Archive of Our Own

It starts how anything usually does—on accident. At some point throughout his first semester at university Mike starts biting his nails again—an anxious tic he did when he was younger—which is normal, something almost everyone does when overly stressed. The biting somehow calms his head, stops his thoughts from being so loud, and slows them down until they're manageable and he can finally focus, but it didn't stop at just that. Quickly the nail biting develops into the occasion chewing of his pencil, a quick bite on the eraser when he's feeling particularly stressed and there's no more nails for him to bite, but it isn't long before more often than not he's gnawing on a pencil, teeth marks gouged so deeply into the wood Will flinches every time he sees one of his pencils. Because of course Will notices his gross habit: they're roommates. It would be almost impossible not to, especially when his biting eventually bleeds into chewing on the edges of his shirts. Mike can hide a pencil, maybe even his nails, but there's no way he could hide the frayed and wet edges of his clothing from the eyes of his best friend.

For a long time they never mention it aloud—Mike's chewing habit. He's well aware of why he does it, thank you very much, and frankly it's none of Will's business why it's gotten so bad that Mike can't even try to hide it anymore. At one point Mike had considered the idea of trying to quit because he hates it, hates the way he needs something in his mouth almost constantly now or else the feeling of stress is near overwhelming, but what can he do otherwise? He can't ask his friends for help, they are all in different courses with no way of even helping him, and sure, Will isn't just his friend but his best friend but he's so busy Mike can't possibly add more to his plate by begging for Will to help distract him when the stress got too much.

So he leans into it and just lets it happen, even when every time he does, he gets a sinking feeling in his chest that he's disgusting. His clothes all have faded marks around the necklines from near constant chewing and all of his pencils look as though they're one harsh grip away from snapping in half. It's bad but at least he's focused—enough that he's made it to the second semester of his first year without failing, but even despite no failed classes, it's not good enough.

It's midterm season of the second semester and Mike needs to do good on this upcoming exam or he might not be able to continue in the program of his dreams. The first paper of the year had been on a topic Mike felt strongly about and he was confident he would get a good grade, but two weeks ago when he received both his grade back and a call from his father, he realized good was not enough; he needs to do amazing on this midterm and there's no amount of chewing on pencils or his nails that can calm him down enough to even start studying.

He's pacing and has been for minutes, near wearing a hole into the floor from how frantically he's walking, but he just can't stop. Mike's going to fail and he's going to have to swap out of English and he's going to forever be doomed to be like his father of all people. How exciting.

And more embarrassing than just his pacing is the way Will's been watching him from his side of the room; it's worse than when he catches Will watching him out of the corner of his eye, chewing on anything close to him to just barely be able to get his work done, because this is more obvious—this is Mike practically having a meltdown in front of him. But he just can't stop. The pacing isn't helping, but the thought of stopping makes the anxiety worse, so he keeps going, pacing and pacing until he grows near dizzy from the speed at which he's walking.

"I'm going to fail." Is the first thing to come out of his mouth in nearly an hour, and once the words come out, there's no stopping the words that follow.

"Will, I'm going to fucking fail and I can't even sit down. I can't do this. I can't. I- I have three fucking weeks and I can't even sit down and study because I'm so stressed I think my heart is going to explode."

Across the room, Will winces, eyeing with sympathy the way Mike almost stumbles as he speaks, the anxiety clearly getting to him.

"Why don't you try like taking a warm bath or something to calm down?" Will suggests meekly.

It's maybe not the best suggestion, but it's something at least, and at some point growing up he remembers he rather liked taking a bath to destress. Well, before everything in his life went to shit, of course.

Mike whirls around, facing Will this time, but his pacing still doesn't stop. "You think I trust a dorm bathroom?"

Will shrugs halfheartedly. "I dunno, Mike. I was just trying to help."

Really, he was, and it sucks to have Mike react so badly to what genuinely was something he thought could be a good suggestion. Will just wants to help—needs to help before Mike stresses himself into the hospital.

"I've tried everything already! I just can't calm the fuck down no matter what I do!"

Mike buries his head into his hands and yanks at his hair and Will tries helplessly to rack his brain for anything because seeing Mike so stressed is making him stressed and then it hits him.

"Y'know how you chew on pencils and stuff?"

Mike turns sharply and his eyes grow squinted, but at least the pacing finally stops. “What does that have to do with anything? I know it’s a gross habit, whatever, I’m trying to stop-“

“No!” Will shouts, flushing when he realizes just how quickly he had interrupted Mike. “You don’t have to stop, I just-“

Will swallows.

“Maybe you just need something in your mouth.”

And for one long blissful moment Will doesn’t understand the expression on Mike’s face—doesn’t understand the bright red flush on his cheeks, the widening of his eyes, the slight part to his lips. But it isn’t long before it hits him this time: something in your mouth. Holy fuck.

“I-“ Will chokes, blinking rapidly as his hands fly up when Mike takes a step towards him.

He wants to say that’s not how he meant it, to change the subject, to apologize, but the words go flying out of his brain when he suddenly can’t stop thinking about Mike needing something in his mouth; a pencil, his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Mike on his knees, watery eyes fluttering closed as he gets used to the heavy weight of a cock in his mouth—Will's cock in his mouth.

"Do you really think that would help?"

Will blinks and then blinks again, because what does Mike mean does he think it would help? He practically just told Mike to suck his dick and somehow he hasn't been punched yet.

"H-huh?"

Mike takes another step closer until he's standing right in front of him.

"Do you… think it'll help?"

"I- uh, I don't know." Will can't help but stutter, terrified for where this might be going.

Mike continues to stare for a moment before his hands reach out and grasp onto the belt loops of Will's jeans.

"Fuck it." He says, but it sounds more like a snarl. "Let's do it."

"It?" Will practically wheezes out, all the blood in his body changing direction and beginning to head straight to somewhere he really wishes it wouldn't.

"You said it would help, and I just- I have to-" Mike shakes his head, clearly working himself back up again. "I have to be able to get this done but I can't because I can't even calm down enough to sit down, so I'm- maybe I should."

"Mike, I'm sure there's something else we can find that'll-"

"Will."

Will can't suppress his shiver at the way Mike says his name—can't suppress the way he feels his pants grow tighter at the very idea of this happening. But it can't. He can't let Mike go through with this, not when Will's been in love with him for years. Surely it would be all sorts of wrong to lead Mike to believe sucking Will's dick was some sort of magic stress relief, no matter how much he wants to just go along with it.

"Let's do it. Me and you." Mike fingers ghost over the waistband of his jeans and Will can't stop himself from imagining that touch over his cock.

Fuck, he's going to pass out.

"W-we can try something else- suckers! We can try suckers! That's like- what I meant-" Will stumbles through some sort of out, but everything except for the looming knowledge that he's fucked fizzles out of his head when the look on Mike's face doesn't change.

"We don't have any here, but you're right here."

No suckers but one Will Byers and one Will Byers' dick. Right.

"Y-yeah."

Yeah. Yeah? Is he an idiot? Where was the no? If Will somehow comes out of this alive maybe he should go with Max to one of her psych classes, maybe then he would learn how to think before he speaks just once.

Without a way to read Will's mind, to hear his internal anguish and debate over his own apparent idiocy, Mike takes his yeah as a yeah and his trembling hands are jerking down Will's zipper before he can even correct himself—to say again, this wasn't what he meant. But while this isn't what he meant, it's not something he doesn't want, so Will can't force himself to stop Mike, no matter how much of a shitty person it makes him in the end.

By the time Will gathers enough confidence to look back down, he's shaking himself this time, and Mike's shaking hands are almost indistinguishable from the trembling of Will's own legs. This is really happening. Really, really happening. Mike's hands are pulling down his zipper and he's clearly nervous but so is Will. So very clearly nervous, because this is the love of his life and he's probably making a mistake letting this happen but god is it going to happen because Will isn't going to try and stop it anymore.

Neither of them look at each other when Will eventually takes over, batting Mike's hands out of the way; he doesn't think he can survive if it's Mike that's the one to touch him right now. Will tries so hard to stop the shaking of his legs, to make it so at least one of them looks confident, but finds the shaking just transfers to his hands as he shoves the crotch of his jeans open wider.

He fiddles with the band of his boxers for a moment, wondering if he should just shove them down now and get it over with or if maybe Mike is having second thoughts, because from the moment Will took over he's just been standing there, staring. Mike keeps staring, his eyes glazed over as they trace over where Will's fingers have begun to edge under his boxers before he jolts.

"Ah, r-right, I should-"

He flounders for a moment, as if still unsure of what exactly to do, before he kneels down, settling onto his knees right in front of Will. In all of his life, never did Will think he would have this sight in front of him, his brain practically shutting down as it hits him that Mike is really kneeling in front of him, fully prepared to suck his dick. He's really about to let Will make him do this. Holy shit.

And even though the thought of it before couldn't get him fully hard—he was much too nervous—Will's immediately filling out the rest of the way, straining against his boxers by the time Mike is fully settled. With Mike on his knees, it's Will's turn now and he's finally able to get his trembling under control as he slides down his boxers, just enough to slip his dick out and really, he has to look away when he does because he can't look at Mike's face, can't see what he knows will be some sort of discomfort or disgust. He can't look because he knows it will ruin him.

Will's hand grasps onto his dick, holding back a shiver when he makes contact. It feels good, but he knows just how much better he's about to feel soon, so he holds out his dick, aiming it hopefully in the direction of Mike's face. For a moment, Mike doesn't move, and Will almost risks it all, he almost glances down just to make sure Mike hasn't backed out and left him there alone or some other just as humiliating idea, but before he can, he feels Mike's hand grasp onto his inner thigh, a ghost of breath following closely behind—right over the head of his dick. Will barely has time to let out a wheeze before he feels it—heaven—warm silky wet heat surrounding the head of his dick, but it also isn't long before that heaven turns to pain and he flinches back.

"Teeth!" Will gasps out.

Mike pulls off of him entirely and Will can hear the panic in his voice. "Sorry! Sorry… I don't really know how to do this."

Will gulps because he's very aware of that. Very aware Mike has probably never even had a gay thought before about anyone and now he's on his knees in front of his best friend.

"It's okay, I know, it's fine. Just… be careful."

Mike lets out another puff of breath. "Maybe it'll be easier if I-…"

He feels Mike's hand slip away from his thigh and moments later, it's on top of his, on his own dick. The thought of Mike's mouth and hand on him simultaneously overwhelms him, and Will can't help the pathetic whimper he lets out before his own hand falls away, jolting ever so slightly when he feels Mike's hand wrap around his dick. It's better now, so much easier to leave it up to Mike to control everything, but Will can feel his trembling beginning to start back up because his hand was practically the only thing holding him together.

Mike doesn't need to warn him before he leans back in, Will can feel it from the breath ghosting out over his cock, and it's better this time—no teeth—but it's clear Mike still has no idea what he's doing when he goes too fast, gagging, and then gagging again when he tries to keep going. Again, Will wants to look, needs to look, and this time there's nothing stopping him so he does, and it's maybe the worst decision he's ever made in his life—even worse than letting Mike suck his dick; Mike is pretty, gorgeous even, blinking back tears as he tries desperately to fit more of Will's cock into his mouth. It's easily the hottest thing Will has ever seen ever and has quite possibly ruined him from ever imagining anything else ever.

The hand at his base tightens and Will has to tear his eyes away before he cums in mere seconds like an idiot. But even looking away does little to help, not with the constant wet heat around his dick, the wet noises of Mike gagging, and the sight practically embedded into his eyelids of Mike's tear filled eyes and mouth stretched wide around him. He might be fucked, might be doomed to cum almost instantly and embarrass himself even further. But just as he's teetering on the edge, moments away from fulfilling his dream of cumming into Mike's mouth, everything stops.

Will barely even has time to blink before he catches the tail end of Mike launching himself onto his feet and storming out of their room, slamming the door harshly behind him. What? His mind is whirling, desperately trying to come up with some sort of explanation as to why Mike just got up and left. But despite how much he wants to race after him and make sure he's okay, his legs stay frozen to the spot and his dick stays rock hard so he gives in, jerking himself off in the middle of the room to the image of Mike on his knees for him, gagging around his cock but still desperate for more. And just as he thought, he barely lasts a few seconds more, spurting into his hand, hips jerking as he milks his cock, imagining he was still buried deep in Mike's mouth.

For a while after the 'Incident' as Will has deemed it, it's awkward—with Mike spending practically the entirety of two full days outside of their dorm room as much as possible. Will hardly ever sees him anywhere, no matter where he goes, and this time it's him wearing a hole into their dorm room floor with his pacing when Mike finally comes back one evening, slamming through the door. Will's been anxious, convinced he's ruined everything with his best friend by being greedy—by letting the other day happen, so when Mike storms into their room, Will's immediately on edge; he's prepared for some sort of fight, some kind of scenario he's been overthinking for hours in which Mike blames everything on him, that he took advantage of his stress as a way of getting off. But that's not what Mike does—what he does is cross the room in three of those long strides of his and shove Will backwards.

Will bounces back onto his own bed and his heart fucking races, his eyes slamming shut when he hears a following thump. He's terrified, convinced that Mike is going to yell at him for turning him gay or maybe hit him—even though rationally he knows Mike would never do anything like that. But he's just scared and he did something totally crazily stupid and he might've just risked his lifelong best friend because he can't keep his fucking mouth shut—can't keep his dick in his pants.

With his heart almost beating out of his chest, Will prepares himself for the worst, eyes squeezing shut as he tries not to tremble on his own bed, but it's not shouting or even a punch that meets him, but a hand popping open his pants button. Will's eyes fly open and he's greeted with the sight of Mike on his knees in front of him, looking irritated and pissed off, almost an exact parallel to the 'Incident' from before. And Will is frozen on the spot, unable to move or do anything as he watches Mike unzip his pants before shoving them further open, enough to expose his crotch.

"Mike." He wheezes out, eyes almost popping out of his head as Mike slips his hands under the band of his boxers and begins inching them down.

"What?" Mike snaps back, his eyes finally peeling away from Will's crotch to snap up to his face.

He looks irritated. Stressed.

They need to talk about this. How this isn't some replacement stress relief for Mike. This is sick. This is… Will is taking advantage of him.

"We need to- nghh-"

There's hands suddenly pulling out his dick from his boxers and Will shudders, his mouth falling open as all his words leave him; he's not hard but he's quickly becoming it, and he watches through hazy vision the way Mike eyes his rapidly hardening length. Neither of them move for a moment before Mike works his jaw, grinding his teeth together so harshly Will swears he can hear the sound of him wearing down his enamel before he leans forward and sucks the tip of Will's dick into his mouth. Will's hips jolt forward automatically and within seconds Mike's pulling off, gagging loudly as he coughs.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry." Will apologizes, hands hovering uselessly in the air. "I didn't mean to-…"

He doesn't continue and Mike frowns up at him, wiping his mouth as he coughs. His eyes flicker across Will's face for a moment and it makes Will's nerves almost worse, not knowing what to expect, before Mike's hand grips tightly at his hip, pushing him down against his mattress as he leans forward, sucking Will back into his mouth. Even without Will's hip thrusting forward this time Mike still gags as he forces himself down lower, trying his hardest to fill his need to have his mouth as full as possible. It's clear it's not working at first, just making Mike more and more frustrated when he can't seem to grow comfortable until his throat finally relaxes, just enough for Will's dick to slip down just a bit further and he watches through bleary eyes as Mike's eyes go wide before rapidly filling with tears.

Mike gags again around his dick and Will feels the way his throat convulses around him, because he's successfully edging into Mike's throat now which is fucking hot, but nothing is hotter than the tears flooding Mike's eyes. Fuck.

Mike blinks rapidly, trying to clear his eyes—to fight back the tears—but it's useless when his throat convulses once more and they begin to drip down, and Will has to fight his hardest not to thrust forward. He looks so fucking good, a wet dream right in front of him, taking his cock like a dream as Will gets to watch in real time as the tension drains from Mike's body.

Pulling back every so slightly, Mike slowly drops his head back down, doing his best attempt at sucking Will's dick; the technique isn't very good, probably bad by the standards of anyone that wasn't Will, but Will thinks it's fucking fantastic thank you very much—the love of his life on his knees in front of him, crying and choking on his dick. This time Mike keeps going, letting the tears openly drip down from his eyes as he keeps moving, movements growing smoother with time as Will watches the anxiety drain entirely from his eyes until his expression is almost peaceful, and it's then, with Mike's dopey tear filled eyes drooping half closed from relaxation that Will feels himself teetering on the edge, trembling on his own bed.

"Mike." He gasps out, trying his best to warn him, to get him to pull off before Will cums in his mouth.

Seemingly forgetting his mouth was preoccupied, Mike tries to speak, letting out a garble around his dick that has vibrations traveling up his shaft. Will's hips jolt and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut, using all of his willpower to hold himself back from cumming.

"Gonna- fuckkk. I'm gonna cum." Will finally manages to whine out a warning but Mike doesn't seem to care, he just keeps sucking and licking until Will lets out a frankly pathetic moan and cums in his mouth, hips twitching forward in weak jolts and vision almost fading out as he feels Mike fucking swallow around him.

Really, they truly should talk about things, but the next opportunity to even talk about it comes, of course, when Will comes back from class the next day, having told himself they have to talk about it now or never. But the moment he steps through the door, there's a sinking feeling in his stomach because instead of Mike relaxing on his bed like he had hoped, he's sitting at his desk, gnawing on a pencil, alternating between furiously writing and biting viciously into the end of it. There's deep teeth marks in the wood and it almost makes Will cringe to think about how hard Mike has to be biting it—how stressed he must be.

"Hey." He calls out, shutting the room to their dorm behind him.

Mike doesn't reply verbally, just offering some sort of grunt as he chews more at the pencil. He doesn't even look Will's way.

"You studying?" Will tries again, setting his bag down next to his desk before taking a few cautious steps towards where Mike is sitting.

Mike's shoulders hunch before he deflates and turns, dropping the pencil from his mouth and Will's chest aches at the sight of him. He's been crying, that much is obvious from his red swollen eyes, and it must have been recent if going off of what looks to be fresh tear tracks down his cheeks.

"Yeah." Mike murmurs. "Trying to, but I just can't."

"It'll be alright. You're great at writing, really, Mike, you know that. When it's time for the actual exam you'll do great." Will reaches out his hand and clasps it over his shoulder and he feels the way Mike deflates even more this time.

"Great isn't enough this time." Will feels the way Mike's trembles under his hand. "If I get below an 80 in any of my classes this semester my dad is going to make me switch programs."

Will freezes. He did in fact not know that.

"What?"

Mike leans further into his touch, as if absentmindedly searching for his comfort.

"And I'm barely in the 70's in this class so I have to do amazing on this exam, Will." His eyes are wrecked as they meet Will's. "I'm just so stressed."

Stressed. Mike is stressed. Just the word has Will swallowing harshly, mind automatically traveling to exactly what happened the last two times Mike has been stressed. Too stressed to calm himself down by just chewing on a pencil. Too stressed to calm himself down without fucking dick in his mouth.

But he doesn't want to be the one to suggest it. Maybe Mike is just normally stressed this time. Maybe the last two times were just some sort of stress induced lapses in judgement and now that Mike's better, he really would punch Will if he even tries to suggest anything close to another time—so he doesn't.

"I had no idea about any of that." Will confesses and it makes an almost self-conscious look spread across Mike's face.

"Well, I didn't exactly want to talk about it. I thought I had my grades under better control this semester but I just can't focus, and now I'm going to fail this exam and have to switch to business and I just can't do this."

Seeing Mike this way has his chest aching. He's always the one there for Will when he's going through something, so why can't he be there for Mike too? Why can't he just let him have this? And maybe it's because Mike recognizes the look on his face, knows exactly what Will is thinking, because his expression shifts to something almost helpless—truly begging. If Will hadn't already made up his mind about helping, no matter how stupid of a decision it was for himself, just the look on Mike's face now would have him folding instantly.

"Will." Even the way Mike says it is desperate.

Will gulps.

"Can I… Can we do the thing from before?"

He doesn't ask outright and Will doesn't know if it's better or worse. Better, because he doesn't have to hear the words 'can I suck your dick?' from the mouth of the guy he's been in love with for years; worse, because this leaves it up to his interpretation—no matter how clear it is what Mike's talking about. Before technically could mean a lot of things. Before could mean when they argued last week about study habits and methods and things for Mike to try to calm down. Before could mean weeks ago when Will had stayed up practically the whole night keeping Mike company while he studied. Before could mean everything and anything, but especially the way Will has essentially conditioned Mike to think he needs Will—his dick specifically—in order to calm down.

But his lack of a response must come across as confusion because Mike clarifies.

"I mean… Can I… Suck your dick again?"

Again. Again. Because this isn't a new thing. Again, because Mike has sucked his dick before. And again because he wants to do it again.

Will's brain short circuits; as much as he wants to pretend he's not interested, he's hardening in his pants just at the thought. But they can't keep doing this. He can't keep taking advantage of Mike when he's clearly going through something.

"We shouldn't. You- really you don't need to do that to calm down."

He's trying so hard to stay strong, to not give in, but it's practically impossible when Mike is staring at him all wide eyed, blinking back the tears bubbling in his eyes, face flushed from anxiety, and he looks so good Will can't tear his eyes away. He wants more than anything to see those tears spilling over as he takes what he needs from Will.

"Please, Will. Can I?"

Fuck.

Obviously there's no way he could even fathom saying no to Mike when he was begging so nicely, so he can't help but jerkily nod his head, and the moment he does, he's being backed up until his knees hit the back of his bed and he stumbles onto it. His brain immediately fills with images of the last time: Mike dropping down onto his knees and sucking him down so desperately, needing his dick in his mouth so badly he was choking himself, tears dripping down his face.

But this time when Mike moves to drop to his knees, Will suddenly has a thought—one he isn't sure will come around to bite him or not—and grabs onto Mike's arms, stopping him from moving. The expression on Mike's face when Will stops him from 'destressing' almost melts him, his eyes puppy dog wide and lips turned downwards into an almost pout. Struggling to get his breathing under control, Will lets out a shaky inhale, taking a moment to take in the sight in front of him. To catalogue it for when this would inevitably end.

"Get up here with me, I don't want you hurting your knees."

As if that was the only reason. He wants Mike close. He's greedy. Wants him in his bed before he might not even have him in his life anymore.

For a moment Mike doesn't speak, squinting up at him, before his expression relaxes into a soft smile. "I'm not that fragile."

Not that he does anything to prove it—he goes willingly when Will tugs him up and onto the bed alongside him. They sit there together and despite the crackling tension between them and the hardness in Will's jeans, it's awkward. Never before have they done this in a bed.

"How exactly am I supposed to like… suck your dick from here?"

Even Mike picks up on it; he's always been on his knees. It's always been quick. Dirty. A few stolen moments before Mike would inevitably race off, either out of the room completely or to his desk to continue his work. Outside of that, neither of them have any idea how this works. It's not like either of them are experienced, after all.

The flush on Will's cheeks darkens. "Um, you could-"

He shuffles back on his bed until he's flush against the pillows at his headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, just enough room left between them for Mike's body to fit.

He gestures vaguely in front of him, the blush still burning at his cheeks. "You can lay down and…"

It's Mike's turn this time to flush, but he follows Will's directions, shuffling forward until he's crouched in the open space between Will's legs. There's a short moment when neither of them do anything, and with each passing second of stillness, Will's heart pounds faster and faster. Somehow this is almost scarier than the first time. And when Mike's hands finally reach forward, hastily undoing Will's pants until he's slipping his dick out of his boxers, Will does his best to ignore the way Mike's hands are shaking, the way he can't meet his eyes anymore. He's not far off; he's not trembling but his heart feels like it's about to beat right out of his chest.

Again, they pause, and it stretches on for an awkwardly long length of time before Will figures he has to say something; he can't stay quiet, can't just sit there with his dick hard and leaking in Mike's hand.

"You should probably lay down now. If you still want to- um. Y'know. I mean."

He can't make himself say it, but they're both aware of what he means. If Mike still wants to suck his dick. To destress.

Mike swallows harshly and Will can't tear his eyes away from the bob of his throat. He'd be in there soon.

"Yeah. I do." Mike's voice is hoarse, as if he's already been working his throat.

Desperately, Will wants to hear what he'll sound like after.

But despite Mike's promise that he does want this, he still doesn't move; he keeps staring. It's different this time. Maybe it's because this was Mike's first time really asking for it, or maybe it's because they're in Will's bed this time—but something about the situation feels different. Almost like it was more intimate.

"You're so-" Mike cuts himself off, letting out a breath.

"So?" Will questions and when Mike just swallows in response, he finds his eyes once again tracking the movement of his throat.

"It's nothing."

Mike doesn't continue, and instead, finally shuffles from his spot, moving down slightly, enough that he can finally lay down. The atmosphere shifts—again—and Will can hardly help himself when his dick starts leaking; Mike's face is literally right there after all, in his own bed—practically one of his wet dreams. Thankfully, Mike doesn't question why Will was seemingly so into this—he never has. Maybe it's because Mike knows he's gay or maybe because any guy would be into someone offering to suck their dick, but Will has never in his life been more grateful; he could deal with this—sex stuff—but if Mike started asking about his feelings? Will definitely wouldn't make it.

Besides the difference in location, Mike himself is different today—almost hesitant in all of his movements, and each moment of hesitation tightens the band squeezing around Will's heart, enough that he thinks he might have to go to the hospital after this is over; Mike induced heart failure maybe. Because is he starting to regret it? Is Mike realizing how gross this is? How weird Will is for just letting him do this? Mike's never had an issue with him being gay, of course not, he's been nothing but supportive, but maybe he's realizing how weird Will is for doing this with a friend. Because that's what they are. Friends. Best friends. But best friends don't use their friends self-soothing as an opportunity to get their dick sucked, so maybe Will's just a bad friend.

When Mike finally moves forward, brushing his lips against the tip of dick, it feels weird because Mike is in his bed, taking his time with his dick and Will can almost convince himself this time that this isn't just some sort of stress relief for him; that this is because Mike likes him back. And instead of feeling good, of enjoying the feeling of Mike's lips wrapping around him, of the feeling of Mike taking his dick into his mouth—Will almost cries, because this isn't because Mike likes him. They aren't lovers. They aren't boyfriends. They're friends. They're friends and the only reason Mike is even doing this is so he can stay in the program of his dreams.

But he enjoys it anyway. Of course he does. He gets off on the sight of tears budding in Mike's eyes, the way his eyes glaze over the more he gets into it, the stretch of his lips around his cock, the way Mike just can't seem to swallow down all his drool, letting some drip down messily down the side of Will's cock. Everything he does is hot—everything he does brings Will closer and closer to the edge. And maybe closer to ruining his life because even when this is long over, Will will never be able to forget this feeling.

They keep doing it, crashing together the moment they're alone together in their room and Mike even somewhat mentions his stress, but at this point it's hardly Mike who's stressed but Will. This is practically ruining his life. Even when he's alone, all Will can think about is Mike. Mike and the way his mouth feels. Mike and the way he looks with pretty flushed cheeks and tears streaming down his face. Mike with his lips stretched wide and throat bobbing around him. Mike, Mike, Mike. And when they're together, it's even worse, even in the company of others.

Today they're studying in the library with a group of mutual friends, because as much as Will prefers to do work alone in the comfort of their own room, this is safer. Studying with people means that maybe he has a chance at Mike talking out his stress instead of taking it out on him. It means he can finally start to work on the long backlog of assignments he's been putting off because his brain seemingly can't handle more than five seconds without thinking of Mike anymore.

But despite the presence of their friends doing much to deter his brain from thinking of the other activities they've been up to recently, they do little to stop him from staring. Not that Will staring at Mike is very out of character, if anything it's in character, but he can't risk it now. He can't stare, can't risk looking at Mike for too long, because he has to make sure no one, especially Mike, realizes his true feelings. But it's harder now than before because with every stressed groan Mike lets out, there's a spark that ignites in Will's stomach, a flicker of arousal begging him to look that makes him feel almost sick. He's surrounded by his friends and he still can't control himself.

Will reaches his breaking point after an hour and gets up, blurting out some excuse about needing to find another book for his art history paper due next week and scurrying off to the rows of bookshelves nearby. Really, it's not a lie, just a slight exaggeration of the truth; he's hardly even made a dent in the books he already has, and sure, he probably will need another book to help him reach the minimum citations needed, but he's far from needing it yet. Not that anyone needs to know that—he just needs a breather without catching Mike's attention.

For a few long minutes Will searches through rows of books, trying his best to find even a semi-relevant book with how confusingly the library organizes their shelves, and he should've known that his few moments of peace were numbered because he knows Mike. Will knows that when he's gone for too long, Mike inevitably comes to find him—always, and now is no exception.

"Will."

Will jumps, turning quickly when he hears Mike's voice from behind him. "Hey. You need another book..?"

It's a futile question, and Mike's reaction is answer enough—and not a very comforting one; Mike gnaws on his lip for a moment before leaning back, out of their row, to peer down the others surrounding them before he quickly steps closer. And this time Will recognizes the look on Mike's face, and with it, the implication—and he isn't sure if he likes what it promises. He swallows and rubs his suddenly sweaty hands against his thighs.

"Mike." His voice comes out more breathless than intended—gone.

Mike only takes a step closer and his hands ghost over where Will's were only moments before. Fuck.

"You said you'd help when I'm stressed."

He's fully hard now, so he would have to stay there and wait it out even if he's able to convince Mike that while yes, he did say that and he did still mean it, he never meant in public—hell, he never even intended it to be about this.

"We're in the library." Will stresses and feels the fight in him slowly draining when Mike's hands travel up from his thighs to loop through his belt loops.

He's touchier now when he asks, not as afraid to touch Will however it takes to get him to agree. Maybe it's some sort of manipulation tactic to get his way, but Will would do anything to keep Mike's hands on him.

"So? No one's around and I was doing so good but then Sarah said this bullshit about this midterm being harder than the last and I-" Mike's jaw clenches. "Fuck, I've just been panicking and I don't want to have to like fucking run back to our room right now to try and calm down."

Will's so going to get kicked out of school and it's all going to be Mike's fault.

"Fuck, fine, but if we get caught it's so your fault."

Without bothering to reply, Mike flashes him a cheeky grin before he drops down to the floor in front of him on his knees, already undoing the now familiar button and zipper on Will's jeans. He's quick with it, hardly wasting even a second before he's slipping Will out of his boxers and into his mouth with practiced ease. They've done this before tens of times and with how good Mike has gotten at sucking him off, his sloppy technique this time should realistically feel almost lackluster in comparison but somehow it feels even better.

Something about the sloppy way Mike is sucking him down, letting drool slip out the corners of his mouth without even trying to swallow it down, the way he hardly suctions on the way up, just letting Will's cock glide without resistance in and out of his throat, it's driving him practically insane; Will is so into it because Mike is being messy on purpose—he has to be. Mike must want some sign of this to be left behind when he's done and Will is so fucking into it because Mike's willing to get caught doing this to him—and that has to mean something right?

So with each flick of Mike's tongue against the underside of his dick, licking along the the veins there until he could flatten it against the head of his cock, Will leaks; his cock is leaking almost constantly, dripping out precum into Mike's mouth as he sucks harder and harder, Will's hand gripping tightly in Mike's hair as the other stuffs itself into his own mouth, trying desperately to keep quiet. But it's hard, practically impossible to be quiet, and it's so much worse because Will can't even look down, can't even try to sneak a look at Mike to catalogue in his head like he usually does because Mike's looking at him.

Mike never looks at him. He always closes his eyes, loses himself in the motion to ground himself better. This is the first time he's ever stared up at Will when he's done it and just the feeling of Mike's eyes on him has Will's cock leaking again. Fuck, he feels pathetic.

And right when it's getting good, when Will is leaning practically boneless against the bookshelf behind him, they hear footsteps. Will freezes, his heart stopping, and for the first time since Mike sucked him into his mouth, he looks down; he wants to beg Mike to stop, to pull off and help Will get redressed before they actually do get caught, but the second their eyes connect, Mike redoubles his efforts, sucking harder. And maybe it's the near perfect suction now or the way Mike won't break eye contact for even a second as he licks and sucks desperately at Will's dick in his mouth, but Will barely lasts another moment, footsteps fading out of his mind as he cums harder than he's ever in his life.

Will is barely conscious when Mike rises back to his feet, and knows he's less than cooperative when Mike has to practically shove his clothes back on for him. They barely manage to fix Will's clothes and somewhat attempt to tame the mess of Mike's hair before the footsteps finally reach them a girl neither of them recognize walks into their row. She gives them a odd look, her stare settling on their clothes for a moment, but she doesn't say anything, doesn't call out the way that Will's fly is most definitely still undone as she grabs a book and hurries to exit through the other end of the row.

Mike waits until the girl is gone to speak. "Thanks. I think I'll probably be able to get through this unit fucking finally. We can head back to our room when I'm done this one I promise."

Mike makes some sort of motion to head back to their table together, tugging absentmindedly on the edge of Will's sweater as he does so, as if encouraging him to peel his back off the bookshelf behind him. But he can't; Will needs another few minutes minimum before he thinks he could even attempt to walk.

"I, uh, need a few minutes. You can head back without me."

Mike stares at him for a moment, searching his face, before he nods slowly and leaves without another word.

Will leans back against the bookcase behind him and groans, feeling himself twitch in his jeans at his own feeling of stress. How is he going to focus the rest of their study session when all he can think of is Mike dropping down to his knees in public for him? He really needs to get a hold of himself before he's the one who's unable to get any of his work done.

Mike is a curse, Will decides later in the week, when he's two hours into working on a portrait due the following morning—one he would've had finished days ago if it weren't for the constant distraction of one Mike Wheeler. He's been procrastinating, something he almost never does, because anytime he even tries to do his work, he either gets interrupted by Mike himself or thoughts about Mike, and both always end the same way—with Will hard and unable to even string together a basic thought, nonetheless complete his assignments. So when the door slams open behind him as Will erases his base sketch for the fifth time that night, he doesn't turn to look, and instead, tries desperately not to let his attention stray for even a moment away from the paper in front of him.

No matter hard how he tries, it doesn't work very well, not when Mike seems to be trying his hardest to make as much noise as possible, throwing his backpack at the foot of his bed and stomping over to Will. Vaguely, he's aware of Mike whining about his professor right behind him, but he does his best to tune it out; another paper and more stress for Mike it seems, but it's only when Mike lets it drop that he almost started crying in the middle of his lecture that Will finally drops all pretense of ignoring him.

Will feels bad, really he does, and normally he would stop his work to let Mike rant or comfort him or most recently let him destress, but he doesn't have time for that. This is a big project and it's biting him in the ass that he hasn't been working on it sooner and now he barely has any time to finish it and get any sleep in before the class tomorrow.

"Willll." Mike whines out, his hands gripping onto the back of his chair.

Will's hand tightens around his pencil, trying his hardest not to get hard because he knows what Mike is about to ask.

"Can I suck you off?" He asks, peering over Will's shoulder to try and see what he's doing. "I need to start working on this paper tonight but I'm so stressed."

The bad thing is, Will can feel himself faltering already, his dick beginning to stir in his pants. Fuck, Mike has basically Pavlov'd him to get hard whenever he hears the word stressed.

"Can't." Will forces out. "I have to get this done before my class tomorrow morning and I'm really behind."

And Will doesn't even need to turn to know Mike's frowning. "It'll be quick."

"Ouch." Will murmurs. Maybe he could've gone without the reminder that Mike can get him off almost embarrassingly quickly.

"I didn't mean that, idiot. I meant-" Mike leans in closer over his shoulder, breath practically wafting out over Will's neck. "-you don't even have to finish if you don't want. Just a few minutes is all I need. Please?"

Will swallows harshly. He's fully hard in his pants now and even if all he wants is to agree, he knows if he says yes he won't be able to get any work done after—he'll be too blissed out.

"No, Mike. I meant it when I said I have to get this done. I don't have time for a break."

When Mike doesn't say anything, he thinks that's it, that he successfully got Mike to leave him alone, but after a moment he jolts when he feels something brush against his leg. Will's eyes shoot down and go wide when he sees Mike crawling under his desk, wiggling his way in between Will's spread legs.

Mike notices his stare and frowns up at him. "What? Go back to doing your work, you don't have to stop."

"Mike!" Will splutters, legs twitching wider automatically when Mike starts to pull down his zipper. "I said not right now!"

"You're hard." Mike points out, running his hand along where Will's hard dick sits in his boxers. "And I'm stressed."

"Again, I- ahh— mmm-" Will cuts himself off with a loud groan when Mike fishes his dick out, stroking it once before he leans eagerly forward, slipping it with practiced ease into his mouth.

"Mike!" He gasps out, hips twitching forward before Mike pulls back off.

"Do your work. I won't distract you much—promise."

"Fuck- Okay, okay, k-keep going-" Will is done lying to himself, done trying to act as if Mike sucking him off right now isn't exactly what he wants.

No matter what Mike did, Will would sure as hell be distracted, but with him pulling Will's dick back into his mouth, he's far past the point of arguing. Will tries to go back to doing his work, honestly he does, trying his best to ignore the feeling of Mike's mouth slipping further down his cock until he hits the base—something he has only recently been able to do. He hates that he can feel Mike's improvements in technique already—that they've been doing this enough that Mike can improve. But just as he thought, it's impossible to focus when Mike is suctioning around him. And sure, he's not moving as much, but any movement is still too much when Will is trying to focus.

"Stop moving." Will begs and feels Mike freeze.

"Please, I have to go this done or I'm going to be the one failing."

And after one more movement forward that has Will jerking so hard he almost bangs his knee on the underside of his desk, Mike finally settles, resting his head on Will's thigh as he goes almost motionless, his mouth a constant hot, wet, pressure around Will's dick. At first it's honestly worse, and Will almost begs him to just get him off quick so they can both get to doing their work, but after a few minutes of silence, of no motion besides the occasional swallow, Will finds himself relaxing—the pressure almost grounding as he flies through the rest of the base sketch. He hardly finds time even moving like he normally does when he's working until he glances at his bedside alarm and freezes when he sees almost half an hour has passed.

"Mike?" He croaks out.

He doesn't receive a verbal response—not as though he could—but Mike does shift against his thigh, once again reminding him that he was in fact still down there.

"You should stop now, before you actually hurt your knees." It's a weak deflection but Mike doesn't call him out on it, instead, finally moving back.

Will has never been more glad he can't see beneath his desk, because he knows if he saw Mike's face at all while he was letting his dick drop out of his mouth, he would've cum all over his face. But even if it's not the sight of his dick falling from Mike's lips, when Mike finally slips out from under his desk and Will sees his face, he freezes, because he has never seen such a relaxed look on Mike's face.

Mike barely even looks at him before he trudges across the room to his bed and collapses into it.

"Taking a quick nap." He mumbles, half-muffled by his face pressed into his pillows.

Mike has never been a nap person, and ever since starting college, Will could count on one hand the amount of times he's seen Mike ever nap. Normally he was too wound up to even sit down, so napping was almost entirely out of the question. Holy fuck. Was Will's dick somehow magical? And, more pressingly, how horrible of a person does it make him if Will jerks off not even two feet away from his sleeping best friend to the memory of that same blissed out, relaxed face?

On Will's weekly phone call with Max it wasn't his intention to bring up Mike, really it wasn't, but the moment Max asks how he's been doing, Will cracks; he can't keep holding it in any longer. He's long since grown out of hiding things, and after Vecna, he's made the decision that sharing things with his friends is a new requirement, but it's usually Mike he shares everything with first, and given their situation, Mike was completely out of the question to tell. So naturally, the second he gets questioned even the slightest amount, he tells Max, who is less than eager to hear about it.

"Mike sucked my dick."

The other line is silent for a long time, and Will almost checks to see if the line somehow disconnected in the last few moments since Max had spoken before she's suddenly screeching from the other line.

"He what?!"

Will clears his throat. "Um. Sucked my dick."

He can hear Max scoff on the other end. "Obviously I got that the first time, idiot. What I mean is what the fuck? How did that even happen? Isn't he-…"

Max cuts herself off, clearly trying not to hurt Will's feelings, but she doesn't need to finish for him to know what she was going to say. Straight. Mike is straight. He is and they all know it.

"Y-yeah." Will's voice is shaky when he responds and he doesn't bother to try and hide it. It's just Max, after all. "It's not… It's not what you think, really. It's to calm him down."

"Again, what?!"

"Like, he, uh, chews on stuff now. Pencils, his nails, shirts and other stuff. He never really told me it calms him down but it was kinda obvious because we like, live together, y'know, and he always does it when he's really stressed. And then I, uh… he has this big midterm coming up and we were arguing about him calming down and I basically told him he just needs 'something in his mouth', and well…"

Max, once again, is silent for a long moment before groaning loudly. "Okay, so you basically told the guy you've had a crush on for ages to suck your dick and he just did it?"

Will splutters. "I didn't tell him to suck my dick! That's just how he took it! I meant like… a sucker or something!"

"Will." There's an edge of tired restraint in Max's tone. "Either way that's how he took it, and you're saying he just… did it? No questions asked?"

Will pauses, thinking back to how it even happened. "I mean… kinda? I guess I was the one freaking out more about it and Mike was all ''let's do it'."

"Okay, gross. I don't need that much detail, thank you very much. I hardly even want to hear about this at all." Max sighs. "So what's the big issue here?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

He doesn't need to see her to know Max is rolling her eyes on the other line. "Obviously if you're bringing it up like this there's something that's been bothering you other than the fact we all know about."

That Mike is straight, right. Something besides that.

"Yeah, um." Suddenly, Will doesn't know how to say this. How to say he somehow got his straight best friend practically addicted to sucking his dick, so much so that he sucked him off in a public library.

"He's, uh."

"Will!' Max groans. "Please just spit it out! I'd rather hear about this as little as possible, thanks."

"I think Mike is obsessed with sucking my dick. Like, obsessed obsessed. Like, at least once a day we're doing it for him to destress and I can barely fucking think anymore without thinking of him like-" He gestures vaguely in front of him, as if Max could even see him. "I can barely even get my work done because it's driving me fucking crazy."

"Will." Again, with that same exhausted tone. "You can't keep doing this."

"I'm not the one doing it!" He protests.

"Well, it's your dick isn't it? Which gross by the way, ew, I can't believe we're talking about this." Max lets out a long puff of air that the receiver just manages to pick up. "You've been in love with him for years, Will. I'm just looking out for you, y'know? And I think this is going to end up with you hurt."

He knows that. Will is far from an idiot; he's been aware Mike doesn't like him back, has probably never even thought of him as more than a best friend once in his life, while Will hasn't thought of him as anything less than the love of his life for years. He's going to end up hurt, but he wants to be greedy—to hold onto this feeling for just a little longer. They're just friends with benefits—he can survive that, can't he?

"It's fine, Max. I appreciate you caring but it's just… just some friends with benefits thing, we're both getting something from it. I'll be okay." He wants to say promise, like he always does, but this time he's not sure he can.

It's clear from her tone Max doesn't buy it, but it's also clear she doesn't quite care about that, as long as he's happy. "Just be safe, okay? You know I care about you and you know I'll kill Wheeler if he hurts you, but also for gods sake, Will, please keep it in your pants and talk to him about it maybe?"

And for the first time all day, Will laughs. "Yeah, maybe."

It was a good decision to tell Max.

Actually, maybe it was a bad decision to tell Max, because Will can't keep it in his pants and he doesn't talk to Mike about it; every time Mike walks into their room, turns around from at his desk, sends Will that look when they're in public together, they last all of a few moments before they're crashing together, shoving down Will's pants until Mike can sink down to his knees. Sometimes it's quick, barely lasting a minute before Mike is shuffling back to his feet, sending Will that look he keeps giving him after, and other times Mike sucks him off for so long Will has to practically pry him off his dick. But with every time Mike sinks down, the day of his midterm draws closer and closer, so Will stops trying as bad to pull him off—he'll barely have this for much longer, so they might as well both enjoy it for as long as possible, right?

Because Mike is happy when he's on his knees, Will can tell. The longer he's down there, dick stretching his lips wide, the more his expression softens until it's clear bliss; his eyes all hazy and unfocused, hardly even crying or gagging anymore from how familiar the weight of Will's cock is deep in his throat. And who is Will to deny him that relaxation? So he doesn't. When Mike slips under his desk he lets him sit there for as long as he pleases. When he comes home from class and gives Will those puppy dog eyes, Will threads his hands through Mike's hair and guides him through it, letting Mike go practically brainless until stress is the last thing on his mind.

He lets Mike do anything and everything he needs until it's finally time—the night before his exam. Will is in his bed, burrowed deep beneath the covers and halfheartedly reading a comic book under the dim light of his bedside lamp; he would feel bad about keeping the light on, for potentially preventing Mike from getting a good nights rest right before his big exam, but Will can hear him shuffling in bed, and has been able to for the past half an hour—clearly unable to sleep anyway.

Mike's shuffling is getting to him, and they don't even need to exchange any words for the familiar itch of stress to settle upon Will's own shoulders. But he doesn't want to say anything, doesn't want to just offer because Mike had already destressed earlier that day, and what if Mike doesn't need it anymore? What if Will offers and Mike finally picks up on the fact that Will is, and had been, clearly in love with him the whole time?

So Will stays quiet, barely paying attention to anything in his comic until he hears the sound of Mike's shuffling stop before beginning again, and then the familiar sound of his feet hitting the floor. He pointedly doesn't look up, breath caught in his chest, even when he feels the edge of his bed dip down.

"Will?" Mike asks quietly after a moment and that's when Will finally peers around his comic book.

Mike looks absolutely terrified and Will can already feel himself starting to get hard. Maybe he's a bit fucked up to naturally start getting hard whenever he sees Mike stressed or upset now, but could you blame him?

"What's up? I thought you were trying to sleep."

They both clearly know what he wants—who is Will trying to fool.

Mike is quiet for another moment, just staring at him before he leans forward, laying on top of Will over the covers, resting his head over Will's sternum. He seems so small this way, curling into himself as he presses further into Will's chest.

"Please." He murmurs, and Will can only just make him out through the muffle of his covers.

One of Will's hands quickly abandons his comic book and rubs at the back of Mike's neck as his heart clenches. "You okay?"

"No."

Will swallows. Fine. It was a rough night for Mike, his exam being tomorrow morning, and this very well could be Will's last opportunity to have whatever the hell they have going on between the two of them.

"You can… Suck me off if you want."

It feels weird to have those words coming from his own mouth—he's never been the one to ask before, but it feels fitting for what is probably the last time Will will ever get this. He feels Mike let out a hum, the vibration traveling through Will's chest for a moment as Mike continues to lay there, motionless, before finally he shifts; Mike sits up and slips off his body before peeling back the covers enough to have Will almost fully lower his comic before Mike stops him with his other hand.

"'s fine. You can keep reading."

And Will's half hard cock becomes fully hard just from hearing those words. As much as he loves a normal blowjob from Mike, he quickly realized the type he loves the most is when Mike is motionless, hanging off his cock for as long as possible as he drops closer and closer to sleep. It's hot, having it be his dick that makes Mike so fucked out and delirious, enough that he was willing to choke and gag for almost half an hour. Will shakily holds his comic back up and has to take a deep breath when he feels Mike slipping into the covers with him. Mike fumbles for a moment, trying to shuffle backwards under the covers, until Will raises his knees up, planting his feet against the mattress, causing the covers to tent up over Mike's head.

"Thanks." Mike ghosts his lips over Will's inner thigh and he has to stop himself from leaking at the feeling. Fuck. That was almost a kiss. Mike almost kissed him.

They both work together to shove Will's sleep shorts and boxers down until they're far enough Mike can slide them entirely off his legs. Will settles back onto his mattress and tries his hardest not to tremble when he feels Mike's breath ghosting out over his fully hard cock. Somehow, Mike has never said anything about the fact that Will is always rock hard before they even start, but at this point it has to be at least somewhat clear he's into this.

This time, when Mike takes the length of Will's cock into his mouth it's clear he's not even going to attempt a normal blowjob, quickly taking the entirety of Will's length down his throat until he can rest his head against the crease of his hip, completely motionless. With the covers still peeled back ever so slightly, Will can just make out the fluttering of Mike's lashes as his eyes slip shut, and his heart clenches when he feels Mike go practically boneless against him when Will slips a hand down under the sheets to stroke through his hair.

It's weirdly intimate, more so than anything they've done before, and Will can feel his cock let out an embarrassing spurt which Mike quickly swallows down, humming around him before somehow nuzzling even closer, going motionless once again. For a long time they stay like that, Mike motionless around his dick as Will pets through his hair, pretending he was even somewhat paying attention to the comic in his other hand, but how could he when Mike felt so fucking perfect around him?

Time slips by without Will realizing, and it's not until he feels Mike adjusting his aw around him that he snaps back to reality, having been stuck floating in the sensation of the wet, perfect heat around his dick. Will's head jolts and his eyes snap over to his bedside clock and he freezes when it's realizes it's been almost forty minutes—the longest by far Mike has ever done this.

"Mike." He hisses.

Mike, of course, can't respond verbally, but he does let out a hum around his dick anyway. Bastard.

Will whips back to covers and watches as Mike's eyes flutter open, squinting as the light shines down on him for the first time in a while. For a moment he almost wants to shield Mike's eyes for him, but he doesn't—shouldn't, it would be too obvious.

"It's almost 2am. You should go to bed now." And please get me off before you go is what he doesn't say.

Mike just hums again and Will feels himself—again—leak into his mouth.

"Mike." He says again. He doesn't want to be the reason Mike doesn't get any sleep and tanks his exam tomorrow.

Finally, Mike pulls off, and the sight of his sopping wet dick popping out of Mike's mouth almost makes him cum on the spot as a line of saliva connects them.

"In a sec." Mike mumbles, barely audible before he leans back in and licks a stripe up Will's dick.

This isn't normal. Never before has Mike done this; when he sucks his dick, it's dick in mouth until Mike is either calm enough to do work, or until Will cums, or usually—both. But this is different. This is Mike trying to get Will off. This is Mike making eye contact—another rarity between them—as he sucks the tip of Will's dick back into his mouth, suctioning so tightly around the head that Will swears he sees the light when he finally bursts. The only normal thing is the way Mike eagerly swallows around him, taking his dick ever so deeper into his throat before he pulls back entirely, wiggling his way up from under the covers until he settles in next to Will.

"Can I sleep here?"

And barely recovered from his orgasm, the question almost sends Will over the edge again.

"Um, y-yeah."

He doesn't even question it—why Mike suddenly wants to sleep in bed together—so desperately wanting it that he just lets it happen, lets Mike settle in next to him, curling into a ball with his head resting on Will's shoulder, peering at the comic Will has long since stopped reading.

"Huh." Mike mumbles. "I've read this one before, it's super short. How are you still reading it?"

Because he hasn't been reading since probably the tenth minute of his dick being in Mike's mouth.

"Shut up." Will whines back, jostling his shoulder under Mike's head who laughs. "Now go to sleep before you get all stressed again."

And, as if taunting him with the knowledge of how Pavlov'd he is, his dick somehow manages a weak twitch the moment the word stressed registers in his brain.

"Mmm, 'kay." Mike resettles back into his shoulder. "Night, Will. You gonna be up in the morning?"

"Course I am." He forces out, heart almost beating out of his chest when Mike nuzzles his head into the crook of his neck, lips ghosting over the column of his neck. "Not that you'll need any good luck from me but I wanna say it anyway."

Mike just hums and settles in closer and Will slumps further into his pillows, already resigned to a sleepless night next to the love of his life. And somehow he would have to figure out how to at least shuffle his boxers back on without waking Mike somehow. Great.

In the morning, Will wakes up to his alarm, set for a bright and early 7am—right before Mike was set to leave for his 7:30am exam. When, he finally rubs the sleep from his eyes the sight that greets him is of Mike, sitting at his desk with his head held in his hands, looking absolutely ragged. Will leans up onto his forearm.

"How are you feeling?" He croaks out.

Mike doesn't bother turning around but it doesn't take a genius to note the tension in his shoulders.

"Honestly? Scared fucking shitless."

"You'll do amazing."

This time Mike turns and Will recognizes the look on his face. He gulps.

"Will…"

He doesn't need to ask. Will knows exactly what he wants. But he can't. He has to leave for his exam. Will sits up further and swings his legs over the edge of the bed the moment Mike stands and takes a step closer.

"Mike." He almost doesn't recognize his own voice with how breathless it is and watches as his tone washes over Mike, watches the way his expression shifts from simply stressed to something deeper.

"Will." Mike says back and crosses the room in two long strides, his hands stroking softly over Will's knees as he finds his place in between his spread legs.

He wants to say no, to refuse this time once and for all, but something in the way Mike keeps touching his legs, keeps leaning in closer and closer until their faces are only inches apart, has him faltering. There's no part of him that truly wants to deny this; desperately he wants to keep being greedy, to keep taking until his time is up and Mike is ready to move on from whatever this has been.

"You're going to be late." His voice is barely above a whisper but it's clear Mike still hears it.

"I'll be quick." There's a smirk on his lips this time, his tone almost amused.

Will scoffs and Mike finally takes a step back, creating a space between their faces that Will finds himself devastatingly missing almost immediately.

"I'll be quick." Mike promises again as he drops down to his knees, wiggling down Will's pyjamas and boxers with practiced ease.

"So quick." He murmurs, nuzzling his face into the crease of Will's hip before licking a long stripe up his dick and sucking his dick into his mouth.

There’s no savouring in this one; it’s dirty and quick and Mike suctions around him like he’s trying to take Will's soul out of his dick. Instantly, Will is babbling, letting out a stream of curses and begs, because as quick as Mike promised he would be, with each passing second Will is battered between conflicting feelings of desire and anxiety.

"Mike- you gotta leave now. Y-you gotta g- nghh— go. You'll do so g-good." He whining, and Will would probably be embarrassed if it weren't for the way it makes Mike groan around him, bobbing his head even faster.

"You're gonna-"

Will lets out a whimper, his eyes squeezing shut when Mike's hands dig into his thighs, shoving them even further apart as he takes Will down to the base, throat squeezing around him. Fuck, he's close.

"-gonna do s-so good, Mike. Mmm. So c-close. Gonna, gonna make me— mmm- make me cum."

Instead of continuing with his deepthroating, Mike pulls back, and Will almost shoves his head back down until Mike's hand suddenly squeezes around his base; Will's eyes snap open and tear down to meet Mike's when his hand begins to move. Mike's hand moves quickly, jerking him off at a pace that has tears springing to Will's eyes as Mike's mouth continues to suckle at his tip, drinking down each spurt of precum he's milking out.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's jerking him off into his mouth. Mike is jerking him off into his mouth. This isn't even him destressing anymore, it can't be. The only thing Mike is getting from this is Will off.

Will gets one moment longer to enjoy it, to enjoy the sensation and sight of Mike with his mouth stretched around him—the last one he would ever get—before it's done, before he's exploding into Mike's mouth, cumming so hard his vision goes entirely white. By the time he's coming back to, Mike is half across the room, waving goodbye to him as he flies out the door; vaguely, Will wonders if he should have warned Mike that he absolutely has sex hair, but really, he doubts anyone would even notice with their own exam stress.

And just at the thought of exam stress, his dick gives a traitorous twitch and Will groans loudly before shoving his head back into his pillows, not even bothering to pull his pants back up as he sets off back to sleep. He's tired from the night before, having hardly got any sleep pressed up against Mike all night, but even now he flits in and out of sleep, too restless thinking about the possibilities of after—after Mike's exam is done. Will they stop? Will Mike want to continue? Or will they just never talk about this again, pretending it never happened? Will has no idea, and instead of working himself up over the possibilities, he just lays there, trying desperately to clear his brain until he hears the door slam open—Mike's back.

It must be several hours later—several hours of Will laying there uselessly, trying to get even a wink of sleep, and when he hears heavy footsteps coming his way, he knows his attempts are over; Mike's collapsing into his bed in the next second, budging his way back under Will's covers, in exactly the same spot he had been only hours before.

Will lets out an amused huff as he risks a glance at Mike. "How'd it go?"

Mike groans, before peeling his head back from Will's pillow, his hair still a complete mess from earlier. “I dunno. I guess it went as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Are you str- nervous about what grade you’re gonna get?” Will corrects himself the moment he finds himself almost saying stressed, but not quick enough.

Mike catches it and shifts closer, openly staring at him now, eyes tracking across his face as if searching for something.

“Yeah. I think I’m feeling pretty stressed about it right now.”

“Uh-“ Will swallows. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Mike's lashes flutter and it’s just the soft noises of their breathing for a moment until Mike leans in and kisses him.

They've never kissed before, what they have between them has always been simple: blowjobs and that's it. Mike has never even hinted at wanting to kiss him before, so Will freezes, his breathing entirely stopping as the pressure on his mouth hits him. They're kissing. Mike is kissing him. Mike is kissing him and he can't breathe because Mike is kissing him. And he's frozen because Will can't believe this. He's frozen and it must've been long enough because Mike suddenly pulls back, and that intense look from earlier is gone, replaced instead with something more closed off—something Will hasn't seen on Mike's face in a long time.

Fuck.

"Sorry, I- I guess I thought you- but-" Mike cuts himself off, gulping loudly.

Will has to force himself to breathe. "Thought I what, Mike?"

He's almost scared to know the answer because he thinks he knows what Mike is going to say, but he's both terrified to be wrong, and terrified to be right.

"I thought that you… liked me-"

"I-" Will doesn't think he's ever been this nervous in his life.

"-too. Liked me too."

"What?" Will's heart stops. "You like me?"

Fuck, maybe he should pinch himself because clearly he never woke up from his nap earlier because this can't be real.

Mike shifts, holding himself up on his forearm as he stares down at Will with a shocked expression on his face. "Seriously? I've been sucking your dick like every day for two weeks and you thought I didn't like you?"

"I- you-" Will splutters, sitting straight up. "I didn't even know you were gay! How was I supposed to know you liked me?"

Mike follows suit, pushing himself up fully this time. "What did you think was going on then?"

"You were destressing and I was-"

Taking what I thought was the only thing I could ever get. Taking advantage of you. Being greedy. He doesn't need to finish his sentence for Mike to get it—to flinch back like he was the one hurt.

He watches as Mike's eyes flicker over his face, desperately trying to understand, before he takes Will's face between his hands and kisses him again. Pulling back and staring again before doing it all over again. Doing it again and again until the sad look on Will's face was gone; and then Mike pulls back, barely a few inches, and stares again.

"It took me a while to realize it but I think I've always liked you more than anyone else. And then I just kept brushing it off as you were just… the best friend for me and that was why you were my every thought and why I would get jealous the second you spent time with someone else." Mike lets out a humourless chuckle. "But then I sucked your dick and… well you were there, you saw me run out of the room. It all came crashing down on me when I realized how much I've wanted you for years, how much I still do."

Mike shifts, and his hands thumb over Will's cheeks.

"You've been driving me crazy the last few weeks. I thought you knew. Thought it was obvious because I couldn't stop touching you literally all the time and I thought… you kept staring at me so I thought we just weren't talking about things yet."

One of Mike's hands shifts, grabbing onto one of Will's and guiding it down, placing it over his rock solid crotch. "And fuck was I hard every time I sucked you off, and I thought you knew."

Will has to hold back his shiver. Fuck. Mike was hard, and it was because of him.

"No." Will rasps back, finally letting himself look down, staring at the denim covered bulge in his hand. "Definitely did not."

"Well, you know now."

"Mmm." Will can hardly manage words, his eyes stuck staring down at his mind whirls from the realizations of the last few minutes.

"And what are you going to do about it now?" Mike hips inch forward, rubbing himself against Will's palm and Will's eye shoot up, meeting Mike's and he immediately recognizes that look now for what it actually is—desire.

He doesn't respond with words, but with actions this time, looping Mike in for a desperate kiss with his free hand as he squeezes his hand against Mike's crotch. They meet desperately in the middle, and Will lasts all of two seconds in the kiss before he was nipping at Mike's lips; he needs more. Needs it so badly. He wants to know what Mike's mouth tastes like. He wants to know what Mike's tongue feels like. He wants everything and anything Mike can give him.

Mike opens up easily before him, letting Will's tongue slip along his lips before welcoming it in and the second he does, Will groans out loudly into the kiss. He's loved a lot of things about Mike throughout his life, but kissing him might just have to take first place—Will doubts anything could top this.

Mike's hands move eagerly against his body, shoving up his sleep shirt to roam his stomach for a few moments, trailing appreciatively over his abdomen before they shift further down, and Will realizes the moment Mike does: he's still not wearing any underwear. This time, it's Mike groaning into the kiss before his hands settle around Will's hip and they yank him forward, close enough that the hard length of Will's dick presses into Mike's hip.

"Take your pants off." Will begs, pulling back from the kiss just far enough to get his words out before diving back in, smothering Mike's response with his lips.

He doesn't care to hear his words, he just wants Mike to do it—needs him to do it. Mike's spent the last two weeks getting to see and touch Will's dick, but Will's spent the last few years wishing he could do the same, so the few seconds it takes Mike to shimmy out of his pants feels like a lifetime.

The moment Will hears the thump of Mike's pants hitting the floor he pulls back from the kiss, pulling back even further than the last time as his eyes immediately shoot down, and the moment his eyes meet Mike's dick he lets out a moan. He looks so good—perfect even, and it's the knowledge that it was him that got Mike this way that has his hand flying down to wrap around Mike's cock.

"Nghh-" Mike whines and Will feels the way it's his cock this time leaking into his hand.

God, it feels good to touch him like this.

His hand begins to stroke, taking time to thumb over Mike's frenulum and drinking in the shiver it rewards him with. Mike's falling apart in his hands in seconds, panting and whining into his ear before he yanks him in with near bruising strength for another kiss. It's so hot. Better than anything Will ever imagined in his life, and the moment his hips start rocking forward, dragging the length of his cock against Mike's bare thigh, it somehow gets even better.

"Date me." Mike gasps out against his mouth. "Be my boyfriend- fuck, Will! Please."

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes." Will chants back, hips twitching forward against Mike's hip as his hand speeds up.

He needs to feel Mike cumming, needs to see him cumming because of him.

They meet back in the middle, lips mashing desperately together as their hips begin to move erratically, thrusting forward with an urgency they both understood all too well—they're both close.

"Mike."

Will doesn't need to say it—doesn't need to warn him—Mike understands without words.

"Will."

Their hips move faster, at an almost rabbit like pace, and just as Will teeters on the edge he feels Mike freeze against him before letting out a loud moan, jerking as he squirts into Will's hand, and the feeling sends Will over the edge; Will cums with Mike's name on his lips, his head falling forward to rest against Mike's shoulder as he thrusts another two times against his hip before Will trembles through his orgasm, more than likely soaking through Mike's shirt that he never got the chance to take off.

For a long time after they finish they do nothing but pant against each other, pressing even closer together when Will slowly peels his hand off Mike's dick, pressing a kiss into his shoulder when Mike hisses from overstimulation. Will's comfortable, and for the first time in a long time, he isn't worried. He isn't worried about what Mike is going to say. Isn't worried if Mike likes him back. And he sure as hell isn't worried if Mike is straight—they've finally cleared that one up.

It's Mike surprisingly that finally breaks their silence, pressing a sloppy kiss against Will's cheek before pulling back slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. "So… You told Max."

Will groans loudly. "She told you?"

"Why do you think I got back from my exam so late? She caught me on the way back."

"I'm going to kill her."

Mike laughs before knocking his forehead against Will's shoulder. "Normally would love to see that but I'd much rather you just stay here."

Will blinks before softening. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mike murmurs back, and Will can feel the way his lips shift against his shoulder into a smile.

He could kill Max another time he guesses. For now, he'd much rather lay here. And maybe double check to make sure Mike wasn't feeling more post exam stress later. He would hate to see his boyfriend stressed after all.