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Will’s pencil is scratching away at a geometry problem when a knock comes at his bedroom door. He looks up, finding his mom peeking through the slightly ajar door — a habit Will’s been forced to pick up from El.
“We’re heading out now,” his mom says. We means her and Hop, out being Enzo’s for their weekly date. Her eyes slide away from Will at his desk, over to Will’s bed — where Mike is lounging with a book in hand, the same book Will was reading for their sophomore English class, but Mike was probably far ahead of their required reading assignment. “I can trust you to keep him out of trouble, right Mike?”
Mike lets the book collapse against his chest. “Always, Mrs. Byers.”
Will fights a grimace. He’s lucky to have a supportive mother, he knows, but he hates it when she’s like this — eyeing Mike and Will with a private smile, the same look she always gives Jonathan and Nancy. He doesn’t like being seen through, like it was so obvious all he ever thought about was—
“Have fun,” Will says, so she’ll just leave already. It works, she gives another smile and waves and farewells. Down the hall, a distant conversation between her and Hopper echoes into Will’s room. Then, the front door opens and closes.
They’re alone.
Will looks down at his notebook again. He’s only about a third of the way through his math assignment, but it’s Friday, so he has all weekend to finish it. He can’t let this opportunity go to waste.
“El’s staying at Max’s tonight,” Will states conversationally.
Mike had gone back to reading. He doesn’t bother to close the book as he hums his acknowledgment.
“And Jonathan’s somewhere with Nancy. Not sure where.” Will shrugs. Maybe Mike knows. He doubts it, though. The Wheeler siblings hardly seem to know each other’s favorite colors, most days.
Mike peeks over the edge of his book. “Oh.”
They’ve only been dating for about four months, officially. But of course, they’ve known each other much, much longer. Mike’s always been good at reading in between the lines, generally but especially with Will, as long as no one else — for example, his ex-girlfriend, Will’s adopted sister — was distracting him. And now, focused on the only person in the room, it’s clear Mike immediately understands what Will’s implying.
They’re alone.
Will’s gaze drops back to his notebook. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Mike dogear a page and set his book on Will’s side table. He rolls out of bed, languidly stretching once he’s on his feet, then he walks over to Will sitting in his desk chair, arms looping around Will’s shoulders, chin resting atop Will’s head. Will tries his best not to flinch or flush.
“So that’s why you’ve done…” Mike starts, and Will knows his eyes are tracking down the notebook. “Two problems in an hour.”
“Shut up,” Will says, wanting to slouch away from Mike’s chin but Mike holds him in place. “I hate math.”
“I’ll do it for you.”
“You can’t take my test for me, though.”
“Whatever,” Mike says. “You’re done for now, yeah? I mean, you’ve been too distracted to work on it, knowing we have the house tonight.”
It had been at least a month since the last time they had a house to themselves. They got on just fine — the Wheelers, minus Nancy, were still unaware of their relationship, so Karen didn’t bat an eye at Mike and Will spending time together alone in the basement. But encounters in the basement tended to be quick and quiet, just in case Karen or Holly decided to barge in.
There was certainly an added thrill to those encounters — when Mike usually clamped a hand over Will’s mouth, whispering in his ear to be quiet over and over while Will did his best to breathe steady and hold back his whines. However, the nights they were alone were infinitely better — and not just because Will didn’t have to swallow back sounds, or that Mike tended to be more vocal too. With hours to fill, their pace could be slow. Mike would take his time to skim his long fingers over Will’s entire body, and soft lips tracing a well-worn line from Will’s mouth to chest. Those sensations alone would have Will throbbing between his legs and hips twitching.
Will gets lost in memories, forgetting to reply to Mike, who impatiently runs his hands down Will’s sides, stopping at his waist, and adds, “C’mon , I know you’re desperate for it.”
Mike’s voice snaps him harshly back into reality. His fingers fumble around his pencil, head ducking away from Mike’s chin. Mike’s teasing strikes Will’s chest at an odd angle, surely not how Mike intended. It’s just that word — desperate — sends Will’s thoughts back to last year. The crippling isolation he felt in California, clinging to childhood memories. And after that, when they returned to Hawkins, but before Mike and El broke up — and Will stomped on all his hopes every night, crying into his pillow soft enough that Jonathan or Mom wouldn’t hear. It had been so ridiculous, looking back, because of course Mike liked him back, of course all the warm looks and lingering touches meant exactly what Will hoped they did, but it had been so hard to accept the reality of it, because if he’d been wrong and made a move only for Mike to reject him…
It would have been ugly. They probably wouldn’t still be friends.
And it’s entirely stupid to think about such alternate realities now, several months into a romantic relationship with Mike. Will can’t help but worry, some days, that Mike doesn’t feel quite as strongly, that Mike wouldn’t be shattered permanently if they broke up and went separate ways.
Will shakes away Mike’s grip. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps, a bit bolder than he intended. He immediately regrets it, because Mike pulls away. Will hears the bed creak as Mike settles back onto it, alone. Will stares at his desk, embarrassed at his overreaction. He has no reason to sink into his insecurities like this — his life is good, the Upside Down no longer a threat thanks to his sister, and the boy he’d been sure was his soulmate since first grade was his boyfriend. He’s ruined what could’ve been a good night together, carefree in ways the world rarely allowed them to be.
Before Will can spiral too much, Mike’s voice cuts the tense silence. “What do you want me to call you?” he asks. It lacks an accusatory edge, syllables rounded into simple curiosity. He senses Will’s tension, and knows to diffuse it, and Will feels silly for doubting Mike all over again. “Slut?”
Will’s head twists so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. A hiss of Mike’s name dies in his throat when his eyes land on him — stretched out on the bed, jeans undone, a lazy hand wrapped around his half-hard cock. Will blinks, pulse skyrocketing at the sight, watching the slow movement of Mike’s fingers, and the way Mike’s cock twitches under Will’s gaze.
“Yeah?” Mike says, his voice sounding breathy now that Will’s looking at him.
Will’s face is in flames, his thighs clenching. He looks away, trying to steady himself.
“Will,” Mike says softly, sounding distant against the roaring in Will’s ears. “C’mon.”
A lot of names have been chucked in Will’s direction, ranging from genuinely derogatory to just plain stupid — cause, really, whoever started Zombie Boy was an idiot, he didn’t literally come back to life. But slut. That’s a new one. And coming from Mike’s fond voice, it sounds as nice as all the other pet names they exchanged. Will’s insides like it as much as baby or sweetheart. However, his brain makes him hesitate, even if his instincts tell him to climb into bed with Mike, replace the hand around his cock, and let Mike whisper slut in his ear on repeat.
Because girls get called sluts. Will isn’t a girl. Mike knows this. Mike’s the first person Will ever told that he wasn’t a girl. He gave Will toys from the boy’s section every birthday and corrected everyone that got his name wrong. His unconditional support was only rivaled by Mom and Jonathan, but it always felt different coming from Mike, a peer, someone not forced to love him due to being related to him — though Lonnie never bothered with that.
Will impulsively stands from his desk chair. His front teeth are worrying his bottom lip as he approaches the bed. He stops at the end, just watching as Mike’s hand continues to stroke his cock. It’s as long as the rest of Mike, fully flushed and hard as he waits for Will. Will’s seen it enough it shouldn’t snag his eyes like a compass pointed to true north, but he’s unable to look away from it. He probably looks ridiculous, staring at Mike’s dick as he asks, “Why’d you call me that?”
Mike’s hand twists around his cockhead as he counters, voice a bit shaky, “Do you not like it?”
“I…” Will begins. “I don’t know. It depends.”
Mike’s face tilts, but it’s blurry in the background, Will’s eyes still focused elsewhere. Mike sighs, hand falling away from his cock. “I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to.”
Will climbs onto the bed, crawling over to Mike as he shakes his head. “No, no. I’m just curious. Why?” He positions himself between Mike’s legs, placing a hand on Mike’s hip — not where Mike wants it, judging by the slight pout of his lips.
Mike shrugs. “It’s cute?”
“Cute?” Will asks, fingers digging into Mike’s jeans.
Mike sputters. “I mean, you’ve been twitchy all day! I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but nothing was wrong. You’re just— I mean, you always get so excited. It’s cute.”
Will’s starting to understand, because Mike’s brown eyes are wide and dark, plush lips sucking in stuttery breaths, and his hips pushing against Will’s hand, abandoned cock begging for attention, emphasized by the precome dripping down the shaft. It’s cute. Maybe Mike really is as desperate as Will.
“Alright,” Will says, then decisively wraps a hand around Mike’s cock. “You can call me a slut.” Will leans down, watches Mike instinctively pucker his lips, but Will halts with a breath between their lips. “If I can call you a slut.”
It’s hard to make out Mike’s expression with their faces so close, but Mike’s cock jumping in Will’s grip tells him plenty.
“Yeah,” Mike breathes, nodding. His fingers tug at the buttons of Will’s flannel. “Call me whatever. Just take off your clothes.”
Will laughs, making no move to oblige. As much as Mike likes to keep these nights slow, his patience seems to thin with Will on top of him, a loose, unmoving hand around his cock. Will ends up pushed into the bed as Mike rolls them over, bony legs pinned on either side of him. Mike immediately begins to unbutton Will’s flannel. Will mostly watches on, amused, as his flannel is opened. His undershirt gets pushed up, Mike’s palm resting on his bare stomach. But once Mike grabs Will’s belt, Will’s smile falters. His body seems to remember how badly he wants Mike to touch him, to fuck him. He pushes his hips off the mattress, trying his best to shimmy out of his tight jeans with the help of his boyfriend.
Once Will’s laying back mostly bare — his shirt still bunched around his shoulders — Mike stands to toss away his Hellfire tee and peel off his jeans. Their positions have switched, now it’s Will waiting on the bed, resisting the urge to touch himself. He lets his legs spread, so when Mike’s naked and his eyes land back on Will, they get fixed between Will’s legs. Mike’s expression melts into the same hungry one Will would guess he had while watching Mike stroke himself.
Mike climbs back onto the bed, spreading Will’s legs further. “Were you wet while you were doing your homework?” he teases.
“Shut up,” Will groans.
“Like I said, it’s cute,” Mike replies, hands moving up Will’s thighs. “What were you thinking about?”
This. Will was thinking of this — spread and wet on his bed, Mike right where he belonged between his legs, Mike’s cock red and hard for Will, Mike’s eyes dark, Mike saying dirty things, Mike. Just thinking about Mike in any way was enough to get Will wet these days.
“You,” Will admits.
Mike’s eyebrows raise in faux surprise. “Me?”
“Mike,” Will huffs, pushing his thighs against Mike’s grip.
“What was I doing?” Mike asks.
“Touching me,” Will whines, hips rolling.
“Where?”
“Micheal.”
Will expects Mike to continue his interrogation, but he’s relieved when a hand shifts on his thigh and suddenly a thumb is pressed snug against his clit. His body jolts at the sensation, breath leaving his lungs. Mike doesn’t move his thumb, so it’s up to Will to grind against it. Mike does, however, lean down, pushing his lips against Will’s, inhaling Will’s moans as Will quivers against his thumb. Will enjoys grinding against Mike whenever he’s given a chance, whether it’s Mike’s hand or knee or face, but he prefers it after he’s been fucked, when his cunt is sore but his needy clit wants more.
Will nips Mike’s mouth, harsh enough to sting, hoping Mike takes the hint.
Mike breaks the kiss, retracting his thumb. Will can’t help a groan. Mike smirks and when his mouth opens to speak, Will already knows what he’s going to say.
“Slut.”
The word zips down Will’s spine all over again, but this time Mike’s so much closer, voice a bit deeper — not that Mike’s voice was ever that gravelly, it’s soft and warm all the same. Will supposes there’s truth in the name, because with every moment that passes without Mike’s cock inside of him, he gets closer to begging to be fucked, and there aren’t many actions sluttier than that. Will lets out a pathetic whimper.
“I got you,” Mike promises, graciously moving into position. “I’ve got what you need.” Will watches entranced as Mike reaches down to grip his cock, moving forward until the head finds Will’s pussy, slick and ready.
They’ve done this enough times that Mike’s mostly mastered a slow, toe-curling entry. That hadn’t been the case the first week or so, both of them were fumbly and eager, but it hadn’t mattered much at the time. They were both so happy to be together, finally, to be allowed to touch each other, finally. Their eagerness made them a bit reckless too, but at least Will can check have sex in the Hawkins High bathroom off of an imaginary bucket list. They’d just been inseparable their first week as boyfriends, unable to keep their hands to themselves if they were within reaching distance. It had felt so natural, the next step in the friendship that bound them together since kindergarten.
But now, they’ve started to memorize each other physically, so Mike knows the precise spot that makes Will toss his head into the pillows, a sound ripping from his throat loud enough that Will goes to cover his mouth on instinct. Mike immediately bats it away, and Will remembers they’re alone all over again, letting out an identical moan.
When Mike bottoms out, Will feels a part of him calm — the part of him that was always worrying, always ashamed of how much Will thought about this, Mike, sex, the bliss of getting fucked. Will winces at the word desperate, hesitates when called a slut, but when he’s full, and Mike’s hands and lips are all over him, Mike whispering fond and sultry, he can let go of the guilt and just be who he is — a boy that likes getting fucked.
Mike doesn’t bother with much build-up, their back and forth must have frustrated him more than he let on, and soon his hips are snapping, Will’s legs scrambling to wrap around Mike’s torso, trying to steady himself and pull Mike closer in the process. Mike keeps hitting the sweet spot, his thumb returning to Will’s clit. Will’s all pent up too, he starts to sob.
It’s never taken much to make Will cry in any setting and it remained true in the bedroom. Will had a hard time being embarrassed in the moment, brain swimming in pleasure and warmth and hardly even noticing the tears tracking down his face unless Mike tried to brush them away.
Will’s eyes shut as the first wave hits, squeezing out more tears and whimpers, legs tensing around Mike. He feels Mike’s lips on his neck, sighing encouragement into his skin. When Will liquifies again, he registers the near-painful grip of Mike’s hands on his hips, knowing Mike wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Mike,” Will gasps, wanting Mike to come. Mike looked so pretty when he came, brows tight together on his freckled face, plush lips falling open. Mike always looked pretty, but especially when he came in Will’s cunt.
“One more,” Mike replies, an almost grunt. Will understands what he means when he starts rubbing at Will’s clit again, and Will nods, can’t stop nodding as he moves against Mike’s thumb and cock.
Their mouths end up colliding when Will’s second orgasm hits, and Mike tenses shortly after, telling Will he wasn’t far behind. As they come down together, their tongues slide slow, as slow as the last few thrusts of Mike’s hips fucking his come deeper into Will.
Will’s brain goes fuzzy, but eventually he senses Mike moving around him, moving out of him, and he blinks to find Mike laying next to him, a pale arm tossed around Will’s shoulder. Their eyes lock, Mike offering Will a smile. “Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey,” Will replies, leaning into Mike’s arm. He’s about as sated as he ever gets, but still finds himself craving Mike’s touch.
“I love you,” Mike says. He says it every day, sometimes twice, sometimes more. Still, in moments like these, when Will feels exhausted, sweaty, and loved, it’s hard to hold back the tears prickling in his eyes.
Will buries his face into Mike’s chest to sob all over again. He shouldn’t be embarrassed — Mike’s seen him cry from just about everything, scraped knees to a cock in his throat, but it feels far too vulnerable to get so emotional over those three words. “Sorry.”
“Hey. Hey. Will.”
Will looks up, lets Mike swipe away the tears. “I love you too.”
Mike presses a kiss to Will’s cheek, then buries his face into the crook of Will’s neck, whispering, “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Will promises.
Mike rolls on top of Will again, warm weight blanketing him. They’ll need to shower before Will’s parents return, but they have plenty of hours before they’ll be back. “Give me a couple minutes,” Mike says. “We’ll go again.”
Will places his hands at Mike’s waist, grinning. “Slut.”