AN:

I'm back with another multi-chapter story. This one won't be long but it needs the depth. Requested by SmoothFluffle: Mike and El break up but can't keep their hands off of each other.

It's kind of, um, violent at first so if you're not into that wait for the next chapter.

"But, I mean, we can still be friends. I want to be friends. But I don't want to hold you back just because I'm not here."

El was staring at him, hearing the words but still unable to process anything. Across the table from her, Mike was sweating profusely, looking pained and nervous.

"You want… to be friends," she repeated dumbly.

"Um… yeah. Is that okay?" He licked his lips. "Like, I still want to hang out with you and the guys and Max and talk about life and school and stuff but…"

"But you don't want to date me anymore."

"Um, it's not that I don't want to, but I'll be so far away, El, it's not fair for me to hold you back. You might find someone better while I'm away and I wouldn't…" he swallowed, like the words hurt to say, "I wouldn't want to keep you from being happy. With someone else."

It was starting to really hit her, what he was saying, and anger filled her body.

"You want me to find someone else?!"

"Well, no, but—"

"But what, Mike? You're breaking up with me," she winced at the reality in the those words. "At least fucking tell me why!"

He turned red, looking around the diner nervously, hoping her outburst hadn't drawn attention. It was mostly deserted anyways but the waitress at the counter gave them a look. He gulped.

"I… I did, El. I told you, I'm going to MIT and that's a fourteen hour drive, I won't be home until Christmas, if I can afford a flight, and—"

"And you want to find someone else there," she accused, suddenly insecure. "You want someone closer."

His eyes widened in confusion and then worry as he shook his head.

"No, not at all! I don't want someone closer, or someone else. I don't want to replace you, El, you're my best friend," his eyes softened. "I promise."

That damn word. He only used it when he meant it and she knew he wasn't lying. But it didn't make it hurt any less and she shook her head as her eyes filled with tears.

"So you just don't want me."

"No!" His voice was thick. "I do want you, more than anything, but I have to do what's best for us. What's best for you, El."

"How do you know what's best for me?!"

Her voice rang through the diner and the few patrons turned to look. She felt their stares but didn't care, in too much pain to see anything that wasn't his stricken face in front of her. He looked like he wanted to apologize or take it back and for a moment she was hopeful.

But then he set his jaw and crossed his arms, looking down at his untouched hash browns with a heavy sigh. Her heart sank. He was serious.

"Fine," she hissed, standing up. "But you could at least waited until the end of the summer you asshole."

It was only June and he would be in town until August and she would have to see him around. Hawkins wasn't big and they had the same friend group, there was no way she could avoid running into him and she didn't understand why he was doing this now.

"I… I thought it would help. We'd both get used to it…" he trailed off at the sight of her face, looking like he was regretting everything.

"Oh, you want to help me? Here!"

She grabbed her half-empty strawberry milkshake and threw it into his face, watching as the pink liquid splattered into his eyes and dripped down his nose. He spluttered, surprised, and the satisfaction she'd felt in the moment suddenly melted into despair.

"El," he started to try and say something but she was done.

"Goodbye, Mike."

She turned and fled, not letting the tears fall until she was out of sight, walking down the side of the familiar road by herself in the dark and feeling like everything was falling apart. Because it was. They'd been together for so long she didn't know what she was supposed to feel without him. Why did he think he was doing the right thing when it so clearly wasn't?

Her heart ached.

It had been a week and she'd done the typical post-breakup thing. Max had brought over several different kinds of ice cream—and Eggos—and they two had sat on the couch in the Byers living room and watched every rom-com they could get their hands on. El alternated between yelling angrily at the TV and crying in her friend's arms.

He brothers wisely stayed out of it, especially Will who had a divided loyalty, but Joyce had been the usual bottomless well of love and support and El found herself sleeping in her mom's bed several nights, staring up at the ceiling as tears leaked from her eyes. Nothing had made it better and she was tired of hurting.

Part of her was still waiting.

Every time the doorbell or the phone rang, her heart jumped, hoping maybe it was him, saying he was sorry he was so stupid, that he wanted to see her and hold her and tell her he loved her.

But it was quiet. Other than Max.

"We're going, Eleven. You promised me you would and now you have to," Max was standing in El's room, digging through her closet. "Besides, you've been moping for an entire week. It's time to face humanity again."

"I don't want to. You can't make me."

"You know I can," Max rolled her eyes as she pulled out a slinky, purple metallic dress. "Do you want me to make you?"

Max was strong enough to actually throw El over her shoulder and carry her out and they both knew it. El groaned.

"Please don't make me. What if… he's there?"

"His lameass probably didn't even get invited, El. He's a nerdy loser, remember? They don't get invited to cool kid parties. But," she turned and smiled. "You and I do. So we have to go. And you should wear this dress."

"Max—"

"It's not a question."

El was a little tired of being home and it was enough to get her into the dress and then the bathroom, where she teased her hair and slicked on ruby red lipstick and silver eyeshadow. Part of her wanted to look extra good but she didn't know why. She had no one to impress.

She definitely looked hot, she could tell, and soon enough her and Max were standing outside of Jennifer Hayes's house, walking into the party that was already in full swing. It was kind of a last hurrah, the newly-minted Class of '89 getting together to get wasted one last time before everyone went their separate ways.

El let Max pull her through the crowded rooms, drinking some mix of alcohol out a cup and pretending like she was having fun.

But she wasn't. Guys kept grabbing her ass (which admittedly looked really good) and people she didn't know kept talking to her about things she didn't care about. Max joined a game of beer pong and El found herself doing the thing she always did, heading upstairs to try and find some peace and quiet.

But usually Mike was there too. She would drag him to parties and he would gamely tag along and they would get tipsy enough to have fun before sneaking to an abandoned room and fucking each other senseless.

But she was alone now.

She found herself heading upstairs anyway, wanting to just escape for a minute and find a place where the music wasn't shrieking in her ears and everything didn't smell like weed. All of the rooms were shut, but that didn't mean they were occupied and she knocked on one, getting an "fuck off!" in return. The second one was similar but more angry. The third surprised her, a muffled "come in!" replacing the annoyed yells and she shrugged, opening the door.

She'd maybe expected some couple who would invited her for a threesome or maybe some random guy she didn't know hoping to get something from her. But instead it was the last person she expected to see here.

"Mike?!"

Her cup hit the carpet at her feet and he blinked at her in surprise from where he sat on the floor, a textbook sitting front of him. He'd been studying. At a party. She wasn't surprised at that.

He looked as unsure as she felt.

"Um, hey, El," he swallowed nervously. "Having… fun?"

"Why are you here?" she blurted.

"Lucas made me come. But he started talking to some girl and abandoned me."

"And you're… studying?"

"Yeah, I got my textbooks for summer reading and figured I might as well start. Apparently I'm supposed to know most of this stuff beforehand which isn't intimidating at all…"

"You'll do fine, Mike," she rolled her eyes. "You always do.

It was such a normal conversation. One that would have happened between them at his house as they sat in his room and made out. If he hadn't dumped her.

Suddenly all of it came rushing back, what he had done and said, and she scowled down at him.

"So you're still fine with your stupid plan."

"It's not stupid, El, I'm trying to do what's best—"

"Shut up, Mike."

He stood, looking nervous, but as she shook her head and refused to listen to him he bristled.

"It's not my fault you don't understand what I'm trying to do, El," he scoffed, sounding dangerously condescending.

She took two steps closer, glaring up at him.

"It's not my fault you're a fucking coward, Mike," she spat.

"You still don't get it."

"Get what? That you're too afraid to admit that you don't want me anymore? That you think I can't handle it and even though you're okay with breaking my heart you won't hurt me with the truth?" she screamed.

They were chest to chest and he stared down at her, eyes hard, glancing down at the sweetheart neckline of her dress where her breasts swelled prettily. She saw him lick his lips, saw the split second of hunger in his eyes and she realized she was wrong. He did still want her.

"El—"

She jumped him, throwing herself onto him so forcefully he fell back onto the bed behind him, grunting as she landed on him. But he didn't have time to think as she yanked his head to hers, slamming her lips against his and moaning as his hands found her hips and tugged her onto his crotch, where she could feel him hardening.

He definitely still wanted her. Which meant he was lying.

"You're a shit liar," she hissed.

His hands were ripping at her dress, trying to pull it up and over her head, finally succeeding and letting his gaze move up and down her body hungrily, looking like he was going to devour her. It had only been a week but clearly he'd missed her. His lips were suddenly everywhere and then he flipped both of them, so he was on top, lips ravaging her neck.

"Shut up, El," he growled as he unhooked her bra.

The score was uneven and she grabbed the collar of his polo and pulled so hard she accidentally ripped it off his shirt, but she didn't notice, too busy stripping his clothes off of him. She didn't like him telling her what to do, not after what he'd broken her heart. He didn't get to do that.

His jeans were on the floor and they were both in their underwear, panting. His collarbone was in front of her and she leaned up, kissing it surprisingly softly, feeling him relax. Then she sunk her teeth into the flesh on his pectoral, hard enough to bruise, and he yelped, pushing her off of him. She fell back onto the bed but grinned at the sight of the red welt that was forming on his chest. Good. She wanted him to remember this.

He was shocked enough for her to gain the upper hand, flipping them again so she was on top, straddling him and rubbing her panty-covered core over his hardened dick. She reached into his underwear and pulled it out, holding it tightly in her hand and feeling his pulse there. His heart was racing and he was hard as a rock.

Reaching down she pushed the crotch of her panties to the side, in too much of a rush to want to stop and take them off. He grabbed her hips as she hovered over him, lining herself up over him and lowering herself right over the tip, biting her lip and giving him a wolfish look as he entered her just a bit.

"Admit it," she provoked him, "you missed me."

His eyes narrowed but he said nothing and she frowned, confused for a second.

But then he dug his fingers into her hips so hard she could feel the bruises that would form, and he wrenched her down onto his throbbing erection, thrusting his hips up at the same.

"Ah, fuck!" she yelped, her hands balling into fists as he filled her too suddenly, stretching her and making her whimper.

It hurt, but in a good way and he grinned at her reaction, looking triumphant, like he'd just won whatever silent battle they were having with her bodies. He gave her two seconds to adjust before he bounced her in his lap and she shrieked again, her hands suddenly on his shoulders as she tried to catch her breath and acclimate herself to the sudden invasion.

"Still think I'm a coward?" he growled, eyes glinting.

"A stupid coward," she hissed, taunting him. "The biggest fucking idiot I've ever—ah! Oh, ahh, fuck!"

He didn't let her finish her sentence, keeping his grip on her hips and bouncing her again, only this time thrusting his up at the same time and going so deep her eyes almost crossed. He did it again, enjoying having total control over her, making her ride him roughly, his bony hips leaving bruises on her inner thighs as he made her fuck him.

El was seeing stars, her body protesting against each thrust but also craving it, the anger she felt responding to his own frustrations. She wanted to make him feel good but she also wanted to make him suffer and she ripped her nails down the sides of his arms as she threw her head back and cried out. He grunted in pain and she grinned, looking down and meeting his eyes with a sultry grin.

This was completely new. They had fucked while sad, happy, desperate, even frantic. But never angry, never so full of… hatred. It was hate sex and they were reveling in it.

"Ow, fuck, El," he snarled. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Why," she shot back, panting as he kept pounding her, "are you afraid you'll have to explain the scratches to your mom?"

He growled and suddenly she was on her back, underneath him, and he was pulling out of her, flipping her onto her stomach and then thrusting into her, dragging her hips up to meet his as he started fucking her ruthlessly from behind. She let out a squeak, her back arching involuntarily, and she bit back another moan, not wanting him to know how good he was making her feel.

"I know what you fucking like, El," he leaned down, his breath hot in her ear. "I know what you want me to do. Will you still moan like a slut for me? Still beg me to make you cum on my dick?"

Whatever was in him was making him crude and she bit back an angry retort, refusing to give him the satisfaction until she could think of a good comeback. But it was hard to think when his hips were slapping against her ass, each thrust so deep she felt him press against her cervix and a whimper escaped her despite herself.

"There it is." He sounded smug. "Let it out, El."

"N-No," she groaned. "I-I only moan for my boyfriend."

It was as painful as an actual slap across the face and he slowed for two seconds, stunned by the ferocity of her verbal jab. She whipped her head around and bucked her hips back against him, glaring. She had wanted to make him feel her words and hurt, not make him stop fucking her.

"If you don't make cum in the next thirty seconds I'll never talk to you again."

"Fine."

He was getting tired but there was no way he was going to admit it, instead reaching forward and shoving her face down against the pillow in front of her and then flipping her onto her back, pulling her to him by her thighs with a rude jerk. His dick was slick from being inside her and he grinned as he realized just how turned on she was. Some things didn't change.

She groaned when he plunged into her again, just as roughly as before, and then wrapped her legs around his hips, helping him and squeezing tightly around him. He grunted and then started moving again, staring down into her eyes. Tilting her hips up he took a deep breath and then thrusted into her, grinning as she cried out, her eyes rolling back as he did it again.

They were noisy, grunting and groaning and moaning, their bodies colliding loudly, unable to keep quiet if they wanted. He fucked her relentlessly, watching as her mouth gaped open and her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes rolled back. He knew what her o-face looked like and he reached down and thumbed her clit, knowing her body and what it needed to fall over that edge.

She exploded on him, her whole body tensing up, her legs shaking as she screamed, one word on her tongue.

"Mike!"

Her walls clenched and he growled, not wanting to stop fucking her but knowing it was impossible not finish when she was squeezing his dick so tightly, like she always did, and—

"Fuck, El!"

He exploded too, deep inside of her as his hips stuttered and then he collapsed onto her heavily, his mouth crashing onto hers. Her hands were in his hair and they kissed so frantically it was almost heartbreaking, not wanting the moment to end.

But it had to and she pulled back, gasping for air.

"Fuck," she breathed.

"Fuck," he groaned in agreement.

He rolled off of her, pulling out stickily, and flopped onto his back. His arms and shoulders stung from where she'd left nail marks and scratches and he turned his head to look at her. She was wincing too and he frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You just…" she shifted her hips, a hand in her stomach. "You fucked me way too hard… I'm going to so be sore, owww," she whined.

"Good. That's what you get for biting me."

He touched the welt and ground his teeth at how much it stung. Fuck. She must be super pissed, he realized.

Part of him had been kind of playing along with the angry narrative she'd set, being rough and frustrated, but he wasn't as actually as mad as he'd seemed. He didn't like her calling him names when he was trying to do the right thing, but a lot of his actions had been spurred by her own. Clearly she was furious and the cloud anger filled the room again as she sat up and scooted away from him.

They redressed in silence, unsure of how to talk about what had happened between them. Would she hate him forever? Would she really not let him be her friend? Would they actually be able to find other people who could fuck each other as good as they did?

"I hope you enjoyed that while you could," she finally piped up as she slid her dress back down over her body. "Because it's never happening again. I might just go find someone else right now. Get the feeling of you off of me."

He frowned and as she reached for her panties on the floor he snatched them away, his own rage rising up inside of him. They were thin and cotton and she watched as he rather suddenly ripped them in half and then handed them back.

"What the hell, Mike?" she shrieked.

He finished buttoning his pants and then grabbed his book off the floor.

"If you're going to act like a slut then I'm sure you won't mind having my cum dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night," he growled. "Try explaining that to someone else."

Her mouth dropped open at the lewdness and audacity of his words but he didn't give her a chance to reply as he turned and opened the door, leaving her in the room alone.

She didn't know how she should feel after that. Part of her was still angry, but a bigger part felt… relieved? He definitely knew how she felt now, how angry she was at him for just abandoning her so suddenly. But he had still wanted her. The ache between her legs proof of that.

He'd called her a slut and that had stung, but it was always a challenge, never an outright insult. It was his insecurity that she would find someone else, someone better than him, and that she might not be his.

Part of her wanted to take it as a challenge, but the more she thought about the more she realized she couldn't. There wasn't a single person in this tiny shitty town that she wanted inside of her like that other than Mike. How could he not know that?

She sighed, realizing that staying in the room wouldn't help, finally getting up and leaving, hoping to find Max.

Her friend was on a couch downstairs, talking to… Lucas? El glanced around warily as she approached them.

"Max can we go home now?" she asked, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Oh, um, hi Lucas."

"Hey, El. Sorry for bringing Mike. He said he ran into you and then he like… bolted. Said he would walk home. For the record I told him he was being stupid trying to break up with you but he won't listen to me. As usual."

Lucas was on her side, and her heart warmed at the realization.

"Yeah, uh, I ran into him upstairs. We kind of had… a fight," she shrugged, figuring it was the truth.

"Are you okay, El?" Max asked, suddenly alarmed, realizing how disheveled her friend looked.

El blinked, unsure what to say. But then she felt something warm drip down her thigh, felt the ache between her legs and the ghost of his fingers bruising her hips—and she suddenly felt triumphant. He still wanted her and she wasn't about to let him forget that.

"Yeah, I feel great," she smiled.