Fics like falling back into the hedge maze

Mike’s mouth is warm. Warm, and a little chapped, and pressing against his with an uncertainty that makes something in Will’s chest ache. He should pull away. He knows this. He knows it in the same way he knows not to touch a hot stove, not to stare too long, not to let himself imagine impossible things. His body seems uninterested in logic, though, and he supposes he can’t blame himself, not really. Mike shifts slightly, trying to figure out what to do with his limbs. His lips move against Will’s with more intention, and Will’s breath stutters out of him in a way that is deeply embarrassing and entirely involuntary. Oh, his brain supplies unhelpfully. It’s something he’s imagined countless times before, kissing Mike Wheeler. He imagines it so often, in fact, that he cannot even recall the first time he imagined it. It’s an ever-present fantasy, always lurking in the back of his mind. And yet, despite his thorough experience in imagining this moment, he somehow never imagined it quite like this. Or: Five times it doesn't mean anything, and one time it finally does.

Fics like falling back into the hedge maze

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