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Carlton loves his boyfriend. He does so, so much. To degrees that his friends have sometimes called ‘unhealthy’, though none of them have ever been with anyone as pretty or as intelligent and fascinating as his Will. And, to be honest, it’s hard to get over your first love. Will had been Carlton’s first everything, and to his knowledge, it’d been the same for him. They’ve been together for five years. All through college and into the real world, with jobs, an apartment and even a pet cat. They’re soulmates. Likes to remind himself of this whenever they’re going through a rough patch. And, well-
This might be one of the worst rough patches they’ve ever had, actually.
“Can you repeat that?”
Will looks at him across the booth with a bored expression, chin resting in his palm. His drink is untouched in front of him, a virgin Tom Collins which Carlton had playfully reminded him is just a lemonade to little laughter. He’s playing with the straw, dragging it along the glass edge. He clears his throat. “I said, I’d like to have a threesome.”
“Oh,” he says, because that’s all he can manage. “Okay, so I did hear you right the first time.”
“Ugh, I knew you would be weird,” Will sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Carlton immediately shakes his head, panicking. “No, no. Babe, it’s fine!” It is! He’s not an idiot. He knows that he and Will have been together for a long time, the entirety of which they've been staunchly monogamous. It’s normal! They’re still so young. Will probably just feels like he’s missing out. That’s valid. Carlton can work with that. “Um. How long have you been, uh, feeling this way?”
“Probably since Christmas.”
“When you went back to Hawkins?”
Will’s finger pauses on the rim. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Since then.”
The initial adrenaline of hearing Will’s request is slowly fading, replaced by an awful feeling Carlton isn’t able to put into words.
“Is this because we haven’t had sex in a while?”
“No,” Will says while shaking his head, rolling his eyes. Always bored, always over it, lately. “Not everything is about sex, Carlton, jeez.”
This definitely is, though, he wants to say. What else could it be? He’s not one to brag, but Carlton is a pretty amazing boyfriend. Everyone who sees them interact says he’s attentive and sweet. He pays for everything, because god knows Will wouldn’t be able to on his starving artists' salary. The dry spell isn’t totally Carlton’s fault, either. After the holidays, Will came back sort of frigid. Not nearly as affectionate. Almost downright cold at times, even when Carlton was on his best behavior. Would shrug off even the chastest of touchest, like his palms were burning him. The change was so quick and abrupt, he’d thought about asking if anything happened while he was back visiting his hometown. Thought better of it each time. Knows how touchy Will gets about his past.
Carlton pushes himself upright, shoulders square. “I mean. It’s been three months and we’ve only made love once. That’s weird, right? Something we should talk about?”
Will makes a face before shrugging. “Maybe this’ll help.”
He says this in a way that’s very Will-like. Shyly, blushing a little, like this is all under the guise of trying to salvage their relationship. Carlton knows better, but he loves Will more than he is suspicious of him. Silence stretches. The diner hums around them. Silverware clinking, a waitress laughing too loudly at something near the counter. Time marching forward as though Carlton’s world isn’t quietly coming apart.
“Have you thought about, um, with who?” he asks finally.
The way Will’s eye flick back to the table is answer enough. A part of Carlton knows who it is even before he says it.
“Yeah, I do,” he says softly.
“Who?” Carlton asks, heart in his throat.
“I was thinking we could ask Mike.”
“Christ.” Yeah. This all suddenly becomes a little bit too much. Carlton holds his face in his hands and makes a broken groaning sound. “Oh, Jesus, Will. Him?!”
“What’s wrong with Mike?”
He hates how genuinely confused Will sounds. What’s wrong with Mike? Probably the fact that he’s clearly in love with his boyfriend. Has been for as long as Carlton’s known him, possibly even longer. Every time he brings it up to Will he looks at him like he’s insane, but he doesn’t see what he can. The longing stares. The lingering touches that drive him up the wall. He hates Carlton’s guts, too. Has from the first minute they met all those years ago. Once, he heard him referring to Carlton as a ‘pussy’ to a crowd of people when he thought he couldn’t hear. All because he didn’t want to fight a guy that was hitting on Will at a club! I mean, really? What is he? A neanderthal that has to solve everything with his fists?
“Don’t you think he’s a little too- I dunno- familiar? Like, isn’t there a lot of baggage there?”
Will scoffs. “I don’t want to fuck a stranger.”
“Maybe not a stranger, but-”
“Mike’s my best friend! He’s, like, the only guy I trust!”
Carlton shoots him an incredulous look.
“After you, obviously,” Will adds.
“Is he even gay?”
“He’s-” Will stops himself. He shakes his head, “Look, forget I said anything, alright?”
Carlton watches Will retreat into himself in real time. His shoulders curling inward, mouth corners pulling. Looks like he’s about to cry. The familiar instinct kicks in immediately- smooth over, fix. It’s muscle memory for him at this point. His poor, sweet, fragile Will.
“Hey,” he whispers, reaching out across the table and grabbing his hand. “I’m sorry, I freaked out. That was uncalled for.”
“No, it’s fine,” Will sniffs.
“How do I fix this? If you want us to have a threesome with your friend Mike, we can explore that, okay?”
Will shakes his head. Still, he can’t meet Carlton’s gaze, and it’s driving him insane. “I don’t want to force you into anything you wouldn’t wanna do.”
“You’re not forcing me,” Carlton pleads. “I mean, we don’t even know if he’d agree to it-”
“He would,” Will says, not giving him a chance to finish. Says quieter, “He’d do anything for me.”
“Okay.” Carlton will address that later. “Alright. Just, can I ask you something, too?”
This time, Will does look up. Carlton feels encouraged looking into his pretty hazel eyes. Would do anything to keep them fixed on him.
“Do-do you-” Carlton stutters over his words. Starts again, “Do you think it’s alright if we set some ground rules?”
“Sure,” Will says. He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. We can do that.”
“No kissing,” Carlton says quickly.
Will blinks, his brow furrows. For a moment, he looks like he might want to argue, but decides not to. He lets out a small, surprised laugh. “Alright,” he says finally. “Is that it?”
“I don’t want this to feel like a you and him thing, and I’m just there. I need to feel included. Like we’re still us.”
“We are,” Will says immediately. “This is for us.”
The waitress passes by, and they fall quiet. She refills their water glasses, and Will straightens easily, slipping back into normalcy like nothing has happened. Like this conversation hasn’t just redrawn the borders of their relationship. Carlton watches him laugh at something the waitress says, watches how relaxed he looks now, how settled.
Lies to himself. Lets himself believe it’s because of him
And that’s how they end up in this situation.
Will, him, and Mike seated at a high top, a graveyard of empty shot glasses in front of them. They’d picked him up from the airport and driven straight to the hotel. It’d been one of Carlton’s rules that he didn’t want anyone but them fucking on their bed and Will had agreed.
(“Less clean up,” he’d said pleasantly.
The visual had made Carlton a bit queasy.)
Carlton has spent the last hour silently staring between them. Feels like the outsider, which is exactly what he asked Will not do, so this doesn’t bode well for the rest of the night. He should call this whole thing off. Doesn’t like the vibe Mike has, hasn’t since he got off the plane from Indiana.
He’s sitting closer to Will than Carlton is, angled in, knee probably brushing Will’s under the table. He’s smiling at something Will says, low and fond, head dipping forward.
“When was the last time you played?” Mike asks.
Will grins back. “I told you a long time ago that I would never join a new party.”
“C’mon. Do these city folk not know about D&D?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, shit.” Mike sighs, exaggerated, infuriatingly smug. Says, “Guess they don’t do a lot of things around here the way we do in Hawkins.”
“Mike-”
“We treat our sorcerers much better, I think.”
Will laughs, cheeks blushing pink. Must be some sort of inside joke, because Carlton doesn’t find it very funny. Corny, even. He’s about to get up to go to the bathroom, maybe ask for the check, but then Mike is leaning in close to Will's ear, and says, “Forgot how nice you look when you’re happy.”
Stops him in his tracks. Carlton clears his throat, reaching for his drink. “Yep, he does look nice tonight," he says, a little too high pitched. It only took Will a few hours to get ready, after all. “So, your flight wasn’t too bad?”
Mike glances at him, momentarily startled, like he’s just remembered there’s a third person at the table.
“Uh. It was fine.”
“Awesome!” Carlton smiles tightly between them. “Why don’t I get us another round?”
Will shakes his head. “I’m alright, babe.”
Carlton can’t help but feel a little burgeoned by the pet name. Likes that it seems to bother Mike, too.
“Ah, hell. I’ll have one,” he says, voice low, glaring. “If you’re buying, that is.”
“Oh, I am. Always.” It’s Carlton’s turn to be a little smug. He prides himself on not being easily pressed, not one to rise to bait. He waves down the waitress and asks her for another four shots of tequila.
“Four?” Will asks, a little concerned.
Carlton shrugs. “Why not?”
“Ha!” Mike huffs a dry sound. “Right. Why not,” he repeats.
So. He has two, and he watches Mike have two, also.
Will nurses his drink in slow sips, eyes flicking between them. He looks nervous. Carlton tells himself that maybe he’s regretting this, too. Maybe he’s just being hopeful. Mike sets his glass down first. Something strange flickers on his face. Carlton recognizes it. Has seen that expression before, any time he wants to start trouble.
“So. Have you started painting again?” he asks Will, pseudo-pleasant.
Will shrugs. “Here and there.”
“You used to paint all the time,” Mike says with a gentleness that belies the violence in his gaze. “What’s up with that?”
Carlton smiles, easy. “He’s busy,” he cuts in. “With the hours at the gallery and everything.”
“I manage.” Will’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “When I can, anyway.”
“Huh.” Mike’s eyebrows draw together. “Which is it? You said you stopped because you didn’t have space.”
“Both things can be true,” Carlton says, before Will can answer. “The apartment’s small.”
Will looks down at his drink. When he speaks, his voice is mild. “There’s a lot of reasons.”
“He’ll always have it to come back to,” Carlton says. He reaches out, resting a placating hand on Will’s knee under the table. “It’s just not the priority right now, y’know? I don’t expect you to understand, since you’re single.”
Mike watches the gesture. Something in his expression hardens. “Funny,” he says slowly. “It always seemed pretty important to you.”
Will smiles faintly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It was,” he says, heavier than it should sound.
Carlton snorts, good-natured. “Of course it’s important. It’s a hobby, though! Like your little stories, dude.” He squeezes Will’s knee, a warning disguised as affection. “We just have to be realistic.”
The waitress drops off the next round. Carlton barely remembers ordering it. He downs one without thinking, salt burning his tongue, lime sour and sharp. The room feels warmer, edges blurring, spinning.
Mike’s jaw tightens. “Realistic about what, exactly?”
“About money,” Carlton says easily. “We can’t all afford to chase dreams forever.”
Will pulls his knee away. “I pay my share,” he says quietly.
Carlton frowns. “No one said you didn’t.” Mike leans back in his chair, folding his arms. He’s smiling, and Carlton wants nothing more than to wipe it off. Heat crawls up his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that, babe,” he clarifies.
Will meets his eyes. For a second, there’s something there that resembles exhaustion. Is gone as fast as it appears. Replaced with his usual shy, detached smile. “No, yeah, I know,” Will says. “We’re good.”
Carlton drains another shot, anyway. Doesn’t know what to do with his hands. By the time they settle the bill and stand, the floor feels a little unsteady, like he’s walking on jell-o. He laughs it off, slinging an arm around Will’s shoulders as they head for the elevator. Will stiffens, but allows it, shoulders going slack. Mike walks on Will’s other side, close enough that their hands brush. Will doesn’t pull away, Carlton notes.
The elevator doors close. He leans heavily against the wall, grinning. “Okay,” Carlton says, words slightly slurred. “You guys ready?”
“Yep,” Will says softly.
Mike presses the button for their floor. He doesn’t look up when he says, “You sure you’re alright, man?”
Carlton laughs. “I’m great,” he lies.
The elevator hums upward. He’s drunker than he meant to get. In the corner of his eye, he notices Mike’s pinky lacing with Will’s on the bannister.
Fucking whatever.
Will had opened up to him once. They’d been dating for a few months, and they’d still been basically kids- 18 and 19, and life had felt like this endless thing in front of them. Carlton had been so instantly smitten with him. Didn’t question anything he did, rose-tinted glasses blinding him from the get-go.
“I dealt with some heavy stuff as a kid,” Will’d told him.
Carlton hadn’t asked him to elaborate. Could deduce, a bit, what had happened from the way Will didn’t like to be touched.
He’d said, “Monsters got inside me somehow. I worry they never left.”
Carlton doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that now, of all times. He’s sitting on the chair facing the only bed in the suite, pants down at his ankles, palm around his flaccid cock as his boyfriend is getting dry humped by his best friend right in front of him. Achieving an erection seems highly unlikely at this point. He’d tried to insert himself at least twice now. Each time, Mike ices him out, won’t even acknowledge him, and Will gives him a pitying look before telling him he needs to sober up, lying back and letting Mike get on top of him, effectively blocking his body from view.
This sucks, Carlton thinks. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. He shouldn’t have drank so much, but he’d been a bit anxious about the whole thing. Blah, blah, self-fullfilling prophecy and what not. He decided if he can’t participate he could at least keep watch. Try to at least get hard enough to jerk off, cum.
So far, they’ve been true to his one rule- No kissing. But that hadn’t stopped Mike from marking Will up all over from his chest to his throat with his mouth. Will's back arches off the mattress as Mike trails down his neck, leaving red welts in his wake. If he was more in his right mind, he’d be scandalized by how quickly they took their clothes off. Way too practiced for the first time. Carlton's stomach twists. He should say something, but his throat feels like it's full of sand.
Mike pulls back, his breathing heavy. Whispers raggedly to Will, “You only want this cock, baby, huh?”
No, no, Carlton’s mind screams.
“Mm, yeah,” Will cries, knuckles going white against the pillows. “Give it to me.”
Mike slaps his palm against the roundest part of his thigh. Carlton winces. Will gasps. That’s simply too rough. He wants to say something, yell out for them to stop, but no words come when he opens his mouth. He just sits there, watching as Mike positions himself between Will's legs, his movements confident, practiced.
“Please,” Will whimpers, his head thrown back against the bedding. “Mike!”
“Please what, baby?” Mike teases, his voice low and mocking. “Gotta tell me what you want.”
“You,” Will gasps. “I want you.”
The words hit Carlton like a physical blow. He's never heard Will sound like this. So desperate, completely undone. In five years together, through all their intimate moments, Will has always been reserved, almost shy. Now he's begging for another man, his body moving in rhythm with Mike's so naturally he could vomit.
“Want me to eat your pussy?” Mike asks.
And Will nods. There’s tears in his eyes. Looks completely gone. Despite himself, Carlton can acknowledge that he looks gorgeous like this. He lets out a whine of his own when Mike lowers his chest down the bed. Doesn’t hesitate like Carlton probably would. His shoulders spread Will's thighs wider. The sight is obscene, intimate in a way that feels like a violation. Carlton's hand, still wrapped uselessly around his soft cock, tightens reflexively. It's a pathetic gesture, a ghost of pleasure.
Mike doesn't hesitate. He ducks his head, and the sound he makes is wet, hungry. Will's entire body bows off the bed, a sharp, broken cry tearing from his throat. It's not a sound Carlton has ever heard him make, not in their five years together.
"Fuck," he sobs, his hands flying from the pillows to tangle in Mike's hair, pulling him flush to his hole. “Holy shit!”
Carlton's stomach churns. He watches the muscles in Mike's back work as he moves, his head buried between Will's pale thighs. He can see the flex of his jaw, the way his tongue must be working, circling, pressing inside. Will is writhing, chanting Mike's name like a prayer, his hips rolling in a desperate rhythm that seeks more of whatever Mike is giving him.
Carlton's hand moves mechanically over his cock, but there's no response. Just the friction of skin on skin, a hollow imitation of what's happening on the bed. He feels like a voyeur, intruding on something private that has nothing to do with him.
“Look at me,” Mike commands, hand wrapping around his chin, forcing Will's eyes to immediately meet his as he eats him out. It must feel good, ‘cause it makes him damn near sob. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” Will sighs. He sounds mindless. “Always you.”
Carlton closes his eyes, but the image is burned into his eyelids. Will's face contorted in pleasure, Mike's triumphant smirk, the way their bodies move together like they've done this a hundred times before.
(Maybe they have. The thought sends a fresh wave of nausea through him.)
When he opens his eyes again, Mike has shifted position, pulling Will's legs over his shoulders.
“Please,” Will begs, his voice hoarse. “Please, Mike, I need it.”
“Need what, baby?” Mike asks, pulling back again to tease him. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” Will cries, tears streaming down his face now. “Mike. C’mon, don’t tease me.”
Mike smirks, glancing over at Carlton. “You hear that?” he asks, his voice dripping with condescension. “He needs me, Carl!”
Carlton doesn't respond. He can't. His throat is tight, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He feels like he's suffocating, like the air has been sucked out of the room. He's a spectator to his own heartbreak, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. Is almost more hurt by the fact that it’s Mike of all people doing this. Lame ass motherfucker.
Mike turns his attention back to Will, his expression softening. “Don't worry,” he murmurs, positioning himself at Will's entrance. “I'll give you everything. I always have, right?”
Will cries out as Mike pushes into him, his body arching off the bed. Carlton watches, mesmerized and horrified, as Mike starts to move, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that has Will gasping and writhing beneath him. It's brutal, but Will is taking it, begging for more, his nails digging into Mike's back.
How the hell did he get here?
“Right there,” he gasps. “Oh god, right there!”
“Who's making you feel this good?” Mike asks, his voice rough with exertion, with holding himself back.
“You are,” Will whimpers.
“Shiiiit,” Mike hisses. His hips stutter, like he’s about to come, but he recovers. Resumes his pace, blowing a strand of long, black hair away from his eyes, presumably so he can see Will better underneath him.
Carlton doesn’t blame him. Will is a sight when he’s being fucked. Born to take it, though he’s always hated when he’d told him so. Doesn’t seem to mind it when it’s Mike, though.
“Hey,” Mike hushes.
It takes Carlton a moment to realize he’s talking to him.
“What?” He asks dumbly, words thick.
“Did you know if you press right here-” Mike pauses, pressing a large palm on Will’s lower belly. “You can feel your dick moving inside him?”
When Carlton doesn’t say anything, he laughs breathlessly. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’ve never properly fucked him a day in your life.”
“Mike, s-stop,” Will whines, but it’s half hearted.
His boyfriend starts saying something else, but he doesn’t stay to hear it. Carlton stands up abruptly. He grabs his shirt from the floor and quietly slips out of the room, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch sounds final in the silence of the hallway. Carlton leans against it, his heart pounding. For a moment, he considers going back in, fighting for Will, but then he hears a shout through the door and knows it's too late.
There’s a voicemail on his machine the following morning.
It’s Will’s. His voice is hoarse, and it makes Carlton puke into the toilet harder.
‘I think we both know it’s over,’ he says softly. ‘I think last night was more of a way of proving something to myself than anything else. I’m sorry.’
Goes on to say that he’s moving back to Indiana with Mike. Is taking the cat. Good riddance. Let them starve together in that bumble fuck town. Five years down the drain, but- Carlton thinks of the way Mike had Will bent over last night. How pretty he looked. Teary and taking. Maybe his friends were right. He winces. Stares down at the water, at the porcelain underneath, and wretches.