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Will Byers is beautiful.
It’s an objective fact. No matter how hard Chance tries to deny it, it will always be a fact.
When Chance and his family moved to Hawkins for his new step-dad in the Summer of ‘85, Will Byers had been a sort of urban legend. Or, well, Zombie Boy had been an urban legend. That seemed to be the only way the town referred to him.
The whole story was so intriguing: Will Byers died, came back to life, a few people went missing since, and then the new mall set on fire. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it wasn't, but Hawkins seemed to prefer the latter option. Chance knew better than to deny what the town had already established as fact, especially as the new kid, and especially as an outsider.
It's odd, Chance thought, that in this very moment, watching Will Byers dance so freely with a drink in hand, Mayfield swaying her hips parallel to him, that he had ever even dared to question Will’s beauty.
The thing is, Chance knows that what he feels is wrong. He's known for a long, long time that it's wrong. He learnt it at Church, he learnt it on the news, he learnt it at school, he learnt it everywhere.
Chance still remembers the first day of high school. It was so stupid, but he remembers being excited to see this 'Zombie Boy' for the first time. What made him so special?
He never did though. Rumours told him that the Byers moved away from “prosecution and justice”, fleeing to California after they let Satan himself wreck the town into shambles.
Chance got the feeling that outsiders weren't liked very much here.
The rest of high school had been a blur, a whole rollercoaster of emotions. Joining the school’s basketball team had been great—he got to fit in while playing one of his favourite sports as he met new people and was invited to parties, all while managing to fit in.
But Hawkins is weird. The whole satanic cult thing was weird, and Chance would be lying if he said he didn't still have a flicker of fear in his heart. Guilt is another gross emotion that clogs his veins often, no matter how many times he tries to pray it away.
After Chrissy’s death, everything spiralled into a total shit-show. Jason, unhinged by grief, reached his breaking point with Patrick, leading a literal manhunt that would refuse to end until Eddie Munson was to suffer the same fate as his victims.
Both Jason and Eddie ended up dead in the end.
Sometimes Chance wonders if he’s a bad guy.
(Aside from liking men. That's a different topic, one that he doesn't like to dwell on too much.)
But sometimes during Holy Communion, he feels the red wine thick on his lips; he'll wipe it off, only to feel the blood on his hands, and the smell will stain and haunt him for the rest of the service.
Chance may have never actually partaken in those manhunts, but he supported them. He hated Eddie. He hated Hellfire. He hated what they did to his friends. He hated how they all reacted. He hated Henderson and how he'd wear that stupid T-shirt. And he hated himself even more for being infatuated with a guy who was undoubtedly involved in it all.
Will Byers.
God, he'd hardly even spoken to the guy, and yet the deep longing never went away. Chance has no idea when curiosity turned to obsession or when it turned to outright lust, but he couldn't help himself.
Will returned to Hawkins the following year, giving Chance the opportunity to finally see him, though they never really interacted, only making occasional remarks when Andy was targeting Henderson. He tried to not be too mean. At least, not in front of Will.
They'd shared a few classes too, but they never sat close, so, again, they never really spoke. But Chance didn't care; he would stare at Will the whole lesson. His beauty was enthralling, and Chance will never in a million years have the willpower to draw his eyes away.
And this party was not helping. Not at all. The way Will moved, the way Chance could hear him giggle, the way his Adam's apple bobbed ever so slightly as he sipped whatever alcohol Sinclair and Mayfield were giving him. He was so fucking hypnotising, and those hips and that ass-
No.
Chance should not be thinking about him like this. Or any guy for that matter.
It's happened before, usually at other parties, when the guys all got a bit too drunk and pretended to act gay as some sort of joke. Sometimes they would act out what they'd done to girls and Chance couldn't help the way it made him feel deep in the pit of his stomach.
And occasionally he felt it even lower.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, though that was another sin Chance should probably stop indulging in.
Worst of all, Chance could be a little bit perverted during games and practice. Who could blame him? Muscular men flexing their biceps and getting a little touchy when being proud of a successful shot…
It was wrong, he knows that, but it's another objective fact—there is a part that's irrevocably wrong with him. Neither the Holy Lord nor the Virgin Mary, or even God Himself, could ever fix him.
He's been with girls and he knows it feels good, but he can't help it. He wants to try being with a man. He wants to be with Will Byers.
He's heard rumours about Will Byers. Most of them being not very nice. Still, one wrong move could destroy Chance’s life. He could destroy Will’s too if he wasn't careful, and he could never forgive himself for that.
He’s spent a lot of time over the years wondering what Will went through, what his side of the story was. Even now, Chance wanted to comfort him and learn everything there is to know about him. He wants- He wants Will Byers. That's the top and bottom of it. He wants Will all to himself.
“You good, man?”
His thoughts were cut off by Andy’s slurred concern and a rough pat on the shoulder, though Chance doubted his friend really cared that much.
“I‘m fine,” he replied, pressing his lips into a small, firm smile.
“Ok, great. Can you pass the Midori?”
Chance grabbed the bright green bottle from behind the tequila and dragged it towards Andy’s way, only to playfully pull it back before Andy could take it off him. Chance laughed at the other’s frustrated face and grabbed a cup from the side to pour himself a drink, only then finally giving the bottle to Andy, who simply let out a huff before walking off.
Wow, can't even joke around anymore, Chance thought to himself as he rolled his eyes, turning to face the dancefloor to continue watching Will Byers dance. To his horror, Will Byers was nowhere to be found.
Sinclair had vanished too, leaving the only person who could have known where Will had gone was Mayfield, but Chance was a little reluctant to go up to her and ask for her friend's whereabouts. The only few times he'd really interacted with her was when she was standing next to Lucas as Chance asked him a question, and he's not really sure that counts as an actual interaction. And he doubts the little “well done” the two had said to each other during the graduation ceremony only a few hours before counted as a full on interaction either.
Fuck it. He'd do anything for Will.
Gripping his liquid courage, Chance pushed himself through the crowd to the girl and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey.”
She whipped her head round, a look of both disgust and confusion mixed onto her face as she looked Chance up and down. He doesn't think she was too pleased to be disturbed from her dancing, let alone by a guy like Chance.
“Can I help?” She scoffed after he said no more, the bitterness of the alcohol infiltrating her tone.
But he had absolutely no idea what to say.
Hey, I know me and my friends beat up your friend and hated your guts and we've hardly spoken since, but do you mind telling me where your other friend is? You know, the one who's been bullied by the whole town his entire life?
Yeah, fat chance.
“I, uh…” he stumbled over his words as his brain tried to generate some sort of tolerable response, but he was quickly interrupted.
“I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, um, yeah. Sinclair.” God this is so awkward. “I was looking for him, that's all.”
Cringing in on himself, Chance tried to calm down by reminding himself that Will was probably with Lucas, though he still felt like he was being scrutinised by Mayfield’s glaring eyes.
Her whole demeanour shifted, however, the scowl on her face softening, and Chance felt a lot safer.
Until she burst into a fit of laughter, “I have no idea!”
She leaned back, her head landing onto the shoulder of a girl that Chance didn't recognise. The girl was eerily familiar, and reminded him of Will a little bit, but he had no idea who she was.
Now back-to-back, the two girls locked hands, their bodies weaving together as they drifted toward the centre of the dancefloor, leaving Chance behind with no idea where either boy had gone. With a sudden, fluid motion, Mayfield twirled the mysterious girl right round and pulled her deeper into the music and further away from the name Chance couldn't quite place.
That was helpful. Oh well. He was looking for Will anyway.
It was stifling inside, the air thick with both the heat of bodies and the stench of perfume trying to musk sweat, and Chance needed a breather.
Wait.
If Will wasn't still dancing, he had probably found himself in the same predicament as Chance and gone to look for some fresh air as well.
Chance turned toward the open doors, trying to rehearse a million different things he could say to Will.
Hey, do you like basketball?
You’re into art, right?
I like your shirt.
Cool party, isn't it?
I can't believe we've graduated!
You're Will Byers, right?
What's with the whole “Zombie Boy” thing?
Ok definitely not the last one, he thought to himself as he felt the cool wind brush against his cheeks.
There were a few people around, most huddled together in a group as they drank or passed a blunt. There was a group of girls right at the back of the yard taking Polaroids of each other, which Chance couldn't help but think was stupid. Those photos were not gonna turn out good in this lighting.
He scanned the yard, certain that he'd find Will somewhere.
What he didn't expect, however, was to find Will sitting on the edge of the patio with a cigarette between his lips. There's more to him than meets the eye, it seems.
Chance walked towards him, gripping his drink tighter as his heart smacked against his chest, before sitting down right beside Will. Their knees bumped and Will jumped.
“Hi,” Chance smiled as he watched Will examine the man sitting next to him.
“Um, hi?”
Chance went over every single line he'd rehearsed on his way over here, but his mind was left blank. Instead, he found himself doing everything he could to not stare at the soft light from the end of the cigarette and the way it illuminated Will’s face. He was angelic sitting there, the wind tussling his hair ever so slightly.
“Is that a cigarette?” He tried to not sound so bewildered but, watching Will’s brows furrow in confusion, it was evident that he had failed miserably.
“No, it's crack cocaine.”
The two just stared at each other for a while and Chance felt his whole body short-circuit when he watched Will take another drag.
The way Will’s eyes fluttered shut as he breathed the tobacco in, the way his fingers held it, and the way the smoke curled around his face was literally the most beautiful thing Chance had ever seen.
But Chance could tell Will was uncomfortable from the way he hunched his shoulders and had edged away from Chance to take another drag, this time with shaky hands.
A wave of guilt crashed over Chance, instantly dousing his internal lust. He realised his intense staring and his history with Hellfire probably made him look like he was about to attack rather than-
Than what? To flirt? Chance felt his face heat up as he tried to come to terms with the situation.
That's what he wanted to do, wasn't it? He wanted to flirt with Will and see if his own sins could lead himself to Heaven for at least one night.
"I can't believe we’ve graduated,” Chance began, remembering one of the sentence starters he'd rehearsed in his head. “It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it? Small town madness. I’m glad we both got out alive."
Will let out a jagged laugh that definitely had no humour in it. "Easy for you to say.”
"I know it was rough," Chance replied, his brain scrambling to find common ground. "Especially after, you know, the murders... When Chrissy was found in Eddie's trailer, the whole town just lost its mind. It was like some collective fever dream. Everyone was looking for someone to blame."
Will turned his head sharply, his eyes flashing with a sudden, cold fire. "Yeah, everyone was looking for someone to blame," he snapped, his voice trembling with what must have been years of suppressed bile. "And your friends decided it was us.”
The weight of Will’s words hung in the humid night air, pressing down on Chance's stomach. He couldn't even reply. He knew Will was right. So he let the silence sit between them until the sharp edge of Will’s anger began to soften into a slump.
“Yeah," Chance said, his voice quiet. "I watched it all happen, all because it was easier to be quiet than to be a target, and that’s a coward’s way out. I am sorry, Will, no matter how shallow it sounds, I am.”
Will shifted on the stone, the sudden sincerity of the apology catching him off guard. He looked down at his shoes, face quirking like a little bunny.
"Look, I... I shouldn't have snapped like that," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly with embarrassment. "We’ve graduated now. It's all over, I guess. I don't usually go around snapping at strangers at parties."
Chance tried not to let his heart break at being called a stranger, though he supposed Will wasn't entirely wrong.
"Don't apologise for that," he countered firmly, scooting closer to Will to get back into their original positioning. "You have every right to be pissed. High school is rough. Or, was. Well it probably still is, just for someone else that isn't us.”
A blush tinged Chance’s ears as he watched Will laugh at the way he was stumbling over his words.
“People shouldn't pick on others just because they’re different. And you can't just ignore it because you're different too. It's just not right."
And there it was. ‘Different’.
Chance hoped Will was picking up what he was putting down.
But Will didn't react. He instead stared out to the distance, clearly having something on his mind.
“Can I ask you something, Byers?” Chance said to break the silence.
“I say ask away.”
Laughter erupted from Chance, the phrasing of Will’s reply reminding him of an inside joke he shared with the team.
“Are you gonna tell me to stop this meathead from reproducing?”
Will's head flipped round so fast and met Chance's eyes with a bewildered recognition. “What!?”
“Were you referencing your friend?” Chance asked. “Me and the guys used to laugh at what he said a few years ago. It was like, a whole thing.”
“I mean, yeah! I honestly don't really know why I said that but our party is always making fun of…”
Will’s voice drifted off, something clouding his mind, and Chance tried to figure out what Will’s ‘party’ was.
“I can't believe we both laugh at Wheeler’s stupid sayings. We really have so much in common!”
Chance continued laughing, taking in the smell of smoke, but Will still seemed to be bothered by something.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“No, sorry. I just don't wanna talk about Mike right now.”
And then Will was doing that thing again, where his eyebrows squish together, making his face look all soft like a rabbit or a deer, or some other cute woodland critter.
“Are you two… not friends?” Chance asked, trying his best to not discomfort Will.
“Well, yeah, but it's just… I don't know. I just don't wanna talk about him, that's all.”
“Is he not here?”
“No. He said we were ‘conforming to societal pressure’ or something. Said that he had better things to do.”
“You seem annoyed. Did you two fight?”
“Yeah, I'm annoyed at your interrogation!” Will snapped. “I know I said you could ask away, but I didn't realise you would be investigating my entire life!”
“Didn't realise your relationship with Mike was your entire life, sorry.”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say, as Will’s entire composure fractured. He dropped what was left of his cigarette and stomped it into the ground to ensure the light had gone out, his face contorting in frustration.
“Sorry, I should've listened.” Chance was really not being very good at this.
“No, it's fine. I'm just being stupid.”
He recognised this reaction. He knew it all too well. The thought of your feelings being stupid is something Chance would never want anyone else to go through, let alone Will Byers.
“No! You aren't being stupid!” Chance said, placing his hand on Will’s shoulder, causing him to take a deep breath in.
Chance felt the heat radiating from Will’s skin through the thin fabric of his top. He didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he let his thumb graze the line of Will’s collarbone, a bold move that made his own pulse thrum in his ears.
"You're not stupid, Will," Chance reiterated, his voice dropping an octave, losing his previous nervous edge "I get it. I get the frustration of putting everything into someone who's looking in a completely different direction."
Will looked up, his eyes wide and searching, the anger flickering out into a confused sort of vulnerability. "You do?"
"Yeah." Chance took a breath, deciding to stop rehearsing lines and just play the hand he was dealt. He leaned in just a fraction, enough for Will to catch the scent of his drink and for Chance to catch the lingering, earthy ghost of cigarette smoke. "I spent a long time pretending I was exactly like the guys on our team, but I know it's always been a lie."
He let his gaze drop to Will’s lips for a lingering second before locking eyes again.
"Mike isn't here, and I'm glad" Chance murmured, ignoring Will's slight offense. "Because if he was, he’d be taking up all your mind and space. And I’ve been waiting a long time to get you all to myself."
Will’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound in the quiet of the patio. He didn't pull away. If anything, he seemed to lean into the touch, his guard finally beginning to melt.
"You've been waiting? For me?" he whispered, his voice trembling with either flattery or uncertainty, Chance wasn't too sure.
"I guess," Chance admitted with a lopsided smile. He reached his hand up to Will's jaw, letting it hover there for a second before quickly retracting it and letting it rest in his lap. He realised that he had probably been a bit too bold, and decided to let silence wash over them, the quiet air clearing his mind.
The silence stretched out, no longer jagged with old resentment, but softened by a mutual vulnerability. Will kept his gaze fixed on the glowing light of a star in the sky, his thumb tracing his knuckles in a rhythmic, nervous habit. Chance realised the weight of the conversation had probably left Will a bit stranded, his shy nature reclaiming him now that the anger had cleared.
Chance cleared his throat. "Your hair," he started, his voice warming up as he gestured vaguely toward the way the dark strands were artfully tousled, catching the spill from the lights inside, "you styled it differently, right? It really suits you. It's hot."
Will blinked, finally looking up with a startled expression. A deep flush had crept across his cheeks, more intense than the previous flicker of embarrassment. He let out a small, surprised huff of a laugh and looked down at the crushed cigarette butt, then back at Chance, a flicker of something playful crossing his features.
“If I’m hot, you must be lava.”
The silence that followed lasted exactly one heartbeat before Chance burst into another fit of laughter. Will joined in, a high, breathy sound that made his whole face light up, the cold fire from earlier replaced with a warm glow.
"Lava?" Chance wheezed, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. "Seriously, Byers? Lava?"
"It sounded better in my head!" Will defended, though he was grinning so wide his cheeks looked like they hit his eyes. He shoved Chance’s shoulder lightly, the contact lingering.
"Wait, wait," Chance said, catching his breath. He leaned in a little closer, his grin turning crooked and soft. "Was that... was that an actual attempt at flirting with me?"
Will’s bravado evaporated. The blush returned tenfold, turning his ears a bright, dusty pink as he looked away, suddenly very interested in his stubbed out cigarette butt again.
"Yes," he muttered sheepishly, his voice barely a whisper. "It was. It was terrible. Forget I said it."
"No way," Chance countered firmly, his heart going frantic again. He reached out his hand and it landed on Will’s upper thigh. "I’m not forgetting that. It was dorky as hell, Will.”
He felt Will’s legs tighten on Chance’s grip, and Chance couldn’t tell if they had both had a little too much to drink, but he enjoyed the electricity buzzing between them.
He didn't know how much longer he could last.
“Wait,” Will said, “what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Huh?”
“Before, you asked if you could ask me something.”
Chance smiled softly at Will’s sudden memory, and his mind drifted to the whole ‘Zombie Boy’ thing. That was what he wanted to ask about, but Chance decided that was a question for another time. Enough vulnerable conversations had been spoken already. Or maybe it was about him being queer? Either way, the point still stood.
Instead, Chance decided to be brave; his mind was focused on one thing after all.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to have sex. With me.”
“I'm sorry!?”
“No, don't apologise! I was-”
“That is not what I meant! I just didn't know what you were on about!”
“I asked if you-”
“Yes, I heard you!”
Chance had never seen Will look so red and flustered before, and it was a sight that he hoped he could tattoo into his mind. His eyes had shot up and his soft lips were slightly parted in shock. Chance squeezed Will’s thigh to ensure this was real.
So smooth, Chance, definitely not perverted at all... He hoped God would strike him down right now to punish him for-
“Sure.”
It was spoken with such sincerity that Chance could feel life slow down in real-time, the mix of voices and music drifting off elsewhere. All of his attention was on Will.
“Yeah, well I mean, I was gonna crash here anyways since me and Stacey are friends. Her brother's got a room upstairs but he left for college now so it would just be the two of us-”
Chance immediately stopped when he realised he'd been rambling, evidently far too excited. He could see Will’s eyes gleaming and his smile trying to hide a laugh, and Chance tried to hide his embarrassment.
“Ok.” Will hummed teasingly, but the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips gave him away; there was a tension within him now that was incredulous.
The sudden excitement had Chance’s dick throbbing, and he didn't know how, but the two had somehow ended up inside, pushing through the crowd.
Seeing drunken couples making out in various corners of the house singed Chance with jealousy; he wanted to show off Will as his own in front of all these people, but instead he had to wait to get upstairs and get into Stacey's spare bedroom. Neither boy was allowed to touch each other at all until that door was locked.
It was so unfair. And Chance could feel Will’s own horniness radiating off his body. Or maybe it was nerves. Chance felt the same either way. His heart throbbed almost as hard as his dick, and Chance tried his best to not rush Will up the stairs.
He still couldn't believe it; he was taking the Will Byers up to bed. And, God, he was so fucking desperate.
“Where are we going?” Will murmured, stumbling ever so slightly once the two had reached the landing. Chance could see his flushed cheeks. How cute.
“Spare room, like I said,” Chance began, articulating his words in a way that wouldn't sound rude, “it's just here.”
The two pushed into the room and Chance has never shut a door and locked it so fast before in his life.
Will's back hit the door with a thud, the force of it making him gasp. Chance followed, immediately cornering him, a hand bracing above Will's head. Their bodies aligned, chest-to-chest.
Chance cupped Will’s face with the other hand, thumb brushing his peachy, flushed skin, eyes flicking between his mouth and his eyes. The air between them was charged, thick with electric anticipation and Chance could feel the heat radiating off Will, felt the way his breaths were coming quicker and shallower.
Within seconds, any distance between them disappeared completely. He melted into the kiss instantaneously, whining slightly as he felt his hands grab all over Will’s body. He licked his tongue along Will’s mouth, only to be softly pushed away.
“Wait, I- I don't know what I'm doing.” Will stuttered, his eyes glossy and timid as he looked up to Chance, clearly embarrassed.
“Don't worry, kuneho, I'll show you what to do,” Chance moved closer again, brushing his mouth against Will’s ear after leaning down, “unless you want me to stop.”
Will twisted his head round, hands snaking up Chance’s body until they reached the back of his neck. They locked eyes for a minute, deep hazel staring into dark voids. Neither blinked. They simply felt each other’s breaths brush their skin, hot and heavy.
Will suddenly pulled Chance's head back down and reached up until their lips were back onto each other. The taste was everything—like cheap booze and pure unadulterated adrenaline, and Chance couldn't get enough of it.
His tongue found its way into Will’s mouth once more, this time being met with a tentative suck, which managed to pull another whine out of Chance.
Fuck, he was being loud. He wanted to hear these sounds come from Will. He wanted so much more.
Will's arms tightened round Chance’s neck, deepening the kiss further, and, as Chance let his tongue feel around Will, grazing teeth and all, he pushed his leg between Will’s thighs, using his knee to tease him.
The soft moan that Will let out into Chance’s mouth was ecstatic, and he used his hands on Will's hips to pull him further up his leg.
Will jolted when Chance's knee pressed up—a deliberate, unforgiving friction against the exact spot that had him seeing stars. A broken noise tore from his throat as he arched into it, hips stuttering forward instinctively.
Chance growled and goddamn if Will didn’t start grinding down onto that thigh like a possessed man. Every rock of his hips was rougher than the last; sweat-slick skin sliding under fabric until they were both panting into each other’s mouths between sloppy kisses, teeth clashing too hard to be sweet anymore, but neither cared enough to stop for air just yet.
Chance's hands wandered down to grope Will’s ass, pulling out a pleased hum. It was luscious. Despite being blocked by a layer of denim, Chance used his fingers to feel his cheeks and Will grinded rough and hard like a diamond.
He drank in the softness of Will’s lips against him and the quiet moans the man let out. Neither of those did anything to sooth what it felt like down south, but Chance loved it nonetheless.
More whines and moans escaped the two, a drunken duet between them, neither knowing who was being louder. All Chance knew was that it was so incredibly hot.
His dick seemed to know it just as well.
He couldn't take it anymore. He needed more. So much more.
Chance pulled Will away from the door, lips never leaving his, and led him towards the bed. Once his calves hit the frame, Chance flipped them both round and gently pushed Will onto the mattress.
He was so fucking beautiful lying there. With reddened lips that shone with saliva, face pink as he tried to catch his breath, and sultry eyes that stared deep into Chance’s own.
“You’re beautiful, Byers,” was all he could say, his groin aching.
“Show me then,” Will replied, eyes narrowing. “Show me how beautiful I am.”
Chance gulped, the soft dominance causing heat to pool in his abdomen. And who was he to disobey?
He moved with a sudden, lithe grace, dropping down to cage Will in. His knees landed on either side of his hips, straddling him firmly as he pinned his weight into the soft duvet. The change in perspective was instant - Will was so close to him again, a heavy proximity that made Chance’s heart kick against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He leaned down until their foreheads were pressed together, his palms flat against the mattress on either side of Will’s head. He didn't kiss him immediately. Instead, he hovered there, eyes scanning his face to finally see the person behind the reputation.
The stray light from the hallway crept under the door, highlighting soft, plump lips and the way Will’s breath hitched in time with his own.
"You have no idea," he murmured, his voice a rough vibration in the small space, "how long I've wanted to get you away from that crowd."
Will reached up, his fingers hooking into Chance's collar to pull him back down, his smirk meeting his as the tension snapped once more.
As the kiss deepened, the pace shifted. It became hungrier, more urgent. Chance shifted his weight, sliding his knee between Will’s legs yet again, and Will let out a low, muffled groan against Chance's mouth. The friction was a spark to a fuse. Will’s grip tightened, his nails digging slightly into the fabric of Chance's shirt, causing him to groan as the world narrowed down to the heat of the body below him and the slick, rhythmic pull of both their lips and hips.
Will pulled back just an inch, his nose brushing against Chance's, both of them breathing hard.
“Off.” Will hummed, glancing at Chance's shirt.
“Hmm?”
“I want your shirt off.”
Chance immediately complied, tugging it over his head and chucking it to somewhere else, and he couldn't help but grin as he watched Will lick his lips in hunger.
“You're so…” Will's words drifted off as he took in Chance's figure through half-lidded eyes.
“I'm so what, kuneho? Come on, use your words.”
“Hot.” Will spoke with such certainty and it was driving Chance wild. Byers thought he was hot. And Will’s hands had started to touch all over, squeezing Chance's muscles with fingers skimming his skin, causing Chance to shiver and drop onto Will.
Will gasped and his hands began to explore Chance’s back instead.
“You’re hard.”
Yeah. Will was right about that. He was hard. He was so hard that it hurt. He simply hummed in response and kissed Will’s jawline before moving down to his neck.
He had to be careful; as much as he wanted to, he couldn't leave any marks in a visible place like that. Chance would just have to leave them lower down.
He started to grind against Will’s legs, desperate for any sort of relief, and fumbled with the buttons of Will’s shirt. Will squirmed beneath him, gasping as Chance reached his collarbone. As Chance pulled Will’s shirt apart, he noticed more moles doted across his body. They were like little stars embedded in milky skin, and Chance wanted to taste the burn.
Starstruck, he kissed the first, then the second, then the third, then ensured he had kissed each and every single one of them, lips never leaving Will’s skin as he moved to the next. Each kiss was deliberate, a slow trail of heat as Chance moved down, his lips tracing a constellation like he was memorising a map of them.
Will was trembling slightly, short gasps blessing Chance's ears. As he moved to the next one, he felt a rough patch of skin, and Will’s breath hitched. Not with excitement this time, but with a sort of apprehension. As Chance opened his eyes, the low light caught the uneven texture of a burn scar tracing across Will’s side.
The hands that had been doting Chance's back flew to cover the scar instinctively, Will’s fingers brushing against his.
His voice was even more quiet than usual, "It’s... it’s not exactly part of the view.”
Chance paused, his weight still braced over Will, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he gently caught Will’s wrist, moving his hand aside just enough to see. The scar was a mix of pale and crimson, perhaps a curse from the devil. All Chance saw was another mark of beauty that Chance hoped only he would ever see. While he wanted to know where it came from and comfort his lover, Chance knew better than to press for answers, so he simply leaned down and pressed another kiss, softer than any before, right to the centre of the scarred skin.
He lingered there for a while, his warm breath fanning over the mark. When Chance looked up, his dark eyes were steady, devoid of any judgment he could only imagine Will had braced himself for.
Tracing his thumb over the mark, Chance returned his lips to Will’s and murmured into his mouth. “Everything about you is beautiful.”
Will smiled in gratitude and shifted to slip his shirt right off, chucking it to be with Chance’s on the floor. Chance smiled back. He enjoyed the feeling of skin on skin, and Will's arms wrapped around his back were pure sanguine.
Chance gave a quick peck to the scar once more before moving to the next mole, desperate to show Will that every single inch of him was exactly where he wanted to be.
He reached over to Will’s nipple next, his tongue circling the pink bud before his lips latched onto it. His tongue continued to swirl it round, but Chance could suck now, and, God, Will’s moans were so fucking hot.
Chance released the nipple with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting them. As he caught his breath, Will writhed with anticipation underneath him. Chance kissed the swollen bud, before giving it a teasing lick and latching onto it again.
Pleased with the sounds Will was making, Chance's hips bucked involuntarily, and he continued to grind against Will’s thigh, a much faster pace this time.
Fingernails scratched against Chance’s back; Will’s hands were tightly gripping into his muscles to ground himself. Chance simply reacted by grinding harder into Will’s thigh as the sensation made his dick throb with viscosity. He needed any sort of relief he could find from the pressure building up down there, and he could almost feel Will’s scratching beginning to scar.
Will’s nipples were sensitive, Chance noted, and hoped to remember that for next time. If there was to be a next time, that is.
They stayed like that for a while: Chance humping Will’s leg like a dog as he sucked his teat, but Chance could feel the heat within him rising like a tide. He let go of Will’s swollen bud and admired the teeth marks that adorned his skin around it like a halo.
As Chance’s breaths thickened, he dropped his head onto Will's shoulder, taking in Will’s smell of sweat and nicotine and a hint of something sweet.
“You feel so good, Will. I'm so- close-”
His hips stuttered before he broke with a muffled groan against Will’s neck, his body locking up tight as the fabric of his jeans strained obscenely over him. The heat between them was unbearable now, making Will squirm helplessly beneath him while Chance rode out every last pulse.
Warm ropes of cum spilled into Chance's briefs as moans spilled out of Chance's mouth, and he could see Will looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.
The relief was immense. Chance stayed still for a few minutes for his clarity, but Will was clearly frustrated from a lack of attention to his own dick; Chance's movements had riled him up.
His hands were shaky as he pulled them away from Chance’s back and shook even more as he fumbled with his belt.
“You need help with that, little tigre?”
Once Will had given a small nod, Chance felt a thrill as his hands moved to Will's belt. He loved the way that the soft leather felt under his fingers, the way that Will would let out a breathy gasp at the slightest touch.
"You always gotta be so slow?" Will's voice was low, slightly husky, and Chance couldn't help but let a smirk grow on his face. He took his time, slowly tugging the belt free, revelling in the way that Will squirmed impatiently beneath him.
Suddenly, the belt was yanked from Chance’s hand, causing his smirk to drop. The leather snapped against his skin with a quick crack and he let out a yelp before he could stop himself. Well, not a yelp. A moan. The pain hadn't hurt, it had felt good. Will looked momentarily shocked too, but then a wicked glint appeared in his eye.
The belt still dangled from Will's grip—leather slithering over bare skin like a promise. A filthy, delicious thought flickered behind Chance’s eyes
What if he let Will do that again? Harder though.
But no, Chance had promised Will he’d show him what to do; he was supposed to be in control here. His fingers tightened on Will’s hips as he leaned down.
"Naughty boy."
The words came out before Chance could fully think it through, but his breath caught as Will whimpered, the sound shooting straight to his groin. The way Will shuddered under him… damn it all.
It seems the both of them were discovering new things about themself tonight.
Chance's lips moved back to Will's jaw, teeth nipping as his hands made their way south. He could hear the slight rasp in his own voice, low and rough with desire.
He took his time with the zip on Will's jeans, fingers working slow, just to hear that hitch in breath again. He wanted to take his time, but God, he was impatient just as much as Will.
Pressing one hand on his bare stomach, Chance held Will down as he used his other hand to latch a finger down the hem of his pants. He moved his lips to just above Will’s waistline, and, as Chance started to pull Will’s jeans and briefs down, he kissed the newly emerging skin, which was both flushed from alcohol and desire. Chance couldn’t resist.
He ducked his head to press a hot kiss just above Will’s hipbone. A muffled sound escaped Will as Chance sucked another mark lower, leaving behind dark marks that would bruise prettily by morning. His tongue swirled over one particularly sensitive spot before he bit down, just hard enough to make Will jerk beneath him with a sharp gasp.
"Lift your hips for me," he murmured with a ragged breath as he pulled his pants over his ass, and the sound of Will's shaky inhale made his dick throb.
Lower and lower, inch by inch, Chance continued. The air in the room tightened. Then, with a soft spring, Will’s cock sprang free, hard and reddened, twitching slightly as cool air met heated skin.
Chance didn’t look away. He couldn’t.
Fuck.
Will was like an angel, bare and trembling beneath him, cock rising steadily under Chance’s gaze like it knew it was being worshiped. A bead of moisture already glistened at the tip.
"Look at you," he susurrated, voice thick with hunger. "All this for me?"
Will nodded, his voice too hoarse already for any verbal confirmation, and Chance pushed his hands away. “No touching, princess. Let me do all the work.”
Chance smirked against Will's skin as he whimpered, already addicted to the way his breath reacted with every touch. He dragged his mouth lower, following the sharp V of Will’s hips like a path to sin. The pants were down past his thighs now, bunched and useless around legs that trembled when Chance pressed an open-mouthed kiss right over the ridge of bone.
Will tried to buck up, but Chance continued to pin him down with a hand on his abdomen, quick and deliberate. Then came another kiss, closer to heaven still, followed by another bruising bite just above where desire pulsed.
"Fuck-" Will choked out. "Just touch my dick already!"
In contrast to Chance’s previous slow and steady movements, he tugged the rest of Will’s clothes off in mere seconds, his patience wearing thin.
He reached down, grasping Will in a careful hold, before glancing up through the fall of his hair. Will Byers is so fucking beautiful.
Will bucked into the touch instantly, groaning.
Chance flinched. He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of Will’s ear, voice low like smoke. "Anything for you, mahal."
Then his hands began to move.
Slow at first—long, torturous strokes from root to tip, twisting slightly on the upside to catch every nerve ending. His thumb circled the slit each time he reached it, gathering wetness like treasure. The rhythm was hypnotic, deliberate, punishing in its precision.
Chance wasn't fully sure what he was doing, simply testing out what he liked, but Will writhed beneath him, a mess of moans and broken pleas.
"Faster! Please-!"
Chance’s hand tightened his first around Will’s cock, the veins pulsing under his grip. His strokes sped up upon Will’s request, and his grip around the head tightened each time he reached the top.
“God, you're so eager,” he murmured.
Will let out a ragged groan and arched off the bed. He rolled his wrist just right on the next stroke and watched Will’s entire body shiver in response: thighs tensing, fingers clawing at the sheets like they needed something to hold onto before he came undone.
And then his hand moved faster. Rougher. A brutal rhythm that had Will thrashing beneath him. He was a moaning mess.
Chance was only human. And Will was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
When he leaned back to watch, his own head was spinning. Breath coming in shallow pants. Will, red and flushed and trembling, looked like he was about to fall apart completely. Chance was achingly hard at the sight, straining against the zipper of his jeans, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. Not right now.
Will's hand had finally found a target: Chance's hair, fingers burying in the waves, tugging on them like he needed the pain. Chance felt another rush of heat pool in his gut.
God, that hurt so good.
His grip tightened just a bit more in response, hips rocking forward into nothing.
"Look at me," he said, voice hoarse, "Eyes on me."
Will looked up, lips parted like he would take whatever Chance gave him. Those big hazel eyes, darkening with want, made Chance's chest ache. And dick.
"There you go. Just keep looking a little longer for me, alright?"
The rhythm changed, just slightly. Chance’s hand still twisted with each stroke, now firm at the base yet soft and slick at the tip. His thumb dragged over the slit again and again, spreading heat like oil on fire. Will’s breath came in sharp gasps, his hips jerking up desperately into Chance’s grip.
“Chance-!” Will choked out, fingers clawing at the sheets. “I’m- I can’t-!”
Will cried out a raw, broken sound as his body fully arched off the bed, hands pulling away from Chance’s hair and latching onto the sheets instead. Hot spurts of cum painted Chance’s fingers and Will’s stomach in thick stripes as he kept stroking through every pulse, milking him gently until Will was twitching beneath him like a live wire.
Chance didn’t stop looking into his eyes. Not once.
Even as his own cock throbbed painfully behind denim, even as sweat rolled down his temple, the only thing that mattered was Will.
Will fell back against the sheets, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon. Chance followed him down, bracing himself on his elbows to hover just above him. Will's eyes were unfocused and his swollen mouth parted beautifully; he looked ruined already.
Will was a work of art. Even sweaty and dishevelled, he was flawless. From the moles on his chest to the way he still shook beneath Chance, every part of him was a living, breathing masterpiece. Chance's eyes moved hungrily over Will's skin, cataloguing every mark he'd left like a possessive claim.
"Will," he breathed, "I could look at you all day, you know that?"
Will's body shivered as Chance's words ghosted over sensitive skin, goosebumps spreading across his chest.
"Yeah?" Will's voice was hoarse, barely more than a gasp as Chance's fingers traced a slow path across his hips, his stomach.
"Yeah." His gaze dropped lower, raking over the flush and hickeys on Will's thighs, the dark hair between them. He was so addictive.
As his chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, Will’s fingers twitched against the sheets. He swallowed hard, throat bobbing before his eyes locked onto Chance's with desperate intensity.
"More."
The word came out brimming with need. Will lifted a shaky hand to grip Chance’s wrist, dragging it down toward where he was still half-hard, like an unspoken demand: Touch me again.
Chance let out a slow breath through his nose and arched one dark eyebrow as he watched Will relax under him.
"How much more?"
“Can you suck me off?”
Will’s question was exigent yet so polite, and his bambi eyes were simultaneously demanding yet pleading, and Chance had no other option but to say yes.
In truth, he had no idea how, but he would do anything he could to fulfil Will’s needs. Anything. Besides, there’s nothing more romantic than taking someone’s whole dick in your mouth.
Slightly uncertain, he lowered his mouth to Will’s head, and gave a tentative lick across the slit, causing Will to shudder. There were remnants of Will’s spill still dribbling from his tip, and Chance tried not to question why he was so excited to try it. It tasted… good? Warm. Musky. Salty on the tongue with a faint hint of bitterness, almost like the taste of a well-made espresso, just less intense. Chance was surprised at how easily the flavour took over his senses, like a drug that he never wanted to get clean from. He wondered what was wrong with him, but then again, of course Will Byers would taste this delicious.
Chance had never done this before, and it showed. His hands trembled when he pressed his fingers onto Will’s thighs to spread them apart for better access. That's what you’re supposed to do, right?
He just had to listen to Will and the sounds he was making.
Leaning down, Chance tentatively wrapped his lips around the head, his breath catching in his throat. He wanted to go slow, to savour everything, but he also didn't want to disappoint.
Each marginal move was a little less uncertain, a slight touch here, a careful lick there. Chance was still learning. Still trying not to worry that he might accidentally scrape his teeth or suck too awkwardly. He could feel the tension in Will's body, the way it pulled taut at every new motion. But he could also sense the tension in his own body, the way he was so desperate not to mess up his own chance.
He must be doing something right, though, if Will’s loud moans and tensing thighs meant anything.
Will was heavy on his tongue, but Chance was getting the hang of it now. While Will had started to slowly thrust in and out of his mouth, Chance used his tongue to swirl round the tip and the base and all over, and Will’s hands had found Chance’s hair again.
The feeling of Will’s fingers running through his hair was surprisingly comforting in a situation as lewd as this, a pleasant tingling sensation that spread across his scalp. Every time Chance sucked stronger or took Will in deeper, his fingers would give a harsh, jerky tug at his stands, causing a slight sting and Chance to moan, which often resulted in a subsequent pull.
Will’s dick reached the back of Chance’s throat as Will used his hands to push his head down, so Chance did his best not to gag by relaxing his throat.
Chance could tell Will was close; his fingers had lost their hold on his scalp, now slightly treading the strands instead. He was sweating a lot too—his legs had tightened around Chance’s torso, squeezing hard as sweat caused them to stick to his skin.
Will was a mess. A gorgeous, writhing mess that left Chance utterly wrecked. There were no sounds of the world beyond this room. There was only his voice, ragged and needy, begging for mercy as Chance did everything he could to make him feel good.
"Please-" Chance could hear the trembling in his voice, seemingly almost vulnerable. "You gotta... I need..."
Will's cry was beauteous yet hoarse, like it'd been dragged up from the very depths of his core. His hips jerked into Chance's mouth, but he used his grip to pull Chance off his dick, which came away with an audible pop. More spurts of cum landed on Will’s abdomen, though most splattered onto either Chance’s chest or face.
Not that he was complaining.
They were matching, with cum dripping down their bodies; streams of salty liquid that mirrored the Tigris and Euphrates rivers of the Garden of Eden, the place where the first sin was committed.
And, just like how Eve ate the apple, Chance wanted to taste Will.
Chance’s head rushed down, tongue immediately lapping up Will’s cum from his skin.
Will gasped at the sudden wetness, airy like smoke, and Chanced revelled in it. The salty sweetness was moreish-
No. Will was moreish.
Even as the last remnants of his love was swallowed, thick and rich down Chance’s throat, Chance wanted more. So much more.
Will clenched his fists in the sheets when Chance’s hands spread those plump cheeks and flicked his tongue out experimentally across against that tight rim of heat.
“Let me know if it’s bad,” Chance said while his face stayed between Will’s legs, and got an affirmative hum in response.
The air in the spare room had thickened, soaked through with pheromones and nervous energy, and Will whined when Chance let his tongue glide outward with long, flat strokes. His toes curled into the mattress; one hand clawed at a pillow while the other reached blindly for Chance’s hair. Again.
He liked that Will liked his hair.
When Chance circled fully around that quivering centre and slipped just barely inside, Will let out a choked cry muffled only by biting down on his own arm for a fear of someone downstairs hearing them.
“Chance” he breathed, the name catching on a hitch.
Chance didn’t answer with words. Instead, he flexed his tongue wider and circled slowly around that tight pink pucker until Will bucked. His hips thrusted onto Chance’s face, as if he was trying to push Chance’s tongue deeper within to ride out the pleasure. Each slow lap melted resistance into rhythm, with hesitant touches becoming hunger, and curiosity curving into craving.
“Oh,” Will gasped, sharper than pleasure itself.
But Chance stayed steady, licking again in firm waves before finally pressing just in, breaching slightly past resistance to taste secrets no one else had ever found.
A strangled cry tore loose from deep in Will’s throat.
Chance pulled back only an inch to blow gently across wet skin, which glistened slick under dim light, and watched how Will trembled harder at just that.
And then he pushed further in. Not all at once, but enough that flesh yielded willingly rather than resisted, and Chance tasted the pulse-thick nerves flaring beneath his touch.
His whole tongue had stretched out at this point, and Chance relished the dirty delicacy as he prodded around to find the spots Will enjoyed most. He could feel the way Will squirmed on his taste buds, taste the fire burning within.
His own boner had gone unnoticed; all Chanced could focus on were the writhes and soft moans being emitted on Will— the taste of his hide.
Tears pricked at Will’s eyes as he quietly sobbed out an orgasm built behind a deep pressure blooming inside. Literally.
“Don’t stop- I’m- I’m-”
But whether he meant to cum or to fall apart entirely wasn’t clear anymore; Will’s eyes had rolled all the way back.
Well, it was difficult to see him properly when his face was buried in his ass, but from what Chance could see, Will’s eyes were completely white.
Woah.
A moan tore from deep inside Will, raw and unfiltered, and Chance pulled away while licking his lips to watch his dry orgasm, his dick twitching far more vigorously than the rest of his body.
Chance dropped down to the side of Will, whose eyes had now closed as he tried to catch his breath. Their heavy panting synchronised, as if in harmony with the natural pattern of the Garden’s rivers themselves.
“I’m sorry.”
Twisting his whole body, Chance looked at Will in confusion. “For what?”
It was Will’s turn to face him now, eyes contrite and welling with guilt. His eyebrows were furrowed again, meaning Chance’s heart felt like it was breaking and being fulfilled at the same time.
“You didn't have to do that.”
“What do you-”
“It’s not fair! You’ve made me feel so good and you’re still so hard; I can’t stop looking, and I never even knew that you were like me, but you knew me just like everyone else and we’re both drunk and you probably didn’t even- And now I’m rambling like Robin.”
Will threw his head back in frustration and Chance could feel his face heating up as Will just admitted that he had been staring at his cock.
“Will,” Chance began to catch the other’s attention, “you don’t need to be apologising; you’ve done nothing wrong. And you have made me feel good, you don’t need to, uh, give me a blowjob. It’s fine, honestly.”
“But I want to!”
“Hmm?”
“I wanna make you feel good. Feel more good. I wanna taste you and explore your body. I want to suck you off.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanna use that pretty mouth of yours and take me?”
“Yeah,” Will whimpered. “I do.”
As Will shifted and slumped off the bed to the floor, Chance peeled off his cum-stained pants, and now the rest of his clothing had been discarded to God knows where in the room. When he looked back down, Will was kneeling by the side of bed with his eyes looking up towards Chance, as if he were begging for his blessing.
Chance, now stark naked, sat himself up properly and shuffled to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs so Will was nestled between them. He was so horny looking at Will looking at him that his last two brain cells that hadn't been fried from alcohol were fucking.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Will warned, a shy smile tugging his lips, which Chance couldn’t wait to see wrapped around his dick.
“You think I did!?”
“Well you obviously did!”
They both started giggling at the awkwardness of it all, though a deep sense of pride burned within Chance at being successful at pleasing Will the way he deserved. Chance gasped sharply when one of Will’s hands landed on Chance’s thigh, pushing his legs apart slightly, before moving to the base of Chance’s dick, resulting in a pathetic whimper.
Will bent down, his breath ghosting Chance’s tip. “You’re so big; I'm not sure if I can take you all.”
Chance couldn't reply, so his dick hardened in Will’s hold instead.
Will’s tongue, hot and filthy and glistening as he lapped greedily at the dribbling, swollen mess in Chance’s lap, was all Chance could focus on. He watched Will use it to explore the entirety of his length before wetting his lips and letting the weight of Chance rest on it. After a frantic heartbeat, Will finally wrapped his lips around Chance’s dick.
The warmth of Will’s mouth was out of this world, causing Chance to grip the edge of the bed tight. He watched Will take him deeper as he used his hands to fondle his balls, and Chance shuddered at the sensation.
He didn't want to rush Will so, instead, Chance watched him slowly speed up, his tongue navigating Chance’s girth and licking the slit every so often.
Will twisted his head in an attempt to taste every inch of Chance’s dick, and his hands stroked the base where he couldn't quite reach with his lips, forcing Chance to moan like a whore.
He used the mix of saliva and precum to glide more easily over Chance’s cock, taking in more and more.
There was a slight twitch to Chance’s hips, trying to make them meet the rhythm of Will’s mouth, and Will hummed around his dick and the deeper intrusion. The vibration rolled up Chance, making him ache for release.
“Bilisan. Will, please.” The whines escaping Chance’s mouth should have been embarrassing, but he couldn't help himself. Not when Will’s cheeks had hollowed out; the pressure on Chance’s dick felt like Will was gonna suck him dry.
“Please, Will, faster, please. Pupunta na ako.” Chance was unsure when the pleasure had got him to beg in his native language, but Will must’ve understood. His head continued bobbing up and down, the quicker pace allowing his lips to reach Chance’s balls.
The sounds of slurping and slapping and Chance's breathy moans filled the room, and Chance was so fucking close.
“Puta-” Chance whined as Will looked up, his eyes shone with a faux innocence as they peeked from behind his styled bangs. The sight made Chance splutter and Will’s eyelashes fluttered as he reached the base of Chance’s length.
"Parating na ako-”
Chance came with a moan, his eyes rolling back as if he was ascending. Pleasure shot through him as his cum shot to the back of Will’s throat.
He was expecting Will to pull off like he had done, but his eyes had shut in concentration, still sucking as Chance continued to flood his mouth. Slowly, Will dragged his mouth off Chance’s dick as if he would miss the feeling of having him in his mouth, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the entire load.
Eyes staring into Chance’s own, Will wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before opening his mouth to show that he had genuinely milked him dry and swallowed it all.
As if he was suddenly embarrassed at what he was doing, Will snapped his mouth shut and a blush spread across his cheeks. But chance couldn't speak. He was enthralled.
“You really are so fucking beautiful.”
Aside from their matching heaves and the distant hum of music, the room was silent, yet neither boy could look away from each other, the moonlight letting them take each other in.
Will shifted and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Chance’s waist, and let his head rest on his thigh. He was still looking up from the floor at Chance, and his face shone with what Chance could only describe as admiration.
“You know,” Will began as Chance ran a hand through his hair, “ I like when your accent comes through. I don't know what you're saying but it's, um, sexy.”
Chance let out a low, soft laugh that buzzed through his chest, his fingers lingering in the strands of Will’s hair. The praise sent a flush of warmth through him that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the heat in Will’s gaze. He also enjoyed the way Will was shy to call Chance's voice sexy despite having had his dick down his throat only five minutes prior, but it was cute. Will himself is cute.
He leaned down, his face only inches from Will’s, and the corner of his mouth tucked into a smirk.
"Talaga?" Chance murmured, his voice dropping into a rich, melodic register. "Gusto mo ba talaga 'to? Kasi hindi ako titigil kung alam kong ganyan ang tingin mo sa akin."
Will blinked, his breath hitching slightly. He didn't understand a single word, but the way the syllables rolled off Chance’s tongue, smooth, rhythmic, and heavy with intent, made his grip on Chance’s waist tighten.
"I have no idea what you just said," Will whispered, his voice a little wrecked, "but I like it."
Chance smiled and leaned closer until his lips were brushing against Will’s ear, his breath hot against his skin.
"Sinabi ko, maganda ka," Chance continued, pressing a few straw kisses to Will’s cheek. "At, kahit anong hingin mo, ibibigay ko sa’yo. Mahal na mahal kita, Will."
He pulled back just enough to see the dazed expression on Will's face. He looked captivated, and Chance let the fire in his heart burn.
“I wish I knew what it meant.” Will sighed, and Chance watched his eyelids grow heavy. His head, still resting on Chance’s thigh, was growing heavier too, and the translation resting on the top of his tongue only made everything feel at least ten times more intimate.
“When you speak that language-”
“Tagalog.”
“When you speak Tagalog, your voice goes all soft but deep, and, like, musical. I don't know but it's… sexy.”
“I’ll have to speak more of it then.” Chance said as he moved back to let Will stand up and stretch.
"You should," Will replied in a hushed voice, stretching his arms over his head. The pull of his muscles helped shake off some of the lethargy, but the dazed look in his eyes remained. "It’s like if velvet could make a sound, that’s what you just did. It’s unfair, really. You’re looking like that, and then you start talking like a song? I’m defenceless."
Chance laughed, a soft, private sound that made his shoulders shake. He followed Will up and stepped closer to pull Will into a warm embrace. The bravado of his smirk was still there, but beneath it, his heart was hammering frantically.
"Defenceless, huh?" Chance teased, though his voice lacked its usual bite. It was strained with the weight of the confession Will hadn't understood.
"Completely," Will admitted, his eyes fluttering shut for a second as he leaned his forehead against Chance’s shoulder. He was drifting again, the pull of sleep tugging at him, made sweeter by the lingering vibration of Chance's voice. "I'm gonna be dreaming in a language I don't speak tonight. All because of you."
Chance went still. He looked down at the top of Will’s head, his throat tight. He wanted to tilt Will's chin up. He wanted to say, 'It means I love you. It means I’d give you the world.' Instead, he just squeezed Will’s waist, his thumb brushing against his flushed skin. The English words felt too loud, too sudden for this quiet, hazy atmosphere.
"We should go to sleep," Chance whispered, his voice cracking just a fraction.
"I don't want to," Will mumbled into his shoulder, his voice trailing off into a sleepy slur.
“Did you wanna continue?” Chance asked, his hands lingering on Will’s waist. Will slowly shook his head against Chance's neck, his hair brushing softly against his skin.
“No. I'm tired. Next time.”
So there will be a next time then, and Chance felt himself internally celebrating.
As Will finally pulled away, his arms skimmed over Chance’s skin, leaving a trail of cooling air in their wake. Chance suppressed a sigh of disappointment, already mourning the loss of their proximity.
“The others will be wondering where I am,” Will added on. His hands found Chance’s, fingers interlacing. Chance felt a brief, sharp flick of jealousy toward the friends who could claim Will’s time, but it was quickly smothered by a surge of warmth as Will continued, and he began to brush his fingers over his knuckles.
“But I don't wanna leave you.”
His heart bloomed with flattery as he watched Will's eyes timidly reach up to meet his own, and he selfishly revelled in the way Will wanted to stay by his side. Will would rather spend the night tucked away in this quiet corner with Chance than be anywhere else in the world.
His head was gonna kill in the morning, but this was all worth it.
"Wait here," Chance murmured, his voice regaining a bit of its protective edge as he realised this was probably Will’s first party. Was that presumptuous? It wasn't like he had seen him at one before. Whatever, a hangover would be the death of anyone.
"I’ll get you some water and some Tylenol. You’ll regret it if I don’t."
Will offered a weak, sheepish nod.
"I’ll let Sinclair know you're staying here," Chance said, his thumbs tracing the back of Will's hands one last time before letting go. "I'll tell him you're crashed out and not to bother you."
A faint, bashful pink crept up Will’s neck, reaching the tips of his ears. He shifted his weight, and Chance was suddenly very aware of their swollen lips and the way they both definitely looked a mess from each other. A beautiful mess, maybe, but a mess all the same.
Will was obviously thinking the same.
Chance felt a surge of possessive warmth. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind Will's ear, his touch lingering.
"Let them wonder," he susurrated, his smirk returning, though it was softer now. "Let them think whatever they want. As long as you’re here, I don’t care about anyone else."
Will bit his lip, his eyes flickering up to meet Chance’s. The embarrassment was there, Chance could see it, but it was being displaced by his care.
"Okay," Will breathed, finally relenting.
Chance gave his hand one final, firm squeeze. "Don't move. I’ll be back before you can miss me.”
He scrambled around in his bag that had dumped when he first arrived at the party for his pyjama bottoms and quickly shoved them on before winking at Will and heading towards the stairs.
When the door shut behind him, Chance had to force his eyes to adjust to the light. The hallway felt aggressively bright, and Chance had to squint, his eyes stinging as they fought against it.
He didn't even make it to the bottom step before he saw her.
Mayfield was leaning against the banister, a red solo cup dangling from her fingers and a look on her face that suggested she’d been waiting for exactly this moment. She didn't say anything—she simply tracked him with a knowing, deliberate glare as he crossed the living room toward the kitchen.
He tried to play it cool, heading straight for the cabinet where he knew the medicine was stashed, but she was right on his heels.
God, why couldn't it have been Lucas? Why her?
"So," she started, her voice cutting through the thumping bass of the music like a knife. "He returns."
Chance didn't look up as he rattled a bottle of Tylenol. "He’s a little, Mayfield. I’m just getting him some water."
"Oh? Not even gonna try to deny it, Lawson?"
"He’s tired," she repeated after Chance realised he just gave himself away. He did not like the way her tone was dripping with mock gravity. She stepped into his line of sight, blocking the sink. "Is that what we're calling it these days? Because from where I’m standing, you look like you just won the lottery, and Will hasn't spoken to anyone here in two hours. Which, for him, is a medical emergency."
Chance finally looked at her, trying to keep his face a neutral mask, but he knew the heat in his face was betraying him. "He had a bit too much to drink. I’m taking care of him."
Her eyes dropped to Chance’s chest, then back up to his messy hair. A triumphant smirk spread across her face. "Right. Taking care of him. Is that why you're shirtless?"
Chance froze, his hand halfway to where the glasses were stored. He could feel the colour wash from his face, the heat from before curdling into fear.
"Keep your voice down," Chance hissed, slamming the cupboard door shut. He was glad Mayfield flinched. "He is actually sleeping. Or trying to."
Max softened, though the mischief didn't leave her eyes. She reached out and patted his shoulder. "Relax, lover boy. I’m happy for him. Make sure he actually drinks that water, ok?"
So denying was futile. This Max girl seems to be omniscient, unfortunately.
She stepped aside, giving him a clear path to the sink, but she couldn't resist one last parting shot.
"Hey, Chance?"
He paused, his hand hovering on the faucet knob. "Yeah?"
"I won't tell anyone. I promise."
Sure, Chance didn't know Mayfield that well, but if she hung out with the freaks, she must be understanding. Hopefully. It seemed like he could trust her. Still, this was not something he wanted to confide in her about, and he could feel the embarrassment flood him again. He just shook his head and hurried out of the kitchen.
As he rushed upstairs and back to Will, Chance’s mind was a frantic, dark spiral. The heat still lingering on his lips from the kiss and Mayfield’s piercing gaze felt like a mounting pile of evidence against him. He felt a sickening shiver of guilt, which had been drilled into him long ago. The belief that a love this hidden, this "wrong" in the eyes of his community, was a debt he would eventually have to pay. He felt like a thief in his own skin, waiting for the floor to give way or for a lightning strike of divine or social judgment to shatter him. He looked at the clear water in the glass and felt a twisted sense of unworthiness; he was terrified that by loving Will, he was marking them both for a tragedy, dragging a good person into a sin that the world—and even God—would never forgive.
But he thought back to what he and Will were doing before. How could something so wrong feel so good?
Any negativity plaguing his mind, however, was cured as he fumbled into the room.
It was dim, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the window. Will was curled on his side, his face half-buried in the pillow, looking so soft and untouched by the harshness of the party downstairs.
Chance maneuvered through the darkened room with a careful grace as if trying not to break a spell. In one hand, he balanced two glasses of water, the rims clinking with a fragile sound that seemed deafening in the silence, especially when harbouring the beginning of a hangover. Tucked into his palm was the small bottle of Tylenol, his thumb holding it steady.
The heavy, constricted knot that had tightened in his throat downstairs had fully dissolved now. It was replaced by a light equanimity as he stepped toward the bed. Here, the world couldn't see them. Here, he wasn't a sinner; he was just a boy taking care of the person who held his heart.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, the springs groaning softly under his weight. Will shifted, a low, inquisitive hum vibrating in his throat as he blinked his eyes open.
"Hey," Chance whispered. "I've got you. Sit up just a little bit."
Will moved with the sluggish, heavy limbs like he was still half-submerged in a dream. He pushed himself up against the headboard, his hair a chaotic, beautiful mess. Chance handed him the two white pills first, his fingers brushing against Will's palm—a spark of contact that felt grounding rather than dangerous.
"Drink all of this," Chance commanded gently, pressing the first glass into Will’s hand.
Will obeyed, swallowing the pills and draining half the water in one long thirsty gulp. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes searching for Chance’s in the shadows.
"You came back," Will murmured, his voice scratchy and sweet.
"I told you I would," Chance replied, setting the second glass on the nightstand. He hesitated for a second, then climbed into the space beside Will, moving slowly so as not to startle him. "I'm not going anywhere, Will.”
Will didn't need a second invitation. As soon as Chance had settled onto the mattress, Will let out a long, shaky exhale. Of course didn't stay on his side of the bed. Instead, he gravitated toward Chance like a moth to a flame, sliding across the sheets until his head found the hollow of Chance’s shoulder.
Will liked leaning on him, Chance mused.
"Will," Chance said, his tone turning a bit more serious. "When can I see you again?"
Will tilted his head back, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"I don't know," Will uttered playfully, leaning in until their noses brushed. "Maybe in the morning? When we wake up.”
Chance let out a huff of a laugh, rolling his eyes. "You’re such a brat. You know what I mean. A day. A time."
"How about tomorrow?" Will suggested, his voice softening. "Or every morning for the rest of the week? Is that too much?"
"It’s not enough," Chance countered. He sat up, and pulled open the drawer of the bedside table to reach for a stray ballpoint pen. He grabbed Will’s arm, pulling it toward him.
"What are you doing?" Will remarked, watching as Chance clicked the pen.
"Making sure you don't forget to call me," Chance hummed.
With focused precision, he began to write his number directly onto the pale skin of Will's inner forearm. Underneath the ten digits, Chance hesitated for a second, then added a single word in Tagalog: Akin.
"What does that mean?" Will asked, tracing the ink with his thumb once Chance was finished.
"It means 'Mine,'" Chance stated, meeting Will's gaze with a fierce, unblinking integrity. "So you remember who belong you to when you leave this room."
Will swallowed hard and looked down at the green ink on his skin. He didn't say anything else, he just smiled and nestled into Chance again.
"You’re warm," he mumbled after a while, his nose brushing against the skin of Chance’s collarbone. His hand wandered aimlessly before settling flat against Chance’s chest, right over his heart. "And your heart is going really fast."
"It’s just the stairs," Chance lied, though he knew the truth was written in the way his arms tangled almost desperately around Will’s waist.
"Liar," Will breathed, a tiny, sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Say something else. In Tagalog. Please."
Chance closed his eyes, leaning his cheek against the crown of Will’s head as he savoured his lover’s pleas. The air in the room felt thick and sweet, like incense, and Chance knew he'd do anything Will asked him to.
"Dito ka lang," Chance whispered, the syllables vibrating through his chest and into Will’s palm. "Poprotektahan kita. Hindi kita pababayaan."
The cadence of the words was enough, like a lullaby of or a sedative. Will’s breathing began to slow, growing deep and rhythmic, his grip on Chance’s muscles loosening as he finally succumbed to the tylenol and his exhaustion.
Chance only stayed awake for a short time after that, watching the shadows of the trees dance on the ceiling. He held Will close, his arm tucked securely around him.
As his own eyes finally began to drift shut, the last thing he felt was the steady, quiet heat of Will’s breath against his skin—a silent benediction that, at least for tonight, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.