A few months passed and they didn't talk about it.

It was as if their encounter in the wine cellar hadn't even happened—a drunken end-of-summer mistake never to be acknowledged.

On the first day of school, Mike had walked up to the group, riddled with anxiety on top of nursing a skull-splitting hangover, certain that somehow everyone knew about what had transpired the day before. But Max had just wrinkled her nose, given him an unimpressed once over, made a crack about his haircut and that was that; they fell right back into the bickering and name-calling and eye rolls without missing a beat.

Something else had happened as well. Ever since that party he had felt… lighter, almost. Like the thick fog surrounding him for the past two years had suddenly lifted and he was seeing clearly for the first time in a long time. School became interesting again, and he got more enthusiastic about Hellfire and hanging out with the guys. It felt good. It felt like moving on.

Something about that kiss with Max had rewired his brain like electroshock therapy and reminded Mike of who he was, and all the good things he still had in his life, so for that he was grateful; even if it had ultimately meant nothing to her.

But sometimes… sometimes he swore he caught her looking at him like she had that night, with something almost like hunger, but she would always avert her eyes as soon as he met them.

They were the first of their friends to turn sixteen. Her birthday came first, towards the end of October, and his followed closely after, at the beginning of November.

Max never wanted to do anything to celebrate hers. The only reason they even knew when it was was because their homeroom teacher had announced it to the entire class in the ninth grade.

For Mike's, they all went to the new paintball course that had opened up near the McCorkle pumpkin patch, and afterwards, they gathered in his basement to play some of the new video games he'd been gifted by his parents.

Around eleven pm, his mom poked her head through the basement door. "Will, your mother is here!" Will sighed and set down the controller he'd been using.

Dustin glanced at his watch. "Can she give me a ride? I promised Suzie I'd call before bed."

"Yeah, no problem," Will replied as he pulled on his vest.

"I gotta jet too," Lucas said, standing and grabbing his backpack. "I'm being subjected to church with the grandparents tomorrow morning."

They all wished Mike a happy birthday again and said their goodbyes as they headed out the back door.

"See ya," Mike called out as his friends left. He exhaled and stretched his legs out in front of him, tired from the long day, and glanced idly around the empty basement.

His gaze landed on the table where El's hiding place used to be, and that familiar melancholy panged in his chest. He'd given up trying to reach her after exactly three hundred and sixty-six days. He just didn't have it in himself to keep going for another year; it became too painful to keep hoping for so long.

The blanket fort had been taken down and the old night light was returned to its storage place at the back of his closet.

Next week it would be two years since he last saw her in that science classroom, saving them all from the Demogorgon. He had accepted it—she was gone.

The sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs pulled him from his thoughts. Shit. He forgot Max was still here. She'd gone upstairs a while ago to rinse the paint out of her hair over the sink.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the room in confusion. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Uh, Joyce came to pick up Will and then Lucas and Dustin had to head out too…"

"Oh."

They hadn't been alone together since Labour Day, always ensuring a third party was present as a buffer. He was pretty sure they'd both had a hand in enforcing that.

Which was why it caught him completely off guard when, despite the other available seats in the room and the ample space on the couch, she flopped down right next to him.

"So… did you have a good birthday?" she asked, folding one leg under herself and turning to face him. She had taken her braids out, and the ends of her hair were damp and wavy.

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling at a loose thread on the couch cushion, his heart rate picking up a little at her proximity. "It was fun."

"Probably would've been better if I didn't totally own your ass at paintball, huh?" she smirked.

His awkwardness vanished as familiar irritation crept in, and he scoffed. Her and Lucas being on the same team had been a completely unfair advantage. "You did not own my ass."

"I did a little, admit it, Wheeler. You can't shoot for shit."

"Fuck off."

Max shoved him lightly. "Admit it!"

"Keep dreaming!" He pushed her back harder before jabbing his fingers between her ribs and making her shriek.

"Ew, get off of me!"

They grappled with each other, her sock-covered feet kicking at him while he kept trying to poke her ticklish spots and, after a minute, when they slowed down and their laughter trailed off, they ended up just looking at one another.

At some point, she had gotten to her knees, which were now pressed against the side of his thigh. His arm extended across the back of the sofa, rotating his torso towards her and caging her in against the armrest.

Illuminated in the dim light of the table lamp, Mike allowed his gaze to roam over her face and felt her doing the same. He took in the smattering of freckles across her forehead and her rounded, flushed cheeks; the cute, slightly upturned tip of her nose, the full curve of her bottom lip…

A small streak of neon pink paint on her jaw caught his eye and, without thinking, he reached out and swiped it away with his thumb, his hand lingering for a second too long before falling limply into his lap.

Their smiles slowly faded as her gaze dropped down to his lips. He licked them instinctively and her eyes darkened at the action.

It felt like deja vu as they both leaned in, mouths meeting cautiously in the middle. It didn't start off quite as desperate as their first kiss, but it quickly got there.

And then it kept going.

Tongues rolled together, teeth bit at lips, frantic hands roved over bodies with escalating urgency. It overwhelmed all of his faculties, everything else fading away except for the warmth of Max's body pressed against his and the sweet, bubblegum taste of her mouth.

Their lips stayed fused together as she grabbed onto his shoulders and swung over his lap, one knee landing on either side of him. A surprised noise caught in his throat which he swallowed back down before grasping at her waist, her hip, her thigh.

"Why do you always do that?" Mike couldn't help asking when they broke apart for air.

Her hands slid down his chest and continued lower, toying with the hem of his t-shirt before bunching it up. "What?"

"Fucking… needle me like you do." Small fingers grazed his bare skin and made his stomach muscles jump.

"Honestly?" she smirked, "you're way too easy to piss off and it's kind of hilarious."

Scoffing, he shut her up with another bruising kiss. He sucked hard on her bottom lip and revelled in the quiet, un-Max-like moan it drew out of her. It blew his mind that he could make that happen. He wanted more.

Max kept pushing his shirt up so he grabbed at the back of his collar and tugged it off before reaching down and fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. Mike's hands trembled at the thought of taking it off of her, but it turned out he didn't have to work up the courage, because she reached down and did it herself, tossing the garment carelessly behind her.

Directly in front of him, her freckled chest rose and fell as she breathed heavily. The sight made his dick strain against the fly of his jeans.

Maybe he should have asked first, but he'd never seen boobs in real life before and he really wanted to put his mouth on them. So he did.

Ducking his head, he trailed kisses over the full, rounded tops of her breasts almost chastely. How the hell was her skin so soft? And she smelled so good, like oranges and vanilla. Like a creamsicle. He needed to see more of her.

Slowly, he tugged the cups of her light blue bra down to reveal her pointed, pink nipples. He leaned in, catching his bottom lip over one of the hard, pebbled peaks with a tilt of his chin. He wasn't sure what else to do so he kissed it, which made her inhale sharply and bring a hand to the back of his head, her fingers weaving through his hair.

It seemed like a positive reaction so he took it a step further, taking it between his lips and sucking experimentally, amazed when it tightened even more in his mouth.

"Shit," Max whimpered.

Mike smiled against her. He felt drunker on the sound of her swearing in pleasure than he had that night in the wine cellar after half a bottle of champagne. He quickly switched over to the other side so he could hear it again.

"Oh, fuck you," she breathed when she glanced down and saw his self-satisfied grin, her reaction only making it widen.

"You wi–" His body jolted involuntarily when he realized her other hand had snuck down to toy with the button of his pants, popping it open after a second. He was hard as a rock already and she could definitely feel it.

Suddenly, she stood up, the loss of contact leaving him cold, and his stomach dropped in disappointment. It was probably the smart decision to stop, though. They'd really gotten carried away for a minute there…

But then she started unzipping her jeans and shimmying them off along with her underwear and Mike found it became difficult to breathe. Any other smart-ass remarks he may have had suddenly evaporated along with every other thought in his head.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded at his lower half. "Pants off."

Nodding dumbly, his hands fumbled with the fly of his jeans. He'd just barely gotten them down to his knees before Max was climbing back onto him, clad in nothing but her bra. Mike avoided looking at her naked body, steadfastly keeping his gaze on her collarbone; because even though she had initiated this, it definitely felt like it wasn't allowed.

"These too." She snapped the waistband of his boxers, and he was infinitely thankful they were just dark blue and not one of the more ridiculous patterns he owned.

He swallowed hard as he stretched the band up and over his erection, face hot and surely red as he bared himself to her. Even she wasn't evil enough to make fun of his dick, was she?

After a few seconds of silence, he chanced a look at her face, shocked to see that she appeared pleasantly surprised, her top teeth scraping over her pretty bottom lip as she stared down at him. A surge of self-assuredness filled Mike's chest.

Apart from a few accidental glimpses in the pool changeroom, he didn't really know how he measured up, so to speak, but she almost seemed… impressed?

This was beyond crazy, but he really didn't want it to stop.

Max met his gaze, blue eyes glittering as she brought her hand up to her mouth and slowly licked her palm before reaching between them and wrapping it around his throbbing shaft. Mike sucked in a breath between his teeth because holy shit, that felt so much better than his own hand.

Smiling, she gave him a few slow, measured strokes. He clenched his jaw and tipped his head back, his fingers grasping at the edge of the couch cushions. If you jizz in her hand right now she will never let you live it down.

Keeping a firm hold on him, she shifted forward, lining him up in between her spread thighs. He could feel the warmth and wetness of her entrance at the tip of his cock and it took all of his self-control not to thrust up into her.

Oh god, this is really happening. Are we actually doing this?

For a second, it felt like he was hovering outside of his body. And then he was violently slammed back into it when, without giving them a moment to back out, Max dropped down, sinking onto him in one quick movement.

"Oh fu–" Mike nearly blacked out then, because nothing could have prepared him for what it felt like to be inside her.

She stayed still for a few seconds with his length fully sheathed within her, breathing hard through her nose. He let out a slow, shuddering breath in an effort not to finish right then and there. It felt like she was fucking gripping him and it was insane.

But then Max started moving, fingers curling over the back of the sofa as she glided up and down, hot and tight around his cock, and he truly thought he must be dead then because there was no way the human body could withstand this much pleasure.

He urged her along with his hands tight on her hips, although it didn't seem like she needed any help. They were both breathing raggedly and trying not to moan, cognizant of the fact that his family was just upstairs.

Finally giving his eyes permission to wander over her body, they lingered on the place where he was disappearing inside her before drifting up to her gently bouncing breasts. He was nervous to meet her eyes, but when he did look up at her he found they were closed, brows furrowed, her head tipped back and mouth slightly open as she softly gasped each time he filled her.

Okay, she was hot. Ridiculously fucking hot.

Vaguely, Mike wondered if he should be doing more, maybe try touching her in that spot he'd overheard some older guys talking about in the locker room once. But his brain was barely functioning as it was, so he just buried his face in her neck and filled his lungs with the sweet, citrusy scent of her skin.

"Tell me when you're close," she panted in his ear in a breathy voice he'd never heard her use before. It nearly made his eyes roll back in his head, and Mike could tell he was already close to coming.

He closed his eyes tightly and thought of gym class dodgeball and the properties of the elements of the periodic table so he could last just a bit longer, but it was of little use. She felt too good. Thighs tensing and abdomen clenching, he knew he was well past the point of no return.

Sparks of electricity tingled uncontrollably up and down his spine. His grip on her tightened in warning. "Max, I'm–"

She lifted off of him a half second before he was hurtled into oblivion, finishing all over his stomach—vision going blurry at the sheer, brain-melting intensity of it.

Max immediately got up and started putting her clothes back on, but Mike was paralyzed for several seconds before becoming aware of the rapidly cooling mess on his abdomen. He grabbed his discarded t-shirt from the floor and cleaned himself off, tossing it towards the stairs to take up later before throwing on the plaid shirt he'd removed earlier in the night, too lazy to do up the buttons.

After pulling his underwear and jeans back up, he dropped back into his spot on the couch, head leaned back on the top of the backrest, still in utter disbelief over what had just transpired. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably be freaking out over the fact that he'd just had sex for the first time with Max, but he just felt too relaxed. His muscles were totally loose—it almost felt like he was floating, weightless.

When Max finished getting dressed she copied him, collapsing with a sigh on the opposite end of the sofa this time, not close like before. Before. The Super Mario Bros home screen on the television cast a soothing blue glow over the room.

"Was that your first time?" she asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He cringed and kept his eyes on the ceiling. "Was it obvious?"

"No. It was… actually pretty good," she professed as if it pained her to compliment him.

Smug, male arrogance bloomed in his chest. Pretty good for a first time, huh? Then his eyes narrowed. She seemed like she knew what she was doing though…

"I'm guessing it wasn't yours?" Max shook her head in his periphery. He licked his lips. She was probably going to punch him for asking this but he was suddenly burning with curiosity. "Who um, who did you…?"

To his surprise, she didn't hit him; instead, she chuckled. "You know Eddie Munson?"

"Hellfire Eddie?" Mike looked over at her sharply, brow furrowed at the thought of his former club president who had finally graduated last year. "Gross Max, he's like thirty years old!"

Max let her head roll to the side, shooting him an amused look. "He's twenty, but no, not him." She looked back up at the ceiling. "Eddie lives in the trailer across from mine with his uncle Wayne–"

"His uncle?!"

"No! Will you let me fucking finish?" Max laughed. Mike nodded and mimed zipping his mouth closed.

"So I guess the uncle has a seventeen-year-old son who was visiting for the first half of the summer. It was hot, we were bored, one thing led to another…"

"Wow…" Mike thought back to the summer when The Party had hung out almost daily. Max hadn't seemed any different, certainly not like she was carrying on a secret summer fling. "I don't think any of us had a clue."

"I'm good at keeping secrets," she shrugged. Then she glanced at her watch and slapped her hands on her thighs before standing up. "I should get going."

At the door, she picked up her skateboard and paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Happy birthday, Wheeler."

When she was almost over the threshold he blurted out, "Are we um, are we gonna do that again?"

She turned, giving him a lingering once-over and a small smirk. "We'll see."

They did do it again—on the worn-out leather recliner instead of the sofa after the gang finished watching The Goonies; and again, in the projection booth above the school auditorium when she walked by his Algebra II classroom and pointedly caught his eye; and again, in the back seat of the station wagon once he got his license and took everyone for a celebratory drive.

They did it every chance they got. They did it so often that he'd even braved a trip to the drug store to buy condoms, feeling guilty that Max was always the one supplying them.

It was never planned; it just happened. They happened to always be the last two left in the basement when the group was hanging out, or she was conveniently the last one to get dropped off if he was driving them around.

The first time he made her orgasm—with the pads of his fingers fumbling between her legs while she straddled him on the basement armchair—Mike had felt drunk with power for days afterwards.

She taught him how to touch her, impatiently grabbing his wrist and directing him to her clit; telling him when to go faster, harder; how many fingers to put inside her. He liked it, especially when she told him how good he made her feel and what a good job he was doing.

But he liked pushing her around too—clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her moans when she was being too loud or tugging her hair, especially when it was in braids. It was an intoxicating feeling, being able to make such a headstrong, stubborn, firecracker of a girl tremble beneath his touch, moan his name, beg him to make her come. It fucking ruled.

Being a teenage boy, Mike had done his fair share of thinking about sex. He had always imagined it would be romantic and loving and probably gentle, both of them shy and a little nervous as they figured out what to do. He'd never thought it could be… aggressive and explosive and all-consuming; like an inferno was burning out of control inside of him. Like a high he couldn't get enough of—but that's exactly what it felt like with Max.

He always knew she had a rebellious streak, but she was wild—so unashamed in her pursuit of pleasure; so unapologetic about her sexuality. And she brought it out in him, too.

They still lobbed insults at each other, but there was an undercurrent now; whatever they were bickering about would be used to fuel their next passionate encounter. He found her flushed cheeks and blazing eyes so irresistibly sexy—just the sight of them made blood surge into his dick, like some kind of perverted Pavlovian response.

It turned out the line between fighting and flirting was surprisingly thin, and they were crossing it regularly. Sometimes the name-calling and arguing even continued when he was inside her.

Not to mention the sneaking around was its own kind of illicit thrill, something he hadn't felt in years buzzing through his veins. It was… exhilarating—the heated looks, the tension escalating until the moment they were alone and could drop the act and just go crazy on each other…

And all that time, the party was none the wiser.

Or so they thought.

It was halfway through December, and Mike and Dustin were walking through the empty halls after school, on their way to the last Hellfire meeting before Christmas break. They'd stopped at the vending machine for snacks, and Mike eagerly tore open his bag of jalapeño chips.

He was zoned out, thinking about the next time he'd be alone with Max so he could get her back for the comment she'd made at lunch about how his hand must have an appointment with his gross little prick when he'd told Will he couldn't hang out on Saturday.

Mike smirked to himself. It wasn't so gross and little when she'd been bent over the sink in the handicapped restroom earlier that week. She'd looked so good in the mirror, breathless and pissed off while he stayed still behind her and made her do all the work.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, Wheeler? Did your pathetic dick stop working?"

"It's working just fine as you can see. You're the one who dragged me in here because you wanted it so bad, so… come and get it."

"I– ah! I fucking hate you…"

Maybe he'd make her do that again, but this time while he was stretched out on the basement floor…

"Hey, we tell each other everything right?" Dustin asked, shaking a handful of peanut M&Ms into his palm.

"Uh, yeah, of course," Mike replied through a mouthful of chips, shoving his explicit fantasies to the back of his mind.

"Okay," Dustin nodded, seemingly contemplating his next question. He took a deep breath. "Is there something going on with you and Max?"

Mike started choking as the food in his mouth flew into his throat. "What?" he rasped between coughs. "You're crazy."

"Am I, though?"

"Me and Max?" He forced an unconvincing laugh. "That's not– we practically hate each other!"

Dustin eyed him dubiously. "You say that but… I don't think you do. Not really."

"What– why would you even think that?"

He hadn't realized he and Max were being so obvious. Next time he saw her he'd have to tell her to tone it down because if their friends started getting suspicious then their thing would likely be over and he… didn't want that.

"I dunno, lately the tension between you guys is like… sexual. I can't tell if she wants to punch you or rip your clothes off." Mike shook his head and opened his mouth to retort.

"And you know Lucas is still in love with her, right?" Dustin continued before Mike could deny his accusations.

His mouth snapped closed. It was obvious his friend was still carrying a torch after all these years, even though Max had kept him firmly in the friend zone since day one. Mike had tried not to think too much about that. He figured if Max wanted to be with Lucas she would have done so a long time ago.

"I know," he answered after a few seconds.

"So if something did happen between you two it would be a total shitshow…"

"Well nothing's ever gonna happen so you have nothing to worry about, okay?" Mike said firmly, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He pushed down the guilt and threw his arm around Dustin. "Now let's go slay the zombie Kraken."

Author's Note: No slow burn here, folks! First Max POV chapter coming up next :)