Archive of Our Own

Thursday, 23:42 p.m.

Mike’s hand was braced tight around his hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh as his cock slammed into him from behind, hard and fast. Will’s mouth was open, gasping against the pillow, hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. The bed rocked beneath them, headboard lightly tapping the wall in rhythm, and the only sounds in the room were breathless groans, wet skin, and the low gritted growls of Mike’s voice.

“God—Will—fuck, just like that.”

Will’s eyes rolled back.

He couldn’t think when Mike fucked him like this. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Mike had him pinned down, chest flush to Will’s back, his thighs tight between Mike’s own as he was used like he was something meant to be filled. And he loved it. Loved the way Mike lost control, the way his voice broke when Will clenched around him, the way he always chased it too hard, too fast, too deep, like he could never get enough.

They’d already done it in the shower earlier. Quick and messy. Mike had pushed him against the tile wall before dinner was even out of the oven.

This? This was just the second round. The real round.

Will gasped as Mike grunted against his neck, hips snapping harder, rougher. There’d be bruises tomorrow. There always were.

“Gonna come—fuck, baby, you feel so good—” Mike’s voice was hoarse. Shaky.

Will sobbed out a “yes,” the word broken and high.

Then Mike was coming with a low groan, hips stuttering, arms wrapped around Will’s stomach as he buried himself as deep as he could go.

Will came seconds later untouched, his body twitching, thighs trembling, the sheets sticky under his belly.

⸻

They collapsed after, tangled and sweaty and completely out of breath.

Mike didn’t even pull out. Just flopped to the side, arms still wrapped around Will’s waist, his softening cock still nestled inside him. It was gross. And hot. And totally normal for them.

Will let his eyes flutter shut, his skin still buzzing.

They were animals. That’s what El had once called them — jokingly, sure, but not inaccurately.

Because this? This was… just a Thursday.

They’d been together for five years now. Since they were seventeen. Since Mike drove across three state lines the week of graduation and stood on the front porch with a backpack and a kiss. Since Will kissed him back and never looked back.

They weren’t legally married — couldn’t be — but they wore rings anyway. Silver bands on their left hands, matching initials carved inside. Will had bought them from a little antique store with a creaky floor, Mike had cried when he opened the box, and they’d made their vows in bed with shaky voices and nothing but a string of fairy lights overhead.

Five years of everything.

Five years of falling asleep with Mike’s arm over his waist.

Five years of Will cooking and Mike burning toast.

Five years of stupid fights over dishes and toothpaste caps and laundry that never got folded.

Five years of laughter in the dark, secret jokes and whispered confessions and dreams they hadn’t dared to say out loud before they had each other.

And, well — five years of sex. A lot of sex.

Too much sex, maybe.

Will turned onto his back, hissing a little at the movement, and stared up at the ceiling. Mike was still plastered to his side, arm heavy across his chest, face hidden in the crook of Will’s neck.

They had sex almost every day. Every day. Sometimes more than once. It wasn’t on purpose — it just happened. Because Mike would walk out of the shower with his hair damp and his towel low, and Will would stare too long. Because Will would wear one of Mike’s old shirts to bed and Mike would get handsy halfway through a movie. Because Mike liked touching. Liked teasing. Liked pinning him down and fucking the breath out of him until Will couldn’t walk the next morning and Mike had to drive him to work with a smug little smile the whole way there.

It wasn’t just about sex. But sex had always been easy for them. Intense, sure. Wild, sometimes. But easy.

Will never had to ask if he was wanted.

Mike always showed him.

That had to mean something.

Will traced a slow circle against Mike’s bare back with one finger, his heart warm and soft, his body aching in all the best ways.

He didn’t know if it was normal. Didn’t really care.

They were happy. Messy and obsessive and a little insane maybe, but happy.

And anyway — it was Thursday.

They still had Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and the rest of their lives to keep doing this.

Saturday, 18:09 p.m.

Will pulled on his jacket, checking his pocket for his wallet and phone, then paused in front of the mirror to fix his hair for the third time. He didn’t know why he was nervous. It wasn’t a date — it was Max’s house. Girls’ night. No pressure. Just snacks, wine, gossip. Still, something about it made his stomach flutter.

“Are you sure you’re not cheating on me?” Mike called from the couch behind him.

Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, Michael. You’re okay for one evening alone.”

Mike pouted dramatically, flopping sideways so his legs draped over the armrest. “You never go out without me.”

“That’s not true.”

“You literally canceled your mom’s birthday dinner to stay home and cuddle me.”

“You had the flu!”

Mike grinned. “And you spoon-fed me soup and watched three seasons of Buffy without complaining once. I’m just saying. You’re obsessed with me.”

Will crossed the room and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Mike’s forehead. “I am obsessed with you. But I’m still going.”

Mike wrapped his arms around Will’s waist like a toddler refusing to be dropped off at daycare. “Stay.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Nooo.”

Mike groaned, letting go reluctantly. “Fine. Go. Be social. I think it’s good for you to hang out with people who aren’t me and my dick.”

Will snorted. “That’s generous of you.”

Mike stretched, yawning. “Besides, I have to work a little tonight. Finish that presentation for Monday or Paul’s gonna throw a tantrum again. So don’t come home early to babysit me. Go have fun, drink wine, say mean things about politicians.”

Will kissed him again, softer this time. “You sure?”

“Positive. But if you want to send me a nude later, I wouldn’t say no.”

Will rolled his eyes, cheeks burning. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it.”

He really did.

⸻

Later – Max’s House, 21:42 p.m.

The wine was cheap but decent, the pizza half-eaten on the coffee table, and the living room full of fuzzy yellow fairy lights and soft music playing from a speaker on the floor. Max had changed into sweatpants as soon as they got there, and El wore mismatched socks and a hoodie that might’ve once belonged to Will. It felt easy. Safe.

They’d already covered El’s latest art project, Max’s new gym crush, and Will’s slow-burn obsession with the new indie bookstore downtown when the conversation began to drift — as it usually did — into riskier territory.

Max tipped her wine glass toward Will lazily, eyes a little glassy. “Okay, now it’s time for the real questions.”

Will blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Max said, grinning, “we’ve all shared our life updates, but now it’s time for the juicy shit.”

El nodded solemnly. “Sex.”

Will choked on his wine.

Max laughed. “Don’t act surprised! You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I thought this was about girl power and feminist rage—”

“Feminist rage includes orgasm counts, thank you very much.”

Will buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

El giggled beside him. “Come on, Will. It’s just us. We love you.”

“You’re practically one of the girls anyway,” Max added.

Will peeked through his fingers. “Is that… supposed to be flattering?”

“Absolutely.”

They both looked at him expectantly.

Will groaned, sinking further into the couch. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Max raised an eyebrow. “How’s your sex life with Mike?”

Will blinked. “Uh…”

“Is it still good?” El asked, leaning in curiously. “You’ve been together so long.”

“Yeah,” Will said slowly. “It’s… really good.”

“Define good,” Max said, sipping her wine. “Like, twice a week? Spontaneous blowjobs in the kitchen? Scheduled Thursday night sessions?”

Will looked at them, then laughed. “Twice a week? Try every day.”

There was a beat of silence.

El’s eyes widened. Max’s jaw dropped.

“Every day?” Max repeated.

“Sometimes more,” Will added with a shrug.

El gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Max said. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I mean—it’s just how we are,” Will said, laughing nervously. “It’s not like we plan it. It just… happens.”

“Every day?” El said again, stunned.

Will nodded.

“Do you ever get sore?” Max asked bluntly.

Will blushed. “Yes.”

El whispered, “That’s so hot.”

Max shook her head like she was trying to reset her brain. “Okay, okay. Don’t get me wrong — that’s insanely hot — but also? That’s insane. Like. You’re gonna burn out.”

Will blinked. “What do you mean?”

Max leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “I’m just saying — that much sex? That often? You’re gonna get sick of each other eventually. It happened with me and Lucas. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other for like a year, and then suddenly we were fighting over everything and couldn’t stand to be in the same room.”

El nodded. “It did get pretty bad.”

“Exactly,” Max said. “We mistook lust for glue. When it dried out, there was nothing holding us together.”

Will frowned, stomach turning. “We’re not like that.”

“I’m not saying you are,” Max said quickly. “I’m just saying… it wouldn’t hurt to, like, take a little break now and then. Breathe. Miss each other a little. Sex is great, but if it’s all you have—”

“That’s not all we have.”

“I know. I know. I’m just trying to say… it’s okay to slow down. You don’t want to burn out something that’s actually good. That’s all.”

Will didn’t answer right away.

He sipped his wine slowly, the warmth in his chest fading into something a little colder. A little heavier.

Max smiled softly. “I’m not judging you, Will. Promise. I’m just saying — take it from someone who thought sex meant forever. It doesn’t.”

Will nodded absently.

The conversation moved on. They played music, talked about TV, painted each other’s nails. But the words stayed with him, echoing in his head as the night got quieter.

You’re gonna burn out.

You’re gonna get sick of each other.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But suddenly, he wasn’t so sure.

Monday, 17:24 p.m.

Will stared at the cutting board like it had personally wronged him.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked from behind.

Will didn’t look up. “Chopping garlic.”

“That’s an onion.”

Will blinked. Looked again. Oh.

“Oh.”

Mike laughed softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Will muttered, pushing the onion aside and grabbing the actual garlic cloves. “Just tired.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night?.”

Will didn’t answer. He’d been lying awake for hours, staring at the ceiling while Mike slept peacefully with an arm over his waist. Every time Will blinked, he’d hear Max’s voice again. You’re gonna burn out. Lust isn’t glue.

He hated how it stuck in his head.

He hated how he’d started noticing things.

Like how they fought over tiny, stupid things. Like how Mike got irritated when Will left wet towels on the bed, or how Will snapped when Mike forgot to rinse his dishes before loading the dishwasher. Like how they hadn’t gone on a date in months. Like how they had sex every night — and sometimes barely spoke the next morning.

He hated it. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He felt Mike’s arms wrap around him from behind, his mouth brushing Will’s ear. “You sure you’re okay, baby?”

Will nodded automatically. Then Mike’s hand drifted lower — over his stomach, under his hoodie — and Will tensed.

Mike paused. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Mike’s hands pulled away. “You flinched.”

Will kept chopping. “No, I didn’t.”

Mike was silent for a second. Then, quieter, “Did I do something?”

“No.”

“Will.”

Will dropped the knife and turned around. “God, Mike, not everything’s about you.”

Mike blinked, stunned. “Okay. What the fuck was that?”

Will exhaled hard, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just— I don’t know.”

“You’ve been weird ever since girls’ night.”

“I’m fine.”

Mike crossed his arms. “Then why are you acting like I’m the problem?”

Will stared at him. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The tension crackled in the air like static. Will hated how fast it got like this lately. One second fine, the next tense, both of them too stubborn to back down. It wasn’t bad, not really — but it was… different.

And he kept hearing it. You’re gonna burn out.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

That night, they got ready for bed in silence. Will brushed his teeth first. Mike stayed in the kitchen cleaning up. When Mike finally joined him, Will was sitting on the bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric.

Mike dropped beside him with a sigh. “Okay. What’s going on?”

Will looked down.

He couldn’t lie. Not to Mike. Not now.

“I think we should stop having sex.”

Mike blinked.

Then laughed. “Wait—what?”

Will’s chest ached. “I’m serious.”

Mike turned toward him. “Why?”

“I just— I’ve been thinking. About us. About… how we’ve been lately. And I don’t know. I keep wondering if maybe it’s too much.”

Mike stared at him. “Are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me anymore?”

“No! That’s not— Mike—” Will bit his lip, voice cracking. “I always want you. That’s the problem. I just… I’m scared we’re gonna get sick of each other. That we’re using it as a fix when something else might be wrong.”

Mike frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Will hesitated.

Mike’s voice was quieter now. “Will?”

Will’s eyes filled with tears before he could stop them. “I don’t want us to fall apart.”

Mike’s entire expression changed. “Hey. No. We’re not— We’re not falling apart.”

“We argue about stupid shit now, Mike. Like onions.”

“That wasn’t even a real fight—”

“But it happens all the time lately!”

Mike looked stunned. Hurt.

Will wiped at his face quickly. “I just want to try. One week. No sex. Just to see how we feel. See if we can still… connect.”

Mike sat back against the headboard like he’d been slapped. “You think we need tests now? Like we’re proving something?”

“No. I think we need to slow down.”

Mike shook his head. “I can’t— Will, this is insane. We’re happy. Why are you trying to fix something that isn’t broken?”

“Because I don’t want to wait until it is.”

Mike looked away. His jaw was tight. “So you want to go cold turkey. Starting now.”

Will nodded. “One week.”

Mike was silent for a long moment. His hands clenched in his lap. Then he looked back at Will — really looked at him — and saw the tears still clinging to his lashes, the ache in his expression, the fear in his voice.

He exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Mike nodded. “If it’s scaring you that much, then yeah. I’ll try.”

Will let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist. Mike hugged him back tightly, burying his face in Will’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while. Quiet. Shaky. Close.

Then Mike pulled back and muttered, “But I already have a boner and it’s only Monday.”

Will laughed through a sniffle. “Idiot.”

Mike smiled faintly. “Just saying. This is gonna suck.”

Tuesday

The first day actually went… okay.

They both came home from work around six, a little drained from the day, and ate leftover stir fry at the kitchen table like nothing had changed. Mike kept reaching over to touch Will’s wrist between bites, thumb stroking soft circles against his skin. Will didn’t say anything, just smiled and let himself lean into the warmth of it.

That night, they brushed their teeth in silence — no naked interruptions, no pressed-up-against-the-wall makeouts. They got into bed like normal, legs tangled under the blanket. At one point, Mike rolled over and kissed Will’s cheek.

Will kissed his nose back.

And then they pulled apart.

Not because they wanted to.

But because they’d promised.

⸻

Wednesday

Will regretted everything.

He had the day off, which meant he spent the entire afternoon rearranging bookshelves, watching trash TV, and — unfortunately — missing Mike. By the time Mike walked in around seven, tie loose, hair messy, smelling like the outside world and exhaustion, Will’s whole body lit up.

He was sitting on the couch in one of Mike’s hoodies — nothing underneath — legs tucked beneath him and a book open in his lap. He looked soft. Warm. Available.

Mike stood in the doorway and stared.

Then, before Will could even speak, Mike crossed the room and kissed him. Hard. Messy. Desperate.

Will gasped into it, dropping the book to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike’s hands found his thighs. One of them moaned — maybe both of them.

And then Will pulled back with a gasp. “Wait—”

Mike shook his head, leaning in again. “No—fuck it, just this—please—”

But Will shoved gently at his chest. “Mike.”

They froze.

Their foreheads were touching, breath heavy, hands twitching with the need to move.

“I want you so bad,” Mike whispered.

Will’s voice cracked. “Me too.”

But they let go.

Mike went straight to the bathroom.

When he came out ten minutes later, face flushed and hair messy, Will was still on the couch, arms crossed, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

“You jerked off.”

Mike shrugged. “I had to. I was gonna combust.”

Will pouted harder. “That’s cheating.”

“It’s literally not.”

“I’m still mad.”

Mike leaned down, kissed his temple. “You can be mad. I still love you.”

Will sighed. “I love you too.”

⸻

Thursday

It was a disaster.

Dinner started normal enough. Pasta. Garlic bread. Mike stealing a bite off Will’s plate even though they were identical portions. They were laughing again. They were okay.

Until their feet touched under the table.

It started as a brush of socks.

Then a nudge.

Then Mike’s bare foot was sliding up Will’s calf, slow and deliberate, and Will’s breath hitched. He didn’t move away.

He just stared at Mike across the table, fork still in his mouth, lips slightly parted.

Mike stared back.

Neither of them blinked.

And then — because they were idiots — they decided to take a shower together.

“Just a quick one,” Mike said, already stripping his shirt off.

Will tried not to stare.

He failed.

In the shower, steam fogged the glass. Mike stood behind Will, hands on the wall, forehead pressed to the tile, breathing heavily as Will lathered shampoo into his own hair like nothing was wrong.

Except everything was wrong.

Will knew it the second he bent over, rinsing his hair, spreading his legs just a little wider than necessary.

He felt Mike’s breath hitch behind him.

And then, like a goddamn demon, Will reached behind himself and pressed two fingers between his cheeks, rubbing slow circles around his own hole under the water.

Mike made a choked noise. “Will—what the fuck—”

Will looked over his shoulder, all fake-innocent. “What?”

“You’re—Jesus Christ.”

Mike turned to the wall and started jerking off right then and there, like a man possessed.

Will bit his lip, watching, then rinsed off calmly and stepped out of the shower without another word.

When Mike came out five minutes later, ruined and flushed and glaring, Will just smiled sweetly and said, “Sleep tight.”

Mike didn’t.

⸻

Friday

The day they usually lost their minds.

Friday was always their night. The end of the work week. A reward. A ritual. They’d spend hours wrapped around each other — on the couch, in the shower, in bed, on the floor. Half the time, Mike couldn’t even finish one round without starting the next.

But this Friday? Will was alone.

Mike had texted earlier:

“Lucas invited me for drinks. I need the distraction. Don’t wait up.”

Will stared at the message for a long time.

He felt weird. Hollow.

Max invited him over around eight. Will accepted because the silence in the apartment was unbearable.

They watched a movie. Ate nachos. Max complained about her gym crush not noticing her again. Will laughed at all the right times, but his body felt electric with frustration. Horny and sad was a terrible combination.

He left just after midnight.

When he got home and saw the empty apartment, the quiet bedroom, the unmade bed — it hit him harder than he expected.

He pulled out his phone and texted:

“Are you coming home tonight?”

Mike replied a few minutes later:

“Probably not. Staying here. Think it’s safer.”

Will stared at the words, heart dropping into his stomach.

Safer.

It felt like a punishment.

So he got up. Went to the bathroom. Turned on the light.

And took a picture.

Then another.

Then one more — with his back arched and his fingers between his legs.

He sent them all in a row.

Then:

“Safe enough for you?”

A minute passed.

Then his phone rang.

He answered on the second ring. “Hi.”

Mike’s voice was breathless. Wrecked. “What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

Will bit his lip. “You said you weren’t coming home.”

“You’re evil.”

Will smiled. “You love it.”

There was a pause. Then Mike whispered, “Touch yourself.”

Will shivered. “But that’s cheating.”

Mike groaned. “Phone sex doesn’t count. Just— please—”

Will laid back on the bed, breathing hard, one hand already sliding down his stomach. “You’re in Lucas’s bathroom, aren’t you?”

“I locked the door.”

Will whimpered. “Tell me what you’d do if you were here.”

Mike did.

And by the time they came, almost in sync, panting into the line like sinners in a confession booth, Will was shaking.

Mike whispered, “I miss you.”

Will closed his eyes. “Then come home.”

Saturday, 12:37 p.m.

Will heard the front door close, a little harder than necessary.

His heart thudded in his chest.

Mike was home.

He stayed frozen at the kitchen counter, fingers resting on the edge of a chipped mug, half a cup of cold tea forgotten beside him. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. And it wasn’t that good kind of quiet, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. No — this was sharp. Tense. Like the air had thickened, like their horniness had rotted into irritation. Storm clouds over their heads.

Mike appeared in the hallway, still wearing last night’s clothes, hair flattened weirdly on one side. His eyes were shadowed, and he smelled like beer and a borrowed hoodie.

Will tried a smile. “Hey.”

Mike nodded. “Hey.”

They met in the kitchen like strangers.

Will hesitated, then said gently, “It’s only two days left.”

Mike’s jaw clenched.

“That’s not exactly helping,” he muttered.

Will frowned. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Mike’s voice wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t soft either. He rubbed at his face, looked away. “I just— I don’t know. This whole thing is starting to feel less like a break and more like… damage.”

Will’s throat tightened. “Damage?”

“I can barely fucking look at you at this point.”

The words hit like a slap.

Mike didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and left the kitchen, disappearing down the hallway. A second later, the bedroom door shut behind him — not slammed, not loud, but definitely louder than it needed to be.

Will stood there.

Motionless.

The silence rang in his ears.

He stared down at the floor. Then the mug. Then his hands, shaking just a little.

It felt like something had cracked inside him.

And before he knew it, he was wiping his eyes on his sleeve and walking down the hall, one socked foot in front of the other like gravity was pulling him. The door was half-shut. Light from the hallway spilled into the room, landing across the carpet like a path.

Mike sat at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, tugging his socks off without looking up. His whole body sagged with exhaustion.

Will hovered in the doorway. “Are you… mad at me?”

Mike didn’t answer for a beat. Then he said quietly, “No. Just tired.”

Will chewed his lip. Then, wordlessly, padded over and dropped into his lap.

Mike flinched slightly, arms flying up to steady him. “Will—hey—you shouldn’t—”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Will whispered, voice wet and thin. “I know it was my idea, but I don’t want it anymore.”

Mike looked up at him.

His eyes were red.

Something in Will cracked. “You can barely look at me, Mike.”

“I didn’t mean that—”

“I know. But you said it. And it hurts. And I hate this. I hate every second of this. I miss you. I miss us.”

Mike didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then, slowly, his arms wrapped around Will’s waist, pulling him closer, tucking his head against Will’s chest like it was the only safe place in the world.

“I miss you too,” he said, muffled. “So fucking much.”

Will kissed the top of his head.

Mike tilted his face up. Their eyes met.

And they kissed.

Soft. Long. Familiar. Like breathing for the first time in days. Mike’s lips trembled a little. Will held his face in both hands like it was something precious.

They pulled back just enough to breathe.

Mike whispered, “I want to fuck the life out of you right now.”

Will let out a shaky laugh. “Then do it.”

Mike shook his head, forehead dropping against Will’s collarbone. “I’m so tired, baby. Like, my dick isn’t even cooperating. It’s off the clock.”

Will giggled through a sniffle. “You poor thing.”

“Honestly?” Mike yawned. “A nap sounds better than sex right now.”

Will smiled and buried his face in Mike’s hair. “Then nap with me.”

Mike leaned back slowly, tugging Will with him, both of them collapsing sideways into the bed, arms and legs tangled. The comforter shifted over them, the sunlight spilling across the sheets. Will rested his cheek on Mike’s chest, fingers tracing lazy shapes along his stomach.

Mike mumbled, “If I get hard in my sleep, it doesn’t count.”

Will closed his eyes. “I’ll let it slide.”

Mike kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

Will held him tighter. “I love you more.”

And for the first time all week, they fell asleep holding each other.

Sunday – 10:52 a.m.

Will stirred first.

The apartment was quiet, drenched in pale golden light that crept across the sheets and dusted their room in calm.

Mike was still wrapped around him — heavy and warm, legs tangled between Will’s, hand curled gently over his stomach like he couldn’t let go even in sleep. His nose pressed under Will’s jaw, curls damp and wild from sleep, lips parted with the softest breath.

He smelled like sleep and skin and Mike.

Will blinked slowly, his chest rising with something that ached.

They’d made it six days. Six days of restraint. Six days of almosts. Of jerking off alone and touching too much and kissing too little. Of silence louder than moaning. Of staring until they both had to look away.

It had been hell.

But this morning? It was just quiet. Honest. Something between them had cracked open the night before — not just desire, but something deeper. Something that made Will want to cry and laugh and never move again.

He shifted just slightly, hips rolling back—

And froze.

Mike was hard.

Pressed firm and hot against Will’s ass.

Will smirked.

11:07 a.m.

“You sure?” Mike rasped, already breathless as Will climbed into his lap, straddling him with slow, aching intention. His hands settled on Mike’s chest, thumbs grazing his collarbones.

Will nodded, voice soft but steady. “I missed you.”

Mike looked up at him like he couldn’t believe this was real. Like Will was a hallucination. His hands settled at Will’s waist, eyes wide and glassy. “I missed you so much it fucking hurt.”

Will leaned in and kissed him.

“Then show me.”
Mike was flat on his back, head tilted back against the pillow, his hands bruising Will’s hips with how hard he held on.

Will was bouncing on top of him — slow at first, teasing, then faster, greedy for every drag and stretch, every gasp Mike let out beneath him.

“Fuck—baby,” Mike groaned, eyes screwed shut. “You feel—so good,”

Will tossed his head back, sweat glistening on his throat, his body moving like muscle memory. Like it had missed this, too.

“Mike,” he gasped, rolling his hips deeper, chasing it. “Don’t stop. Please—please don’t stop—”

Mike sat up just enough to kiss him, sloppy and deep, their mouths crashing like they couldn’t get close enough.

He came first, gasping Will’s name, buried so deep that Will could feel it pulse inside him.

Will came moments later, untouched, his thighs trembling as he spilled across Mike’s stomach, voice cracking into a broken cry.

12:47 p.m.

They hadn’t even cleaned up.

Mike just flipped Will over, crawled between his legs, and kissed him so softly it made Will’s throat burn.

“Wanna see you,” he whispered, sliding inside again with a deep, slow thrust. “Wanna see your face when you come.”

Will wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders, legs around his waist, breath catching as Mike began to move.

It was slower this time. Sweeter. Like they were rediscovering each other cell by cell. Every thrust was deep and steady, their bodies rocking together like ocean waves.

“I love you,” Mike whispered, forehead pressed to Will’s.

Will was already crying a little. “I love you too.”

Soon after, Mike had Will on his back, legs pulled high toward his chest, body completely open and trusting beneath him.

Will whimpered as Mike eased inside again, slow and controlled, his hands braced on either side of Will’s body.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Mike murmured, lips ghosting over Will’s ankle, then his thigh. “You drive me insane.”

Will couldn’t stop shaking. Every inch of him felt raw and cherished and owned.

“I’m close,” he whispered.

Mike kissed his knee. “Let go.”

Will did.

It ripped through him like lightning — his body stretched wide, trembling under Mike’s slow rhythm, vision blurring from how full he felt. He came hard, stomach clenching, hands fisting the sheets as he sobbed out Mike’s name.

Mike kissed the tears from his cheeks as he came, cradling Will’s face like it might break.

19:52 p.m.

By midafternoon, everything turned feral.

Mike bent Will over the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his hip tight enough to bruise, the other pressing between his shoulder blades, holding him down.

Will was a moaning mess, already overstimulated, the slide of Mike’s cock rough and merciless inside him.

“Mike—please—fuck—” he sobbed, clutching the blankets.

“You can take it,” Mike growled low behind him, voice raw. “Look at you, baby. You’re perfect.”

Will’s knees buckled.

Mike leaned over him, lips brushing his ear. “Gonna make you come just like this. No hands.”

And he did.

Will fell apart — thighs shaking, whole body clenching, crying out as his orgasm hit like a wave, untouched and unrelenting. His hole spasmed around Mike so tightly that Mike cursed and came seconds later, jerking his hips through the aftershocks.

Will collapsed into the sheets, ruined.

Mike pulled him close, whispered, “That’s my good boy.”

By sunset, they were exhausted — sore, spent, dazed.

They laid side by side, Will curled into Mike’s chest, both of them slick and sticky, too high on each other to care.

Mike kissed behind Will’s ear, voice low. “One more?”

Will nodded sleepily. “Yeah. One more.”

Mike slid inside from behind, slow and careful, one arm wrapped around Will’s chest, the other hand laced with his fingers.

It was tender. Deep. A lullaby.

They moved together with no rush, no pressure. Just warmth. Just love.

Will came in soft gasps, biting his lip as he felt Mike press deeper, surrounding him, holding him like he’d never let go.

Mike came with a groan, lips pressed to Will’s shoulder, shivering.

And then they just laid there. Breathing. Together.
They didn’t move for a long time.

Will traced slow, sleepy circles on Mike’s chest, his thighs sore, his lips swollen. His whole body humming.

“That was…” Will whispered.

Mike was staring at the ceiling, dazed. “Everything.”

Will laughed a little. “I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had places.”

“I think I left my soul somewhere during round three.”

Will snorted and curled closer. “I missed this.”

Mike kissed the top of his head. “We’re never doing that again.”

Will pretended to think. “Maybe just like… a one-day break next time?”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “No days. Zero. I’m gonna fuck you forever now. Just to be safe.”

Will smiled into his chest.

Because it wasn’t just about the sex. It never was.

It was about wanting each other so deeply that even when they broke — even when it hurt — the only thing that made it better was coming back together.

And this time, they wouldn’t let go.

Monday – 8:13 a.m.

Will groaned as he tried to sit up.

Everything hurt. His thighs, his back, his everything. It was like someone had run a marathon using only his lower half as pavement.

“Jesus,” he muttered, wincing as he swung his legs off the bed.

Behind him, Mike was already awake, sprawled on his stomach, naked and completely unashamed, scrolling something on his phone with a dumb, satisfied smile on his face.

Will squinted at him. “Why are you already so smug?”

Mike looked up and grinned. “Because I fucked you five times yesterday, and now you’re walking like Bambi on ice.”

Will rolled his eyes and limped toward the dresser. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do. Unfortunately.”

Mike stretched like a cat, arms above his head, every muscle in his body smug and lazy and glowing with victory. “Want me to carry you to the kitchen, my delicate little butterfly?”

Will turned, one eyebrow raised. “You know I will pour coffee directly on your phone.”

Mike sat up and opened his arms. “Come on. Let me hold you.”

Will let himself fall into his lap, sighing as Mike wrapped around him. They were sticky and still a little sore, but the heat of Mike’s skin felt like a balm.

They stayed like that for a while.

No tension. No distance. Just them.

Finally, Will said, “So. What did we learn?”

Mike hummed, brushing Will’s hair back. “That your idea was the worst idea in the history of ideas.”

Will snorted.

“But also…” Mike kissed his temple. “That we’re okay. Even when we don’t have sex every day.”

Will blinked.

Mike shrugged. “I mean, I don’t want to do that again — like, ever — but I didn’t stop loving you. Even when I was dying.”

Will smiled, soft and shy. “Yeah. Me too.”

Mike tilted his head. “Although I will say, sex after a week of abstinence? Holy shit. I thought I blacked out during round three.”

Will burst out laughing. “That was the one where I cried.”

Mike pressed his face into Will’s neck. “You always cry.”

“Once!”

“Twice.”

Will elbowed him.

They eventually made it to the kitchen — Will limping dramatically, Mike trailing behind with an arm around his waist like a proud husband. They ate toast, drank coffee, and sat in their underwear with the window cracked open and the morning sun sliding across the floor.

No pressure.

No performance.

Just them.

Exactly how it was always supposed to be.