Chapter Text
It all started with a stubborn roll of Will's eyes and a loud sigh, after the sentence “Time to join your friends sorcerer,” had left Mike's lips.
It all ends with Will dressed down to his boxer briefs, straddling Mike's thigh, arms tightly wound around his neck, hips working in short movements and lacking any real coordination to them. His breath was coming out in jagged pants reminiscent of the sort of desperation that was so distinctively Will whenever he’s teetering along the fine edge of euphoria.
After what felt like would be their last campaign ever in the basement, and a mostly somber dinner at the Wheeler's featuring Karen's classic lasagna, Will and Mike had made an excuse to get them out of going to Stacey's party right away. A lame excuse really.
Will originally had wanted to go to the party right after dinner. He was excited about their high school graduation and the feeling of being young adults entering into the next phase of life, however after feeling Mike's foot slide slowly against his calf underneath the D&D table, Will knew those plans were about to take a detour.
Mike and Will had been secretly dating each other for a little over eight months, graduating from stolen chaste kisses to full blown sex only recently.
It had been a terrifying, yet wonderful, journey exploring what they meant to one another, and how it was different from their other friendships, how it had always been different.
They were simultaneously navigating immense grief after the loss of Eleven, and finding deep solace in the comfort that they brought one another.
It took Mike a bit of time to figure out that his feelings for Will were firstly, romantic, and secondly, built upon the understanding that he had always liked boys but was afraid of what it meant for him living in Hawkins, Indiana under a conservative household.
Will's bravery that day at the station had triggered something within Mike—the need to truly explore who he was and what he liked. And Mike liked to tell Will, especially late at night when they were tangled together that whenever Mike was searching through his mind for answers, it was Will's eyes that he saw. His laugh that he heard, his tears that he wished to take away.
Cutting back to the present, they were at the cabin, having told Dustin, Max, and Lucas that they wanted to visit the site of Castle Byers—another sort of goodbye to their childhood—and go for a walk alone before having the rest of the party pick them up and head to Stacey's.
Hopper and Joyce had left for Montauk; it was becoming a reoccurring vacation-type spot that Hopper liked to take Joyce to, and Will had a sneaking suspicion that Hopper had bigger plans. And Jonathan was on his way back to New York, he had left shortly after the cap and gown ceremony.
Blessedly, Will and Mike were alone, which didn't happen often.
There’s a wet stain on Mike's jeans that only grows bigger with every drag of Will's clothed cock, the slick, damp spot on his briefs helping with the slide. For a fleeting moment Will thought about how little he was wearing, and how quickly they could get Mike to match his current state of undress.
The room is filled with Will’s labored pants, playing in tune with the low moans dragged out of Mike's chest at every clench of muscle or the teasing dig of nails into his shoulders.
They’re on the edge of Will's bed, door left haphazardly open when they stumbled into his room, they were only supposed to be there briefly before heading to the party—a quick makeout session is what Will was anticipating.
Now, Will didn't know what time it was, and truth be told, he always lost track of time when Mike was so close to him, still bewildered that they were together and doing terribly overstimulating things to one another.
He knew his worth, didn't question Mike's love and want for him anymore, but after years of harbouring these colossal feelings that he thought were unrequited, for his best friend, it made sense that he would be still pleasantly surprised when Mike initiated anything sexual—which he did quite often—letting Will know just how deeply he wants.
And Mike wants. So much. He has half the mind to not flip their positions, strip down, and fuck Will into the bed, bury himself deep inside where Will is wet and aching and desperately needing to be filled.
Will's movements were ranging from jackrabbiting thrusts to slow, deep grinds, his nails sharply digging into the lithe muscle of Mike's back, seeking to ground himself as he kept riding the thigh below him.
Earlier, Will hadn't looked the least bit impressed as he had shucked off his shirt, settling onto Mike's lap.
“I’m telling you,” Will had sighed, swinging his leg over Mike's left thigh, “We're going to get interrupted. I’m not going to be able to cum and then we’re going to have to wait to fuck until tomorrow sometime.”
“Or,” Mike had emphasized, grabbing Will roughly by the hips and pulling him closer, “You cum on my thigh right now, and we still fuck after the party, and tomorrow. Or you can decide to not cum at all, sorcerer, all up to you.”
Will looks thoroughly corrupted now.
He smells like sweat, sex, and everything Mike wants to put on his tongue, constantly craving the taste of him.
There’s a deep, musky scent tangled in the roots of his disheveled hair, something tantalizing trapped in the junction where his shoulder meets his neck—freckles coated with the salty tang of summer and Will and it all sends Mike into orbit.
Will sighs when Mike's mouth laps at his neck, dragging his tongue up the column of his throat, cataloging all of the freckles and beauty marks as he goes, and working a selection of bruises into his skin.
To be fair, it’s really fucking difficult for Mike not to slip his fingers into where Will is undoubtedly waiting for him. It requires every nerve in Mike's tightly wound up and coiled body, not to dive in between his thighs and sample a taste like he’s been denied sweets for all his life. Because Will's eyes are half-lidded, squeezing firmly shut every time he angles his hips just right, pink lips swollen and parting around every little sound that splinters Mike's crumbling resolve to make Will cum from riding his thigh.
Holy Fuck. Fuck.
And as much as Mike enjoys watching Will like this, they had told the rest of the party that they wouldn't be more than thirty minutes, meaning Mike just might have to cut this short and help Will reach completion before their friends arrived at the cabin to pick them up.
It’s just—Will looks so good. Supple. Needy.
Every time their gazes meet, Mike can’t help but buck his hips into the air, a reactionary motion that displays just how desperate he is in this moment as well.
Mike is painfully hard in his jeans, straining against his own boxers, and all he is holding on to is sheer pride and Will's whimpers to deter him from fucking him in a way that Will Byers, out of the whole party, would decide not to go to Stacey's Graduation bash anymore.
“Baby,” Mike hisses into his ear, nipping onto the soft skin below. “The party is going to be here soon so it’s either now or nothing. Stacey's, remember?”
“No,” Will puffs out, his brows setting into a determined line. He starts moving faster, the clutch on Mike's shoulders almost desperate, face buried in the angle of his neck as he keeps pressing down and grinding against him.
Mike secretly loves it (is maybe addicted to it now) when Will is reduced to this: frantic, painfully aroused, unabashedly whimpering—a contrast to how controlling they discovered he can get when they're fucking, fingers tangled in Mike's hair and the grip around him bruising when Will has his way with him.
However, as of right now, Mike is on a sort of power high, quite fond of the role reversal as he smiles and simpers. “You better get on with it then.”
Will is trembling, but Mike can tell he’s not nearly at the edge yet, and he was fucking lying because there’s no way he would deny Will an orgasm when watching him become completely undone was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.
Don't get him wrong, Mike loves teasing and taunting and making Will work for something he’ll undoubtedly get, but Mike would rather knock himself out before leaving Will the least bit unsatisfied.
So, when he peeks over at the clock on Will's bedside table, the glowing red numbers reading back 10:45pm, he has to take matters into his own hands.
Mike's grip on Will's hips is taught and he presses Will down further onto his thigh, trapping him against the muscle—they're drawn together so tight he couldn’t care less about cramping if it means making Will cum, and soon. A noisy moan escapes from Will, whose hips try and lift only to be pushed back down and pinned in place by Mike's unrelenting hands.
“Come on, baby, come on,” Mike beckons as he moves against him, his large hands kneading the flesh at Will's waist and setting a far more wicked pace than Will had maintained thus far. “You need to cum for me, I need you to cum.”
Will moans brokenly at the words, he's loud, and digs his nails firmer into the sweat-soaked shirt of Mike's back until he himself gasps at the sharp sting of it.
Mike moves just as sporadically now, almost lifting Will up with his leg when he deeply grinds it against him. Mike is starting to think that if he doesn’t rip of his clothes and sink himself into Will in the next few minutes, he will absolutely lose his mind.
“Shit— Right there—” Will whines, “Mike—”
“Yeah?” Mike is panting, trying his best to keep Will firm in place as he helps guide Will's hips in a rocking motion against his thigh. “Right here?”
“Fuck—”
Then, miraculously maybe? Will's legs start shaking, thighs clamping down around Mike's, his breath sounds trapped in his chest as his hips come to a sudden stammer.
Mike wraps his arms around him tightly, pressing him down and moving his leg against where he feels him swollen and throbbing with the continued friction. Will comes with a cry, a sort of high-pitched escape of breath Mike recognizes easily as one saying that this specific orgasm caught him off guard and will leave Will limp-legged for a solid ten minutes following his climax.
Ten long minutes they don’t really have because as Will begins his slow descent from euphoria, Mike's ears pick up on the faint crunch of gravel under a car tire in the distance. He could be undercalculating things, but he figures they have maybe five more minutes alone before they would need to produce themselves outside of the cabin.
He lifts himself from the edge of Will's bed, Will glued to his chest, and hurries to the small bathroom in between Will's room and Joyce's. The door slams shut behind them, and he swears lowly, hoping if the party is nearing the cabin that they didn't hear any commotion from inside.
It's eerily quiet in the bathroom, the only sound being water dripping in the pipes and Will's laboured breaths against Mike's neck. Mike hasn't lowered Will yet because he isn't ready to burst their bubble.
“Will?” Mike quietly asks, holding Will up by his thighs and pressing his back into the closed bathroom door.
Will begins to murmur something, still stuck in post-orgasmic bliss. His legs are tightly wrapped around Mike's waist and his head lulls back creating a thudding sound as it connects with the wood door. He has one finger now earnestly tugging on the elastic band of Mike's boxers that are peeking above the edge of his jeans.
Well, yes. Mike still wants more.
“Are you going to be quiet?” Mike asks, sucking in his breath when Will starts palming him with practiced and determined movements. His fingers trace the outline of Mike's cock, and it's enough to make Mike feel lightheaded.
Will hums sweetly, and immediately Mike knows he is lying in his affirmation.
But, hey, Mike's a man at the end of a leash, so he lifts Will up a little higher on the door, in order to kick off his jeans and boxers, leaving himself in only his blue polo. He sets Will down briefly so that he too could remove his boxer briefs and Will tuck his hands into the hem of Mike's shirt, lifting it above his head quickly. Mike attempts to not salivate at how sexy Will looks, flushed pink and slick with sweat and sticky cum.
Instead he shakes his head briefly out of the daze, and his hands return to grab Will by the back of his thighs. Will sighs contentedly when Mike leans down to swirl a tongue across his nipple, kissing the beauty marks on his chest before trailing up again to capturing Will's mouth.
“Hold onto me.” Mike whispers into Will's pouty lips.
And Will heeds, criss-crossing his ankles and holding firmly onto Mike's shoulders. Mike winds an arm around his waist to get a better hold, loosening his other so that his hand could slip between Will's thighs, inserting his fingers and trying not to groan at the lack of resistance he finds.
He’s so fucking hot. It drives Mike insane, and he can't believe that he almost didn't get to experience all of this passion between them—he will thank Will for the rest of their lives for being so brave.
Swallowing back a gasp, Will's hand reaches out along the wall beside them, turning off the overhead light in the washroom, and bathing them in darkness. Mike can only hope that with the darkness they will not alert anyone to their whereabouts in the tiny cabin.
Mike thrusts his fingers in and out of Will, using the heel of his palm to grind against him, relishing in every muffled groan and subtle twitch of his body. Sweat starts to catch in his eyelashes and brows, trickling down the sharp angles of his face. Drops of sweat land on the swell of his bottom lip, and Will greedily latches on, sucking his lip into his mouth.
They're dragging their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss that’s pure spit and want. Will's breath is hot where it puffs across Mike's lips, demanding more, more, more.
Then, Will reaches a hand between them, extending his arm down to palm at Mike again, and Mike bites the inside of his cheek to not growl loudly when Will starts to pump him with a delicate softness—his fingers are lithe, yet he can wring out these world-ending orgasms from Mike with the skillful twists of his wrist.
However, Mike doesn’t want to come into his hand, and they are running out of precious time—undoubtedly the party is likely nearing the end of the winding path that leads to the cabin from the main road, and Mike doesn't doubt that Max will get pissy after a few minutes if Will and Mike do not appear, and come to look for them. So, he readjusts Will in his arms, lines himself up, and lowers Will down onto his cock sinking his teeth into the slope of Will's beautiful shoulder. Because everything about Will is beautiful to Mike. And in this moment he feels perfect around him—wet, hot, and swollen.
Will's mouth is parted and loud moans spill out, the air around them feels coated in arousal.
“Baby, I need—fuck, stay quiet, okay?” Mike murmurs into his ear, staying still so Will can adjust to the stretch of him. “I need you to stay quiet. And we need to be quick.”
Because he will very much fight a pissed-off Max if she so much as hears Will breathe and interrupts them. However, they've talked about this and both aren't ready to let anyone from the party, or their families know about their relationship yet. It's been nice keeping it a secret between them, a piece of their lives that they get to unfold together on their own terms and timeline.
“Mike,” Will's quiet groan breaks through his thoughts, lips against his temple. Will is clenching around him, his hips grinding up suddenly with the silent request to get to it and move.
Mike obliges, pulls out before driving back into him again, pulling all sorts of stifled sounds that are muffled by Will's mouth connecting with Mike's neck. Will begins to worry the thin skin along Mike's clavicle between his bottom lip and teeth, digging his nails sharply into Mike's back—no doubt leaving half-crescent shapes to be discovered later.
It only stokes the fire that has been building in Mike, catapulting him into taking measured snaps of his hips, thrusting into Will deeper and faster.
Will whines into his neck, fingers tightly fisted in the back of Mike's midnight black curls, and Mike knows he’s hitting all of the spots that makes Will see stars with how Will is arching into him, his heels digging into the meat of his lower back.
Mike attempts to hush him, the grip around Will's ass bruising as he keeps driving in deeper. “Quiet, baby, quiet.”
And then there’s another one of Will's sultry whimpers that escapes and threatens to break through Mike's resolve, and topple him off the edge embarrassingly soon.
Not that it has never happened before. He had come in a few minutes flat the first few times they started to explore each others bodies, despite extensive masturbation sessions Mike would take beforehand so that he could draw out Will's pleasure for as long as possible. But this was just the Will Byers effect. When these whimpers came into the mix, Mike knew he was closer to his orgasm than he would like, wanting Will to be the one to orgasm first every time.
Will is gasping now after a hard thrust from Mike.
“Touch yourself.” Mike breathes into his shoulder.
Will's hand dips between them and Mike's eyes follow the movement, watching how Will's fingers brush over his swollen cock. Mike is painfully struck between wanting to fuck Will harder and getting on his knees to take him into his mouth instead.
He grunts, his forehead still resting on Will's shoulder, unable to shift his gaze away from how Will pulls at his cock in time to Mike's relentless thrusts, so wet and slick that his cock slips easily between his fingers, making him whine.
“Fuck,” Mike grits out as he drives in deeper, the sight of Will touching himself making his orgasm crest quickly. “I’m not going to last, Will—”
“Almost there,” Will mumbles, working his wrist quicker and with sharp tugs.
Mike is almost certain his handprint will last for at least a good week with how tightly he’s squeezing him in an effort to hold him up against the door.
“Will—” Mike can barely manage, his thrusts turning sloppy, and trying to keep to a deep grind. “Please.”
Will moans at the words and then he’s trembling, rubbing himself with more purpose, focusing on working his cock—
Then all of a sudden he clenches around Mike's cock, and his vision bleeds white.
Mike bites down hard onto Will's shoulder to muffle the obscenely loud groan that threatens to fill the entire bathroom with just how perfect his boyfriend feels anytime his walls tighten around his cock (or his fingers). He shoves in somehow—impossibly it feels—deeper, emptying himself with thick, scorching pulses, and Will mirrors him by biting down onto his clavicle, his entire body convulsing. Will drags his nails down Mike's back, eliciting a shiver from him, despite the heat between them.
“God, Will,” Mike quietly moans, soundlessly chanting his name as he keeps rocking his hips, drawing out both their orgasms with shallow and unsteady thrusts. It’s only when the sting of oversensitivity becomes too much, and the ache of his quads that Mike decides to slip out.
Will is breathing hard against Mike's shoulder, his feet returning to the ground beneath him. He looks up to stare at Mike's lips, and Mike cannot help but stare back at his thick eyelashes, fluttering lazily against the tops of his flushed pink cheekbones.
Before Will can gather his wits, Mike drops to his knees without warning and ignores the gasp of surprise that Will lets out. Mike is scrambling to slide Will's legs over his shoulders then, and buries his face between his thighs.
Are his ears still ringing from his orgasm? Yes. Is he cognizant that they are likely way over the allotted time that the universe would give them before being caught? Sort of.
All Mike can pay attention to is Will's body, and the soft sounds he is eliciting as his tongue darts out to lap at him, his own cum leaking from Will. He drags his tongue along the underside of Will's cock, swallowing him where he's still a bit swollen and oversensitive.
Will slaps his hand down quickly over his mouth to muffle a cry, his other hand carding through Mike's hair, yanking hard as his thighs clench around his head. Mike is finding it increasingly hard to breath all of a sudden, but he things good, if he's going to die while going down on Will, he will die a happy man.
The lack of air is encouraging Mike to continue, as well as the simpering sounds from Will. He bobs his head up and down, closing his lips tightly around Will's cock and sucking until Will is coming again, his back arching off the wooden door, releasing into Mike's moth in the span of sixty seconds. "Mike, oh my god—"
Fondly, Mike noses at the inside of Will's thigh, leaving a trail of faint kisses on each, and sucking a couple of fresh bruises into the skin. Will presses the palm of his hand against Mike's cheek once he catches his breath, tilting Mike's face upwards. The sight of Will looking down at him, his gaze soft, his lips parted slightly causes a warm feeling to bloom in Mike's chest.
Mike is insatiable, really—they discovered this quickly when they started exploring each others bodies. And Will is too, which is the best. But also the absolute worst when suddenly the blaring sound of a car horn cuts through the small space of the bathroom.
Mike scowls at the sound, and Will's eyes widen with horror. "Mike let me up, we have to go." He's slapping lightly at Mike's back.
They quickly right themselves, splashing water onto their faces, wiping down their stomachs, and throwing their clothes back on.
There's a loud knock at the front door, and they can make out Max's voice on the other side, "Hey are you two in there? We've been sitting outside for at least seven minutes—I swear to god if you two aren't back from that walk—" She's still knocking through her tirade.
"Max, Hey!" Will had bounded across the cabin once they left the confines of the bathroom and opened the door as Max was beginning to knock again, her fist poised in the air. "All good to go."
Mike came up behind Will, his hands tucked into his jean pockets, still buzzing with energy from their triste.
"Why are you both out of breath?" Max is eyeing Will suspiciously, cocking her head to the side and placing a hand on her hip.
"—We ran from—"
"—He was helping me—"
"Woah, one at a time," Max rolls her eyes. And Will looks back over his shoulder, scowling at Mike. Mike lifts his hands briefly, as if to say what? Because what the fuck was he supposed to do? Max had asked them both the question.
"Uh, no reason really," Will begins, a hand landing on the back of his neck, scratching lightly—nervously. Mike says nothing.
There’s a beat of silence until they hear Max snicker. “Oh, you two have secrets huh? Let's see how long that stays between you two.” She shakes her head, turning back towards the car that is idling in the driveway.
Will sighs and makes his way after her, and Mike winces as he slowly straightens, all too aware of the tightness in his muscles from the positions he was just in with Will.