Chapter Text
Will, at a nice bar in a huge city. Bigger than he'd ever dreamed of during his life in small-town Hawkins, Indiana. A cold drink and an ashtray in front of him. A cute boy from his college on his shoulder. The perfect life, a life of acceptance and success, finding himself away from the town that carries his years of trauma and disappointment.
It was a nice story that Michael had built for him, really.
Unfortunately, that's not how Will's story goes.
Will kisses his mom's cheek, wiping a tear from her face. She holds him tight, not wanting to let him go. Hopper stands slightly distanced, allowing the two have their moment. Will swears he can see tears in his eyes.
Will was finally going to be let into the real world, a world of exams and essays in college, that is. At least he had his own dorm; by some dumb luck, they hadn't given him a roommate.
"If you ever need anything, you can just call us, baby." His mom pulls back, her hands holding onto his shoulders tightly. Her thumbs rub small, worrysome circles into the fabric of his shirt.
"It's not too far of a drive, and you know I can't say no to her," Hopper shoots him a smirk, his hand landing on top of his mom's on his shoulder. They smile at each other, Joyce pulling them both into a tight hug.
"I know, I know," Will says, a soft chuckle escaping his lips despite the tears rolling steadily down his cheeks. He melts into the warm embrace, wrapping his arms around both of his parents. His real parents.
"I wish Jane were here, with me," He sighs shakily. He can feel Hopper's grip on him tighten at the mention of Jane. She was still a sore subject for all of them. "She should be here."
While he knows Michael's story of her wasn't real, it still brings some comfort to him. Maybe if he really believed, she would come back someday. If he kept the walkie he'd brought with him, perhaps she'd be there on the other end. She'd contact him somehow, someway, and he'd have his sister back. If only—
"I'm sorry we have to go so soon, Will," His mom rubs circles into his back, rocking the three of them back and forth softly. "I want you to call me at least once a week, no less."
He just nods against her, frowning as she pulls back out of the embrace. She wipes a tear from his cheek; they are all crying now. Even Hopper, which he didn't expect. At least not so openly.
They all say their goodbyes, shed a few more tears, and give last hugs.
And now, here Will is. Alone in a dorm, his dorm, nonetheless. It's decorated nicely, with little remnants of home with him in this scary, new life of his. His art supplies were still in boxes on his tiny desk, and a few of his paintings hung on the walls.
He lets out a long sigh into the empty room. This is his life now, his brand-new, Michael-less life.
~
Will taps the end of his pencil against the wood of his desk, staring down at the page in front of him as if it owes him something. Usually, he was good at this kind of thing; it was a simple sketch. The examples his professor had given the class to use stared at him, propped up on the back of the desk.
He groans, leaning back in his chair and dragging a hand over his face.
Drawing in general had been a struggle since the semester started. He couldn't find it in himself to draw for fun anymore, assignments piling up endlessly as he went from class to class. Like his love for art had left him back in Hawkins.
A knock on his door rudely pulls him from his thoughts.
Weird. He wasn't expecting anyone. His parents didn't tell him they'd be visiting, Jonathan hadn't made plans with him, and he certainly hadn't made any friends yet.
The person on the other side knocks again, this time a bit more impatiently. He reluctantly gets up from his desk to check who it is.
He stands on the tips of his toes to look through the peephole at the top of the door.
What—or who—stands on the other side shocks him backwards, tripping over his bag laid carelessly on the floor.
"No…" Will whispers, coming to stand steady again, a few feet from the door.
He approaches again, cautiously. The person knocks again.
There, in the small view through the peephole, stands Michael Wheeler. In his nerdy, kind of ugly, depressed state. He looks almost nervous, fidgeting with his hands as he looks at the plain wooden door. He has on those stupid glasses, a blue sweater, skinny jeans, and beaten-up Converse. He looks like his father. Besides the skinny jeans, Will hasn't a clue who told him to wear those.
Will's stomach flips as he leans his forehead against the door. He accidentally knocks his forehead too hard into the door, no doubt making a sound loud enough for Michael to hear. Now he definitely knows Will is here, ignoring him.
"Will? Please, Will. I know you're in there," Michael practically whines on the other side of the door, knocking again. "I just— I wanna talk to you."
Will flips so that his back is to the door, holding his breath like that'll make the other man go away. He was the last person Will wanted to see right now. He thought, he'd stupidly thought, for a moment, that he could escape Michael. Escape his overbearing feelings for Michael. He'd tried so hard to make the feelings go away, to reduce his love for the man into a crush. He couldn't let it go, no matter what he tried.
He even, shamefully, in his first few weeks in his new life, had slept around a bit. Tried to find comfort in another man's arms, someone whom he didn't love. He figured out how to pick out the gay guys in bars and led them into his dorm. Sometimes they picked him out, dragging him to their place.
Finding love, real love, seemed impossible. Especially when he ruined every moment, moaning a different name than that of the man he was sleeping with. Always Michael, never another name. Always Mike.
"C'mon, Will. Please— I'm sorry, I really am," Michael begs, sounding utterly pathetic on the other side of the wood.
"Please, please go away," Will whispers to himself, trying to will Michael to give up and leave already. He can't even begin to think of how he'd made it here, or what he was doing in New York in the first place.
"I was wrong, Will. I don't want to be friends—" That catches Will's attention, leaning against the door to hear the words better. "Not friends, or— or best friends or whatever stupid shit I said that day. Just— just please, let me in. Let me ex—"
Will cuts off Michael's words, opening the door and tugging him in by the collar of his shirt. He shuts and locks the door behind them.
The other man looks down at him, a surprised expression on his face. He looks even worse than he did through the peephole. Here, Will can see the bags under his eyes, probably from sleepless nights writing. Maybe thinking of Jane, of that night. Or… Hell, Will feels like he knows nothing now, given Michael's confession.
Without allowing another word to come from Michael's mouth, Will presses their lips together. It's hard, practically smashing their faces together. Will kisses the other man angrily, nipping at his lips and licking into his slightly parted mouth.
"Will—" Michael tries to say, but it ends up muffled as Will swallows his words. Will practically growls at him, tightening his grip on his shirt as he pushes him away harshly, letting him almost fall backwards as he lets go.
He only comes closer to Michael again, pointing a finger at him.
"Why— why on earth are you here?" Will says in an accusatory tone, still catching his breath.
"I—" Michael opens his mouth to answer, only for Will to shut him down.
"No, actually, I don't care." Will moves closer, finger now jabbing into Michael's chest.
With that, he pulls Michael back in, pulling him in harshly by the waist.
"You waited—" Will says between kisses, eventually abandoning Michael's lips and moving to attack his neck. He shivers at the sounds the other makes. "Almost two whole years…" He presses open-mouthed kisses to Michael's neck, sucking hard at the skin. He wants to leave marks, tell everyone that see's him after this that he came crawling back to his 'best friend'. "To tell me this."
It's more of a statement than a question. Will has to confirm out loud that this is really happening. Michael's rough hands on his waist assure him that this is real life, and not just a bad dream. He moans into the dry air of Will's dorm, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.
"I— I'm sorry, Will—" Michael starts again, muffled slightly by his own hand.
"I said that I don't care." Will pulls back from Michael's neck to look at his work, dark bruises already beginning to form on the soft, milky white skin of his neck.
He looks up at Michael with lustful eyes, something he'd become quite accustomed to in his time in New York. Except, this time it was different. He wasn't with some random man he'd met in one of his classes or at the bar; this was Michael Wheeler. Who'd shown up to his door, begging for forgiveness.
An idea comes to Will's mind.
"Get on your knees."
"I— Will— what?" Michael asks, with an almost innocent look on his face. Will knows damn well Michael is anything but innocent. For a second, however, he debates backing down, kicking Michael out of his apartment, and jerking off angrily in his twin-sized bed.
"You said you were sorry, didn't you?" Will shakes off the feeling; if Michael didn't want this, he'd be out the door already. Not staring down at him like a lost puppy. "If you want to show me that, get on your knees." Will finds a kind of authoritative tone in his voice, something he'd never heard from himself in his youth.
Will can actually see the gears turning in Michael's head, like his brain was finally plugged in after almost nineteen years of being useless.
With an audible gulp, Michael slowly lowers himself to his knees. He even nods at Will, his hands coming to rest on Will's thighs.
As good as the intentional contact feels after all these years of subtle touch, Will can't let Michael have that.
"Hands off, in your lap." Michael reluctantly lowers his hands, setting them in his lap. They twitch slightly. "Thank you," Will says in a teasing voice, bringing one hand up to cup Michael's chin. He turns his head from side to side, examining his matured features. He loathes the way his heart flutters in his chest.
Michael leans into his touch, looking up at him with the biggest, softest eyes Will has seen in a while. Still the same look, even after all these years of fighting. Will moves his thumb to brush over Michael's bottom lip; his lips are still wet from their kiss. Michael parts his lips slightly, letting Will place his thumb on his tongue.
Will's breath hitches as Michael closes his mouth around his thumb, sucking on the digit with lewd noises. Will wishes vaguely that he hadn't worn tight pants today, his dick aches untouched in his briefs.
"Quite familiar with this, aren't you, Michael?" Will teases lightly, pressing his thumb down onto Mike's tongue, stopping his motions. Michael pants lightly at Will's feet. Will grins down at him.
Will's hand abandons Michael's mouth, instead coming to grip his hair at the roots. He roughly tugs Michael's head back to look at him. The man beneath him moans at the motion.
"Hm," Will hums, smiling down at Michael. "You like that?" Will brings his hand down to cup his face, brushing his wet thumb over his cheek, smearing Michael's spit on his skin.
"Will, please—" Michael is cut off by a slap to his cheek. Nothing hard enough to actually hurt him, but hard enough that a red mark appears on his skin, hard enough to shock him.
Will roughly grabs Michael's face, pressing his fingers hard into the red mark on his cheek. "I did not ask you to beg; I asked if you liked the pain."
Michael lets out a small whine at Will's words, "Yes… I— I did."
While a better, more controlled Will might reprimand Michael for whispering his answer, he can't find it in himself to care. Especially not when Michael looks at him like that.
Will groans dramatically, pulling his hand away from Michael. He ignores how the man below him whines at the loss. He fumbles with the button and zipper of his jeans, tugging them off with his briefs quickly and kicking the clothing somewhere behind him. Michael's hands twitch in his lap, and Will can see his breathing quicken ever so slightly.
The cold air on his bare skin makes Will shiver. He brings his hand back to Michael's hair, forcing his neck back to look at him instead of his dick. Michael strains to stay looking at Will, his fingers gripping his own thighs, knuckles white from the pressure.
"You ever done this before?" Will asks with feign innocence, keeping one hand in Michael's hair, the other moving up to stroke his dick where it stands tall against his stomach. He groans at the feeling. Michael doesn't dare to look at the cock in front of him.
Michael nods, as best as he can with Will's fingers tightly gripping his hair at the roots.
"Use your words." Will tightens his grip.
"Yes— I— I have."
"That's better," Will coos, stroking his fingers through Michael's hair. It's almost too gentle a gesture for this situation. "When?" He asks, watching as Michael gets more impatient by the second. Will himself is beginning to get a bit impatient, his hand not enough to satisfy this newfound need. The need to bury himself deep inside the eager mouth in front of him.
"Uhm— After you left, I—" Michael moans as Will slaps him again, this time a bit harder, testing the waters.
"I didn't ask you to explain, I asked you when." Will steps forward, letting his foot come just in front of Michael's clothed crotch. He's obviously hard, painfully so by the way his fingers dig into his jeans. He guides his dick to rest just an inch from Michael's mouth, precum dripping onto his cheek.
Will hums, "So, you've been sleeping around since I left?" Will nudges his foot forward slightly, grinning at the way Michael gasps when he brushes against his bulge. "Whore," Will whispers, just loud enough for Michael to hear.
"And none of them had quite what you were looking for, did they?" Will might be projecting at this point, maybe a bit hypocritical. He'd been sleeping around too, looking for someone to satisfy the deep need for something—someone—he could never have. Michael doesn't seem to connect the dots, too focused on figuring out where to look. Will's face right in front of him, or his dick slapped against his rosy cheek.
"N—No…" Michael whimpers, shifting slightly where he kneels. Perhaps because of the soreness no doubt forming in his legs, or the growing tightness of his jeans. Will doesn't particularly care either way at the moment.
Will grins, leaning down to get in Michael's face, "Good." He places a small kiss on Michael's lips, pulling away before he can kiss back. "Now," Will starts, leaning back and staring down at Michael. "You're going to suck me off, and get the hell out of my dorm, got it?"
Michael opens his mouth like he might argue, or ask a stupid question Will doesn't want to hear. He eventually settles on a simple, nervous, "Yes."
Will smiles down at the other man, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Something in his expression makes Michael gulp. Will grabs his dick in one hand, the other resting on top of Michael's head, not pulling, just resting on his hair. He guides his cock to rest on Michael's lips, still swollen from their kiss. His lips part slightly, his tongue flicking out involuntarily to lick at the head of Will's dick.
Michael stops himself, looking back up at Will. "Can I—"
"Fuck, yes—" Will cuts the other off, nudging his hips forward slightly. "Yes, Michael." He half-groans the last word as Michael licks him again, this time all the way from the base of his cock to the tip, licking up the bead of precum there.
Will's fingers tighten in Michael's hair, mostly to ground himself as Michael takes the head of his cock into his mouth. His mouth is hot and moist around his cock, the feeling drawing groans and soft whines out of Will.
Michael lowers his mouth on Will's dick, taking him in inch by inch. To Will's surprise, he only gags a few times before his nose is grazing the patch of hair above Will's cock. He hollows his cheeks around Will, Will groans and tugs on Michael's hair, holding him down on his cock for a moment. Michael moans around Will's cock, sending vibrations all the way up his spine. His eyes glazed over with lust, staring up at Will.
"Why— ngh— why are you good at this?" Will loosens his grip on Michael's hair, letting him move again. Michael only hums in response, taking a deep breath before beginning to move, dragging Will's dick to the tip of his tongue and taking him all the way back in. He sets a steady pace, making filthy noises as he sucks Will off in the middle of his tiny dorm.
Will manages to control himself, refraining from gripping hard on Michael's hair and fucking his face. Too soon for that. Right now, he lets himself enjoy the soft warmth of Michael's mouth, the low groans that vibrate around his cock, and the small gags Michael makes when Will's dick hits particularly deep in his throat.
"Fuck— Mike—" Will moans, his grip in the other man's hair tightening as his hips involuntarily jerk forward. He sees Michael's eyes light up before he can register his slip of the tongue.
Will groans, throwing his head back to ignore the beaming, pathetic man beneath him. "In your mouth or on your face?" Will asks, looking back down at Michael. He can feel the knot in his stomach threatening to break, his hips sputtering and struggling to stay still and not choke Michael on his cock. Even if he'd like to do that.
He looks back down to see the biggest puppy-dog, begging eyes he's ever seen, accompanied by Michael holding up a two, or a peace sign, if the context were different.
"On your face?" Will confirms, Michael nods as best he can with Will's cock buried in his mouth. "Slut," Will says, low in his throat. Michael shifts beneath him, fighting his own instincts to keep his hands off himself.
Michael only has to bottom out on Will a few more times before Will is tugging him off.
"Fuck— oh—" Will pulls Mike's hair, hard. Mike lets himself be yanked back off Will's cock, his lips making a pop sound as he disconnects. A line of spit keeps his mouth connected to Will's dick. And— oh, Michael keeps his mouth wide open, sticking his tongue out slightly as Will hurriedly jerks himself off just inches from his face.
"Mike—" With that one word, the name he'd said so many times, Will's orgasm rips through him. He throws his head back with a moan. Ribbons of white, sticky cum cover Michael's face. His head spins as he shuts his eyes tight, twitching through his orgasm. His fingers remain tangled in Michael's hair, now even more messy and unkept.
When his head stops spinning, he looks down at Michael. A younger, more innocent Will would have had to look away at the sight beneath him.
Michael Wheeler, in front of him, on his knees. Lips still red and swollen from sucking his dick. Mouth still slightly parted, cum on his face where it hadn't landed in his mouth. He must've swallowed what did land in his mouth. It's on his cheeks, his lips, even his glasses. Those stupid glasses.
Will is highly ashamed of what he decides to do next.
Instead of throwing Michael out of his apartment, he tugs him up on his feet by the collar of his shirt. In his post-nut clarity, or stupidity, he can't resist kissing Michael hard and needily. He tastes himself on the other's lips, salty and tangy. Under all of that is something undeniably Michael, the Michael he's known almost his whole life.
Will finds himself walking forward, shoving Michael down into his tiny bed. The confused look on Michael's face is priceless as Will climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. He purposefully grinds his ass down on Michael's clothed dick, revelling in the way he groans and grabs at Will's hips.
"Please—" Michael says between open-mouthed kisses, Will licking into his mouth and nipping at his lips. "Please, Will, please—" His hips jerk upwards, seeking the friction of Will's ass against him.
He seems close already, untouched and still throbbing in his pants.
"Please, what?" Will asks, moving to suck on the skin of Michael's neck. He grinds his hips down against Michael again and again, drawing long moans and whines out of the man.
Michael throws his head back into Will's pillows, allowing the other more access to the soft skin of his neck. There are even tears in his eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks. "I— I want to cum— Please, please, Will— let me cum— please—" Michael lets a string of pleas leave his lips, mumbling incoherently into the air.
He's begging to come. Now this, this is fun.
Will slows the movement of his hips, now just sitting on Mike's clothed dick. He even pulls back from his neck, leaving his spit there to cool and dry.
Michael looks up at him desperately, trying to rock his hips up against Will.
"How badly do you want it, Michael?" Will presses a hand down on Michael's hips to stop him from gaining any friction. He squirms beneath him. "Tell me how bad you need me." Will leans in to whisper in Michael's ear, enjoying the whiny breath he lets out.
"Will— I need you so bad— please, please, please… I want to cum— please let me cum, Will—" Michael lets out a loud moan as Will grinds his hips down hard and deep against him, pressing his ass firmly against his crotch.
"Cum, baby. Cum for me," Will mutters, pressing a soft kiss to Michael's jaw, too soft.
Michael groans, throwing his head back into the pillows, and grinding his hips up against Will's ass. He whines and moans 'thank you' and 'yes' through his orgasm, his arms coming to wrap loosely around Will's neck.
Will let him, partially in shock that his childhood best friend, failed crush, just came in his pants, in his bed, in his dorm. He can feel the wet spot on his jeans where his ass is pressed against Michael. That, and Michael's pathetic whining in his ear, makes him come back to his senses.
He sits back, rolling his eyes at the whine Michael lets out. He hovers over Michael's hips, an uncomfortable wetness on his bare skin. With a sigh, he gets off Michael, sitting on the bed beside him.
"Michael," Will says, staring down at the man in his bed. "Michael."
Michael only groans, eyes still shut, probably still enjoying himself.
"Michael, get the hell out of my dorm."
Michael has the nerve to roll over and groan at him.
Will breathes in deeply, "Get the hell out of my dorm." He nudges Michael, shoving him gently with his hand.
Michael still doesn't move.
"Oh— for god's sake," Will groans, using both arms to shove Michael off his bed. The other man clatters to the floor, very ungracefully. When he looks back up at Will on the floor, he looks like a kicked puppy.
"Get the fuck out of my dorm, Michael."
That gets him moving. Will glares at Michael as he scrambles to his feet, staring at Will for a moment before heading for the door.
Will sighs as he reaches the door, only for his momentary peace to be broken.
"Can— Can I see you again?" Michael asks, standing with the door half-open, glasses still smeared with cum. If his jeans weren't black, Will is sure there would be a dark patch on those.
"Michael, get the hell out of my sight," Will stares daggers at Michael, who doesn't seem to get the hint. He smiles like an idiot as he says goodbye, closing the door behind him.
Will flops down into his bed, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he waits for Michael's footsteps to disappear. He sighs when they do, looking at the room around him.
His pants and briefs were on the floor, his art class assignment abandoned on his desk, and—
"You've got to be kidding me."
His dick was already half-hard from rubbing his ass against the denim of Michael Wheeler's jeans.
"Come on…" Will mumbles, dragging a hand over his face with a long sigh. He rolls over in bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in the same pillows Michael had thrown his head back into. They kind of smell like him, too, his cologne and shampoo.
Will groans dramatically as he wraps a hand around his dick.