Byler get together after graduating high school but Mike is still repressed asf and dealing with a lot of shame and months pass and he and Will haven’t gotten beyond making out.
Will doesn’t mind, he’d, of course, never want to pressure Mike into anything, but it’d be a lie if he said he wasn’t a little frustrated. It had been fine for a while, just having Mike in his arms in enough, but once they’ve gotten used to making out, hearing Mike’s little sounds, his tiny gasps and the way he’s so pliant and trusting below him, it’s like getting a taste of desert and craving the whole thing.
Will doesn’t say anything at first, not until he’s gotten frustrated enough that it infiltrates his dreams every night. Flashes of Mike below him, his lithe, breath taking figure writhing and Will’s name cried from his lips leaving him waking up in damp boxers and getting off every morning like he’s 14 again.
One day, he gets a little braver. Mike hasn’t made the first move, but from what Will can tell, he likes when Will takes the charge. Pinning Mike against the wall and taking his kiss is the fastest way to have a lap full of Wheeler and so, hovering over Mike who is flat on Will’s bed, Will slips his hands into the waistband of Mike’s trousers. It’s daring, but Mike is so receptive to skin on skin, groaning and pushing into Will’s hands when they slither around his waist.
However, this time, the reaction is instantaneous. Mike tenses, and suddenly, it’s like kissing a mannequin.
Will pulls away, and Mike unfreezes as if he were a prey animal playing dead having gotten a chance to bolt away. They sit up, and finally, they broach the subject of taking it further.
Mike breaks into tears. He explains how terrified he feels of the vulnerability. It’s not about Will, it’s about how he was raised. How affection was withheld, used as balm after stinging words but it rarely felt genuine. How his version of love growing up was convenience, rather than true confession, how it was transactional and conditional. The relationship with his parents has never been more strained, but the kid inside of him who grew up terrified to be his true self in fear of pushing them further away rockets to the surface every time they get intimate.
What if he won’t be good enough? What if Will will finally realise that he deserves better?
Will is appalled at this. Baffled that Mike can’t see himself the way that Will does.
They talk for hours about things Mike has held back for his entire life, and they become stronger for it.
Someday, not soon after, they’re making out on Will’s bed again and Mike says he’s ready, that he wants to be closer to Will than he’s ever been, that he wants Will to take him.
Will figured that might be their preferred dynamic. He always thought Mike would want to take the lead until the first time they made out and Mike folded like a tower of cards when Will flipped them over and pinned his hands to the mattress.
The image of Mike fucked out below him flashes before Will’s eyes and he gets hard so fast it’s a little embrassing.
They take the before slowly. Undressing each other with tender care, placing kisses over scars, moles, and freckles.
Will puts the first finger in and Mike squirms in discomfort.
“How does it feel?” Will asks after a few moments.
“S-Strange.” Mike replies, his fingers digging into Will’s shoulders, his cheeks peachy pink and lips swollen and puffy, “but not… bad.”
He doesn’t sound so sure, but they continue. It’s a little awkward and not as hot as Will imagined it. Mike’s gorgeous, sure, he’s velvety soft an virgin tight, but he’s uncomfortable and Will can tell.
Slathering on more lube, Will kisses him and adds a second finger. It stays awkward for a while, but Mike gets more comfortable. There’s soft breaths and little movements of discomfort until Will curves his fingers a new way, pushing until his knuckles reach Mike’s rim and then something happens.
His fingers hit something soft, and Mike jolts like he’s been tasered, a high cry wailing from his throat.
Oh. Will thinks, pride and excitement bubbling in his chest.
“W-what—ah! What is thaat?!” Mike moans, his hands frantic over Will’s chest, legs twitching, stomach rippling. There’s almost something panicked in his eyes at the pleasure exploding inside him, he looks like he’s seeing stars and Will hasn’t even put in a third finger.
Will finds it again and again until Mike is a babbling wreck below him. Far gone is the boy who caged himself. Glowing with pleasure, Mike looks free and Will is so deeply in love with him.
When he finally enters him, his cock sheathed deep inside, connected in a way nobody else has with Mike before, they forget the world. The globe shrinks until it’s just them on an island alone.
Nothing has ever felt so good. Will could lose his mind right here and now, and given the desperate wails from Mike and the nails clawing down his back, Mike feels the same.
They go until their muscles ache and Mike can’t straighten his spine. When it comes time for Will to pull out, Mike clenches around him and they hiss at the sensitivity.
“Don’t go…” Mike rasps, his face redder than the skin of a cherry.
Eventually, they leave the bed and wash themselves, change the sheets and go to bed, closer now than they’ve ever been before, but before that, they stay connected.
Curled up in bed together, their bodies conjoined, promised to each other, committed and in love, Mike weeps. He’s free. He let go, let himself fall, and Will didn’t let him hit the ground. He dropped his shield like a knight on the battlefield and Will didn’t strike where it would hurt.
“I love you.” Mike whispers words he says so rarely. They’ve never meant anything to him before, because nobody had ever said them to him with meaning. Each time had been a lie, and it had poisoned love for him.
It wasn’t until Will that he understood why people would say it at all.
“I love you too.” Will says, tears of him own rolling down his face and hanging on the tip of his nose until they soak into Mike’s hair.
They’ve spread their wings and launched from the cold, metal bars of their cages, and nothing has felt as good as cutting through the clouds with their wings, chirping a matching melody.
The shackles have broken, the shame relinquished.
