Chapter Text
For the record, Mike Wheeler never intended to sign him and Will up for a porn competition.
It was an accident, a complete and utter flounder on his end that stemmed from several cups of straight espresso without a chaser between them, and his overeager attempts to make a name for himself and for Will.
This really was supposed to be something for their résumés and the fact it was a dual opportunity immediately appealed to Mike; so sure, maybe he didn’t read the full flyer that was pinned on the creative-contests board in the commons… In his defense, it wasn’t advertised as porn! It was advertised as romance, and to Mike it would’ve been a walk in the park if it was just some sappy love-story competition. In fact, Mike was so normal about it that he completely forgot about it!
So that’s how he ended up here.
Sitting on his bed (the top bunk, of course) in he and Will’s dormitory at the University of Indianapolis, with blush up to the tips of his ears and a very complicated problem to work out, a problem in the form of a sealed envelope that smelt like artificial roses.
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That has to be illegal.
Looking at the envelope, all Mike can think is how there is absolutely NO WAY you’re allowed to use a postage stamp with literal boobs on it. Call Mike a moron if you want, but he’s abreast enough to know those are just artistically rendered breasts on this postage stamp, poorly, in his opinion, disguised as flowers. Call him a prude too, apparently, he thought this was just ridiculous.
“I swear Will! I didn’t even- I didn’t know it was po—oohmygod!”
Mike slapped his hands over his face dramatically.
He’s hoping he’s coming off as charming with his embarrassment rather than pathetically mortifying, the kind of thing that Will could aww at sympathetically.
Mike couldn’t even say the word porn, he wasn’t prepared for Will to say it either!
“Mike. How did you accidentally sign us up for a porn competition?”
So hearing his sweet best friend say the p-word might have taken a few years off Mike’s life, and Mike wasn’t even ready to die! He couldn’t legally drink yet! Or light an artistically inspired cigarette on a November evening out on their fire escape! He’s barely lived his life and here’s Will, ensuring he doesn’t get to live it in the future!
“Do you have to say it like–“
Mike sighs, simultaneously making this whiny sort of sound that he never wants to let leave his body ever again.
“It was a romance competition, Will! It- it was SUPPOSED to be a romance competition! And it was something we could both do, so I just- I thought-”
Mike really couldn’t decide if what he was feeling right now was immense shame or if it was annoyance, and after being friends for nearly 15 years, Will should know he gets all overzealous like this! It wasn’t out of character for him!
Mike felt like some cruel writer’s comedic relief character right now. The one who gets bullied by the narrative for the viewer’s enjoyment.
Point and laugh, people, miserly Mike’s done it again!
“Okay, okay. Mike. I’m not–”
Will raises his hands, making awkward de-escalation motions with them.
“I’m not mad, I’m just really… confused. I don’t- I mean, it’s… a porn..thing.”
“Well I didn’t know that at the time! What else do you want from me, Will? I’m sorry! We don’t have to do it, it was stupid anyways–”
“No- no, Mike..! Can you just- hold on for a second..?”
Will grabbed Mike's hands to keep him from picking at his writer’s callus, which was a little quirk that’s stuck since Mike began writing enough to get them.
“If you paid for the submission, then I don’t mind doing the competition, it’s not a big deal for me, it’s more you I’m worried about- since it’s—um, straight porn. Wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”
Now, Mike wasn’t a PERVERT. He considered himself more of a scholar, actually.
He’s obviously dabbled in erotic literature— he’s an English major— half the classics are inherently erotic! If Will was okay with it, why shouldn’t he be? Plus, it was a twenty dollar applicant fee which might not be a whole lot, but they’re college students, so it’s detrimental to not at least TRY and get a return on it. It’s a five hundred dollar cash prize, too, and Mike KNEW he and Will could easily win this! Will was a brilliant artist and Mike would say his writing isn’t too shabby.
“If you’re cool, I’m cool.”
Mike replied, super coolly, tilting his head back onto the wall his bed was pushed against, not making any attempts to stop the hand-holding currently happening.
“Are you sure..? I mean- Mike.. I’m gay— so it’s not like I’d find it... sexy… I guess. But you’re straight, so isn’t it sort of different?”
At this, Mike shakes his hands free from Will’s grip and crosses his arms.
“Will, I said I'm cool, so I’m cool. It’s cool! It’ll be good for your portfolio- our résumés! Besides, I’m not some horndog.”
And at that, Will raised an eyebrow at him (which made Mike throw his hands up and made his mouth agape), because although Mike wasn’t a total dude about sex and stuff, he was still a college student, a STRAIGHT college student with plenty of options around campus.
It’s different for Will, his fantasies don’t leave their shitty little dorm room.
Mike though? Will was certain Mike could have any girl he wanted if he just popped his collar and ran one of his perfect hands through his messy black hair.
AKA: Will really didn’t need to be a girl to know Mike’s boy-next-door charms worked.
“Okay, if you’re so sure..”
A smile covered Mike’s face scarily fast that staggered a tad when Mike realized Will had more to say.
“But I don’t want this to like- change anything I guess..? I mean, I don’t want to do this again, is what I mean. It's not really in my ballpark, so.”
“--But imagine this, Will. If we win, and we get popular… imagine how easy it’ll be to make some extra money!!”
“Mike, I’m not going to get rich off porn.. joining one competition isn’t a big deal, but anything more and I’ll have future clientele thinking I’m like- a sex artist.”
Mike made to speak again, probably to argue his case again, but Will held up his hand and wagged his finger back and forth, telling him no like you’d tell a child or a dog, so Mike stopped trying to create a small smut business and agreed it’d be just this once, and now they’re really in this. Together.
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So, Mike may have overlooked the whole “walk in the park” thing.
News flash: It ISN’T easy making a collaborative smut light-novel with your best friend.
The problem isn’t the smut. Mike can write smut. Anyone can write smut if they wanted to, and hell, he wrote some of his OWN material when he was a teen and had nothing to get his rocks off to. This though? This is an entirely different thing.
The biggest problem he bumped into was how he’d go about giving Will his rough draft. Does he just walk up to him, hold it out with a smile like it’s nothing? Or does he slide it under his door? Pop it in an envelope and slide it into their mailbox so it’s something professional and not giving his gay best friend some steamy straight porn he wrote about a knight and a priestess? (No, he didn’t consider the similarities between paladins and knights or clerics and priestess’ when he began writing.)
Mike decided the easiest way would just be slipping it into Will’s backpack between his classes, so when he swung back to their dorm before Creative Writing and saw Will’s shower caddy missing, he slipped the folded piece of paper through the opening of one of Will’s folders and zipped his bag back up for him. Then, he gave himself a quick look-over in the mirror by the door and ducked out like a thief in the night. Maybe that should’ve been the plot of their story. Phantom Thieves… (A shame they wouldn’t be doing this ever again, 'cause now Mike’s sort of thinking about it.)
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Will couldn’t begin to comprehend how his best friend managed to accidentally get– solicited– into this erotica competition. Was it really marketed as a romance competition, or is Mike, an english major, just utter garbage at reading and comprehension?
Will almost had a heart attack when he opened his folder in class and the paper floated onto the floor; and the worst part was that a cute peer of his picked it up off the floor and handed it back to him, a tall guy with a nice smile named Carlton. Will doesn’t think Carlton read what was on the paper, but now he’s dying to give Mike’s draft a read so he can know what Carlton might have read.
When his professor announces the rest of the class is studio time Will pulls out his sketchbook, opens it, and puts Mike’s draft on top of a work-in-progress sketch, trying for an ounce of confidentiality.
Then, he begins to read:
{The journey so far had been leisurely for the pair. The knight was familiar with the green plains they traversed and the priestess at his side could sense a wick of violent energy before it could even reach them.
What the two failed to anticipate getting in their way was the pollen of some beautiful spring flowers that had caught their eye, which is how they wound up now hiding away in a deserted pavilion; on the edge of something neither had the courage to name.
The knight bowed to the beautiful maiden standing before him and took his helmet off, locks of messy hair the color of coal falling to his shoulders; then reached for her trembling hand, and even beneath the thin white veil she wore he could see how her pinkened lips pressed into a pout.
“My lady, my beautiful light. What ails you?”
Her body radiated warmth, the purest kind of comfort akin to the sun’s softest rays. In this moment, he didn’t feel like a man encased in cold steel, he felt like he was wrapped in sun-soaked silk that warmed his entire body from the outside in. In this moment, Sir Mika fully understood the strength of the mystical lady he knelt for; Willow Miraculum was the most brilliant thing he’d ever had the honor of laying his eyes on.
“Knight, it is something that you could never be expected to help me with.. I couldn’t ask it of you, to give me the only piece of yourself you haven’t already devoted to me. The only piece of you that should never be of an oath.”
Her soft voice, her soft curves, Sir Mika couldn’t begin to understand what he hasn’t already devoted to them. Looking at her from his spot on the floor, how flush and frightened she looked with every breath she took, he’d do anything to make her feel better.
He pressed a kiss to the front of her hand, brushing his lips over the exposed skin her gloves did not cover, and she shivered. Her hands are so so soft, he fears his scarred lip is too rough for her.
“I apologize for even uttering your name, my lady, but I have to call you as you are. Willow Miraculum, you are absolutely worth the sacrifice, whatever it may be.”
“Knight.. I fear you do not understand.”
Mika shakes his head, let’s her hold his chin. When he looks up at her, his brown eyes are filled with potent devoutness, enough it causes her breath to hitch.
How does she ask him for more of his body? The Knight’s skin is covered in plenty of scars already, proof of how cruel the world tries and fails to be towards her, and still it isn’t enough. Now, her body demands his love too. How cruel was she, to put this responsibility on him when it was her fault they wound up in this position to begin with? If only she didn’t try and pick those pretty flowers, her punishment for trying to take them being sweet-scented pollen that filled her with the need to be taken herself.
A sob leaves her lips and she hunches over, knees buckling beneath her. The knight, not wanting her to bruise her knees on the cobblestone below, gently pulls her into his lap so her thighs rest on either side of his armored hips. Positioned like this, her split skirt left her thighs exposed, protected only by sheer white stockings.
“What do I not understand, my Lady! Your magic? But I feel a pulse in your soul, an arduous beat in the depths where you harbour too much inside.. you must be vexed by this discomfort, this murmur which calls directly to me..”
Sir Mika puts both of his hands flat on her thighs, the metal of his gloves scraping against the material; he’s especially careful to not tear her stockings and expose her skin.
Willow feels his hands pressed against her so vividly she might as well not have the stockings on at all, she can’t help but clamp her thighs around him with a shiver and dig her fingers into the purple of her skirt. Each sensation no matter how small against her sensitive skin sends a splintering pleasure throughout her entire body. The voice she’s meant to use for casting magic can only huff the quietest sounds none should hear. Mika, though, hears them, feels her warm exhale against the small sliver of exposed skin over his neck and wonders if her magic is what makes it so addictive, or if her allure is something he’s always been chasing.
They say nothing for a few moments. Willow struggles to find the words she’s searching for, and Mika doesn’t dare utter a single sound that could cover each beautiful breath she takes.
When she finally breaks apart the silence, she does so quietly and directly into his lips.
“Knight, please don’t make me say it.. my heart cannot take this confession, spoken like a true paramour.. if you are to do this for me, to me, you must be gentle with my heart too.”
If the Knight still couldn’t understand what she begs for by now, it would only be out of his own hubris. Only a fool would look at the lady in their lap and tell her to hold herself up. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind at once, and they were all drenched in pure devotion. This was his purpose, was it not? To protect, to serve, to soothe, and Willow Miraculum was his patron saint.
Sir Mika would bet his own blood there is no mortal more willing to supply themselves to her. The mere thought of another being in his position makes the Knight’s hands slide possessively up her thighs, finally leaving a tear in the delicate material.
“My lady, please let a foolish brute like me taste magic on my lips just this once; please allow me to coax forth the magic from inside of you.”
The knight’s words struck Willow in the depths of her heart, exactly where the incessant ache pounded long and deep. With her hands she guided Mika’s under the slip of her skirt where his fingertips met the garter-belt holding up her stockings, a clear boundary she was inviting him to cross.
With twitching hands, Mika carefully moved to the waistband of her intimates, pulling them down her thighs. It was inappropriate of him to stare, a truth drilled into him from his relentless etiquette training, but really; what a fool he’d be to not peer at the shimmer left behind on the fabric.
Clenching her thighs together, Willow peered at Mika shyly, the veil over her face fluttering forward with every deep exhale she made.
“Mika…”
Her voice bordered on begging, and Sir Mika was notoriously weak for this woman, so he wasted no more time gently prying her legs apart and ducking down until he was level with her bare bottom.
“May I, my lady?”
Mika’s lips pressed into the patch of skin her stockings did not cover, he left a phantom-kiss over the sensitive area and focused his gaze on the beautiful lady whose legs he was between. It took all of his self restraint to not just dive forward and take a taste of the glittering fluid coating her inner thighs.
Willow met his devoted gaze and wet her lips, nodding to him.
“With words, my lady.”
Another moment passes where Willow just watches him, watches the way he kept adjusting how his hands were holding her thighs apart or how he’d leave little presses of his lips on her thighs whenever she’d quiver.
Then, she speaks softly, a cadence to her voice the knight wishes to hear for the rest of his life.
“Please, indulge me, my knight.”}
There’s several thoughts floating around Will’s head about Mike’s draft by the time he’s finished reading it.
1. Of course it’s about a knight. Why wouldn’t it be? Mike’s always loved the damsel trope.
2. The name Mike chose for the priestess was certainly something.
3. The direction Mike decided to go with the sexually invasive pollen was.. interesting; Will wondered if maybe Mike was finally getting curious about smoking pot or something and wrote the high based on what he’d heard from peers.
Overall, it really isn’t bad by any means. Will no professional when it comes to writing smut, but if he were straight he’d probably long for the priestess’ quote, “soft curves,” unquote.
And, well, in Will’s gay opinion, Sir Mika the Knight is definitely attractive. Unfortunately, Will isn’t a priestess with supple breasts and magical thighs or whatever sexy garble Mike wrote so he’d never be the knight’s ideal excursion, but he could fantasize it, and that’s the whole point of this entire competition.
Must mean Mike’s doing a good job so far.. Will was feeling a little scared about drawing this now. He’s trying to envision Sir Mika on his knees for Lady Willow, but the feminine form isn’t sticking– instead of a priestess, he’s picturing a priest.
The reality of what he agreed to sorta hits Will all at once:
Will’s going to have to draw this.
Will’s going to have to draw this.
Will’s going to have to draw this, and he has zero clue how.
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“Mike, I don’t think I can do this.”
Will got back to their dorm about ten minutes ago and took his sweet time unpacking all of his art supplies; pointedly setting the draft beside them on the paint-speckled desk, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Mike. (Will didn’t know if Mike was even looking at him, but he assumed his friend probably was. Mike was always tracking if he was existing in the same vicinity as him.)
Mike was lazing in his bed looking on the verge of sleep, but when Will said those eight damning words, suddenly Mike Wheeler was raring to go.
“--What? But–”
Mike gracelessly crawled to the end of his bed and kneeled there, making random motions towards Will for his attention. (He absolutely was watching Will from the moment he walked into the dorm, peering at him through his sandy eyelashes.)
“Why?? You can, Will, I know you can!”
If the problem was Will’s insecurities, Mike was more than ready to shower him in an appropriate amount of praise and reassurance! He might as well multiclass as a bard with all of this heroic inspiration. He could be a pala-bard-in! That’s how serious he is about supporting Will in every single way he can.
“I don’t–”
Will leaned against his desk, probably putting too much weight on the wobbly thing, and picked at the dried paint underneath his hands.
Honestly? Will felt sort of helpless. What was the right way to tell your best friend you couldn’t help him with his smut novel because you, cannot for the life of you, picture the scenes in your head, which is the first step to translating it onto paper.
“Will, you’re seriously– the best artist around! I mean, I know it isn’t probably cool to insult anyone, but I’ve seen some of the stuff other students are making and it–”
Will had to stifle the giggle he let out at that into something stern.
“You’re right, Mike, not cool!”
“--I’m trying to say that you’re more than capable of working on this! Is.. is the problem my writing?”
The insecure tone to Mike’s voice frustrates Will more than it should. He isn’t trying to make Mike feel like the worst creative writer at the University of Indianapolis, the problem is all Will! Those big, sad brown eyes are somehow making Will feel guilty. Guilty for, what? Not owning any porno-magazines to use as reference? Guilty for being gay and kind of finding his best friend’s glowering adorable?
“No– Mike it’s– it’s not the writing.. it’s the.. subject.. I-”
Will sighs.
“I don’t know how to draw what’s happening. I’ve never– been in either position so-”
God, this was embarrassing. Could it be possible this is just Vecna trapping him in another slightly homophobic belittling nightmare?
“--So you’d– like to be in either position?”
“--What? Mike!”
“You never talk about it! I’m just surprised, I guess- I always saw you in the-... you know, the receiving role.”
At this, Will lets out a baffled laugh. (He thinks Mike sounds insane.)
“You’ve- thought about it???”
Mike flusters, immediately opting for damage control. (He doesn’t understand why Will’s laughing at him.)
“Not in a weird way, don’t be weird Will!! Know what? Forget I said anything! Can you tell me why you don’t think you can do this anymore?”
“I told you why– it’s because I can’t picture this stuff. I can draw people doing all sorts of things, but I need something to base it off of- does that make sense?”
It’s simple, really. Will could paint things he knows well without any mishaps, like Mike or a demogorgon, but this is something he’s NOT well-versed in at all. What does a man look like when he’s on his knees between a set of thighs, looking up at their subject with devotion? Will has zero clue.
“So– you just need a reference?”
Mike gets off his bed.
“Yeah- and I don’t know if the library would have any books with- the specific things you’re writing about.”
Suddenly, Will was fixated on a particularly tricky patch of blue paint dried to his desk, giving it his full attention to avoid having to give Mike any now that he’s in motion. He was really expecting Mike to whip out some worn playboys from under his bed and brandish them like a torch to light Will’s way.
Mike didn’t do that though. Of course he didn’t.
Instead of that, which would have been awkward but not devastating; Mike crossed the distance between them until he was standing right in front of Will.
Mike’s eyes flicked across Will’s face and after apparently finding whatever he was checking for hidden beneath Will’s baffled expression, Mike dropped to his knees.
“Mike– what are you-”
Mike slowly put his hands over Will’s knees, something way less hesitant than Will was expecting, and began brushing his thumbs against them.
“Does this work?”
The soft tenor of his voice was an insult to Will’s self control. Here was Mike Wheeler, on his knees touching Will’s knees, looking up at him with his big brown eyes that couldn’t hide a single thing in them.
Will wasn’t meant to be on the receiving end of this type of treatment. Not from just anybody, and especially not from Mike Wheeler.
“What—?”
Will made to clamp his legs together, but Mike’s grip tightened over his kneecaps, stopping him.
“Could I work as a reference, Will?”
There was zero mockery in Mike’s voice. He was genuinely putting himself in the position of muse to keep Will on this project.
It was the fact he didn’t even NEED Will’s participation but wanted it badly enough to do this?
Will wasn’t going to survive this competition.