When it happens, it’s a surprise.
Not like Mike didn’t know the end was coming, really, and he was okay with that. Living with the migraines, the shakes, all of the damage--if you’d asked him when he was younger, he would’ve said that he’d rather get taken out, and he would’ve meant it. One clean break, not a lingering half-life.
But this life with Liam--it’s been good. Better than his younger self would’ve believed, even with all of the health bullshit. He’s glad he got these years; wouldn’t trade them for anything. But he’s old, and tired, and more than a little broken. He was never going to make it to eighty, not with everything that’s fucked up inside his head. And aside from leaving Liam--he’s never really going to make his peace with leaving Liam--it’s fine. He’s, as much as he’s ever going to be, ready.
Except nothing could have prepared him for this.
“What the actual fuck?” Liam stutters, staring at the ring of ash around the bed and the last dying flickers of flame.
“I think that should be my line,” Mike says absently, but Liam’s not wrong, because seriously, what the actual fuck. He’d been pretty sure that he wasn’t getting out of that bed again, but apparently he was wrong.
Liam moves closer, and yeah, he’s always been a handsy little fucker, but Mike doesn’t remember it feeling like this, even back in the beginning. Like every nerve ending on his skin is brand-new. Except maybe it is, because Mike can’t remember the last time he felt this good.
“Holy shit,” Liam mutters, his hands still roaming over every inch of Mike’s skin he can reach. “Am I dreaming? Am I hallucinating from grief?”
“If you are, we both are,” Mike says shortly, pushing up out of the bed and evading Liam’s groping hands long enough to head to the bathroom. There’s a full-length mirror in there for some goddamn reason and he’s never cared enough to take it down.
He can see his reflection from a ways off, that’s the first thing. And as he gets closer, the evidence is inescapable. Somehow, instead of quietly shuffling off, Mike is back in a young, strong body. Maybe eighteen, nineteen? Somewhere in there.
“Wow,” Liam says from behind him.
Sure enough, when Mike turns, Liam doesn’t even pretend not to have been checking out his ass. “Really?” Mike asks, with the raised eyebrow that didn’t phase Liam back when Mike was literally twice his age, so he’s not sure why he’s doing it now except out of habit.
“Well, the way I see it, either this is a hallucination, or something really weird just happened,” Liam says, making grabby hands at Mike as he walks closer. “So I figure we might as well make the most of it. Why aren’t you already fucking me?”
Mike’s dick is apparently now as young as the rest of him, because it is instantly on board with this plan, going hard so fast that he feels a little light-headed. And really, for once in his life, Liam is right, so Mike lets himself be pulled into a kiss, all of those brand-new nerve endings lighting up like fireworks under Liam’s roving hands.
“Jesus,” Liam mutters, nipping at his lower lip. “Just fucking look at you. Come on, come on, bed. The lube is by the bed.”
Somehow they make it to the bed without tripping over each other, Liam laughing a little as Mike pushes him down onto the mattress before getting into the drawer where they keep the lube. He props himself up on his elbows to watch, and Mike is a little worried he’ll fumble this, fuck it up.
But even if he looks eighteen again, he knows he’s kept his muscle memory when Liam’s head tips back, a low, throaty moan falling from his lips as Mike works a finger inside him. “Fuck,” he moans, his body rolling up to meet Mike. “That’s it, c’mon.”
“Mouthy little brat,” Mike mutters, but Liam just grins at him, takes it so pretty, just like he always did, right from the beginning, one finger, then two. He doesn’t really start cursing until Mike gets up to three, writhing around like he’s gonna die if he doesn’t get to come soon.
“C’mon, please,” he begs, and Mike always was weak for Liam, so he slicks himself up and starts pushing inside.
They haven’t been able to do this for awhile, not really. Mike tried, but there’s nothing like falling over during sex to leave you feeling humiliated. Not that having Liam sit on his dick was a hardship by any stretch of the imagination, but fuck, he’d missed this.
“Yeah,” Liam breathes, curling his hands around Mike’s arms. “Come on, fuck me like you mean it.”
“Oh, I mean it,” Mike growls, leaning down for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. “Don’t touch yourself. You come on my cock or you don’t come at all.”
Liam rolls his eyes, but the little moans and whimpers falling out of his mouth ruin the effect. “Then fuck me ,” he orders, digging his fingernails into Mike’s biceps and his heels into Mike’s ass.
Mike leans forward more, until he’s basically bending Liam in half--the little fucker always was flexible--and snaps his hips. Jesus, he’d forgotten what this was like, not just the incredible, almost-too-sharp sensations, the slick, tight heat of Liam around his cock. But more than that, moving without pain, every part of his body working together exactly the way it’s supposed to. The sheer physical joy of that is almost more intoxicating than the sex.
Liam fucking keens when Mike hits his prostate, his cock leaking onto his stomach. “Please,” he begs, his voice high and breathy. “Mike, fuck, please. Don’t stop.”
Mike doesn’t think he could stop at this point, so he doesn’t even try, just holds onto control with every ounce of his willpower, focuses on nailing Liam’s prostate as hard as he can.
Thankfully Liam is just as easy as he ever was, coming all over himself with a sharp cry within a few endless minutes. Mike fucks him through it until he’s a whimpering, writhing mess, his chest heaving like he’s just been bag-skated, then lets himself go. His rhythm turns erratic as he thrusts deep one more time, his whole body lighting up with the force of his orgasm.
Liam must pull him down, because once he can see again and experience physical sensations, Mike’s lying on top of him, their hearts pounding so hard he can’t tell which is which.
“I’m heavy,” he protests, starting to roll off, but Liam holds him in place.
“I like you heavy,” he murmurs, one hand rubbing up and down Mike’s back. “Stay. Just for a little while.”
Mike honestly doesn’t really want to move if he doesn’t have to, so he settles back down, lets his mind drift.
Whatever weird shit happened here can wait a little while longer.
A few minutes later
“Holy shit, are you hard again?”
Mike keeps his face buried in Liam’s shoulder. He is decidedly not the person who blushes in this relationship, and that doesn’t need to change at this late date. “Seems that way.”
Liam clenches around him, making his breath hiss out between his teeth.
“You’d better stop that unless you’re prepared to deal with the consequences,” Mike growls.
“Oh, I think I’m plenty prepared,” Liam says, nudging him up.
Mike goes, of course. Liam isn’t as young as he used to be, and his hand works just fucking fine--
That train of thought cuts off abruptly as Liam rolls to his knees, grabbing the headboard and looking back over his shoulder. “Well? What’re you waiting for, old man? An engraved invitation?”
Mike raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but going by the looks of it, I’m not the oldest one in this bed anymore.”
He regrets the words as soon as he sees the delighted look spread over Liam’s face. “So it’s my turn to be the dirty old man? Fuck, yeah!”
“I regret all my life choices,” Mike groans.
“No you don’t,” Liam says, grinning cheekily. “Now get over here and fuck me.”
Mike sighs, but he’s smiling when he obeys.