So, I know that last chapter left y'all a little gagged, but that was what I was going for. So yeah, El is still in the mix! Twist! But she's not back yet, so please enjoy this lengthy Madwheeler chapter :)
Things had changed between Mike and Max ever since their impromptu sleepover during winter break.
It had been… unsettling, seeing her so broken and vulnerable; her body tense and her eyes wide and watery with tears, when she'd been nothing short of unshakable ever since he'd met her.
And it had tugged at something deep in his chest that made him want to comfort her and keep her safe in his room where nobody could touch her. God, Max would kick him in the crotch if he ever said that out loud. She always put on such a tough exterior for everyone else.
But as it turned out, the ice queen had a heart after all. It had just been hiding, frozen beneath a thick layer of sarcasm and feigned indifference, but it was there, more tender and wounded than he ever could have guessed.
Everyone knew that Billy was a complete tool but Mike hadn't had a clue about how bad things had gotten with her stepdad, too. It made him slightly nauseous thinking about her trapped in that tiny house with him, constantly walking on eggshells to avoid disaster.
That morning after he'd snuck her out of his house he and his family had left to visit his aunt and uncle in Ohio for the rest of the break, so he didn't get to see her again until the first day of the new semester.
At first, it seemed like things were going to go back to normal.
It was snowing so he'd driven everyone home after school. Max was last, as usual, although he hadn't been sure if they would be fooling around like they normally did since she had been avoiding eye contact with him all day. He kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel instead of draping the right one over her thigh like he often would when it was just the two of them.
But when he turned down the road to the trailer park and neared the spot where they usually stopped she had calmly told him, "Pull over."
It was a turnout that led to an old, rarely used utility road, concealed by thick shrubbery and barely visible from the street. He had killed the engine and drummed his fingers nervously on the wheel, unsure of where they stood.
Then she'd simply unbuckled her seatbelt and turned towards him, one eyebrow arching impatiently. "Well? Do you remember how to fuck or do I have to teach you everything again?"
It had been like it always was—hot and frenzied and vigorous—but Mike couldn't help recalling the unprecedented intimacy of their night together, and as he drove away with fogged-up windows after dropping her off, he found himself a little dissatisfied with how detached this had felt by comparison.
At the time he'd chastised himself, rationalizing that it was surely better this way—better not to confuse fucking with… something else.
But then later that week, when he'd been up late finishing a physics assignment, there was a familiar tapping on his window. Max's eyes had been red and a little swollen as if she'd been crying. He didn't ask any questions that time, and she didn't have to tell him what she needed. He knew.
They started breaking some of their unspoken rules after that.
They made plans to see each other, passing notes in class or slipping them into each other's lockers. And they actually spent time hanging out before doing anything physical—watching TV or playing games or sometimes even just doing homework next to each other.
And to his surprise, he liked just spending time with her.
Because it turned out Max was actually pretty funny. And she was into comic books—although her taste in them was questionable—and bad horror movies and good music and she was always up for video games; she even let him win once in a while.
Mike had the thought that maybe if he hadn't been keeping her at arm's length all these years he would have found all that out a lot sooner.
They didn't even need to strictly use fighting as foreplay anymore. They still did, for the most part, but sometimes they would just be hanging out and she would look at him a certain way, or he would make her laugh, and they'd be all over each other before either of them knew what was happening.
It was as if that night had knocked something loose inside both of them.
They talked about things now. He told her about how hard the first year after "The Will Thing" was—how he'd been so angry and lashed out at everyone, how it took an eternity for his parents to trust him again, how he'd felt things more intensely than he ever had before.
And in turn, she opened up about Neil, and her mom, and the letters from her dad that stayed unread at the back of her sock drawer. She told him stories from her past of Neil's cruelty towards Billy, of Billy's cruelty towards her; how lately her mother had started drinking more and yelling back at her husband, how being at home felt like dancing blindfolded through a minefield.
Mike didn't mind being her sounding board. Some part of him even felt lucky that she let him, that she chose him, specifically, to trust with her secrets. There was something about that—being the one she needed and sought out—that he couldn't put into words.
She kept coming to his window when things at home were bad, which was more and more often. And he would console her, not with words or platitudes, but with his lips on hers and his hands all over her body.
Afterwards, she would recount whatever encounter with Neil or Billy had led her there. It was easy, in the darkness of his bedroom, with the smell of sex still in the air, to speak in hushed voices about the things they kept buried deep down.
Some nights she didn't seem as burdened, and the conversation was more lighthearted. They would end up talking shit about classmates or he'd give her updates on the latest Hellfire campaign which she had gotten surprisingly invested in.
Tonight wasn't one of those nights.
The sex had been particularly intense. Practically spiritual. She had asked if she could choke him, and Mike's immediate thought had been yesgodpleaseyes. In reality, he'd pretended to think it over for a few seconds before giving an unaffected nod.
And so, with the firm yet careful pressure of Max's fingers on either side of his throat causing a tingling, dizzy feeling in his head that heightened all his other senses, and the slow roll of her hips as she moved on top of him, he'd come so hard he saw an entire galaxy of stars; biting into his knuckles to keep from sobbing out her name.
Now the sweat was cooling on their bodies and she had her head on his shoulder, their legs tangled under the comforter while he combed his fingers through the ends of her hair.
"After the divorce and before Neil, there was this elderly, chain-smoking woman from next door who would watch me while my mom was at work," Max murmured as she traced circular patterns over Mike's sternum with her fingertip. Neither of them bothered sleeping in anything more than underwear anymore.
"She was a nasty, bitter person. The kind who thought children should be seen and not heard. I don't think I ever saw her without a scowl on her face. Whenever I asked for anything like a snack, or to turn on the TV or something, she always called me a 'rotten little brat'.
"And I think about that word a lot. Rotten. Sometimes I think… I think there must be something rotten inside me that keeps attracting all this misery, and that maybe if I just left, the people around me would suddenly be better off, you know? Like cutting out a tumour…"
Mike frowned. Usually, they just listened to each other without offering much commentary or advice, but he hated the way she was talking about herself. He pulled back to look at her, tipping her face towards him with a palm on her cheek.
"You know who wouldn't be better off if you left? Me. I want you around," he told her honestly. Her gaze snapped up to meet his, surprised. Shit, maybe a little too honest. "Um, we all do," he added quickly. "You're a member of the party."
The room was almost completely dark but he could still see the doubt on her face, the small amount of light from the window reflected in her glassy eyes.
"And it's not you, Max. None of that shit is your fault. That bitch didn't know what she was talking about, okay? You are not rotten."
Max bit her lip and after a second gave a small nod. Mike knew he could say so much more right now but he didn't want to freak her out, so instead he cracked a teasing smile. "Now a brat on the other hand…"
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and smacked his chest with her hand before tucking her face back into his shoulder, but he could feel her grinning against him.
They stayed that way—Mike staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars he'd stuck to his ceiling in the second grade, his fingertips trailing over her spine until her breathing evened out and she fell asleep in his arms like she had so many other nights.
And he knew that when he woke up in the morning she'd be gone, leaving nothing but an indent in his sheets and the delicate, feminine scent of her hair on his pillowcase.
A line had clearly been crossed. They'd left the line in the rearview mirror weeks ago if he was being honest. But they never talked about them—didn't put a name to what they were becoming to each other.
Mike knew it was because talking about it would make it real, and then they might actually have to acknowledge there were some kind of feelings involved now.
It was a dangerous game they were playing. And someone could get hurt.
On Fridays, Mike and Max were always the first ones in the cafeteria due to the proximity of their classrooms. It was one of the first moments they'd had alone in days.
Max pushed the bright orange mac and cheese on her plate around with a fork. "So, Jules from the team told me about a party at her boyfriend's house tonight."
"Oh," Mike said, trying to mask his disappointment.
They had made plans to watch the new episode of The Twilight Zone at his place after finding out they were both fans of the show.
"That's okay, maybe I can get my dad to tape the episode and we can watch it some other time." He took a bite of his apple. "I guess I'll tell the guys I'm off the hook for 'family board game night'."
"Actually… I was thinking you could come too?"
He looked over at her, chewing and swallowing carefully. Going out in public alone together was definitely against the rules. "Are you uh, sure that's a good idea…?"
She dropped her gaze down to her tray and shook her head. "Probably not. Forget it, it's stupid."
"No, I want to," he answered quickly. What was one more rule broken at this point? "I just meant like… what if it gets back to the guys?"
Max looked at him flatly. "No offence to them, but the people who'll be going to this party don't even know that Dustin, Lucas and Will exist. There's no way it gets back to them."
"Lucas is on the basketball team."
"Benchwarmer, doesn't count."
Mike snorted. "Fair enough."
She opened her mouth to say something else but at that moment Dustin and Lucas dropped their trays onto the table and sat down.
"What's fair enough?" Dustin asked, glancing between the two of them, eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Oh, I was just telling Wheeler that he looks like a substitute math teacher when he tucks his shirt into his pants like that, and he was forced to admit that I'm right," Max answered, smirking at Mike from across the table. He couldn't help getting a little turned on by the challenging gleam in her eye, as if she was telling him, your move.
He cocked his head to the side and scoffed. "And I was about to tell Max that that rugby shirt she's wearing makes her look more flat-chested than a ten-year-old boy."
Lucas let out a low whistle as the two of them glared at each other with unconcealed disdain, but under the table, Mike's foot slid forward and rested against hers, where it stayed for the remainder of the lunch hour.
Mike leaned on his handlebars and peered at the river of melted snow flowing down the gutter towards the storm drain. It was unusually warm for late January, but he didn't mind, because it meant he could take his bike to the party instead of walking.
The station wagon was his ever since Nancy had gotten a new car as a present for getting early admission to Emerson, but he'd heard about how these parties usually went and knew he likely wouldn't be able to drive home.
He glanced at his watch. Max had told him to meet her nearly fifteen minutes ago. Mike shook his head. She's always fucking late.
He heard her before he saw her, the telltale rumble of rubber wheels on pavement becoming steadily louder until she appeared over the crest of the hill.
The streetlights illuminated her as she cruised towards him on her skateboard. She had the hood of her green Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt up, both hands stuck in the front pocket, her hair tied in two low pigtails on either side of her head. The sight made his heart speed up unexpectedly.
When she reached him, she popped her board up and caught the nose. "Hi."
"Hey."
He was suddenly struck with the crazy urge to kiss her. Not some ravenous, passionate thing like when they were hooking up. Just a peck. Just enough to feel her soft lips and get a taste of the Dr Pepper lip balm she always used. But that wasn't something they did—kissing hello and goodbye like some kind of real couple.
"You skateboarded," he dumbly said instead.
Max raised a brow. "How else would I get around?"
He shrugged, shooting her a playful half-smile and shoving his stupid, romantic impulses to the back of his brain. "You could ride on my pegs."
She snorted and dropped her board on the pavement, rolling past him and down the street. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"
Another night, another party in Loch Nora that the guys didn't know about, Mike thought as they approached the house. Except everything is different now.
A sudden ripple of anxiety ran through him at the thought of being in a house full of jocks and popular kids. This was way out of his comfort zone. He was reminded of the first few months of freshman year when bullies in letterman jackets would ram into him and his friends in the hallways and call them names on a daily basis before Eddie took them in.
"So uh… who's all gonna be here?" he asked, dismounting his bike as they turned onto the long driveway.
Max hopped off her board and glanced back at him with a knowing look, pulling back her hood. "Not the football guys if that's what you're worried about."
Mike's nervousness eased a little. That meant no Troy and his dickhead friends. "Really?"
"Nah, nobody likes those psychos."
This house wasn't quite as grand as the Pearsons', but it was still bigger than Mike's or any of his friends. Groups of teens huddled on the wraparound porch, the skunky smell of pot permeating the air while loud music poured out from the cracked open windows.
He stayed close to Max as they squeezed through the crowded front door into the high-ceilinged foyer. She stood on her toes and peered around the rooms branching off of it.
"I see the girls by the beer pong table," she shouted over the noise as she headed towards the dining room.
Mike's stomach dropped. Hand-eye coordination was not his strong suit. He was going to look like a total loser in front of her and her teammates.
"Uh, I've never played."
She turned and flashed him a smile. "Don't worry Wheeler, I'll carry you and your butterfingers to victory."
Grabbing his hand, she tugged him through the crowd, her small, cold fingers interlacing with his own. Mike tried to ignore how nice it felt. How right it felt.
As expected, Max ruled at beer pong—sinking balls into cups with impressive accuracy, whereas Mike was just as terrible as he thought he'd be. And it didn't help that he kept getting distracted by the fact that she looked… really good tonight.
Mike didn't know what it was. He attempted to subtly study her, trying to figure out if she was wearing makeup or something, but she kept grinning at him every time she placed the ping-pong ball in his hand and throwing him off kilter. She had the best smile.
Jesus, he needed to get a grip. Maybe drinking more would help. He chugged his third beer and tried not to think too hard about the fact that dirty ping-pong balls and people's fingers had just been in it.
Max took her turn, easily landing the ball in the last remaining cup on the other side and immediately turned to him with that disarming smile. Mike grinned back. She was so pretty. Her hair was so long and shiny, and her cheeks were a little pink from the alcohol, and her freckles–
"Mike?"
Just really fucking cute…
"Mike!" A hand waved in front of his face. "Snap out of it." He blinked and Max's now concerned expression came back into focus. "Jeez, how wasted are you?"
"I'm fine," he insisted, shaking his head and peering down the table.
The lone red cup blurred in front of him, momentarily splitting apart into two. Okay, maybe he was a little wasted. He braced his hands on the tabletop and hunched over in an attempt to pull himself together.
"C'mon Wheeler, just make this one little shot," Max said as she leaned over his shoulder. Her breath was ghosting over his ear and his lungs were suddenly full of her perfume or shampoo or whatever it was that made her smell incredible and it was completely disorienting. "If you miss, I will never blow you again."
He turned his head slightly so their mouths were only a whisper apart. "You know they say positive reinforcement is more effective than negative."
"Well, you didn't give me a chance to say what I'll let you do if you do make it…"
Jesus Christ. Mike swallowed at the slideshow of pornographic images flashing through his brain.
"Never mind, that's not helping," he muttered, straightening up and looking back at his target.
"Let's go, Lips!" one of the softball girls, who he was pretty sure was the catcher, called out from the opposite end of the table. "We don't have all night."
Lips? He rolled his eyes. These jocks always had to give everyone a nickname.
Max scratched her nails soothingly over his lower back. He tried not to shiver. "You got this. Don't bounce it… Lips," she snickered.
Mike grabbed the ball from her open palm and took a deep breath. Closing one eye, he lifted his arm and, with a flick of his wrist, released the ball into the air. It sailed across the table in what felt like slow motion, a perfect arc that seemed like it was heading right for the cup.
To his utter disbelief, it landed inside with a satisfying plunk that drew groans from the opposing team and a victorious cheer from Max. They spun towards each other, positively beaming, and for one wild, euphoric second he thought she was going to kiss him in celebration.
"Mayfield!" A blond boy, tall and muscled in an obnoxiously tight shirt sauntered up to them, ruining the moment.
Mike watched, stunned, as Max sidestepped him and threw her arms around the boy's neck. He lifted her off her feet, spinning them in a circle while she let out an uncharacteristic giggle.
She was still laughing when he lowered her back down. "Hey, Dean."
He flashed her a blinding white smile and squeezed her bicep. "You taking care of that arm, Rocket?"
"Better than you, Rosati," she shot back, punching his shoulder playfully. He grabbed it and winced, feigning injury, and she laughed again. A loud, carefree, real laugh. One Mike rarely got to see.
He frowned. Dean Rosati was a senior on the baseball team, so he supposed he and Max had gone to tournaments and away games together, but he hadn't known they were so… friendly.
"I'm gonna go get a drink…" Mike said to nobody in particular, slipping away unnoticed while Max and her friend kept joking around.
He refilled his cup at the keg in the kitchen, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling stirring in his gut. Once he'd moved aside, two juniors he knew were also on the baseball team stepped up to the keg.
"Dude, Rosati said he's finally gonna score with that sophomore chick from the softball team," the shorter one said as he pumped the handle a few times.
"Who, the redhead?" his friend scoffed. "He wishes, man. Didn't she come here with someone anyway?"
"I didn't see any guy with her…"
Cool, Mike nodded to himself. So apparently he was literally invisible to these people. Max had been right, there was absolutely no chance of the guys hearing about him being here.
"No for real, he says she's a total nympho and definitely has the hots for him," the first one insisted. "Just get a load of them over there, it's in the bag."
Mike followed their gazes across the room to where Dean was shooting Max a sleazy wink as he said something and backed away. Mike looked over to see her reaction, expecting her to be disgusted, but instead, she just crossed her arms and shook her head, biting back an amused grin. What the fuck?
Heat crept up the back of his neck, the plastic cup in his hand crinkling as he gripped it tightly. He knew he had no actual claim on her, but Mike was seeing red at the thought of that douchebag putting those grimy hands on his–
There was a sharp tap on his shoulder, and he tore his eyes away from the nausea-inducing scene in the dining room to find a tall, vaguely familiar-looking brunette standing next to him.
"It's Mike, right?" she asked, smiling brightly.
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm Kelsey, we have physics together with Hawthorne?"
"Oh right…" he replied, his eyes involuntarily shifting back to where Dean was now leering at Max from across the long dining table, whispering something to his two friends while they snickered and high-fived him.
"Have you started next week's homework yet?" Physics Girl asked, oblivious to the rage simmering inside of him. "It's brutal."
"Hm?" Mike's jaw clenched as he continued to stare down the group of jocks and imagined himself punching Dean repeatedly in the face.
"There you are!"
He jumped as Max appeared on his other side, wrapping her hand around his bicep. He'd been so fixated on Dean that he hadn't even noticed her coming over.
"Oh and you got me a drink," she said, snatching his cup and taking a long sip. Her eyes landed on the other girl, widening as if she hadn't even realized she was there. A big, fake smile spread over her face. "Hey, Kelsey."
"Oh, hi Max." The girl's eyes flickered between the two of them. "I didn't know you two came here together," she said to Mike.
"Aw, but he did," Max answered for him in a sickly sweet voice, "and they're expecting us for the next game of pong. Later, Kels!"
She tightened her grip on Mike's arm and tugged him away, only instead of heading back to where the beer pong was, she stomped upstairs to a hallway where a line of people waited for what was presumably a bathroom. Max bypassed them, dragging him to the opposite end where it was dark and empty.
Mike stumbled after her as he tried to make sense of what just happened. He had no idea why she had popped up acting so weird all of a sudden. He observed her as they came to a stop and leaned against opposite walls. She looked disgruntled and pouty and… oh.
He crossed his arms and smirked as she sipped her stolen beer.
"What?" she asked when she noticed him watching her.
"Nothing…" He reached out and took his drink back. "You're cute when you're jealous."
She scowled at him. "I am not jealous! I was doing you a favour and sparing you a painful conversation. Kelsey McDonald is the dullest girl I've ever met." Pinning him with a knowing look she added, "Besides, I saw you practically burning a hole into the back of Dean's head with your eyes."
Now it was Mike's turn to frown, that illogical possessiveness from earlier flaring up inside him again. "You should stay away from him. I overheard some of his friends saying he wants to 'score' with you."
"Oh yeah?" A thoughtful look crossed Max's face as she folded her arms. "And why shouldn't I? He's definitely not bad looking…"
"You know why," he said as he took a step closer to her.
"Do I?" She peered coyly up at him through her eyelashes. "Maybe I need you to spell it out for me."
He stepped closer again so he was in her space and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. One arm rested on the wall above her as he leaned in, their noses brushing together like he was about to kiss her. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she lifted her chin, offering up her lips.
Then, instead of closing the distance between them, Mike placed his cup on the narrow table next to her and grabbed her elbow, dragging her through the open door on the other side.
"Mike!" she laughed as he pulled her into the darkened room.
It appeared to belong to a child. There were stuffed animals piled on the bed, the walls covered in purple, flower print wallpaper, everything softly illuminated by the pink glow emanating from the Care Bears night light in the corner.
Mike kicked the door closed, muffling the noise from the party downstairs, the thumping bass the only sound they could still hear.
He walked Max backwards to the twin bed, pushing her down firmly by the shoulders until she was sitting on the edge. She looked up at him, intrigued. It wasn't often that he just took the lead like this.
Kneeling down on the carpet in front of her, he reached for a loose strand of hair that had escaped her pigtails, tucking it behind her ear before trailing his fingertips down the length of her neck and then further, down the middle of her chest over her sweatshirt.
When he reached the fly of her high-waisted jeans she leaned back on her elbows, watching as he undid it and tugged them down along with her panties, bringing her legs together and straightening them in the air to assist him. Mike paused when he reached her feet. Her calf-length socks were striped and mismatched, which he found strangely adorable, so he left them on after slipping off her shoes.
Once her pants and underwear were discarded behind him, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and tugged her to the edge of the mattress. Max gasped as the sudden movement forced her flat onto her back. Head swimming with desire, he guided her legs over his shoulders and positioned himself at the apex of her thighs.
"You want me to spell it out for you?" he breathed as he lowered his head, keeping his eyes on hers. He pressed a kiss to the top of her mound on the way down. "Pay attention."
Slowly, he began to trace out letters with the tip of his tongue. Her legs twitched and he tightened his grip on the tops of her thighs, keeping them still.
"Um, one more time?" she requested breathlessly when he stopped. Mike snickered but obliged, spelling the word out even more methodically.
"Is that… your name?" Max panted after a few seconds. "You're such a– fuck, such a Neanderthal, Wheeler."
He hummed affirmatively, not bothering to tell her the "K" she was feeling was actually an "N".
Mike continued lightly stroking his tongue around, coaxing her slit open so he could get at her clit. When he did, his tongue flicked out across it, barely giving her any pressure at all.
Max's fingers scrabbled uselessly at the sheets next to her hip so he reached up and interlocked their hands, giving her something to hold on to. Her other hand went to his head, the light scratch of her nails over his scalp sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. His tongue swirled over her clit one more time before he changed his position and pushed it inside her.
Considering how often they did this in a time crunch, he knew her body well enough that he could have made this quick. But tonight he decided he would rather unravel her slowly, ensuring he rid her of any moronic notions of hooking up with mouthbreathing baseball players in too-small t-shirts.
By making her come her brains out.
She moaned loudly as he plunged his tongue in and out of her, her nails digging crescents into the back of his hand. A wicked impulse crossed Mike's mind then, and he was feeling uninhibited enough to go with it, so the next time he pulled his tongue out he dipped it even lower…
Max's legs stiffened around his shoulders. "Oh my god, Mike what–?"
She cut herself off with a gasp as he flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe all the way up to her clit. Smirking inwardly, he did it twice more, and on the third time, a broken whimper fell from her lips.
"Fucking– stop teasing, Wheeler," she whined as she started grinding herself onto his mouth, searching, seeking more.
He finally let his lips envelop her, sucking and licking her clit at intervals. The hand in his hair pulled him into her until it became somewhat hard to breathe, but Mike didn't care. Her taste was profoundly addictive. The first time she'd urged his head down her body and told him exactly how to put that "big, annoying mouth of his" to better use, he wasn't sure if he'd like it.
But getting to see her like this? Making her hips jerk up off the bed, hearing the noises she made? Yeah, he would gladly suffocate between her thighs.
"Oh fuck, baby," she gasped out as he suctioned particularly hard over her clit, "that's so good, you're so good…"
Mike barely suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through him. Baby. She only ever called him that when she was completely lost in the moment.
The first time she'd said it—in that raspy, breathless voice when she had been riding him fast and hard in the back seat of his car—he'd come instantly, much to his embarrassment and her amusement.
It probably said something about him that he liked her praise so much. Craved it. The undeniable validation that he was doing something right. That she needed him to make her feel that way. He'd never done drugs but he imagined it felt something like this.
Keeping his mouth where it was, he released her leg and brought his fingers to her entrance, easily sliding two of them in. Max gave a throaty moan, her thighs tightening around his head, fingertips digging in, yanking at his hair by the root.
Every desperate sound that left her shot straight to Mike's cock. Groaning, he ground his hips against the side of the bed, nearly coming in his pants from the much-needed pressure.
When she began bucking off the mattress he pulled his other hand from her tight grasp and braced his forearm across her pelvis, holding her down. Her abdominal muscles quivered beneath his palm as her entire body went taut.
"Fuck, fuck I'm– close," she breathed.
He felt the exact moment she broke—the telltale pulsing around his fingers as he kept fucking her with them rapidly while maintaining firm suction on her clit. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth and stifle her scream. Mike understood the need for discretion, but damn if he didn't wish he could hear her lose control. Although, with how tightly her legs were pressed to either side of his head, it was doubtful he'd be able to hear much at all.
Max fought against his firm hold, writhing wildly with the strength of her orgasm as she moaned into her palm. When she finally started to relax what felt like minutes later, he turned his head to the side and sucked hard on the soft skin of her inner thigh.
"Mike," she yelped, her leg jolting again at the sting of his teeth.
Chuckling, he brought his fingers to his mouth to suck her essence off them. She lifted her head, watching him with darkened, hooded eyes. His dick was throbbing painfully against the fly of his jeans, but he knew this wasn't about him.
Mike leaned back on his hands as he took in the sight of her—legs open, wearing nothing but her sweatshirt, wetness shining on her inner thighs, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
And it had all been his doing.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and raised a brow. "So Rocket, still wanna go talk to Dean?"
Max laughed weakly, collapsing backwards and throwing her arms above her head. "Dean who?"
Mike grinned and turned sideways, leaning his head on the edge of the mattress. He pressed a kiss to her bare knee before resting his forehead against it while he waited for his body to calm down.
After a minute of silence, she took a quick breath. "Mike?"
"Yeah?"
"I just– I want you to know that uh, I'm not doing… this with anyone else. Nor am I… looking to."
He swallowed, glad she couldn't see the dopey smile spreading across his face. "Me neither."
At the start of February, they encountered a problem.
"Ow, you just backed me into the marimba, you dipshit!"
"What the fuck is a marimba?"
"Ugh, stop talking and get your pants undone already."
"Jesus, you're so bitchy today. Is it almost your time of the month?"
"Oh Wheeler, you're so gonna pay for that one…"
They were being reckless. They both knew it.
But the chemistry teacher had paired them together for the lab and they'd just spent an hour "accidentally" brushing up against each other and meticulously pushing each other's buttons, and all that pent-up energy that had been simmering between them—not unlike the stearic acid in their beaker—needed to go somewhere.
Which was why, when the bell finally rang for lunch, they'd immediately ducked into the empty band room across the hall. As soon as the door swung shut they were all over each other.
"You were so fucking obvious, leaning over the lab bench like that with your tits pushed up," he muttered, yanking the collar of Max's flannel to the side before dragging his teeth along the tendon in her neck, while her hand crept under his shirt.
She raked her nails down his abdomen until she reached the waistband of his boxers. "You're the one who kept staring and almost ruined the whole experiment. It's not my fault you're so desperate and horny."
He groaned against her throat as she rotated her wrist and snaked her hand under the fabric, wrapping her fingers loosely around him and giving him a few unsatisfying pumps.
"Shit, look how hard you are already," she laughed incredulously. "You're so easy, Wheeler."
Mike made a frustrated sound and tried to thrust into her hand. She chuckled into his neck, giving his dick a firm squeeze before moving to kneel on the floor. He flattened both palms on the wall in front of him and looked down. Her fingers tugged at the open fly of his jeans and in the darkness, he could just barely make out the oddly affectionate smile she was giving him.
Then, it suddenly became blindingly bright. They both froze and looked up at the fluorescent lights that had just flickered on above them.
"Whoa."
They whipped around to see Will standing paralyzed in the doorway holding his oboe case, mouth open in surprise for several painful seconds before he seemed to snap out of it.
"Um. Sorry! I'll just…" he stuttered before turning on the spot and dashing away.
"Shit. Shit!" Mike cursed, tucking himself into his waistband and doing his jeans back up.
Max's eyes were wide with panic as she stood and started to fix her unravelled braids. "Go talk to him!"
Mike ran out into the hallway, head swivelling until he spotted Will rounding the corner on the left. He sprinted after him, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped linoleum.
"Will! Wait!"
Will stopped in his tracks and whirled around. "What the hell was that, Mike?"
"It was nothing!"
"It didn't look like nothing!" he exclaimed. "It looked like something that's happened before."
"Would you keep your voice down?" Mike hissed, pulling Will off to the side. "Okay, you're right. It wasn't nothing. Max and I have kind of been… fooling around. But it's only physical, it's not like we're secretly dating or anything," he explained.
Although now that he thought about it, they did spend a lot of time not fooling around… and they'd gone to that party together. And admitted they weren't interested in anyone else…
Oh shit. Was he secretly dating Max?
"Are you…" Will glanced left and right, making sure no one was listening. "…doing it?"
Mike pressed his lips together and stared hard at the floor, knowing his silence was answer enough.
"Oh my god." Will rubbed his hand over his face and then through his hair. "But you can't stand each other!"
Mike shrugged. "We still can't most of the time."
"I always thought you guys were just like… siblings who annoyed each other."
"Well, I definitely don't do that with my siblings…"
Will sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How long?"
"Um…" Mike certainly wasn't about to reveal that they had technically kissed for the first time on Labour Day at a party he hadn't even told the guys he'd been at. "Since my birthday?"
A wounded look appeared on his friend's face, and he took a step back. "So you've been sneaking around behind our backs for months?"
"I– I'm sorry," Mike mumbled, the full guilt of his prolonged deception hitting him all at once. It had felt so good being with Max that he hadn't even had time to feel bad about lying to his friends.
They were silent for a minute and then Will seemed to steel himself, rolling his shoulders back and setting his jaw. Mike realized for the first time that they were almost the same height now, and he wondered when the hell that had happened.
"The Party doesn't keep secrets from each other," Will said firmly. "Either break it off with Max or tell the guys."
Mike's shoulders slumped, knowing there would be no talking his friend out of this one. "Okay, I will, I promise. Just… give me some time to talk to her?"
Will nodded wordlessly, giving him one last look of disappointment before turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner.