where you & mike are forced to share a bed
tw mean mike, smut, dubcon & mike being a brat as always 😊
masterlist & reblogs appreciated!
the van gives out with one last cough and a shudder before steve swerves onto the shoulder of the freeway.
“no. no, no, no, no! don’t do this to me,” steve groans, smacking the steering wheel.
“is it supposed to smell like that?” dustin asks from the back, already half out of his seatbelt.
a sharp burn of hot oil and exhaust blew straight through the dashboard vents thick enough that everyone’s coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces. yep, the van’s engine was toast.
“steve, i told you that noise earlier sounded bad!” lucas pinched his nose, exclaiming.
“you say everything sounds bad, sinclair!” steve snaps, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “okay. okay. emergency stop. calm down guys. everyone just… relax.” he hops out of the vehicle and pops the hood.
the party collectively lets out a huge groan.
relax? you couldn’t bring yourself to relax. you’d spent most of the drive wedged between will and el, sweaty and cramped, trying to ignore mike’s knee that’s been digging into your back for the last forty minutes. you didn’t realize you were muttering to yourself until someone snapped you out of your thoughts.
“is the princess gonna be able to survive one night without air conditioning?” you hear mike snicker behind you, as the rest of the group piled out of the car.
you turn around to glare at him.
he flashes you an annoying grin, to which you flip your head right back to follow everyone out with mike right behind you. he’s met with the flick of your ponytail across his face. he quickly wraps his fingers around your ponytail and yanks hard.
max however, catches it. knowing how mike is, she catches your eye and raises her eyebrows at you.
mike's been worse than usual this whole trip. being an asshole to you, only you. and you really tried your hardest not to let it get under your skin.
by the time steve drags everyone into a roadside motel with a giant VACANCY sign buzzing overhead, tensions are already shot. the lobby smells of bleach. mike pushes his way to the front of the group to stand next to steve, shoving you hard in the process causing you to stumble forward and drop the granola bar in your hand onto the sticky motel floor. you don’t look back at him.
“two rooms,” steve says to the clerk, slapping a 20 dollar bill on the counter. “yeah, yeah i know it’s a squeeze. it’s fine, trust me. we’ll make it work.”
“yeah, right,” lucas mutters under his breath, lugging both his and max’s bags across the floor and up the staircase.
you guys arrive at your room and steve quickly begins assigning the sleeping arrangements.
“henderson, you’ll share the single with lucas,” steve points.
“will, el, you two get the pullout.”
“max, you’re good on the floor?” max shrugs, “i’ve slept worse places.” she throws a pile of comforters and throw pillows on the ground, considering it a win.
then steve takes a good long, hard look at you and mike. there’s a pause. he smiles.
“…you two don’t mind sharing, right?” he says finally. “you guys are civil.”
dustin lets out a loud snort from behind you guys, and mike whips his head around to stare him down.
“it’s one night,” he cuts in. “the doors stay open, nobody murders anyone. okay?,” he throws his hands up in the air, walking away. “my job here is done.”
later, while everyone’s brushing their teeth with motel sink water that tastes wrong, max corners you by the ice machine.
“you know he does it on purpose, right?” she says quietly, “he thinks you’re an easy target.”
“i know,” you sigh. growing up, you never really had the natural tendency to stick up for yourself. your parents had always told you to walk away if you ever found yourself in the presence of a bully. unlike max, who went head-to-head with any boy in the group who dared cross her.
“and you’re still stuck sharing a bed with him.”
she squeezes your wrist. “if he pulls your hair again, kick him. i’ll back you up.”
lucas, overhearing, adds, “yeah, man, wheelers are like raccoons. you just gotta learn to assert dominance.”
mike jerks his head up from the couch across the room, “you know i can hear you guys.”
and now, it’s the middle of the night.
the lights are off. the room is quiet except for the hum of the ancient ac unit. you're both on your backs, as far apart as the bed allows, staring at the ceiling. you're in an t shirt and shorts. he's in just boxers because he "runs hot" and didn't bring anything else. there's maybe six inches of space between you, but it feels like static electricity.
"stop fucking hogging the blanket," mike pulls the comforter back sharply from underneath you, jerking you out of your thoughts.
"i'm not? you literally kicked it off,"
"whatever," he mutters. "just stay on your side, wouldn't want to accidentally touch you and catch whatever makes girls so dramatic."
how could someone possibly be this fucking childish? you tried to reason, and why out of everyone did you have to be paired with him? you think to yourself as you huff and turn your body to face the wall. silence stretches. then the mattress dips. he shifts closer, whether on purpose or not, you're not sure. his arm brushes yours.
“what..” he notices you freeze, "you're scared i'll bite?" he whispers, his tone mocking.
"shut up, mike," you retort, you silently thank god it was pitch black in the room, you were so flustered, your cheeks resembled a pair of cluster tomatoes. mike wouldn’t ever let you live it down if he could see how red you were.
he doesn't turn back. instead, he moves again. it's deliberate this time, until his chest is almost against your back. you can feel the heat coming off him.
"you've been running your mouth all weekend, acting like you're better than me all the time, than everyone!” he says, “but here you are, stuck in bed with me. funny how that works."
“i have no clue what you’re talking about.”
his hand lands on your hip, and his fingers curl over the fabric of your shorts.
it's not gentle. it feels like a claim.
"mike," you say, your voice tight, "mike, get off of me,"
"mmm.. how about.. no," he states with a chuckle right by your ear.
he pulls you back against him hard. you can feel the outline of his length, pressing into your ass through the thin layers of cotton. your breath catches.
"see? you don’t really want me to get off you, do you? you like this,” his hand inching closer and now hovering over the waistband of your shorts, “you know… i bet if i stick my hand down your pants right now, it’d come out soaking.”
he slides his hand up under your shirt. his rough palm drags over your stomach, up to cup your breast. he squeezes once, meanly.
"wow,” he scoffs, “no bra?”
you hate how your back arches into his touch. this was getting out of hand, you thought. you flip onto your other side in an attempt to grab his wrists and push him off. but mike beats you to it.
he flips you back onto your back, grabs your wrist and holds it above your head. his eyes glint with that same cruel smirk you've seen all week.
"what? you can’t make me-," you whisper defiant, struggling to get out of his grip. what in the world has gotten into him?
his hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your jaw. it's not hard enough to bruise, but it's firm. he forces your lips apart with his thumb.
"i said open," he says even louder.
you do. just enough to get him to quiet down.
he leans down and lets a slow string of spit fall from his mouth into yours. you feel it hit your tongue. it's warm and humiliating. he watches your face the whole time.
you hesitate for half a second. then you do.
"awww," he mocks the pout on your face. "see? it's not so hard to follow instructions, is it?”
he kisses you then. starting as a peck on your lips, and then he forces his tongue into your mouth. his wet open mouthed kisses muffling your gasps. meanwhile, his hand slides down between your legs, pushing your flimsy shorts aside without ceremony. he finds a wet spot on your frilly pink panties.
"you are so pathetic, you know that?" he sneers, pulling back just enough.
he finds your entrance and inserts two fingers inside you agonizingly slow. you gasp into his mouth. he curls his fingers cruelly, pushing in slow to hit the spot.
you bite your lip to keep quiet as he works you open, his thumb grinding against your clit. when he pulls his fingers out, he wipes them across your cheek like a dirty napkin.
then he's yanking your shorts down your thighs and shoving his boxers off. he lines himself up and pushes in with one long, brutal thrust that makes your eyes water.
“c’mon princess biiiiiig stretch,” he slowly sinks into you, and it makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise, “ohhhh yeah,”
your lips that were perched shut the entire time as to not make any noise, come undone without your permission, “aaaagh- mikey!”
“mikey!” he replies mimicking you, and starts pounding into you. plop plop plop. his sack slapping meanly against your clit over & over. normally, you would be embarrassed. but right now, you can’t really process much feelings but the one of him stretching you out down there. you feel your arousal drooling onto his thighs.
"ohhhh my gosh," he groans low at the feeling, and proceeds to shove your head into the mattress, not really concerned whether or not you can breathe okay, "just ugh- take it and shut the fuck up nnngh- stop making noise."
he sets a punishing pace, his pelvis snapping against yours. the bed creaks quietly under you both. one hand grips the back of your neck, just holding you down, so your face stays smushed into the pillow.
"look at you," he says. "bet no one else has ever put you in your place like this."
you're close, embarrassingly fast, and he knows it. “oh my gosh, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”he laughs. mike slows his pace down just to torture you.
"aww" he mockingly pouts. "you wanna come puppy?"
you press your lips together hard in an attempt to not make any noise, not giving in to what he wants.
he removes his hand from the nape of your neck and presses all of his body weight down onto you. forcing you into prone bone, pressing your bodies together hard. and you feel his palm harshly crack down on your butt.
"aaaaagh oh-ohmygoshohmygosh plEASE mike please," you whisper, broken.
he meanly pushes your face hard into the pillow again mid-sentence with his palm and laughs.
"come on then," he says. "come on mikey’s cock.”
you do. it hits you hard, and you bite down on your own arm to stay quiet. he follows right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name like a curse against your neck.
after, he doesn't pull out right away. he just stays on top of you, heavy and breathing hard. his hand loosens up off the back of your neck and rolls off you, shifting back to the far edge of the bed like nothing happened. the room falls into heavy silence, broken only by your ragged breathing.
your thighs feel sticky, warm and messy from everything, the evidence of what just happened cooling uncomfortably against your skin. he doesn’t make any move to help, doesn’t even acknowledge it, just lies there on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“you know…” his voice cuts through the quiet, “you’re kind of cute with you’re all fucked out like that.”
you blink in the darkness, taken aback by the almost gentle tone. “did you… like it?” mike asks, even quieter.
you’re still catching your breath, heart hammering, surprised he’d even ask. “yeah,” you looked down shyly, “kinda.”
he snickers right in your face, “yeah, i figured… since you were being so goddam loud.”
before you can respond, his foot shoves against your side, kicking you toward the edge of the bed. “go clean yourself up. you’re dirty.”
you tumble off the mattress with a thud onto the carpet, pulling your cotton shorts back up as you stumble off to the bathroom.
