “Yeah, yeah- um. More than okay.” He had to grip himself tight, right at the base of his cock, to stop himself from coming too early. His dick gave a painful throb, and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart. It was probably less than a minute of actual action, and Mike had nearly come in Will's mouth. What had they taught him at UCLA, Mike thought a bit hysterically.
Will's hand was still on Mike's stomach, and his other ran a soothing thumb over Mike's hip bones. “Do you need to stop?”
A fond ache built in Mike's chest at that- the fact that Will was the one who was kneeling on the cold pavement, choking and gagging, and he was still somehow still checking in on Mike. “No! No, I'm good- just, uh.” His cheeks reddened. “Didn't wanna, you know.”
“Oh. Oh!” Will's concern rapidly morphed into a devious grin, cheeks dimpling. “Right.”
He hoisted himself up using Mike's hip as a handhold and brushed at his knees- Will hadn't been kneeling for very long, but the alley was clearly often ignored, the ground cracked and rough. He'd probably have bruised knees the next day, and the thought of that, the thought of Adam seeing them, sent a shock of white-hot greed through Mike's core
Will slotted a thigh in between Mike's legs, pressing and pinning him to the wall like a butterfly. Mike swallowed down another moan, legs trembling- he was still hypersensitive and fragile, teetering on the edge, and it felt like just the existence of Will like this was enough to finish him off. He made an embarrassing little whine when Will rocked forward- he could feel how hard Will was, like this, and it made his brain soft and gooey to know that he'd done that.
“I have an idea,” Will paused, considering, and then leaned in for another kiss. Mike knew what to do this time, and welcomed him eagerly, twining their tongues together. He was almost a little disappointed that he couldn't taste himself on Will's tongue, oddly- just a hint of skin-musk and saltiness. Will dug his teeth into Mike's lip, breaking the kiss with a wet pop. “You ever thought about fucking me?”
Mike wheezed out another groan, shutting his eyes. “God,” he said, for lack of a better response. He could have said yes, of course, or I've imagined it was you on every dirty mag I've jacked it to in the last five years, but decided that was perhaps a big humiliating to share. “Please.”
“Have you done it? With another guy?”
“No, I- ” Mike hadn't ‘done it’ with anyone, actually, but admitting that seemed a little too much to bear. He figured that with the blowjob, he technically wasn't a twenty-four year old virgin anymore. “I want to, though. Please,” he begged, again. “Just- tell me what to do.”
“I've got you,” Will moved Mike's hands to his ass, squeezing through the denim. Mike kind of liked it- Will, moving him around like a doll, telling him what to do. Taking his own pleasure from Mike, who'd do whatever it took to make Will feel good. “Here.”
Mike's hands shook as he worked Will's jeans down- the angle was a bit awkward, with Will being in front of him, Mike against the wall, but he could shimmy his briefs down enough to feel the soft skin of his ass. He took a shuddery breath, willing his pulse to slow before he had a fucking heart attack.
“Ah,” Will made a little gasp when Mike's fingers found his hole. He was soft everywhere, Mike realized, and-
Wait.
Mike's sex experience was limited to- well, this, and a few semi-chaste kisses in his teenage years- but he knew enough to know that men usually required some more prepwork than women. But Will was already wet, worked open enough to fit a finger in. “Did you-”
Will's eyes sparkled, and that grin was back. He leaned in, breath gusting across the shell of Mike's ear. “I was going to fuck him tonight, you know. Adam,” he sing-songed. “Right after his set.”
Mike grit his teeth, molars grinding together, jealous rage burning hot. He made an animalistic snarl and flipped them, so fast that Will's head knocked back against the brick. “Fuck him, fuck Adam, I don't ever wanna hear his fuckin’ name again-”
Will laughed, delighted, and tapered off into a throat moan when Mike scissored his fingers. “I knew it,” he gasped when Mike's fingers grazed his prostate. “Knew you were jealous.”
Mike'd been played, he realized- all the name-dropping, the odd grins- Will had known from the start and played him like a damn fiddle, but he felt so crazy and rabid about the idea of anyone else getting to see Will like this that he didn't even have the brainpower to care. His free hand dug into Will's waist. He hoped it left finger-shaped bruises for Adam to find later.
“Up, up,” Will moaned, writhing underneath him. Mike adjusted his angle, searching, until- “Oh, fuck!”
Will's voice had gone up about two octaves, wavering and thready, and Mike honed in, cooking his fingers and abusing that spot until Will was shaking and sweaty, hands clawing at Mike's shoulders. He kept making these noises, little ah, ah, ahs that drove Mike wild, all the blood in his body rushing to his dick.
“Mike,” Will pawed at his shoulders. “In, in me, now-”
Mike nodded numbly, and pulled his fingers out to wipe them on his shirt. Neither of them had bothered taking their tops off in their haste to touch, and touch. His heart pounded in his ears as he lined himself up. He understood what Will had meant, earlier, about appreciating, because he wished he could take a snapshot of Will like this and save it forever. Will's cock, like everything else about him, was pretty, flushed and leaking steadily.
“Now,” Will demanded, and Mike obliged and pushed in.
Will was tight, so unbelievably tight, warm and wet around Mike's dick. He moaned, fingers curling into claws and bunching the fabric of Mike's polo. For a second, Mike thought he'd come right then and there, into the eager heat of Will's ass. He paused, dropping his head to Will's shoulder to take a few gasps of the cold air.
Will patted at his chest impatiently. “Move, Mike, move-”
Mike gave a stuttery thrust, moaning into the crook of Will's neck. “Will, Will,” he whimpered, uselessly.
“Yeah,” Will gave a punched-out groan on Mike's next thrust. “Yeah, there- harder!”
Mike blew his hair out of his face. His glasses were fogging up, and he took a moment to throw them to the side, uncaring if they broke or not, before fucking Will in earnest.
“Yes,” Will sobbed, all drawn-out, clenching around him.
Mike was practically fucking him into the wall, the brick was probably scratching Will's back and had to hurt, but Will was begging for it and whatever Will wanted, Mike would provide. He wasn't going to last long, not with Will's tight heat and the way he'd been on the edge all night.
“Tell me,” Mike thrust into Will so hard he felt his whole body shake. “Will, Will, is it good?”
“Yes, God,” Will babbled, “Mike, you're perfect.”
And with that, Mike felt his whole world go white, thighs quivering as he gave one last solid thrust, and came so violently he thought he might've blacked out for a moment. He muffled an embarrassing whine into Will's neck, biting down until he tasted blood. “F-fuck,” he sobbed, genuinely- his lashes were wet with tears. I think I'm in love with you, he wanted to say.
Will clenched around him, and Mike hissed, oversensitive. He was already softening, slipping out of Will, but Will was still hard, cock straining and nearly purple. Mike carefully pulled out and watched his own cum drool out of Will's hole, enraptured.
Jesus christ.
Will wiggled his hips expectantly, and Mike's brain kicked back on, like it had realized he still had a job to do.
He wrapped a hand around Will's length, tight and firm the way he usually liked it, and slid two free fingers into Will, fucking his cum back into his ass.
“Ohmygod,” Will garbled on a particularly cruel twist of Mike's fingers, abusing his prostate. “Mike- I'm gonna-”
Mike stroked Will faster, digging just the the tip of his thumbnail into his slit, and Will gave a full-body spasm and came into Mike's hand. His body curled inward, and his hips jerked, face screwed up in agonizing pleasure. Mike gave him another tug, just to be mean, and Will swatted at his hand, twitching.
Will had a similar expression to the one Mike was sure he'd had, eyes blown wide and mouth open, panting and gasping, breath visible in the cold. “Oh,” he breathed, for lack of a better reaction.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. He was abruptly aware that his pants were hanging around his ankles and his dick was out in an alleyway behind the club, and he hastened to pull them up. “Um, was it- like, was it okay? Did I do okay?”
Will gave a hysterical laugh, pulling his own jeans up. He was practically mauled, and Mike could see the imprint of teeth clearly visible, even without his glasses, on his neck, already forming a nasty bruise. “Fuck, Mike, of course.”
“Oh, thanks- I mean, uh. I've never really done that before?” He squinted- Will's face was pretty blurry without his glasses.
“Is that how you fuck all the girls, then?” Will teased. He'd found Mike's glasses faster- they had been perilously close to their feet- and handed them over.
“No- I mean. Never got a chance in that department either?” Mike put his glasses back on. There was a crack in one of the lenses, so Will's flabbergasted face was split on one side. “What?”
Will's hair was a mess, and he ran a hand through it and gave a panicky sort of giggle. “I took your virginity in the alleyway,” he said, deadpan.
Mike shrugged in response- he might've felt embarrassed about it, but behind Will's eyes there was an odd sort of hunger, and he got the feeling that maybe Will didn't mind so much after all.
Will devolved into a fit of laughter, and Mike felt his lips curl into a smile. “Shit, I probably would've like- gotten a hotel room, or something,” Will smiled.
“Next time, then,” Mike responded, and there was a beat. This was the awkward part after sex he'd always heard about, or so he presumed- where you'd cracked yourself open and then you had to deal with the consequences.
“Next time,” Will echoed, brow furrowed. He bit his lip, chewing on one of the raw spots. “Mike, I-” he sighed and grabbed Mike's hand, running a thumb over the back.
Mike's stomach dropped, and he crossed his arms defensively. He turned his head away slightly, so he couldn't meet Will's eyes. This was it, then, he thought, they'd each go back to their lives and Mike would go back to Indiana, alone again. “It's- fine. I know you've got your- whatever he is.”
“What?” Will blinked at him. “Mike, no, no. I don't mean that.” He took a deep breath and tilted Mike's face gently with a hand, so that he had no choice but to meet Will's gaze.
“Don't go back,” Will murmured, very seriously. “To Hawkins. I've got an apartment up here, pretty close. Stay with me- it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, but-”
“Yes,” Mike said, before Will had even finished his sentence. He'd follow Will to the ends of the earth, if he could.
Will smiled, and leaned in for a kiss- this one was softer than before, slow and sweet, and Mike leaned into it, his heart beating hard. When they broke apart, Will's eyes were nearly closed, his lashes fluttering.
“I think I love you,” Mike blurted, awkwardly.
“I know,” Will's cheeks were pink, corners of his eyes wrinkling. “You didn't have to say it.”