Archive of Our Own

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Chicago, 1999

"Will, baby," Mike coos, his thumbs brushing tears away from his boyfriend's cheeks. "It's really okay."

Will moans, sad and pathetic, nuzzling into Mike's hands. "S'not okay. I should be better by now."

Mike cards a hand through Will's hair, nails scratching lightly across his scalp. "But you try your best, baby, it's not your fault." Will moans again, even sadder and even more pathetic, tears falling fast down his face.

Really, it wasn't Will's fault. Mike never faulted his boyfriend for it. Mike is big. Like eight inches soft big. And it's not like Will has had phenomenal experiences with things down his throat either.

Will does try his best, rather enthusiastically even. He always opens wide when Mike tells him to, sticking out his little pink tongue for Mike to tap his cock on. He always relaxes his jaw as best as he can and hardly ever nicks Mike with his teeth. He really is very good for Mike.

It's just that, well, Will can't really seem to figure out how to take more than half of Mike. And Mike never complains, wouldn't dream of it when Will has those soft, plush lips wrapped around his cock, moaning around Mike like it's the best thing in the world to have Mike in his mouth. No, Mike thinks that his boyfriend is perfect even if he has to wrap his hands around the part of Mike that won't fit into his mouth.

Will lets out a sob and Mike moves his hands down to Will's armpits, hoisting him off of his knees and up into Mike's arms. He shushes him as Mike lays them back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Will. Will lets himself be held, shoving his tear-streaked face into Mike's chest. Mike rubs circles into Will's back, leaning down to press kisses into Will's hair and ignoring the way his half-hard dick twitches in the chill of the room.

Mike doesn't say anything, just lets Will tire himself out as his sobs turn to sniffles. Mike doesn't mind this, how sensitive Will is. Mike actually kind of likes it, maybe even envies it, the way that Will feels his emotions so deeply. Mike can't remember the last time that he cried, but he thinks that Will must do it nearly every day.

Will's words are muffled, his face still pressed into Mike's chest, "Just wanna be good for you."

Mike moves a hand up to Will's hair and gently pulls his face back. "You are good for me, baby."

"But I could be better." Will frowns, his puffy lips turning into a pout. "You never have any problems going down on me."

"Well that's 'cause you're small, honey." It's a silly thing for Will to say. Will knows it too, his face flushing a deep red. Mike thinks it's sweet that Will calls it going down. Yeah, Mike goes down on Will, eats him out until Will can barely hold his legs open, fingers him until he's sobbing, until his pretty little cock is coming untouched. Will likes that better than when Mike sucks him off, not that Mike is opposed to that either. And, yeah, Mike doesn't have any problems taking all of Will in his mouth. Will wouldn't either if Mike was as small as him. "Like a girl."

Will flushes deeper than Mike thought was possible at this, averting his eyes and nodding in agreement. Mike knows that Will likes this too, knew it months before Will worked up the courage to tell Mike just how much he liked it when Mike treated him like a girl.

"Yeah," Mike's hand leaves Will's hair and settles on his cheek. "So it's okay. I know you're trying your best, baby. Always so good for me."

Will nods again, eyes tired, always so sleepy after he works himself up. Mike shifts them, still cradling Will as he maneuvers them underneath the covers. It's quiet for a few long moments, Will's breathing evening out as light rain begins to patter against the windows.

"I could be better." The words leave Will's lips in a soft mumble, almost absentmindedly as he drifts off to sleep.

He's right, Mike thinks as the rain begins to lull him to sleep, he could be better.

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The thing is, Mike really doesn't give a shit whether or not Will learns how to deep throat Mike. He'd be a shitty boyfriend if he complained about getting a blowjob from his boyfriend, who Mike just so happens to think is the most perfect person to ever walk the Earth. No, Mike really doesn't care, but Will certainly does. Will is desperate to get better. And who is Mike to deny Will anything?

Will is on his knees again, this time kneeling on the bathmat in front of the sink, palms resting on his bare thighs as Mike steps out of the shower. Mike raises an eyebrow at him as he rubs a towel across his wet curls.

"I wanna practice," Will says eager and matter-of-factly. "So I can be better."

"Yeah?" Mike dries himself off before wrapping his towel around his waist and stepping towards Will. Mike nudges Will over with his foot and Will complies, settling at the edge of the bathmat and tipping his head up to meet Mike's eyes. "What do you wanna be better at, baby?"

Will goes shy at this, blushing deeply as Mike wets his toothbrush and squeezes out toothpaste onto it. Mike sticks the toothbrush in his mouth and looks pointedly at Will before shifting his gaze forward, meeting his own eyes in the mirror.

"I-you know, Mike." Mike doesn't respond right away, just keeps looking forward as he brushes his teeth for a full two minutes. He can feel Will squirm next to him, shifting and huffing in an attempt to regain Mike's attention. It's cute.

Mike shoves his head under the faucet and rises his mouth out, wiping the back of his hand across his lips before finally looking back at his boyfriend.

"I don't think I do know." Mike cocks his hip against the sink. "What's there to get better at when you're already perfect?"

"Mike," Will huffs out, feigning an exasperation that's betrayed by the soft smile tugging at his lips. "You know what, Mike. I wanna practice."

Mike doesn't say anything, just crosses his arms and waits. Will keeps squirming, palms briefly leaving his thighs to adjust his sleep shirt, one of Mike's old and faded band tees, to expose the navy blue cotton of his bikini-cut bottoms. He settles his palms back onto his thighs. Brat, Mike thinks.

The silence stretches on, Will squirming and pouting as Mike gazes down on him. Will finally breaks with a huff. "I want to practice taking you deeper."

"Deeper where?"

Will whines, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—my mouth, my throat."

"Yeah?" Mike hums and uncrosses his arms, bringing a hand down to rake through Will's messy hair. "You wanna suck me off?"

Will nods. Mike tugs his hair softly, a warning. "Use your words."

"Yes."

"Okay," Mike keeps his hand rooted in Will's hair and undoes the towel at his waist with his other hand. "Ask me."

Will's mouth drops open, the words trapped in his throat. Mike gives another tug, sharper this time, a final warning.

"C-can I please suck you off, Mike?" Will's eyes are glassy, unshed tears threatening to escape at any second.

"Yeah. Wasn't so hard, huh?" Mike hums, pulling Will's head toward his stiffening cock. "Get me hard."

Will leans forward under Mike's guidance, eyes locked on Mike under his fluttered eyelashes. He presses a soft kiss to the head of Mike's cock, pre-cum smearing across his lips. And, really, Will doesn't have to do much to get Mike hard. He was already well on his way there, but he doesn't stop Will from kissing up and down his shaft. Will wants to practice, so Mike lets him practice.

Will mouths at the head of Mike's cock, whimpering when Mike's grip in his hair tightens. Mike pulls him back slightly. "Open."

Will's mouth drops open in an instant, sticking his tongue out before Mike has to ask. Mike hums, pleased, and grips himself by the base of his cock, slapping it against Will's tongue.

"Always so good for me," Will nods, eyes widening at Mike's praise. "You want more?"

Will pulls back slightly. "Yes," And then a beat later. "Please."

"Such good manners too." Will's whine is cut off when Mike guides himself into Will's mouth. Will's eyes flutter shut as he sucks Mike in, bobbing his head with an eagerness that makes Mike laugh. Mike likes it when Will gets this way, desperate and overeager, like his head is empty save for the thought of being good for Mike. It's intoxicating, the way that Will entrusts Mike to have him in this way.

It's why Mike wants to take this practice so seriously. He pushes Will's head down a little further, nearly to the half of his cock that always starts to gag Will. Will slows down, his over-zealousness starting to catch up to him. Will's eyes open back up, meeting Mike's gaze with uncertainty. Mike nods, pushing Will's head at a steady, slow pace.

Will breathes deeply, methodically. Mike smiles down at him. He really is so good, taking this practice so seriously. It's cute, watching Will have to work so hard at something when everything else usually comes so easy to him.

"Doin' so good. Gonna give you more now." Will whines again as Mike pushes his head down further. Tears start to leak from Will's eyes and Mike knows what's coming. Will fights it as best he can, but he gags anyways.

"S'okay," Mike coos. "Still doing so good for me, making me feel so good, baby."

Will gags again, this time harder. He whines after, blinking away tears that won't stop coming. Privately, Mike thinks that it's actually pretty hot that Will barely has half of Mike in his mouth and is already gagging. Mike thinks that everything about Will is hot, that Will is always so Earth-shatteringly gorgeous, but especially when his eyelashes are dark and clumped together, wet with the tears that run down his face and mix with the saliva leaking from his mouth.

Another gag. Mike's dick twitches. This is when Mike would usually start to pull back, would loosen his grip in Will's hair and let his boyfriend set the pace from here, but Mike reminds himself that Will wants the practice.

"You want more, sweetheart?" The question is rhetorical; Mike and Will both know that Mike isn't asking but telling Will what's to come. Will knows how to tap out if he needs to.

Mike settles his other hand into Will's hair now. Will's eyes open wide and he sputters around Mike's cock in an attempt to inhale as much air as possible. He makes himself gag again.

"Baby," Mike scratches his nails across Will's scalp. "You gotta calm down. You wanna get better, right? You wanna learn? Gotta calm down and let me help."

Will whimpers, the sound coming out garbled and muffled. Mike coaches him through a few deep breaths, scratching at his scalp and cooing praises. Will's eyes start to droop, sated and heavy, and before Will even realizes it, Mike is rocking forward, sinking another inch into the heat of Will's mouth, hitting the back of Will's throat. Mike feels like he can't breath, feels like he's fighting against every nerve in his body to not grip into Will's hair and fuck his mouth into oblivion.

Will's eyes are still hazy, humming through deep breaths as Mike keeps a steady pace.

In the end, it's Mike who fucks it all up.

He tells himself not to call attention to it, tells himself to just let Will exist in that cloudy head space where he doesn't have to think, but Mike has never known when to shut the fuck up, really. Especially if it's about Will Byers.

"So perfect, angel, taking so much of me." And then it happens all at once. Will's eyes snap open and Mike can see the gears turning in his brain, can see when Will realizes just how much of Mike is in his mouth and nudging at his throat with each roll of Mike's hips, can see when Will starts to panic. Mike barely holds back a groan when Will's throat aggressively spasms around him and Will fucking retches.

Mike pulls back and Will whimpers, his lips still pressed against the tip of Mike's cock. Mike feels dizzy, disoriented. He looks down at Will, his eyes barely open as he takes deep, shaky breaths. And maybe Mike gets it now, maybe he does give a shit whether or not Will learns how to deep throat, because now he wants more. Wants it all.

Will does too. He takes a shuddering breath and takes Mike into his mouth again. Mike opens his mouth to protest, but then Will's hand shoots up, wrapping around the part of Mike that Will can't take and Mike's protests turn to groans. Will isn't as zealous as he was before, isn't as brave, but he's determined.

Will pulls back, hand still moving up and down Mike, and suckles on the head of Mike's cock. He looks up at Mike, tears streaking down his face, lips red and puffy, and Mike knows he's a goner.

"Where do you want it, baby?"

Will hums, still suckling at the head of Mike's cock, eyes big and pleading as he strokes Mike faster. Mike's balls tighten and then he's spilling into Will's mouth with a groan. Mike feels Will tongue at the slit of his cock, lapping at the last of Mike's cum, and Mike pulls himself away.

"Show me." Will tilts his head back and opens his mouth wide, tongue curling to keep Mike's come from leaking out. Mike waits for a beat and nods. "Okay."

Will swallows and it seems to take the last of his energy. He collapses against the cabinet next to him with a shiver. Mike rests a hand on Will's head, threading his fingers into Will's hair and Will lurches forward, nuzzling into Mike's leg.

His breath comes in soft pants, lips puffy and parted, voice small and unsure. "Was I better?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." Mike reaches down and hoists Will up, an arm wrapping underneath Will's thighs to deposit him onto the bathroom counter. He grabs at the hem of the oversized shirt and brings it up to Will's lips. Will opens immediately, taking the shirt in his teeth and exposing his chest and stomach. Mike wraps his hands around Will's waist, his thumbs brushing at the silver piercing that sits at his navel as Will's hands grip the edge of counter.

"Did so much better." Will whimpers through the shirt. "Y'just gotta stop thinking, huh? Just need to let me do that for you, so you can just sit there and look pretty, right?" Will nods, eyes big and hazy, and Mike continues, dropping his hands to rub up and down Will's thighs. Will opens his legs immediately and Mike huffs out a laugh, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

Mike's voice is low and thick. "You've been such a good girl, huh? Gonna make you feel good, baby, gonna play with your pussy now, okay?" Will nods vehemently, like Mike's question wasn't purely rhetorical.

Mike's hand slips under the soft cotton of Will's panties, engulfing his boyfriend's cock in his palm. Will's hips stutter forward and Mike tightens his hand. Will squeaks.

Mike tuts and shakes his head. "Uh uh, you know better. Stay still." Will garbles out something akin to a sorry through his shirt and Mike eases his grip. His thumb finds the head of Will's cock and he rubs over it as he pumps Will, slow and lazy. "God, angel, this wet just from sucking me off." It's not a question, but an observation. Mike's eyes travel to Will's face as he lets out a ngh noise, face tight and downturned like Mike's words don't send a shock through his core, like he wasn't waiting patiently on his knees to suck Mike off while he showered and brushed his teeth.

He loves this about Will, the way he's so bashful and reserved while being a total fucking slut for Mike.

Mike's thumb nail grazes the head of Will's cock and he's wracked with a full body shudder. "Aw," Mike coos. "Your little clit is so sensitive, huh?" Mike does it again and Will hisses, the hem of his shirt falling from his mouth. Will's hands scramble to stuff his shirt back into his mouth, gripping back onto the counter top and looking at Mike like a deer caught in headlights. Mike takes pity on him, ignoring his boyfriend's slip up as a reward for sucking him off so well.

It doesn't take very long until Will is asking to come, garbled through his shirt as Mike's thumb incessantly rubs his pre-cum around while his palm twists across his shaft. Mike obliges him. Mike likes how quickly he can make Will fall apart, likes it even more when he keeps going and going until Will is coming dry and crying about it being too much. If Mike didn't have to be at his publisher's office in a fucking tie tomorrow morning, he might drag Will to the bed and make him sit on Mike's face until one of them passes out.

Will slumps against Mike's chest, teeth still clamped around the hem of his sleep shirt, cock twitching weakly in Mike's hand. Will whimpers when Mike pulls away and stands him up against the counter. Mike grabs his forgotten towel on the floor and wipes his hand off before setting it on the counter next to Will. Mike pulls his panties down and tosses them in the general direction of their hamper, the towel following suit after Mike gently wipes Will down and finally pulls the shirt out of his mouth.

Mike's hand finds the small of Will's back as he leads Will out of the bathroom and into their bedroom, Will's bare feet shuffling across the hardwood. Mike stops them in front of their dresser and opens the top drawer, snagging a pair of boxers and stepping into them.

"You want your panties, baby? Or you want something of mine?"

A small smile fights through the exhaustion in Will's face and Mike's fingers are already hovering over a pair of his boxers before Will hums out, "Yours, please." Mike kneels, helping Will step into the boxers before leading Will back to the bed. Will collapses, a soft sigh leaving his lips as Mike clicks off the lamp and shuffles into bed after him.

Will finds sleep easily as Mike wraps his arms around him and Mike follows right behind.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Mike is only seven minutes late to the meeting with his publisher. He sits through hours of conversation about book tours and signed copies and other shit that Mike would be much more excited about if he could get the word practice out of his fucking head.

It's mid afternoon when some sort of divine intervention finally takes pity on Mike, his assistant only grumbling a little bit about his sheer inattentiveness as they walk out of their, what felt like, back to back to back to back to back to back meetings.

It's warm outside, the kind of warm that Mike knows that Will likes to sunbathe in in their backyard, punctuated by a light breeze while the radio lulls him in and out of naps. The thought is particularly appealing to Mike after the day he's had and he finds himself barrelling through the front door with the urgency of a man coming home to his wife after being away at war. Which, Mike thinks as he toes his loafers off, is a rather apt metaphor for how Mike feels whenever he's away from Will for any semblance of time.

He does not find Will sunbathing in the backyard, but instead finds him cocooned in a blanket on the couch, eyes locked onto some true crime documentary with a frown. Mike collapses on the couch next to him, throwing an arm over his boyfriend. Will relaxes into Mike's side with a small sigh, hands creeping out of the blanket to finger at Mike's tie.

"S'wrong, baby?"

"I think I'm getting sick." Will presses in closer, resting his head onto Mike's chest. "My throat hurts."

"Yeah?" Mike wants to laugh. He presses a hand to Will's forehead. "You feelin' hot or anything? Got a headache?" Will shakes his head and Mike does laugh this time.

Will pulls back and pouts at Mike, fingers still fidgeting with Mike's tie. "What?"

Mike raises an eyebrow. "Your throat hurts?"

Will huffs. "Yes, and I don't appreciate—oh."

Mike rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Will's hair. "Yeah, oh. Silly."

Will seems to expand at this, kicking the blanket off of himself and sitting up a little straighter, suddenly spurred and unburdened at the thought of not actually being sick. He leans back into Mike's chest and sighs, this time more dreamily than pathetic, watching as some light-haired detective in a pantsuit interrogates some guy who probably did it.

They sit in a comfortable silence, Mike's hand drifting up to card through Will's hair as Will's fingers still run across his tie. Mike loves this life, loves being able to provide for them so Will can spend his days at home, peacefully existing and painting whenever inspiration strikes.

Boyfriend really isn't an encompassing term for what he and Will have. Mike's heard some people at his publisher's office throw around partner here and there and Mike even uses it too, when he's at mixers talking to other authors and publicists and whoever else. But really, Mike thinks that the only word that even hold a candle to his devotion for Will is wife (or husband, he supposes, if one wants to get technical about it and he doesn't really want to).

It's not for lack of desire either; they've talked about it. Sad and hopeful conversations across the years, punctuated by Max and Lucas's wedding first, then Jane and Dustin's wedding after. One day, maybe, Mike thinks as he glances down at Will's empty fingers still trailing across his tie, but for now this is enough.

Will pulls Mike from his thoughts with a small cough, one that Mike thinks sounds rather fake. Mike says nothing, an amused look plastered on his face that Will can't see. Will coughs again, this time with a little more force, a little more gusto, and Mike bites.

"Something wrong?"

"My throat," Will starts pitifully as the detective on their TV finally coaxes a confession out of the guy who now definitely did it. "It hurts."

"Aw," Mike placates, his hand stretching across the back of Will's head and turning him to meet Mike's eyes. "Hurts bad, sweetheart? I need to kiss it better?"

Will grins and falls back onto the couch, fingers tightening around Mike's tie and pulling him down with him. They tangle into each other with laughs, Mike catching himself on his forearms as Will bares his neck, sighing dreamily in wait.

Mike makes good on his promise. He starts soft, lips traversing across Will's throat, pressing soft kisses into the even softer skin every few inches until Will starts to squirm. Mike is teasing and maybe he shouldn't be, because, well, it is his fault that Will's throat hurts after all, but it's just that Will is so easy to tease. It's like he was made to be teased by Mike, so pliant and responsive, so submissive and obedient.

"Mike," Will whines out, cute and frustrated. "More."

Mike hums. "Can't, baby. Don't want to hurt your throat anymore."

Will huffs at Mike's impassivity, but takes what Mike gives him. Always so good. Mike slightly relents in his teasing, pressing more full-bodied kisses into Will's throat, but keeping his tongue and teeth to himself.

It's sloppy. Will's neck is wet, probably from both Mike's spit and from sweat, the rays of the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows and heating up their living room. Mike is hot too, still wearing his stupid dress shirt and slacks, body heat emanating from Will. Mike pulls back, straightening his arm to perch above Will. He looks gorgeous like this, face flushed and damp, panting and obviously hard through his tiny little lounge shorts. It takes Mike back to thoughts of Will sunbathing, lazily dragging charcoal across his sketchbook, smiling wide when Mike brings him something cold, like a glass of unsweet tea or a—

Mike blinks, a new thought forming in his head. "Your throat still hurt?"

He blinks back at Mike. "I-huh?"

"Your throat." Mike settles his hand across Will's throat, fingers twitching on instinct. Mike keeps his grip relaxed and loose. "Does it still hurt?"

Will nods, eyes big and dazed. Mike sits up and clambers off of the couch, ignoring Will's protests; he's a man on a mission. Mike finds himself in the kitchen, rooting around the freezer until he sees it. Mike grabs the yellow box of Popsicles that Will loves to indulge in when he's sunbathing. He snorts at the name on the box—Big Stick. And it's Mike's lucky day too, because there's one Popsicle left in the box. He snags the Popsicle, white plastic crinkling in his hand, and ditches the box on the counter before closing the freezer.

Will is right where he left him, laying on the couch with a rather perturbed look on his face. His brows furrow when he sees what's in Mike's hand. "Wha-"

Mike cuts him off. "Take your shirt off."

Will cocks his head in confusion but complies regardless. He slumps back on the couch, knees slightly bent and gaze fixed on the Popsicle in Mike's hand, a small flicker of recognition dawning on him. Mike wonders if that word is also ringing out in Will's head—practice.

Mike kneels in front of the couch, his hand not holding the Popsicle coming out to skirt across Will's chest. Will shivers when Mike's thumb grazes his nipple. Will's hands are fidgety, his fingers rapidly tangling and untangling together where they lay across his his lap. A new image floods Mike's mind, not one of Will sunbathing, but one still equally as appealing. Mike nestles the Popsicle underneath Will's knees and Will shudders, like the cold is somehow seeping through the plastic and radiating inches above to settle into Will's bones.

Mike pulls at the knot on his tie and Will's eyes widen, his little pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. He loosens his tie enough to slip it over his head and sets the black satin on Will's stomach. Will shudders again as Mike fixes his popped collar. Will brings his wrists together, fist curling into his palm, before Mike has to ask. So good for him, always so good for him.

He loops the tie around Will's wrists and tightens it, kissing Will's knuckles before settling them back down onto Will's lap, his tiny shorts riding up the backs of his thighs. Will's breath hitches when Mike grabs the Popsicle again.

"Throat hurts bad, huh, baby?" Mike pushes the Popsicle through the wrapping, unsheathing the red and yellow swirls. "Need me to make it feel better?"

Will nods, eyes locked on Mike's hands as he pulls the Popsicle out of the plastic and drops the wrapper on the floor. Mike pauses, waiting for Will to remember himself. It's silent for a few moments before Will's manners come flooding back to him. "Y-yes, please."

Mike hums with a smile and brings the Popsicle up to Will's lips, tutting when Will's tongue darts out to lick at the cherry-pineapple flavor. "Greedy. This is for your throat, angel, since it just hurts so bad." Will whimpers and Mike continues. "M'gonna let you lay there and ice your throat. You're not gonna make a mess, right? You can swallow it all for me?"

Will gives Mike an affirmation, one that's definitely a lie. Mike knows that a mess is inevitable; Will knows it too. Mike wouldn't have had Will take his shirt off if he didn't already know that Will would be a mess of drool and sugar after they were done.

"Good girl," Mike murmurs, thumb gently prying Will's jaw open and sliding just the smallest amount of the Popsicle into Will's mouth. "'Cause you'll have to clean up any mess you leave behind." Really, Mike should be smarter about this. He should lay a towel down and save that mossy yellow that Will loves so much, but velvet isn't that hard to clean. Lord knows this couch has survived other bodily fluids before. And also, whatever, if Mike can't get the stain out, he'll just buy Will another couch.

Mike is patient. He waits for Will's breathing to even out, for the nerves and excitement to pass. Will watches him, his once wide eyes now half-lidded and soft. He opens his mouth a little wider, a silent invitation, and Mike slides the Popsicle in further. Will seals his lips around the Popsicle and his eyes flutter shut. Mike lets him, too enthralled by the way his boyfriend's lips start to turn red as Mike slowly slides the Popsicle in and out of his mouth.

Mike is more careful this time around, keeping his words to himself as the Popsicle slides deeper and deeper into the heat of Will's mouth. Will tries his best, he really does, but as the Popsicle slides further back, red streaks start to leak from his mouth, trailing down his chin and across his cheeks. Will doesn't notice, soft moans slipping from his mouth as he takes what Mike gives him.

And Mike likes this, fucking the Popsicle in and out of Will's mouth, he really does, but this isn't want he had planned. Mike lets go of the Popsicle stick. It takes a moment for Will to notice, too lost in his head until the coldness finally sinks to the back of his throat. His eyes fly open and his splutters, breathing fast. Mike shushes him, rubbing a hand across his heaving chest.

"S'okay, baby. This is what you wanted, for me to make your throat feel better." Will whines and splutters again. Mike grabs at the Popsicle stick again and lifts it up a little, letting Will catch his bearings. "You need to swallow, honey, c'mon." Will does as he's told, swallowing the liquid pooling at the back of his throat while Mike holds the Popsicle to his lips.

And if anything, really, this should be easier for Will now, the Popsicle shrinking in size as it melts away in Will's mouth. Will takes a deep breath and nods. Mike lets go of the stick again and leans back, sitting on his haunches and watching. Red streaks down Will's chin and cheeks much faster now, but he's doing better, eyes fluttered shut again and throat pulsing as he swallows.

Mike is maybe a little jealous of the Big Stick. There's nowhere other than the back of Will's throat for the Popsicle to be hitting and Mike thinks that that's an honor that should be reserved for him and him only. But Mike tells himself that this is in the name of practice, practice that will surely benefit Mike in the long run, so he refrains from ripping the Popsicle out of Will's throat and replacing it with his cock.

Mike had kind of forgotten about his cock until just now, too focused on watching the way Will's throat moves with every swallow. His cock twitches as if to say, hey, don't forget about me! Mike palms at himself through his slacks and groans. Will's eyes open again, but Mike is just out of his line of sight, unable to turn to look at him with the Popsicle sitting in his mouth.

Mike ponders his options. Will's throat is sore and the Popsicle probably isn't helping soothe in the way he's so valiantly promised to Will, so Will sucking him off isn't really a plausible option. He could fuck Will, but he's also pretty sure that Will won't tolerate the sticky feeling on his neck for very much longer. But, Mike thinks, Will is already kind of a mess, so he surely won't mind if Mike adds to that.

Will makes a confused noise when Mike stands. He falters for a moment at the distraction and makes a guttural glug noise to keep from choking on the syrupy liquid pooling in his throat. Mike shucks his slacks and underwear off, giving himself a few lazy strokes before climbing over Will and settling on his chest. Will whines and squirms underneath Mike. Mike gives him a stern look and tugs the Popsicle out of Will's mouth.

He chucks what's left of the Popsicle onto the coffee table. Mike holds a hand in front of Will's face. "Gimme something, sweetheart."

Will lifts his head up as best as he can and spits in Mike's hand. Mike grins and wraps his hand around his cock, spreading the pink-tinged saliva across his length. The TV drones on behind them, the wet sound of Mike fucking into his fist drowning out some commercial about hair removal cream.

"Y'look so pretty." Will whimpers again. "Lips all red, all sticky. Looks like-fuck-looks like you're wearing lipstick. Looks like I fucked your mouth and ruined your makeup." Mike leans forward, resting the tip of his cock on Will's lips and Will whines, puckering his lips and mouthing at the head of Mike's cock.

"Fuck, baby." Will tongues at his slit and Mike takes a sharp breath. "So pretty, my pretty girl. Gonna come on your face, yeah? Make you even prettier?" Will squirms underneath Mike and nods. He tongues at Mike's slit again and Mike groans, pulling back and stroking himself sloppily. Will sticks his tongue out—always so perfect for Mike—and a gorgeous sound escapes his throat as his eyes clench shut.

Mike paints his face with thick, white stripes. It's obscene, Will with his puffy, red lips, covered in Mike's cum. Mike thinks, as he thumbs across Will's face, depositing each swipe of cum into Will's still open mouth, that he should ask Will if he can take a picture of him like this sometime. A Polaroid, maybe, to keep tucked in his wallet for when he's away from Will for too long.

Will opens his eyes when Mike taps lightly at his bottom lip. "Y'can swallow now." He swallows, breath coming out slow, a sated look on his face.

Mike slinks off of him, his knees popping and creaking as he stands. Getting old is a bitch. Will hold out his hands, a silent request for Mike to remove the black satin from around his wrist, and Mike shakes his head.

"You're not done, baby. You got the couch dirty."

"Mike—" Will starts, but Mike just shakes his head, cutting off any further protests. Will huffs and sets his hands to the side of his hip, clumsily pushing himself up. Mike notices a dark spot dampening Will's shorts and he snorts.

"Did you ask to come?" Will freezes, looking, again, like a deer caught in headlights. "'Cause I don't remember telling you that you could come."

Will opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the words. Mike lets him sit in the silence, doesn't make any moves to ease his boyfriend's discomfort. Will frowns, his words coming out sad and quiet. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Mike scoffs. "You will be. Now clean up your mess." Will nods, scrambling to take Mike's previous post of kneeling beside the couch. It's really not much, most of the syrupy drool sitting in Will's stomach and dried across his neck.

Will looks up at Mike when he steps closer and fucking giggles. "You look like Winnie the Pooh."

Mike tilts his head to the side and looks down at where his boyfriend kneels before the couch, biting back a smile. He does look like Winnie the Pooh, his flaccid dick peaking out below the hem of his dress shirt. "And you look like a slut, fucking coming without asking. Clean up your mess so I can put you in the shower." His words don't have the bite they normally would, disarmed by Will's giggles, but Will complies hastily regardless.

He laps at the velvet, tongue not doing much to combat the stain. It's an exercise in futility that Mike entertains for far longer than he would have if Will didn't come without asking. The TV still plays behind them, the narrator launching into a new episode of the true crime show that Will had been watching and Mike finally takes pity on Will.

"Okay, baby, that's enough." Mike reaches down and grabs the end of his tie, pulling it upwards until Will awkwardly hauls himself up to stand in front of Mike. "I'll get the rest."

Will leans forward and Mike envelops him in a hug, jerking slightly when the satin of the tie brushes against his cock. The tension dissipates and Mike joins in when Will laughs.

Will pulls back and his bottom lip juts out performatively. Brat. "It was an accident. Didn't mean to come."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm sure." Will opens his mouth to retort, but his words are lost when Mike snatches him by the waist and hauls him over his shoulder. Will yelps, his surprise devolving into a fit of giggles as Mike marches them to the shower.

Mike loves this life.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Will was passed out on the couch when Mike got home from another day of mindless, never-ending meetings (he's being facetious; he really is over the fucking moon to be publishing a third novel), which is why he actually is surprised to see Will waiting for him when he gets out of the shower.

He's the picture of obedience, this time kneeling at the edge of the bathmat to give Mike room to brush his teeth, his palms pressed flat onto his thighs like he's waiting for direction from Mike. Mike supposes that he is waiting for direction.

"Hi, honey." Mike towels himself off. "You have a good nap?"

Will nods, reaching up to cover his mouth at the yawn that escapes at Mike's mention of his siesta. Mike smiles, now noticing the dusty blue color that covers his boyfriend's nails, a small squiggle of light blue running through the middle. It's absurdly cute, Mike thinks, when he also notices that Will's panties are a similar shade of dusty blue, like he coordinated on purpose.

Mike towels his hair. "Nails look nice, baby. Jane come over today?"

Will hums, slouching to look up at Mike when he steps in front of the sink to brush his teeth, his towel now wrapped around his waist. Mike brushes his teeth as Will plasters a big smile on his face, telling Mike all about how nice it was to see his sister before her and Dustin left town again and about how she finally bought the gel polish kit they'd been looking at and about how her nails are the same as his, just in opposite colors, and about how he was just so tired after she left. Mike's chest swells with a sense of satisfaction at this as he leans his head under the faucet to rinse the toothpaste from his mouth, at the idea of Will living a quaint little life where he's just simply exhausted after spending an afternoon painting nails with his sister.

Mike wipes his hand on the back of his mouth, readying himself to ask Will what he had for dinner when Will beats him to the punch. "Can I practice again?"

"Yeah?" Mike raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Your throat's gonna hurt again."

Will's cheeks pinken. "I kinda liked it, it's, ah—" A pause. "It's like you're training me."

Mike nearly blacks out at the word. Train. Holy fucking shit. Practice was one thing. Practice was Will trying to improve his own proficiency. But training, training is Mike teaching Will how to be better. Coaching him. Instructing him. Conditioning him.

Realistically, Mike understands that it's the same thing, with Mike taking charge either way. But training shoots straight to his dick in a way that practice never did.

Mike turns towards Will, grabbing him by the chin and tipping his head back. Will's mouth falls open on instinct and Mike's thumb finds its way into the wet heat he knows so well. He presses his thumb down and Will's tongue squirms underneath it. Mike pulls back, dragging Will's saliva across his bottom lip.

"Yes."

Will blinks. "Huh?"

"Yes, you can practice." Mike snaps in front of Will's face when Will doesn't immediately fall into action. "C'mon, you know what to do."

Will makes a little oh! noise and rushes forward, tugging the towel off of Mike's hips. He doesn't bother with foreplay, sucking the head of Mike's half-hard cock right into his mouth with a frenzy that makes Mike think that he's not the only one going fucking crazy at the idea of training.

Mike's hand finds itself gripped into Will's hair and Will's eyes shut, sucking more of Mike into his mouth. It's reminiscent of last time, Will bobbing his head again all desperate and eager, wet noises echoing off the walls as spit slips from Will's mouth.

And Mike knows better this time; he's subtle. He's still letting Will do most of the work (he's training, after all), but he offers guidance. Mike puts soft pressure on the back of Will's head, encouraging Will to take more of Mike's now fully-hard cock and Will complies easily, hollowing his cheeks. Will is fucking stunning like this, lips swollen and red, humming around Mike like there's no where else he'd rather be. In fact, Mike thinks, the only way that Will could look even more stunning is if—

"Eyes." Will snaps to attention, his shiny green eyes locking in on Mike's with another hum. Mike's other hand cups Will's jaw and this time Will whines, long and loud, his pulse picking up underneath Mike's fingers. Mike shushes him. "Stop, honey, y'gotta calm down. M'just touching you, haven't even done anything."

Will's pulse begins to slow, his eyes drooping and movements slowing at Mike's muttered praises. Mike lets him relax, now fully fucking Will onto his cock with his grip in the brunette's hair and across his jaw. Will is perfect, lazing into Mike's movements and allowing Mike to sink deeper and deeper.

"God, baby, so fucking good." Will looks fucked-out, like he'd be perfectly content to let Mike stay in his mouth for hours. Heat shoots through Mike's body at the thought, pooling deep in his stomach and his hips jerk forward on their own accord. Mike tucks the thought away, rubbing a soothing thumb across Will's jaw when he makes a garbled noise.

Mike is undeterred. Practice. Training. Will can take more.

"Relax your jaw." Mike feels Will's pulse spike again and he keeps moving his thumb, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until the tension slips from Will's face.

And, really, Mike does try his best to be gentle about this, but Will is just taking it so well, tiny little punched out noises escaping his esophagus every time Mike cants his hips forward and hits the back of Will's throat. Spit and pre-cum coats Mike's grip on Will's jaw and he moves his hand up, wiping the wetness across Will's cheek.

It's like he's an angel, Mike thinks, or a goddess. The warm light of their bathroom illuminating the sheen of sweat and spit and pre-cum across his face, his lips red and plump as Mike's cock disappears between them, his shiny green eyes glowing and stark against his sun-tanned skin. Will is everything that Mike is not. Soft and small where Mike is bony and lanky. Sensitive and empathetic where Mike is reserved and just generally kind of an asshole. Angelic where Mike is fiendish. But even angels fall sometimes too.

Mike thrusts deeper, giving Will a little more than half his cock and Will gags hard. Mike keeps a firm grip in Will's hair and keeps feeding him his length, unrelenting. "Breathe, angel, breathe." Will can do it, Mike knows that Will can do it. Will can do anything he sets his mind to and he's clearly set his mind to this.

Mike adjusts his grip in Will's hair, making room for his other hand to slide up and anchor in the brunette's locks. Fat tears fall from Will's eyes now, effectively drenching his face. And if Mike thought that Will looked fucked-out before, it's nothing compared to now as Will retches around him. Mike pulls back and Will takes a shuddering inhale, nose whistling through the snot leaking from his nose.

"Y'okay? You can take more, yeah?" Will nods dumbly, dazed. "Yeah," Mike hums. "Knew you could, my good girl."

A moan rips from Will's throat, like an involuntary response to the pet name. Mike waits for Will to take another breath before he's pressing himself back into the wet warmth of Will's mouth. Mike sets a quick pace, fast and deep but not unkind. Mike isn't really sure if Will's gags are lessening of if he's just giving Will's throat less time to gag, but Will's hands stay firmly planted on his thighs instead of tapping on Mike's own, so he keeps going.

And Mike could be imagining it and probably is imagining it after just three days of doing this, but Will does seem to be getting better. His breaths come out calmer and he sputters a bit less. His eyes sit heavy and dazed despite the tears flowing freely from them instead of blown wide and panicked like before. Little moans and hums punctuate Mike's thrusts, like Will is just feeling so good with Mike in his mouth.

Heat coils in Mike's abdomen, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He reaches down to smooth Will's sweaty bangs out of his face. Maybe, Mike thinks, they should do this before Mike showers, so that he can pull Will in with him, all sleepy and pliant as Mike washes his hair and runs a loofah over his body and presses him against the tile so that he can finger him open and fuck him stupid.

The thought makes Mike shiver and he knows that he's close. His hand finds its grip back in Will's hair and Mike presses in deep, stilling as he feels Will's throat try to reject him.

"S'okay," Mike shushes him. "Swallow around me, baby. Y'wanna make me come, right?"

Will's eyes clamp closed as he desperately tries to do as Mike tells him. It doesn't last long. Will sputters, head jerking back in Mike's grip.

"Baby," Mike coos, voice soft and firm, reaching down to thumb at his nose where it runs and settling his palm across Will's cheek. "Just breathe, remember?"

Will opens his eyes, looking up at Mike through his eyelashes and gives a small nod. Mike pushes Will's head back down and groans. Mike decides that he wasn't imagining it, Will is getting better at this. Mike thinks that he might be addicted, thinks that his entire worldview has shifted, thinks that he's gained a new perspective on life now that his dick knows just how tight and fucking hot it feels when he'd lodged down Will's throat.

Mike's eyes flit from the tears streaming down his boyfriend's face to the few inches of his cock that don't have Will's lips wrapped around it. He groans, overwhelmed at seeing just how much of him Will has finally taken. His hips jerk forward on their own accord and Will retches again.

Will's hands fly up from his lap and Mike thinks that Will is about to tap out. Mike shifts back, starting to pull out when Will's shaky fingers wrap around the base of his cock instead, beginning to jerk off what he can't take. Mike blinks, taking in the desperate sight below him before realizing that Will is cheating.

Mike's hand moves from where it rests on Will's cheek and dials back, landing a slap across Will's face, hard enough to shock Will, hard enough just to sting. "No hands, baby. You're practicing—training."

Will flinches, head attempting to jerk back, but locked in place by Mike's grasp in his hair. His hands land back on his thighs with a groan, tears spilling down his face with an urgency now. Will's teeth graze harshly across Mike's cock and he hisses, supposing that he probably deserved that, but then Will finds his second (or maybe third or fourth) wind and starts shallowly bobbing his head with vitality. The whiplash of it makes Mike feel like he's short circuiting and he's coming with a drawn out fuck before he knows it.

Cum dribbles from Will's lips as he pulls off Mike, tilting his head back, breath coming out heavy from his barely parted lips. Mike loosens his grip in Will's hair, scratching at Will's scalp and nodding. Will swallows and his body seems to deflate, held up only by Mike's now gentle touch.

Mike sinks to the floor, snagging his still-damp abandoned towel and wiping away the mess from Will's face with reverence.

"Y'did so good, sweetheart." Will gives Mike a tired smile. "Getting better too, took so much of me."

"M'tired," Will hums.

"I'm sure. C'mon," Mike presses a kiss to Will's forehead. "Let's get you to bed."

A small sound of confusion leaves Will's lips and he reaches out to tangle his fingers with Mike's, tugging them towards his panties.

"No." Mike hauls them up off of the floor, kicking the towel away and flicking off the light switch before leading Will towards the bedroom. Mike deposits Will on the bed and makes his way to their dresser to pull on a pair of boxers.

Will looks like a kicked puppy when Mike turns back to him. "But I—"

Mike cuts him off. "But you came without asking yesterday." Mike pulls back the covers and maneuvers Will underneath them. "So you're not coming tonight."

Mike doesn't wait for Will's response, instead stealing away to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for Will. When he comes back to the bedroom, Will is frowning deeply. He begrudgingly accepts the glass of water from Mike and downs it greedily, handing it back to Mike with furrowed brows.

Mike snorts and sets the empty glass down before clicking the lamp on their nightstand off. Will slides down under the covers with a huff and Mike follows suit sans huff. Will turns his back to Mike.

"Quit bein' a brat." Mike presses against Will, throwing his arm across Will's waist. "You know your rules." And then, because Mike is weak-willed and completely and utterly obsessed with Will Byers, "I'll take care of you in the morning." Will relaxes at his words, shifting under Mike's arm and turning to settle into Mike's chest, his hardness pressing into Mike's hip.

"Okay." A beat. "I love you, Mike."

Mike catches him in a kiss, soft and sweet. "I love you too, baby."

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Mike's assistant calls him the next day in a frenzy about a meeting in New York that the publisher is saying that he has to attend and would he please start calling her back in a more timely manner from now on? He grumbles out an apology and jots down the flight information that she gives him before leaving his office and padding back to the bedroom.

"Was that Michelle?" Will is still naked from Mike taking care of him this morning, a slow and languid blow job that had Will begging to come and babbling out apology after apology for breaking the rules the other day. And yeah, Mike had heard the phone ringing, but then Will's hands had sunk into Mike's curls and he very quickly tuned out anything that wasn't Will Byers. Pardon Mike if edging his boyfriend was higher up on his priorities list than calling his assistant back.

"Yes," Mike collapses back into bed with a huff, crawling in between Will's legs and leaning down to kiss him. "I have to go to New York."

Mike circumvents seeing Will's frown by dropping his face down and kissing across Will's neck and throat. Mike isn't sure if the sigh Will lets out is one of frustration or pleasure. Probably both.

"Today?" Mike nods, settling himself at the base of Will's throat to suck a mark into the delicate skin. Will sighs again, this time definitely out of pleasure as Mike pulls away to admire his handiwork. Will meets his eyes and lets out a little giggle. "Aren't we getting too old for hickies?"

Mike gives him a perturbed look which makes Will giggle even more. "Gonna be in a nursing home still giving you hickies. Gonna have our ashes mixed together so I can still mark you up in the afterlife."

Will wrinkles his nose. "Gross, Mike. That doesn't even make sense."

Mike shrugs and lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to the mark blooming at the base of Will's throat before kissing down his chest.

"When do you leave?" Mike doesn't answer right away, instead pulling Will's nipple into his mouth. Will shudders, his hand pressing against the back of Mike's hair. Will squeaks when Mike nips at his nipple and yanks at Mike's hair when Mike laughs.

Mike pulls away, arching his brow. "Oh?" Will flounders out an apology as Mike's fingers finds Will's other nipple, twisting it roughly. "Because I still have a few hours before I have to be at the airport and I wanted to spend them making you feel good." Mike twists again and Will gasps loudly. "But if you're gonna keep bein' a fuckin' brat then I don't have to."

"No, I—ngh, m'sorry. It was an accident. Won't do it again."

Mike rolls his eyes with a huff, releasing Will's nipple and rubbing a soothing thumb over it. "You and these fuckin' accidents lately, huh?" Mike hitches Will's legs up, grinding his clothed cock against Will's. "You're lucky I'm gonna miss you so much."

Will throws his arms around Mike and pulls him down into a smiling kiss. "Gonna miss you too. How long are you leaving me for?"

Mike rolls his eyes. "M'not leaving you, baby. I'll be back home tomorrow night." Mike grinds down again and Will keens. "So dramatic."

Mike is frustrated at having to go to New York. He knows that he shouldn't complain; he's living his wildest dreams as a successful author with a super hot wife, but he really will miss Will, even if it's just a day. Max likes to say that they're codependent and sometimes Mike thinks that she's right. It's just that it seems unfair to live in a world where he's not surrounded by Will day in and day out.

And, Mike thinks as he grinds down again, relishing in Will's whine, he hadn't planned on Will's punishment being over per se. He had dreamt up big thoughts about making Will come on his fingers until he was boneless before fucking a final orgasm out of him. But he does, rather unfortunately, need to pack and get some notes together for his meeting.

So instead, Mike settles for shoving his boxers down and wrapping his hand around his and Will's cocks. An obscene moan rips through Will as his eyes fix onto Mike's hand. Mike knows what he's thinking, because Mike is thinking it too. "Look at how small you are, honey." Mike lets go, spitting in his palm before pumping his hand around them again.

"Mike." Will's hands leave Mike's neck, scratching down Mike's back. Mike hisses, jerking forward into his hand.

"Y'look so good, baby, so fucking pretty." Will nods at Mike's words, like he's already too overwhelmed to form a response, eyes still locked onto Mike's hand between them. "You like that? Seein' how big I am next to you, huh?"

A steady stream of MikeMikeMikeMikeMike leaves Will's mouth as he arches. Mike laughs, maybe a little mean. "Baby, are you ready to come already?"

"Yeah," Will whines. "Yeah, Mike, hah, can I—" Mike grips them harder and Will gasps.

"Fuck, barely even touching your clit and you're already begging for it." Will nods vigorously and Mike can feel Will's thighs shaking around him. "You can come, baby, but I'm not stopping 'til I'm done, okay?" Will babbles out a string of thank yous before he's practically screaming, thighs clamping around Mike's waist as he spills all over Mike's hand.

Mike groans, using Will's cum to speed up his strokes. Will twitches beneath him, whimpering at the overstimulation of it and Mike wishes that he were a stronger man in this moment, wishes that he could hold out longer so Will could spill all over his hand again. But he's weak like this, with Will so pretty and perfect underneath him. It's only a few more strokes before Mike is coming with a growl, painting his hand and Will's stomach.

Will reaches down, grasping at Mike's wrist and tugging his hand up to lick it clean. His fingers slip into Will's mouth as Will eagerly sucks the cum from them and now Mike is really frustrated about going to New York, because a new idea floods his mind. One in the name of practice, in the name of training.

Will releases Mike's fingers with a pop and Mike collapses next to him, chest heaving in both his post-orgasm haze and excitement for coming home to Will after this short trip. Will rolls over, propping himself up onto his elbows to look at Mike and licking his lips.

"I really am gonna miss you. Even if it's just a day."

"I know, sweetheart." Mike tugs Will on top of him, pulling him into a kiss. "Me too."

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

It's late when Mike finally makes it back to his hotel room, much later than he anticipated. The clock on the nightstand flashes eleven-thirty-seven. New York is only an hour ahead of Chicago, but Will starts to get tired at eight-forty-five on the best of nights, so Mike is pretty certain that he isn't awake anymore. He calls anyway.

The dial tone rings for a bit and Mike is, expectantly, met with the sweet sound of Will's voice on their voicemail, "Byers-Wheeler residence! Sorry we can't get to the phone right now! Leave your name and number and we'll give you a call back!" Mike smiles at Will's excessive chipperness; Mike had been kicked out of the kitchen that day, relegated to his office so that he would stop making Will laugh every time he tried to record the message. It was five years ago, almost six, right after they closed on the house with Mike's dizzying large advancement for his second novel.

"Hey, baby." Mike shoulders the phone up to his ear, cracking open a tiny, over-priced hotel water bottle and taking a short sip. "I'm sorry it's so late. Missed you all day. Flight's at noon tomorrow, so I should be home late afternoon." Mike pauses, unsure of if he wants to wait to tell Will his news in person. His excitement overpowers him. "They, uh, took me out to dinner tonight at fucking Carbone. Tried the eggplant parm for you, baby, you would've loved it. Gotta take you sometime. But, uh, it was a celebratory dinner. They signed me for another three books. I'm—" Mike pauses, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah, I just, wow, I can't wait to see you tomorrow. I love you." He hangs up.

Mike chugs the rest of the tiny water bottle and chucks it towards the trashcan. He misses and doesn't even care as he trudges over to pick it up off the floor and throw it away. Three more fucking books. His third book isn't even out yet, but the pre-order numbers have been staggering.

And the thing is, Mike has his series planned to be completed in only two more books. His publisher knows that and still wants more from him. A standalone, maybe, or even the start of a new series.

This life Mike leads, it sure is long way from the interdimensional monsters and evil beyond human comprehension that used to plague him—them.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Mike's duffel bag barely hits the hardwood floor in the foyer before Will is leaping into his arms, wrapping his legs around Mike's waist and his arms around Mike's neck, peppering kisses wherever he can reach. Mike very nearly eats shit, stumbling back into the front door. The door handle digs uncomfortably into his ass, but it's easy to ignore when Will is all smiles and giggles.

Will pulls away every so slightly, his eyes gleaming. "Three books. I'm so proud of you."

Mike meets Will's eyes and his throat suddenly feels thick again. He opens his mouth to respond, but the words won't come out. His eyes start to burn and he blinks hard. Will slides a hand away from where it's locked around Mike's neck, cupping his cheek and thumbing away a stray tear that escaped without Mike's permission.

Will kisses him, slow and deep and full of love. Mike is pretty certain that a few more tears might be escaping without his permission. Will pulls away and rests their foreheads together, his coffee breath ghosting over Mike's face. He's sure his isn't any better. Neither of them seem to care.

Will grins, pressing another swift kiss to Mike's mouth, before climbing off of him. Mike opens his mouth to complain about the loss, but finds himself gaping instead as Will drops to his knees in front of Mike. His paint stained fingers are flicking open the button on Mike's jeans before Mike remembers himself.

He snatches Will's wrists together with a raised brow.

"I'm sorry." Will gives Mike a bashful look. "Just got excited. Can I?"

Mike cocks his head. "Can you what?"

Will flushes, his words a little less confident than before. "Can I suck your cock?"

"'Course, baby," Mike hums, smiling down at his boyfriend and dropping his wrists. "Hands behind your back." Will complies, staring up at Mike through fluttered lashes.

"Well," Mike settles a palm on the back of Will's neck, tapping his fingers to nudge Will forward. "Get me out."

Will whines, long and filthy in a way that would make Mike think Will had his fingers in himself if Mike couldn't see his hands clasped carefully behind his back. Will follows Mike's guidance, nosing at the front of his jeans and fumbling until he gets Mike's zipper in his mouth. Will stares up at him as he drags the zipper down, slow and teasing.

He bites at the denim, making a hmph noise as he struggles with the jeans. Mike takes pity on him, shoving his jeans down to his thighs. Will nuzzles into Mike's boxers, inhaling deeply and it's fucking dirty. Mike tells him this and Will responds with a sultry little smile, mouthing at Mike's cock through the cotton.

Mike's always been a boxers kind of guy. He never made the switch over to boxer briefs like Lucas and Dustin did when fuckin' Marky Mark started wearing them on every billboard Mike encountered for the entirety of his junior year at UChicago. Too…restricting. He likes the breathability of boxers and the freedom of movement. He also once heard that they're better for a higher sperm count, which, Mike supposes, doesn't really do him any favors with Will, but a guy can dream nonetheless. He especially likes his boxers now, as Will has the tip of Mike's cock in his mouth, lapping at the pre-cum leaking through the cotton, dampening the fabric further with every swipe of his tongue.

Mike lets Will set the pace. The reverence in his eyes make Mike think that this isn't part of their training, but a declaration of their love. I'm so proud of you, Will had said. Mike thinks about easing up on their dynamic in this moment, thinks about telling Will that he can use his hands, but then Will is teething at the waistband of his boxers and dragging them down ever so slowly and any thought save for how fucking gorgeous Will looks quickly leaves his brain.

Mike's cock springs out, slapping Will on the chin and sliding up his cheek, before landing against Mike's stomach with a plap. Will presses a kiss to the base of Mike's cock and slumps down, sucking one of Mike's balls into his mouth. Mike throws his head back and groans, his fingers tightening on the back of Will's neck.

Will pulls off with a pop and Mike is fairly certain that Will is smirking as he moves to suck Mike's other ball into his mouth. The suction is almost too much, Will's tongue sliding against the tender skin and stirring a severe heat in Mike's gut.

When Will pulls off with another pop, Mike's resolve is very nearly shot. He honestly would love nothing more than to bend Will over and see if his high sperm count would take right here in the foyer, but Will soothes him, mouthing up the underside of Mike's cock. When Will makes it up all ten inches of Mike's cock, he presses a sloppy kiss to the tip, pulling back to lave at his slit with small kitten licks.

Mike feels like a teenager again, battling against every nerve ending in his body to not come the second Will's mouth finally envelops him. That's how it had been at the beginning, Mike coming entirely too fast whenever Will did anything to him. It kind of made Mike sick at the beginning of their relationship, seeing himself lead the imaginary orgasm tally he kept in his head and he's really rather proud nowadays knowing that Will's orgasm count blows his out of the water.

Will bobs his head lazily, eyes fluttering shut like he's luxuriating in the feeling of having Mike on his tongue. Mike thinks that maybe he is, the tenderness of the act so different than the training that has marked the past week. Mike lets himself luxuriate in it too, his fingers twitching at the back of Will's neck, but not forcing.

It's a shock to his very core when Will sinks down as far as he can and stills, swallowing around Mike before pulling off with a deep, shuddering breath. Will opens his eyes, staring up at Mike and rubbing his cheek against Mike's cock. Mike vaguely thinks that he looks like a cat, humming—nearly purring—as he takes Mike back in his mouth and repeats the motion, picking up speed until Mike is spilling into his mouth, eyes clenched with a groan.

Mike takes a few deep breaths, collecting himself before peeling his eyes open to see Will waiting patiently with Mike's load in his mouth. Mike doesn't think too hard about it; he sinks to his knees, a bit awkwardly with his jeans and boxers still rucked up on his thighs, and locks his lips onto Will's, tongue sweeping in to taste his claim in Will's mouth.

Mike pulls away, licking his lips. Will looked wrecked, cum dribbling down his chin, lips red and puffy. Mike catches his cum with his index finger and slides it into Will's mouth.

"Missed you," Mike murmurs, pulling his finger away after Will cleans it off.

"Missed you more," Will smiles, bunny teeth peaking out to bite at his lip. "Take me to the bedroom?"

Mike's duffel bag lives in the foyer until the next afternoon.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

It's a few days before any training resumes. Mike kind of feels like he and Will just had a baby or something, what with the way they're fielding phone calls and impromptu visits of congratulations. Overall, Mike feels very loved, despite the frequent cockblocking he's fielding from all of their family and friends.

It's been a lazy day, one punctuated with a short phone call from Holly and an unseasonably heavy rainstorm. Will has been antsy, flitting from room to room and cleaning things that don't really need to be cleaned just to have something to do. And Mike can tell that he really is trying his hardest not to disturb Mike, but Mike can also very clearly see the disruption of light under the door whenever Will hesitates in front of his office before changing his mind and going back to buzzing around the house .

Mike understands; he's always been able to work when it rains, the pattering against the windows serving as a pleasant soundtrack for his prose, but Will gets antsy. The light is never right for painting when it rains, or so he's told Mike, and Mike also kind of thinks that Will hates the trapped and hunted feeling that the rain invokes in him.

Mike feels a little bit bad (a lot bad, actually) for hiding away in his office today, but he just woke up with such an insatiable itch to write this morning and Will had all but pushed him into his office and slammed the door shut. They get like this, him and Will, when their productivity cycles don't like up. One of them works and the other sucks it up.

And, Mike thinks, as he saves his word document and kills the power on his computer, Will might like to suck something else right about now.

The door creaks, loud, whiny, and a little reminiscent of the love of Mike's life. Their house is old, but in a charming and overpriced kind of way. The original hardwood floors made it hurt a little bit less when Mike had to sign a check for far too much money to replace their drafty windows during their second winter in the house. At least their electric bill is lower now.

Mike has been fixated on this thought since before going to New York, only extrapolated when Will cleaned the remnants of Mike's cum off of his finger after Mike's homecoming. Mike pads through the house quietly and finds himself sorting through DVDs in their living room. His old ass eyes strain against his glasses, the rain outside dimming the natural light that typically pours through their (expensive) windows.

Mike is careful about his movie decision. Will might be too interested in The Craft to keep his attention on Mike. Mike always laughs too hard at Wayne's World. My Girl would kill the mood. In the end, Mike settles on Armageddon, plopping himself down on the couch, legs spread wide and in waiting. Will doesn't like Armageddon. In fact, he rather dislikes the movie, thinks it's cliché and low-brow. Mike holds the same opinion about the rom-coms that Max brings over for her and Will's girls nights, but keeps that to himself.

Will wanders into the living room just as Mike settles in to watch the previews. He can see Will's frown out of his peripheral, can see Will's body turn towards the empty DVD case on the coffee table and back to Mike's form on the unstained velvet couch.

"C'mon, baby," Mike lazily snags a throw pillow and tosses it on the floor to his right, casual. "I'm watching a movie."

Will starts towards Mike, his beautiful brain trying to piece together Mike's intentions. "You're watching a movie?"

Mike turns to face Will finally, eyes flicking down to the pillow and back up to Will's face. He sees when it finally clicks for Will. Will closes the gap and drops to the pillow, palms coming down to rest on his thighs, right where those tiny little lounge shorts ride up and expose his smooth skin.

Mike lets him wait, lets the anticipation build as the previews stretch on. He knows that it's driving Will crazy, can tell by his squirming, but he also knows that Will loves this, loves when Mike is nonchalant about using Will, a little laissez faire and also a little mean.

The title sequence fades in, music heavy and dramatic.

This is the Earth at a time when the dinosaurs roamed a lush and fertile planet.

Mike rolls his head around his neck, a breathy uh leaving his mouth as his neck pops.

A piece of rock, just six miles wide, changed all of that.

He rolls back his shoulders and throws his left arm across the back of the couch, right where Will usually tucks himself in.

It hit with the force of ten thousand nuclear weapons.

Mike keeps his gaze locked on the TV, but can see Will's fingers rubbing against the hem of his shorts, a desperate attempt to placate the anticipation that Mike knows is buzzing through Will.

A trillion tons of dirt and rock hurtled into the atmosphere, creating a suffocating blanket of dust the Sun was powerless to penetrate for a thousand years.

Mike's fingers twitch, anticipation now buzzing through him too.

It happened before. It will happen again. It's just a question of 'when?'

ARMAGEDDON fades onto the screen, before erupting into a dramatic explosion that Mike knows would surely make Will roll his eyes. Mike doesn't give him the chance, lazily flicking his hand out to offer two fingers to Will. Will whimpers, surging forward and taking the digits into his mouth. The effect is immediate; Will's eyes flutter shut and his body relaxes into the couch. The tension melts from him, Mike's poor baby, keyed-up from the past few hours of desperately trying to leave Mike alone.

Maybe Max is right. Maybe they are codependent.

Mike stays like this for a while, content to let Will rest his head on the couch, suckling on Mike's fingers as he watches Ben Affleck date Bruce Willis's daughter and Steve Buscemi be off-putting. Eventually, his focus shifts from the TV to Will's blissed out face, eyes still closed, pretty little noises of ease slipping from his mouth every so often.

He's gorgeous like this, on his knees for Mike, cock hard and ignored in his tiny lounge shorts. Mike thinks that he should reward Will for being so good, for being Mike's good girl, and he inches his fingers further into Will's mouth. Will's hums, the vibration of it sending a shiver all the way up from Mike's knuckles at Will's lips down to his cock.

And Mike really did mean to stretch this out longer, but Will just looks so perfect with his lips wrapped around Mike's fingers, that Mike can't help but thrust them deeper into Will's mouth. His fingertips nudge at the back of Will's throat with each thrust and it's not long before Will's soft noises of content turn into sharp whimpers.

Will takes it so well, only softly gagging when Mike's thrusts pick up, fingers becoming more restless, itching to shove themselves down Will's throat. When Mike stills his fingers deep down Will's throat, his knuckles now residing inside Will's mouth too, Will whines, long and drawn out. Mike feels the cool air of Will's deep exhales on the back of his hand pick up in speed and a warm sense of pride fills his chest at the thought of just how hard Will is trying—training.

Mike pushes in a little bit more and it proves to be too much for Will, a harsh gag following the intrusion. Will finally pries his eyelids half-open, meeting Mike's heavy gaze with cloudy eyes. Neither of them move as Will breathes through it, an Aerosmith song playing in the background. Steven Tyler peters out as Will harshly gags again and finally pulls himself off of Mike's fingers.

His voice is small and rough. "S'too much, Mike. I'm sorry."

"No, baby." Mike sinks to the floor and gives Will a chaste kiss. "No apologies. Did so good for me. Love you so much." Mike pushes the Armageddon DVD case out of the way and lays Will over the coffee table, pushing Will's shorts and panties off and spreading his legs wide. Mike's hands find Will's ass and his mouth practically waters when he spreads his cheeks apart to stare at Will's pretty pink hole.

Mike leans forward on his knees, gathering saliva around in his mouth and letting it fall from his pursed lips. It lands on the cleft of Will's ass and drips down his crack. Mike bites back a laugh at the fucked out sound Will makes when Mike's thumb swirls his saliva around Will's hole. It's cute when he gets this way, so desperate even though Mike has barely touched him.

Will releases a mantra of MikeMikeMikeMikeMike! when Mike finally leaves forward and tastes what belongs to him. Mike thinks that this might be his favorite thing in the world. He likes—no, loves—the blowjobs that Will gives him, but Mike thinks that nothing comes close to the way Will falls apart on his tongue when Mike eats him out.

Will has always been shy, still sometimes is now. But he was especially shy when he and Mike first started dating, shoving his face into Mike's shoulder the first time Mike wrapped a hand around his cock and throwing his arm across his face the first time Mike fucked him. It took Will months to build up the courage to let Mike go down on him. Maybe that's why Mike feels like it's a privilege to do this, to make Will feel good.

Mike's fingers grip roughly into Will's cheeks as he licks into him. Mike will probably never get used to the heady and intoxicating feeling of Will loosening around his tongue. Will's whimpers and babbles fill the room, drowning out Armageddon completely. The fate of the world might lay in Bruce Willis' hands, but Mike's whole world is quite literally in the palms of his hands right now, so he doesn't really care.

Will pushes himself back against Mike's tongue with a whiny Mike and a broken more. Mike pulls away, chuckling as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "Greedy, huh?"

"Yes," Will pants out, fingers gripping tightly against the edge of the coffee table.

"Yeah, baby," Mike grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to Will's flushed flushed face pressed against the coffee table. "My greedy girl. You can have more."

Mike settles back on his haunches and spats on Will's hole, pressing a still spit slick finger into him. It sinks in easily, Will already loose from Mike's tongue. Will pleads for another near instantly and Mike complies. Will groans at the stretch and pushes himself back into Mike's hand. Greedy.

He lets Will fuck himself on Mike's fingers until Will cries out, hips stuttering as Mike grazes his prostrate. Mike braces his other hand on Will's back and works his fingers against the bundle of nerves as a series of nonsensical pleas and whimpers escape Will. Mike tears his eyes away from where his fingers are sunken inside Will to Will's red and tear streaked face pressed against the coffee table. Mike is once again struck with the thought that Will is an angel, glowing with love and light and radiance as Mike's fingers split him apart.

"M-ike," A loud moan rips from Will's throat. "Can I come? Oh, please, can I come? Mike, I—"

Mike rubs a soothing hand against the small of Will's back. "Yeah, sweetheart, you can come for me." Will bears down on him, impossibly tight, and hiccups out a string of thanks yous.

Yes, Mike thinks shortly thereafter as he presses the head of his cock into Will, he really is an angel.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

It happened before. It will happen again. It's just a question of 'when?'

Mike thinks that this method of training proves to be so effective that he does it a second time.

Will blew him the day after Armageddon with a voracity that had Mike's knees weak and his vision whiting out. Will still wasn't close to taking all of Mike's ten inches, but his gags were definitely less frequent and he kept his hands to himself. Mike was very pleased. So pleased, in fact, that his dick stirred back to life with a speed that made him forget he was pushing thirty and had him bending Will over the bathroom counter until he was screaming.

The second time they do it, Alan Parrish hasn't even found his way out of Jumanji before Will's soft suckling turns into Mike's knuckles nudging insistently at his lips. Will's eyes are half-lidded and cloudy, eagerly nodding along when Mike murmurs about how he looks like such a slut right now and how he's being so good for Mike.

And the pattern repeats. Will waits on the edge of the bathmat the next day and sucks Mike off with the same voracity as before. Mike realizes that the major flaw in this whole training plan is that he's nearly losing sight of Will's progress. It's hard to tell if Will really is taking more of him or if he's just getting really good at swallowing around Mike's cock or both. He wishes that there were a way to mark Will's progress on his cock, like how his parents used to mark a fill line on the liquor before they went out of town. Regardless, Mike is pretty inclined to think that it's both, what with the way Will keeps bringing him to toe-curling orgasm after toe-curling orgasm with each movie night that passes.

The day after they "watch" Rocky Horror, Mike realizes that he's fucking Pavloved himself. He's lathering shampoo in his hair—some overpriced rosemary and mint shampoo that Will has been making him buy this year—and is already fucking half-hard (which is great, since he kind of has to piss) with the knowledge that Will will soon settle himself on the edge of the bathmat to wait for Mike. He shivers (with anticipation, if you will) as he rinses the shampoo out of his curls.

God, he's such a dog. He's addicted to this, addicted to Will. But how could he not be? How could anyone look at Will and not float behind him with dopey ass heart eyes? Actually, Mike thinks, he sure as hell hopes that no one else looks at Will that way. He might have to kill them, and that really would be bad, because then who would pay their mortgage? Who would bring Will ice cold glasses of unsweet tea and Popsicles when he's sunbathing? Who would pan fry crispy tofu in that way that Will likes or stock him up on overpriced rosemary and mint shampoo and conditioner? That's Mike's job.

Mike turns towards the water, sighing into the warmth and readying himself to focus on taking a leak down the drain with his ever growing boner when the shower curtain is thrown back. Mike jumps, hand shooting out to grab purchase on the shower ledge so he doesn't fall, and knocks the conditioner down.

"Baby, what—" Mike stops with a huff and quickly bends down to grab the bottle of the conditioner from the shower floor.

Will giggles. "Your butt's cute."

Mike feels his face flush—surely because of the warmth of the water and not anything else—and turns to face Will, plastering his face with an unamused look. Will just giggles harder, his fingers drifting up to rest at his bottom lip.

Mike's eyes rake across Will, taking in his naked form, and Will cocks his head, a teasing look in his eyes. "I just thought I'd join you in the shower. You and your cute butt."

"Will." Mike's jaw tightens.

"Alright, alright," Will rolls his eyes, climbing over the tub and into the shower, closing the curtain behind him. "Is that okay?"

Mike huffs out a laugh. "Seems like you've already decided."

Will hums and reaches out towards Mike, pressing into his chest. Mike wraps his arms around Will and does not notice the hand that Will snakes behind him until scalding water hits his back.

"Will, fuck." Mike swats his hand away and reaches back to adjust the knob to somewhere in between the previous temperature and the hellish temperature that Will favors. "Holy shit, warn a guy."

Will pouts. "I like it hot."

"Yeah." Mike shakes his head. "And I like it when my epidermis doesn't melt off." Will doesn't respond, instead pushing up on the tips of his toes to kiss Mike. They both smile into it. "You want under the water?"

"No, ah," Will pulls away, looking a little bashful. He lowers himself to his knees in front of Mike, eyes lingering on Mike's semi hard-on before tracking back up to his face. It's gotta be uncomfortable, the way that Will is squished up against the back of the tub with Mike's dick practically poking his eye out. It's also…kind of hot that Will wants to be on his knees for Mike so bad that he'll deal with the unforgiving porcelain digging into his knees. "I'll just…be here for when you're done. Just ignore me, go back to whatever you were doing."

Mike barks out a laugh. "Well, I was about to take a piss."

Will's eyes widen. "O-okay."

"Yeah?"

Will nods. Mike raises an eyebrow expectantly, Will seemingly already dazed by the mere prospect of the action. Mike feels a little dazed himself. Will blinks and then remembers himself, remembers to use his words. "Yeah," A beat. "Please."

Mike stares down at Will, taking him in. His hair a little frizzy and cheeks flushed from the warm steam of the shower, his chest slightly damp from hugging Mike earlier, his little pink cock hard against his belly, his palms pressed flat against against his thighs. He looks pretty; Mike tells him this.

A small smile tugs at Will's lips. "Thank you."

Mike cards a hand through Will's hair. "You love bein' like this, huh angel? On your knees for me like a good girl?"

"Yes," Will makes a little throaty noise. "Love being your good girl."

"Yeah," Mike pulls back, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. "What does my girl want?"

"Mike," Will whines. "I can't say—that's so, ah, I can't."

"Oh," Mike frowns, a patronizing tone dripping from his words. "Well, a good girl would be able to ask for what she wants.

A shudder wracks through Will and Mike watches, amused, as his mouth falls open, trying to will the words to come out.

When Will finally does speak, his voice is soft and meek. "That's embarrassing."

"Yeah," Mike agrees, nodding. "S'okay. You don't have to."

Will looks relieved until Mike grabs the bottle of conditioner and flips the cap open. Will's words rush out before Mike can squeeze any into his hand. "Mike, I-I want you to…pee on me."

"See?" Mike sets the conditioner down and wraps his hand around the base of his cock again, smiling down at Will. "Wasn't so hard, huh?" Mike points his cock down, aiming for Will's chest, and takes a deep breath. He's fully hard now with an audience and it feels like he's trying to suck— or blow, Mike supposes—water through a stirring straw. Will squirms below him and it's a shock to both of them when Mike's stream finally hits Will's chest.

Will gasps at the same time Mike groans. He's pissed with a boner before and it's never been necessarily comfortable, but this feels like something different entirely. They've talked about this before, an embarrassed admission of Will's during pillowtalk. Mike hadn't been entirely moved by the idea nor was he turned off by it. Will has pitched a lot of things for them to try over their decade together and Mike likes most anything that makes Will feel good, so who is he to not try something once? They settled on a stance of if it happens, it happens, and God, was it happening now.

Mike is surprised by how much he likes this, this act is marking Will, making Will his, even more so than he already is, and Will letting him. He feels hot all over, and maybe it's the spray of water hitting his back or the steam floating around them in the bathroom, but it's a good kind of hot, one that blooms throughout his chest and makes his dick twitch in response.

Mike's stream shoots up for a second when his dick twitches and Will gasps again when the stream hits his chin. Mike corrects his course, aiming back down to Will's chest, but makes a mental note to bring that up with Will later, because fuck, it's kind of really doing something for him to see his piss drip from Will's chin.

It's over entirely too quickly, a stray few drops dribbling from Mike's cock as he stares down at a heavily breathing Will. Mike releases himself and reaches back to cup some water in his hands. He pours it gently over Will's chin, wiping the remains away with his thumb.

"Was that okay?"

"I—Mike, yeah. More than okay, oh God." Will reaches up to clasp Mike's hand. "Can I suck you off now, please?"

"You still want to?" Mike squeezes Will's hand. "You don't have to if—"

"Mike," Will cuts him off. "I liked that, ah, like a lot. I really want to, please."

"Okay, yeah," Mike pulls his hand away to run it through his wet curls. "Go ahead, baby. Suck me off."

Will reaches back up to grab Mike's hand, setting it on his head. "Could you, actually—" Will takes a steadying breath, a little embarrassed again. "Could you fuck my mouth?"

"Wow," Mike murmurs, fingers tightening in Will's hair. "You really are a good girl tonight."

Will whines and Mike rewards him by dragging his head towards Mike's cock. Will's mouth falls open and Mike grips the base of his cock with his other hand. It's fucking dirty, Will about to suck Mike off after he just pissed on him. Mike is filled with the desire to make it dirtier. He drags the head of his cock across Will's cheek before tapping it on his tongue. Will moans, readying himself to take Mike. Instead, Mike trails his hand up to right underneath the head of his cock, pulling it up and dropping it onto Will's face. Will gasps, surprised by the slap of Mike's cock across his face. He's longer than Will's face, his shaft nestled into the dip between Will's nose and cheek, covering one of his eyes. Will's frizzy hair tickles the tip of Mike's cock, but Mike is too wired to care.

He shifts his hips forward, rubbing himself across Will's perfect face. Mike should probably hurry up; when Will is more level-headed and his environment-loving brain kicks into gear again he'll be frustrated at all the water they're wasting.

Mike pulls himself back and finally pushes into Will's mouth, rough and fast, because he knows that Will can take it now. And take it Will does. He relaxes his jaw and breathes through his nose and doesn't even gag that much when Mike nudges down his throat with each thrust. Will is such a good girl for him and Mike knows that he's going to come embarrassingly fast.

"Touch yourself, honey. Play with your clit for me." Will moans around him, a hand shooting down to jerk himself off immediately, and the vibration of it settles deep and hot in Mike's stomach.

His thrusts are messy and his grip in Will's hair is tight as he pulls Will's face down with every thrust. Another feeling settles in Mike's stomach, blooming towards his chest, a feeling of pride. Mike can't quite believe that in—what, two weeks?—Will has made so much progress. Mike is as much enamored and turned on by his boyfriend kneeling on the porcelain before him as he is fucking impressed.

"You close, baby? You gonna come for me?" Will nods as best he can around Mike. "Okay, baby, yeah. Come for me, c'mon." Mike feels his balls tighten and he uses whatever resolve he has left to hold off until Will's eyes clamp shut and a shudder wracks through his body. He buries himself deep into Will's throat and holds him there as his own orgasm rips through him.

When he pulls himself out, he's panting nearly as hard as Will. Will slumps and wipes his runny nose with a frown. "M'sorry. I swallowed it, Mike, you were too deep, I couldn't—"

And, oh, Will is right. Mike doesn't like that. He'll have to be better about that from now on. Mike's hand drifts down from his hair to rub at his cheek, shushing him. "S'okay, sweetheart. Not your fault. You did so good for me. Was my fault, I won't do it again, okay?" Will nods, smiling at Mike now as he nuzzles into his hand.

They stay like this for a minute before Mike hauls him up, kissing him and switching their positions to place Will under the water. He reaches behind Will and cranks the heat. Will sighs, soft and dreamy.

The water is starting to turn lukewarm when Mike finally finishes getting them both cleaned up. He towels Will off first and Will slaps his hands away with a giggle when Mike roughly towel dries his hair. In the bedroom, Mike helps Will step into a pair of his panties and pulls one of his own shirts over Will's head, a threadbare Beastie Boys shirt that Will won't let Mike wear out of the house anymore.

"You hungry, baby? Want me to make dinner?" Mike pulls on his boxers and another pajama shirt.

"Mm, yeah," Will hums, settling into Mike's chest for a hug. "We have tofu that we need to use. Can you make it that way I like? Where it gets crispy?" Mike murmurs an affirmation and kisses Will's damp hair. "I don't know what your secret is, but it's always so good."

Cornstarch is his secret. Cornstarch and his completely overwhelming, Earth-shattering love for Will Byers.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

When Mike opens the freezer door the following week, he's surprised that he doesn't see a tumbleweed blow past him. There's a nearly empty bag of ice, which Mike grabs and sets on the counter, a bag of peas that Mike is pretty sure was purchased for that time three years ago when he sprained his ankle going on a jog with Lucas, and a small bag with two ominous looking burger patties that Mike recognizes as Joyce's attempt at making veggie burgers from scratch on her last trip to town.

Mike closes the freezer and grabs the plastic, tea-stained pitcher sitting on the counter next to the bag of ice. He settles into the motions easily, having brewed likely hundreds of pitchers of iced tea in this iced tea maker. He fills the pitcher to the water line and pours it into the water reservoir before dumping the rest of the bag of ice into the pitcher. It's not enough, but Will likes his tea strong anyways, so Mike isn't terribly concerned about it. He fixes the brew basket onto the top of the pitcher, throwing four black tea bags into the basket and settling the lid on top. Mike slides it into the heating element and starts brewing.

He takes inventory of the pantry and fridge while he wants for Will's tea to brew, both of them in similar states to the freezer. When the tea finishes brewing, Mike replaces the brew basket with the pitcher lid and sets it in their empty fridge. Mike throws away the used tea bags and sets the brew basket on their drying rack before making his way towards the hum of music that drifts from Will's art studio.

"Hi, honey." Mike leans against the doorframe, taking in Will's perch on a stool in front of his easel and stretched canvas. Bright summer sunlight pours in through the windows, illuminating stray hairs on Will's head and dust floating around the room. Mike thinks that it's a very beautiful sight, his boyfriend bathed in a room of light. "I think I'm gonna go pick up some groceries. You want anything?"

"What?" Will frowns, setting his paint pallet on a side table next to him. "No, stay home with me. I wanna watch a movie."

Mike barks out a laugh. "Yeah?" Will motions for Mike to come closer and he does, settling in between Will's slightly spread legs.

"Yeah." Will wraps his arms around Mike's torso. "We'll order food tonight and go grocery shopping tomorrow."

"I think we can go to that farmer's market you like tomorrow too," Mike hums. "What do you want me to order?"

"Thai?"

And what Will wants, Will gets. Fifty minutes later, Will and Mike are sat side by side on the couch finishing off their shared orders of vegetable Pad Kee Mao and pineapple curry. Mike is always at awe by how spicy Will likes his Thai food. It had been a real problem when they first found this Thai spot, because Mike was much too proud to admit to Will that he couldn't handle the level four out of five that Will liked to order for them to split. Nowadays, Will lets Mike order a sensible two and substitutes the heat with an ungodly amount of chili oil. Mike's stomach is better off for it.

They're maybe fifteen minutes into Beetlejuice before Will is climbing into Mike's lap and lightly sucking on his earlobe. Mike shivers when Will grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth.

Mike's hands rest on Will's denim-clad waist, thumbs slipped underneath his sage colored camisole tank top. "Thought you wanted to watch a movie?"

Will moves down, pressing light kisses across Mike's neck and mumbling into his skin. "We watched some of it."

Mike moves his hands further up Will's top and running his nails down his stomach. "You're insatiable."

Will laughs and pulls back, plastering on an over-exaggerated pout and batting his eyelashes. "So does that mean you don't want me to suck your cock?"

"Wow," Mike blinks and huffs out a surprised laugh at Will's unabashedness. "Someone's bratty tonight."

"Not bratty." Will runs his hands slowly down Mike's chest. "Just needy."

"Is that what it is, baby?" Mike settles his hand around Will's throat and pulls him forward into a brief kiss. "You just need a cock in your mouth that bad?"

Mike's fingers twitch across Will's throat. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Mike tightens his grip and Will gives a breathy little gasp.

"Yes, I-" Will's eyes flutter at Mike's continuous increase in pressure, his face flushing. "I just need a-a cock in my mouth."

"Aw," Mike tuts. "Just a cock, baby? Not even mine?"

"No! I-" Mike cuts off Will's protests with a squeeze.

"That much of a slut, honey? You'd just let anyone come fuck that mouth of yours?" He keeps the pressure on Will's throat for a moment longer before releasing his hold, sliding his hand over to anchor at the side of Will's neck, thumb tracing his jaw. Mike cocks his head, taking in Will's burning red ears and his shiny eyes. "Oh no, is she embarrassed now? Is she gonna cry?"

"Mike, I—" Will's lip wobbles, his voice thick. "I wouldn't do that. You know that."

Mike does know that, but it's still fun to tease.

"Wouldn't do what, baby? Wouldn't cry?" Mike's thumb trails from Will's jaw to his lips, softly tracing his bottom lip. He slips his thumb in when Will opens his mouth to speak. Will purses his lips around the intrusion and sighs, tension falling from his face as he sucks Mike's thumb. "Answer me."

Will's words come out garbled, something about not sucking anyone's cock but Mike's. Mike accepts them.

"Show me then, baby." Will nods eagerly, pulling off Mike's thumb and sinking to his knees in between Mike's spread legs. Mike unbuttons his shorts and pushes them down along with his boxers. Will rests his hands lightly on Mike's thighs and leans forward to press a kiss to the tip of Mike's cock. The eye contact that Will makes with Mike is dizzying. Mike sometimes can't believe that someone so stunning, so gorgeous—and perfect and ravishing and exquisite and resplendent—is all his. Mike often can't find the words to describe Will's beauty, but, he thinks as Will begins to swirl his tongue around the head of Mike's cock, he's got an extra book deal to try with.

It happens gradually, a slightly uncomfortable tingling that Mike thinks he's imagining, and then all at once, a furious burning that has Mike shoving Will off of him with a yelp akin to a kicked puppy.

"Radagast, Will! Holy fucking shit, Radagast."

Will tumbles back, barely catching himself from colliding with the coffee table. Mike is vaguely aware of Will saying something to him, maybe asking if he's okay or if Will did something wrong, but it's hard to form a thought with the blaring fire alarm going off in his head. He throws his arm over his face and tries to slow his breathing down, but it's no use.

He's on fire, his fucking dick is on fire.

It's so angry at him, his dick is so angry with him. He doesn't know what he's done wrong. Maybe, Mike thinks, what they say about STIs and toilet seats is true? Maybe he shouldn't have taken a shit at Borders the other day? It's not his fault! Mike pleads with whatever higher power might be listening to him. The Mariko Aoki phenomenon is real!

It's what he deserves, Mike supposes as he accepts his oncoming death, for secretly signing his books whenever he finds himself in a bookstore.

Will pulls his arm away and rests a palm on his cheek, eyes wide and concerned. "Mike? What's wrong?"

Mike feels pathetic. Mike is pathetic. His wife is going to leave him, because he got a STI from a toilet seat at Borders. His life is a movie and it's a really bad one.

Will taps his cheek and Mike groans, the head of his dick angrily pulsing as he rapidly softens.

"Did I…nick you with my teeth?"

Mike's whimpers, eyes fluttering shut, "Burns."

Will realizes gradually, a silence stretching between then as he takes Mike's explanation in, then all at once, gasping loudly and shooting up from the floor.

"Mike, oh my God." Mike pries his eyes open, a whimper escaping his lips. "The chili oil."

Before Mike can respond, Will is rushing towards the kitchen. Mike hears him pick up the landline, but tunes out everything else, the pulsing in his dick now traveling up to his ears. He closes his eyes again and hopes for a speedy death.

"Okay." Will comes back a few moments later with something tucked in his arm and grabs Mike's hand, tugging him towards their bathroom. He deposits his items onto the toilet seat before helping Mike out of his shorts and boxers, effectively turning him into Winnie the Pooh again. "Lucas says we need to wash the…affected area with dish soap."

Mike gapes. "You called Lucas?"

"I called a doctor, yes." Mike groans again and Will ignores him. "I guess, I don't know, can you kneel in the tub?"

Will pointedly ignores Mike's grumble about role reversal and, in a very unsexy yet gentle way, cleans the tip of Mike's dick with their store-brand Dawn. The soap also stings, but Mike keeps that to himself when he sees how upset Will looks at the situation. It's a testament to truly how awful Mike feels, that Will Byers is tenderly attending to his cock and yet he's completely flaccid.

Mike makes to get out of the tub once Will has him dried off and Will stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, ah," Will wrings his hands nervously. "Lucas also said to neutralize the burn with a fat. I—can you sit maybe? Instead of kneeling?" Will turns around, grabbing another item off of the toilet seat before turning around to Mike and peeling its foil back to reveal a blue and purple swirl.

At least, Mike thinks as the love of his life sticks the tip of his dick into a Trix yogurt cup, he didn't get a STI from Borders.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Will looks good. A butter yellow sweater melts into to his curves, the v-neck showing off a hint of his collarbones, the sleeves slipping down over his palms. A berry-brown shade paints his lips and his eyelashes are long, darkened by mascara. Light, acid-wash jeans cling to his thighs and his feet bare as traipses alone around the big, empty house. He looks more than good, he looks gorgeous.

The phone cuts through the silence. Will's brows furrow as he makes his way to the corded landline in the living room. He's not expecting a call. He's not expecting Mike either, but that's okay.

"Hello?" Mike parrots the greeting back to him. "Who is this?" Mike does it again. "Mm, who are you trying to reach?"

They play a game of cat and mouse. He always plays so hard to get, his boyfriend, always acts so coy like he doesn't suspect it's Mike is on the other end of the line. It's cute.

It's even cuter when Will heads to the kitchen, phone hung up now, and starts to make his popcorn. He stands in front of the stove, left hip cocked, his foot resting against his calf like a flamingo. And, well, Mike just can't help himself.

The phone rings again. This time, Will answers on the cordless landline in the kitchen, holding the chunky white receiver up to his ear as he greets Mike in an annoyed tone.

Mike smiles. "Why don't you wanna talk to me?"

"Who is this?" Mike bites back a laugh. His baby is such a good actress.

"You tell me your name, I'll tell you mine."

Will goes back to his popcorn and gives a little laugh. It's uppity, like he's too good for Mike, like Mike isn't good enough for him. And that's okay too, because Mike will show him. He'll show him just how good he can be. The conversation continues. Mike asks what 'that noise' is, like Mike can't see it through the window. Will tells Mike about his popcorn, like Mike wasn't the one who bought it for him. Will plays with a knife from the block on the counter and tells Mike about his favorite scary movie—The Thing. It's all a game, one that Mike will win.

Will leaves the kitchen, padding through the house, locking doors and giggling. Too bad Mike is already in the house now.

"You never told me your name." Mike feels a little silly saying this. Even just the thought of pretending that he doesn't know Will Byers sits heavy and disgustingly in his chest.

"Why do you wanna know my name?"

"'Cause I wanna know who I'm looking at." He's lying. He can't see Will anymore, now tucked away behind a corner, but he hears his breath hitch and it's thrilling nonetheless.

His voice is low, scared. "What did you say?"

Mike wants to keep playing. "I wanna know who I'm talking to."

"That's not what you said."

"What do you think I said?" Mike hears the click of another lock and Will sputters out something about needing to hang up. And the little minx, he actually does it. He hangs up on Mike. And that just won't do.

The phone rings again. Will didn't listen. Actions have consequences. He still picks up though, like Mike's good girl.

Mike let's his voice get mean this time. "I told you not to hang up on me." And then he does it again.

And that really won't do. Mike calls again and Will has the audacity to yell now. "Listen, asshole—"

"No!" Will gasps at his tone. "You listen, you little bitch. You hang up on me again and I'll gut you like a fish. Understand?"

Will's is scared now, actually scared. Mike can hear it. It's right where Mike wants him to be. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"More of a game, really," Mike drawls. "Can you handle that—Sorcerer?"

Will bolts and Mike hears click after click of locks as Will runs. He's panting now, face glued to the window on the front door, desperate to catch a glimpse of someone—of Mike—outside.

"Can you see me?" Mike knows the answer. Will doesn't see Mike, but Mike sure does see Will.

"Listen," And, oh, his poor baby. He's crying now. "I am two seconds away from calling the police."

"They'd never make it in time," Mike practically growls. "We're out in the middle of nowhere."

"What do you want?" His cries turn to sobs.

And this, this is the money shot. "To see what your insides look like."

Mike is on him before Will has a chance to hang up the phone. Will reacts fast, sprinting to the kitchen. Mike knows what he's thinking, knows that he's hoping to go for the knives, hoping to give Mike a fight. And, to his credit, he very nearly makes it to them, his pink polished fingers a mere centimeters away from snagging the handle of a chef's knife. Maybe, Mike thinks, he should let him grab one next time. See what his girl can do.

Mike wraps his arms around Will and yanks him back. His robe billows around him. He fucking hates this robe. It makes him feel like a dumbass, but Will thinks it's hot, so…whatever. Will yelps and shoves an elbow into Mike's ribs. It fucking hurts, but Mike keeps his eyes on the prize. He forces Will's arms back, trapping his wrists between one of his gloved hands and whirls Will around, pressing him into the counter. The contact is maddening, Will's denim rubbing across the silky robe and sending a jolt to Mike's cock trapped within the confines of his cargo pants.

"No, no," Sobs wrack Will's body and mascara tracks down his face. "I'll give you whatever y-you want. My d-daddy has money and he can pay and I won't t-tell, please, just-"

Mike laughs, loud and mean, cutting Will off and cocking his masked face. "Your daddy has money, huh? What if I wanna be your daddy?"

Will gasps, eyes locking onto the voids where Mike's eyes should be. There's a flicker of fear and then something else, maybe excitement, before switching back to fear. Mike presses his hips forward and an involuntary moan rips through Will's sobs.

"Aw," Mike traces his other hand up Will's body, settling in a tight grip against his jaw, forcing it open. He slides in his pointer and middle fingers. "S'cute how you're pretending you don't want this, pretending like your panties aren't soaked right now. Go ahead and suck, slut."

And poor Will, he just can't help himself. His lips lock around Mike's fingers and he wets them with a moan.

Mike lets go of Will's wrists and presses harder against him, pinning his arms between his back and the counter. He uses his newly freed hand to flick open the button and unzip the fly of Will's jeans. Will jerks against his hold and Mike shoves his fingers further into Will's throat as retaliation. Will stills, whimpering around the intrusion as tears fall fast from his pretty green eyes. Mike shoves the jeans down Will's thighs and finds that he was right. Will's little cock is straining against his cotton panties, leaking against rose-colored fabric and darkening it to a shade not unlike the one painted on his lips.

Mike slides a finger under the waistband, tugging it and letting the elastic snap back against Will's hip. He whines around Mike's fingers.

Mike pulls his fingers from Will's mouth and flips him around, pushing him down onto the marble counter and pinning his arms across his back. Mike tugs the panties down with his other hand and doesn't waste anymore time, pressing the tip of his index finger against Will's hole. It glides in easily, entirely too easily.

"Oh, that's sweet," Mike watches his gloved finger pump in and out of Will for a moment before adding another finger. It glides in easily too. "Did you get yourself ready for me? Were you playing with your pussy up in your room, just hoping daddy would come give you what you need? Come take care of you?" Will sputters out some sort of protest, but it's lost to a loud moan as Mike crooks his fingers, brushing against his bundle of nerves.

Mike tuts, pressing a third finger into Will's hole. It drags at first, the leather of his gloves dry without Will's spit, but it too is soon easily sucked in by Will. Pliant and open, greedy. He continues his ministrations, fast and unforgiving, easing up only when he hears a soft plea slip from Will's lips.

"Yeah?" Mike's voice comes out gentler than he means. He clears his throat, making himself mean again, gruff. "What was that?"

Will clamps his eyes shut and shakes his head, like the words came out without permission. Mike stills his fingers and Will whines in frustration before shaking his head again, like the whine also came out without permission. Mike likes this, likes that he's breaking Will, likes that Will's body can't help but concede to Mike. Mike wants to take everything, wants to take all of Will and fill him with all of Mike until nothing else matters. Until only the two of them remain. Until the only thing Will can think is Mike's name.

And yet, he keeps his fingers still, breath hot and heavy under his mask, waiting for Will to say it again. Will squirms against him. Mike tugs Will up by his arms, dropping his grip to wrap his own arm around Will's waist and pull him flush against Mike's back. His fingers shift inside Will, brushing that spot again, and Will's head falls back against Mike's shoulder, a loud and wanton sound drifting up into Mike's ear.

"Say it."

"Please," Will sniffles, his voice coming out sad and pathetic and perfect. "Please, daddy."

"Yeah," Mike groans, sliding his fingers out of Will and holding his gloved hand in front of Will's face. "Knew you wanted it." Will doesn't wait for direction, sucking his cheeks in a depositing a glob of spit into Mike's palm. Muscle memory. Mike shoves Will forward and he falls across the counter, arms still crossed behind his back.

Mike grabs at his dumb fucking robe, hiking it up and undoing his cargo pants. His cock springs free as he unzips his pants—no boxers for easy access, obviously—and pumps a few times, slicking himself up with Will's spit. Will arches, shoving his ass out and moaning as Mike presses himself against his hole.

He rocks his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching Will's hole and—

Mike wakes up with a groan, his hips jerking sharply upward as heat coils in his gut. There's a loud whine in response and when Mike finally peels his eyes open, he almost comes on sight. Will lays between his legs with bedhead so messy that it would be endearing if he wasn't gripping onto Mike's thighs and drooling all over Mike's cock.

It's sensory overload. Mike can't hardly think though his brain's overwhelming mantra of wet! tight! hot! His hips jerk up again on their own accord and Will makes a punched out noise, pulling off to pant and rest his head on Mike's hip. He looks absolutely debauched, lips plump and red, eyes lidded and watery as he looks up at him. Mike is reminded of dream Will with his berry-brown lips and mascara stained face. His cock twitches at the thought. Will brings a hand up from Mike's thigh and begins to jerk him off lazily as he continues to pant into Mike's hip.

"Woke up and you were so hard." Will's thumbs the head of Mike's cock. "Wanted you in my mouth so bad."

Mike grunts, his hand reaching out to tangle into Will's hair. "S'bad of you, baby, y'didn't ask." Mike is talking out of his ass and Will knows it too. He can't even remember the last birthday he had where he didn't wake up to Will sucking him off.

"But you were hard," Will murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as Mike scratches at his scalp. "And I wanted to say sorry for last night."

"Yeah?" Mike holds back a wince at the thought of last night. True to Lucas's word, the yogurt did stop the burning for the most part, but Mike had still soft launched the idea of Will never eating Thai food ever again. Will was, shockingly, unreceptive to the idea. "How long have you been apologizing for?"

Will laughs at this, opening his eyes and smiling up at Mike. "A while. You wouldn't wake up."

"Was having a good dream," Mike hums, reaching down with his other hand to envelop Will's around his cock, speeding his strokes up. Will gets the memo and pulls himself up. He shoos Mike away and fists Mike's cock with both his hands, unraveling Mike with each stroke.

"Was it about me?" Will parts his lips and drips saliva onto Mike's cock.

"Fuck," Mike groans at the sight, his balls tightening. "Always about you, baby. Was about to fuck you." Will speeds up his strokes and leans down to suckle on Mike's tip. The sensation rips Mike's orgasm from him and he spills into Will's mouth with a shout. Will continues to suckle at Mike, cum dribbling from his lips until Mike taps at his cheek with an exasperated exhale. Will pulls off of Mike, mouth parted and head tipped back. Mike nods and Will swallows before ducking his head back down to lick up the cum left on Mike's cock.

"C'mere." Mike leans forward and grabs Will under his armpits, pulling him up to straddle Mike. Will rests his palms on Mike's chest and leans forward to kiss Mike. "I love you."

"I love you too." Will grins at him, fighting back a giggle. "I'm sorry for, ah, hurting you last night."

Mike rolls his eyes, hands settling at Will's waist. "You don't look very sorry."

Will pretends to clutch his pearls, mouth falling open in a fake ass appalled expression. "I think I just gave a very convincing and earnest apology, thank you very much."

"Mhm," Mike hums, thumbs slipping underneath the elastic of Will's panties. "I think you just missed having me in your mouth."

Will places his hands over Mike's, cocking his head with a smile. "It can't be both?"

Mike barks out a laugh. "Slut."

Will hums in agreement, his eyes twinkling. He's beautiful always, but especially like this, sleepy and kind of bratty, perched on top of Mike like he's a princess and Mike is his throne.

"Can I ride you?"

"No," Mike tugs at Will's waistband. "Take these off."

Will pouts, but complies, wiggling out of his panties and settling back on top Mike. "Why not?"

"'Cause," Mike grips Will's waist and begins to tug him up while Mike simultaneously shuffles down. "Want you to sit on my face."

Will catches himself on the headboard, gripping into the wood and staring down as Mike's curls disappear between his legs. Mike loves this, loves the clarity that he gets when Will kneels above him, loves the way that Will sings for him once he gets over his embarrassment. His embarrassment, which is wholly evident now as Will crouches awkwardly in a refusal to settle his weight on Mike's face, whining out Mike's name.

"Sweetheart," Mike murmurs, grabbing the back of Will's thighs and tugging him down. "Be good for me, c'mon." Mike feels tension in Will's thighs as his hands travel to palm at Will's ass, still refusing to settle. Mike brings his right palm down with a smack!, immediately following the action with his left palm. Will jerks forward with a yelp, legs shaky as he still tries to hold himself up.

"You're bein' a brat." Mike nips at Will's thigh before spanking Will again and again until Will finally lowers himself down, huffing in frustration. Mike rubs his palms over Will's smarted skin before parting his cheeks and finally diving in. He laps at Will's hole messily, groaning as Will settles down further, one of his hands coming back to grip Mike's. Mike appreciates the juxtaposition of this act, appreciates that Will is effectively smothering him and yet still looks to Mike for guidance, still looks to Mike for control.

Broken whimpers of Mike and please fall from Will's lips as he rocks his hips back, falling apart on Mike's tongue. Mike thinks that he could probably do this for hours, lave away at Will's hole, wringing orgasms out of him until Will is boneless and coming dry. Mike would kind of like to test that theory seeing as they have the whole day ahead of them, but his suit and tie, unfortunately, beckon to him from their closet for an afternoon of meetings.

He ponders cancelling his meetings when he hears a deep, throaty moan from above him. Surely his publisher would understand. This is therapeutic for Mike. What's not therapeutic for Mike, however, is the thought of having to call Michelle and ask her to pretty please cancel all their meetings on such short notice. Mike often thinks that she's one inconvenience away from throttling him at all times. Will thinks that he's being silly whenever he voices these concerns. Will also thinks that Michelle reminds him a lot of a younger Mike, which is also deeply unsettling to Mike. There's no way he was that brooding and mean ten years ago, right?

Will lets out another devastating noise and Mike effectively banishes any thoughts of his publisher or Michelle from his mind. He pulls back briefly, blowing cool air onto Will's hole and he shudders. "Play with your clit, honey. Want you to come for me." Mike dives back in.

Will's releases his grip on Mike's hand and keens, loud and unabashedly. Mike hears the slick movement of Will jerking himself off and he groans. He loves how wet Will gets, loves how he leaks like a fucking faucet anytime Mike does anything to him, loves how he's always ruining his panties for Mike. Mike knows that it's just biology and blah blah blah, but he still takes it as a massive ego boost—like he needs any more of that.

Mike can tell that Will is lost in it now, any shred of embarrassment gone as he grinds down onto Mike's face and chases his orgasm. Really, the only thing Mike dislikes about Will sitting on his face is that he can't see how gorgeous Will looks when he sits on his face.

"Mike, I'm—" Will breaks off with a moan. "Can I please come? Please, Mike, oh—" Mike grips Will harder and pulls him down impossibly further, nodding without easing up his ministrations. Will comes with another loud keen, falling forward into the headboard. Mike continues until Will's hips are twitching, finally stopping when Will cards a hand through his hair, lightly tugging. "Mike."

Mike taps the back of Will's thighs and Will awkwardly clambers off of him, scooting down the bed to fall into Mike's chest. Mike wipes his hand with the back of his mouth and lifts his arm to cradle Will into him. He glances over to the alarm clock on their nightstand and oh, it's much earlier than Mike thought. He still has at least another two hours before his alarm goes off and he needs too—

Will yawns next to him and nuzzles into his chest. They should probably clean Will's cum off of the headboard before it dries, but then Will sighs, happy and sated, and Mike abandons any thoughts of further rounds, instead pulling the comforter over them.

Mike presses a kiss to Will's forehead as his breath starts to even out. When Mike follows suit, closing his own eyes, his brain helpfully reminds him of his dream earlier, his dumb ass robe bunched up under his armpits while Will whimpers out a please, daddy.

"Hey, baby?" Surely, Mike thinks, this is something that should be explored. "You wanna watch Scream tonight?"

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

The following week, Mike wakes up with another insatiable itch to write. He's been aggressively outlining the fourth book in his series for nearly two hours now in a flow state that he hasn't felt since book two. And maybe that has something to do with the mouth that has been wrapped around his cock for the past forty-five minutes.

Will, bless him, had really tried his best to leave Mike alone. He'd given Mike a kiss and shut the office door behind him before padding back out to the living room with the intent to break into the brand new Exorcist box set that Mike found the last time he was at Borders (y'know, the time he almost got a STI). But then the storm started.

Will had meekly waltzed into Mike's office, wrapped in a fluffy blanket from the couch and pouting something awful, and Mike just couldn't say no to him.

And so here they were now, Will kneeling underneath Mike's desk, cushioned by the blanket from the couch, with Mike's cock stuffed in his mouth while Mike types away about fantastical creatures from faraway lands.

Mike rolls his head around his shoulders, sighing as he leans into a particularly satisfying pop. Mike thinks that this might be one of the best days of his life, right up there with the day his manuscript got picked up by his publisher and when Will agreed to be his boyfriend.

Mike glances down at Will below him and smiles. Will's eyes are cloudy, barely open as his pink lips stretch around Mike's girth, head rested on Mike's thigh. His breath comes out soft and slow, any tension that the storm brought having since melted from him and leaving behind nothing but satiation.

Mike brings a hand down to card through Will's hair. "You doin' okay, honey?" Will leans into the touch, gently humming and briefly hollowing his cheeks in response. Mike cups his face, running his thumb across Will's cheek. "So perfect, honey, my perfect girl." At that, Will's eyes close completely and Mike focuses his attention back onto his outline.

They continue on like this for a while, with Mike checking in on Will every so often, petting him and murmuring praises before going back to his outline. Will's soft hums and sated little noises mix together with the pattering of the rain on the windows and the clacks of Mike's keyboard, creating a soundtrack of, what Mike thinks to be, domestic bliss.

Eventually, the rain picks up, low rumbles of thunder overshadowing Mike's typing. Mike doesn't mind it so much, but when the first flash of lightening illuminates the room, he freezes. His hand finds it's way back to Will's head, scratching at his scalp when the first booming clap rolls rolls through the room. Will opens his eyes slowly but wide, looking up at Mike with a clarity he hasn't seen in hours.

Will makes a concerned noise and Mike shushes him, placating him with niceties until Will settles, eyes falling back shut. Mike briefly thinks that Will's discomfort has passed, but the storm rages on. Mike finds himself petting at Will more often than not as Will starts to squirm, his hums turning to whines.

Mike frowns. He hates this, hates that the horrors of the Upside Down have long been dormant, yet their effects on the Party have never fully gone away. Each year that passes gets easier, sure, but it's the small things that plague their lives. The chill that seems to stick to Mike's bones every November, Lucas's bad days in the ER, Dustin and Jane's inability to stay in one place for too long, Max's worsening vision, Will's disquietude when it rains.

Mike wishes that he could take it all away, wishes that he could shut Will's brain off whenever a storm hits. Will squirms again and Mike cups his cheek. Maybe, Mike thinks, he can turn Will's brain off right now.

Mike takes a sip of water and clears his throat before looking back down and meeting Will's eyes. When he speaks, his voice comes out stern, but gentle, "C'mon, baby, you want to keep being good, right? Just wait a little longer, m'almost done." Will whines in response and the vibration of it settles deep into Mike's gut. It stirs a thought alive.

"Training, baby, you're training right now, yeah? Keeping my cock nice and warm in your pretty mouth. You keep being good and I'll give you more when I'm done, okay?" Mike watches as the words register with Will. Slowly, the clarity leaves his eyes again and he nuzzles into Mike's thigh, slipping a little bit more of Mike's cock into his mouth and closing his eyes again.

Mike is more than a little shocked that it actually worked. The storm continues; lightening fills the room and thunder shakes the windows, but Will stays calm. Eventually, Mike finds his flow state again and sinks back into his outline, finding himself fleshing out what was originally meant to be a minor plot line about taming a dragon in the rain. The similarity of it all is lost on him when Will starts to hollow his cheeks and suckle.

When Mike feels Will starting to squirm again, it's different than before. He glances down and catches Will palming himself.

"No," Mike tuts, giving a light slap to Will's hollowed out cheeks. "Don't touch your clit. You're supposed to be paying attention, supposed to be training."

Will inhales sharply and his hand flies back to his thigh. He pulls back slightly, blinking up at Mike as he evens out his breathing. Mike cocks an eyebrow at him and Will shakes his head, shifting forward to take more of Mike again and hollowing his cheeks.

Truthfully, Mike is losing steam. He was fine before when Will just had his mouth around him, but now that he's started hollowing his cheeks and suckling, his resolve is nearly shot. He's only a man.

But then Mike catches Will palming at himself again, and instincts take over. He snaps in front of Will's face and kicks Will's hand away. Will is wide eyed and Mike thinks that he'd probably be pouting if his lips weren't wrapped around Mike's cock. Mike presses his socked foot against Will's core, his heel digging into Will's cock.

Will groans and Mike shushes him, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear. "Stop, sweetheart. Just let me work right now, okay? Told you I'd give you more when I'm done. Just let me think for the both of us right now."

The look that Will gives him tells Mike that he'd definitely be pouting if he didn't have a cock in his mouth. Mike bites back a smile and attempts to refocus on his outline. Will stays put, hands glued to his thighs as Mike continues to press his foot into Will's groin.

When Mike finally decides that he's had enough and clicks save on his document, he realizes three things at once. The first thing he realizes is that the rain has since faded out, the thunder and lightening seemingly have long since left as Mike immersed himself in his outline. The second thing that he realizes is that his foot is suddenly very warm, much warmer than it has been this entire time it's been pressed up against Will. The third and final thing that Mike realizes is that, well, Will wasn't squirming because he was trying to play with himself. Will was squirming, because he had to pee and Mike was pressing on his bladder.

When Mike looks down, Will's brows are furrowed and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes meet Mike's through his eyelashes and Mike sees a tinge of embarrassment in his gaze, sure, but also an easiness. His eyes are still hazy, still looking to Mike for direction.

Mike had told him to let Mike think for him.

"Aw," Mike coos, both hands coming down to cup Will's cheeks. "Did you wet yourself, honey? Just couldn't hold it?" Will rewards him with a low whine, nodding into Mike's touch. "Yeah, honey, I know. You're just too excited to have my cock in your mouth, huh? Let me give you what you want since you've been so good."

Mike brings a hand down to cup Will's chin and moves his other hand to grip into Will's hair. Will's jaw goes slack as Mike tugs his head down. He's putty in Mike's hands and Mike almost feels high off of it, off of the way Will so easily takes everything that Mike gives him.

Mike feels hot and cold all over. Hot under his fingertips, where Will is sweaty and flushed beneath him. Cold as the chill of the A/C raises goosebumps across his skin. Hot in his gut, where his release creeps up on him every time his cock dips into the back of Will's throat. Cold underneath his foot, where Will's accident cools on his sock.

And, really, it was one thing to piss on Will. Heady with the knowledge that he was claiming him, marking him in a way that no one else ever could; intoxicating in the knowledge that Will had wanted Mike to do that to him. But this is different. This is so different, knowing that Will trusted Mike so much that he shut his brain off completely, only focusing on the feeling of Mike's cock in his mouth.

"Fuck," Mike groans, pulling Will down further on his cock. A few weeks ago, Mike could never have dreamt that Will would have been able to take him like this. Mike never would have even thought about it if Will hadn't been so adamant about practice and training. But now Mike thinks that he might not be able to live without it, the way that Will lets Mike fuck into his mouth with fervor. Mike buries himself deep, stilling for a moment, and Will gags, tears welling in his eyes. "You wanna come, baby?"

Will chokes out some sort of response, coupled with a stilted nod. Mike hums and shifts his foot to settle more firmly over Will's cock.

"Yeah," Mike murmurs, restarting his movements. "Such a good girl for me. Don't have to ask, okay? Make yourself come." Will's moan is cut off when Mike forces him back down onto his cock. Will starts to rut against Mike's foot and punched out noises escape him with nearly every thrust of Mike's cock.

Mike is vaguely aware that he's babbling, both filth and praise falling from his mouth as Will just fucking takes it. Mike is torn between never wanting this to end and wanting to paint Will's face immediately. Will's ruts against his foot become more erratic, his noises throatier, and Mike knows that the latter will win out.

He's stretched thin. Mike doesn't like to come before Will if he can help it and he's been doing a lot of coming before Will lately. Just when he feels like he's about to snap, Will's hips roll into his foot with a slow, jerky movement and Mike feels the warmth of his release on the ball of his foot.

Mike pulls out of Will, tilting his head back with his grip in his hair and pulling his other hand from Will's chin to jerk himself off. Will pants, tears leaking from his eyes as his tongue lolls out from his slack jaw. The visual sends Mike over the edge and he comes with a deep groan, shooting across Will's face and into his hair. Whoops.

Mike's central nervous system wants nothing more than to lean back in his chair and take a nap, but he knows that Will is too far gone right now, too fuzzy and floaty to come back to himself without Mike. Mike quickly tucks himself back into his boxers and sweatpants before pushing his office chair back and dropping to his knees in front of Will.

He gathers the stripes of cum across his fingers. "You want it, angel?"

Will nods and Mike presses his fingers into Will's mouth. Will sucks around his fingers and swallows, whimpering when Mike pulls the digits back out.

"I know, baby, s'okay. You can be done now." Mike leans forward and presses kisses across his face, tasting the occasional remnants of his own release. "You were so good, so perfect." Mike tilts Will's head up presses a kiss to his lips. "Love you so much."

Gradually, Will comes back to life under Mike's gentle praises. He blinks once, then twice, then sighs deeply, a semblance of clarity now coming back to his gaze.

"Hi," Mike whispers, kissing him again. "Are you back to me now?" Will nods and drops his gaze down to his lap. His cheeks burn with an angry red and Mike watches as tears begin to well up in his eyes again.

"Hey, hey." Mike ducks down and tilts Will's face up to meet his gaze. "No tears, angel. You did so good for me. My good girl."

"Mike," Will sniffles, tears falling harder. "That was so embarrassing."

Mike shakes his head fervently. "Not embarrassing, baby, not at all. It was hot, really fucking hot."

"That's only 'cause you think it's hot when I'm embarrassed." Will's voice is thick and wet, but a small smile tugs at his lips.

"Well, yeah" Mike concedes, grinning. "It is hot when you're embarrassed. But that's not why I thought this was hot." Will looks at him to continue. "I like that you trust me enough to shut your brain off and just let me take care of you. That's what's hot. That you trust me."

"Oh," Will murmurs, cheeks still pink. "Yeah, I—I like that too. It feels good, um, to not have to think. Made me feel better about the storm."

"Good," Mike hums. "That was the point. Let's get you cleaned up." Mike stands up and takes a step back, peeling his sock off and throwing it off to the side. Will cringes, bemoaning about ruining Mike's sock and the couch blanket. Mike shushes him and hauls him up, shaking his head when Will begs him to please leave it for Will to clean up. Mike is the one who pressed on Will's bladder. Why should Will have to clean up?

Mike leads Will to the bathroom, shuffling through the house with one sock on. He deposits Will onto the toilet seat and turns his attention to the shower to warm the water up.

"Mike." Will pouts from his seat on the toilet as Mike fusses with the shower. "I wanna take a bath."

"I know, sweetheart." Mike checks the temperature of the water and deems it satisfactory, turning his attention back towards Will. "M'just gonna rinse you off, then you can take a bath. That okay?" Will nods, accepting Mike's hand and letting himself be pulled up.

"Hey," Will sniffles, scrunching his nose when he catches his reflection in the mirror while Mike strips him. "You came in my hair."

"Sorry," Mike huffs out a laugh, guiding Will into the shower. "I came, like, really hard."

Will only whines a little bit while Mike rinses him off and nearly purrs when Mike scratches at his scalp, working the cum out of his hair. Soon, Mike has Will submerged in a scalding hot bathtub with entirely too many lavender scented bubbles.

Mike realizes two more things as he's hunched underneath his desk to clean up. The first thing he realizes is that if (hopefully, when) they do this again, it shouldn't be underneath Mike's desk for the sake of his rapidly aging back. The second thing he realizes, as he watches a paper towel absorb the nearly clear liquid on the hardwood, is that Will is really very well hydrated.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

Mike is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It starts when he wakes up two hours before his alarm is set to go off with a pounding migraine and an inability to go back to sleep. He lays in bed in absolute agony for twenty minutes, Will sleeping peacefully next to him, before deciding to get up and make himself coffee. While his coffee is brewing, he pops two Excedrin and chases it down with an ice cold glass of water. The ice water kind of hurts, but whatever, because so does everything else.

Then, he makes himself a cup of coffee with the last of his creamer, before promptly fumbling the mug and shattering it across the kitchen floor. The loud noise makes Mike feel like he's being stabbed through the forehead, which he rather thinks might be preferable to everything else he's experiencing right now.

Will pads into the kitchen while Mike is halfheartedly attempting to clean up his mess of coffee and ceramic. Will helps him clean, much to Mike's protests, and then pulls Mike back into bed, cradling his head on his chest and alternating between rubbing his temples and running his fingers through Mike's curls. It helps tremendously, until the shrill screaming of his alarm negates all the progress that Will's nimble little artist fingers made against his migraine.

Will offers to drive Mike to the office, but Mike refuses, not wanting to interfere with the plans that he has with Max later today. Evidently, Will doesn't like Mike's insistence that he'll drive himself, because right after Will ties Mike's tie for him and gives him a goodbye kiss, Michelle's beater is pulling into their driveway.

Michelle is a sight for sore eyes in the sense that there's an incessant pulsing behind his eyes and her shitbox car with her bass boosted stereo does nothing to ease his pain. Mike feels like he's bleeding out. He wonders whether or not Michelle would turn down the stereo if he were actually bleeding out or if she would just continue to belt out Third Eye Blind while he suffers. Probably the latter.

"My car," Michelle utters, entirely too pleased with herself when Mike voices his complaints. "My rules." He still hands over his wallet when they pull into the Starbucks drive thru and is mildly unsettled to discover that he and Michelle have the same order (a grande flat white and a raspberry swirl loaf). Mike thinks that Michelle is also mildly unsettled at this discovery, because she does acquiesce after and turns down her shitty, bass boosted stereo, choosing to simply hum along to Stephan Jenkins' dulcet tones and tap her steering wheel instead of making his ears bleed. He supposes that it's nice of her.

His meetings are fine. There's no bad news to be given, but everything feels drawn out and unnecessary. Michelle lets him sleep in her car when they break for lunch, but any relief that his nap provides is drowned out by the crick in his neck and aching back he wakes up with.

When she drops him off later that afternoon to an empty house, Will now out and about with Max, Mike barely has the energy to toe his loafers off and ditch his jacket and tie before he's knocked out on the couch.

Mike wakes up an indeterminable amount of time later soaked in sweet, but feeling considerably better, his head barely pulsing now. He passes by the kitchen on his way to the bathroom to pop two more Excedrin to be safe. He sighs deeply when he finally steps into the shower, the warm water soothing the aches in his 29-year-old bones and brain. Relaxation spreads through his joints as he slathers on rosemary and mint shampoo, rinses it out, and repeats the process with their conditioner.

It's only when he starts to wash his body that he realizes his Pavlovian response has not yet gone extinct. He huffs out a laugh as he rinses himself off. Of course Will didn't even have to be home for Mike's body to still sport a half chub.

Except, Mike finds when he steps out of the shower and onto the bathmat, Will is home. His hair is windswept and his cheeks are flushed, his denim shorts laying crumpled behind him as he's perched familiarly on the bathmat with his palms pressed flat against his thighs. Beautiful, Mike thinks, as always.

Mike cocks an eyebrow as he dries himself off. "Hi, baby. When'd you get home?"

"Just now." Will gives him a dazzling smile. "Heard you in the shower, wanted to surprise you."

Mike returns his smile. "You have a nice time with Max today?"

"Mhm," Will nods, giggling. "I spent lots of your money." A pause. Another giggle. "Daddy."

Mike makes a small choking noise as all the blood in his body seemingly rushes straight to his dick. Mike isn't sure if it's the Will spending his money or the daddy that does him in. Maybe both.

So, okay, yeah, they did watch Scream last week and they did talk about Mike's dream. Will had firm opinions on both matters, actually, like he had thought about these things in depth and was just waiting for Mike to bring them up. Daddy was a resounding yes, a seemingly natural progression to their years-in-the-making dynamic. Mike's jaw had nearly hit the floor when Will not only been agreeable to the other part of Mike's dream, but went so far as to suggest that they scope out (and Mike isn't kidding when he says this) secluded cabin rentals for their next vacation where no one can hear Will scream.

Mike really shouldn't be surprised; Will has always been kinkier while Mike has always been hornier. It's a dynamic that has worked out well for them in the last decade and it's a dynamic that is working very well for them right now as Will locks eyes with him, tongue darting out slowly to lick his lips. Mike narrows his eyes. It sure does seem like Will thinks that he has the upper hand here. Mike will not be brought down by one word, thank you very much.

"That's good," Mike murmurs, dropping his towel on the floor and walking over to the sink to brush his teeth buck ass naked. "Did my girl get herself something nice?"

"Yes, I—" Will interrupts himself with a breathy sigh before recalculating and launching into a monologue of everything he bought with Mike's money today (it's their money, obviously, but Mike is a simple man and it's hot when Will says Mike's money) while Mike brushes his teeth.

Mike spits his toothpaste out and leans under the faucet to rinse out his mouth. He rinses off his toothbrush and deposits it next to Will's matching one in its holder before turning to face Will, hip cocked against the sink. Will blushes as he takes in Mike's hard-on.

"Sound nice, angel." Mike smirks. "But you didn't get yourself anything pretty to wear for me?"

Will fumbles out his reply, "I—no, Mike. I was with Max and—"

"Ah ah," Mike tuts, giving Will a stern look. "Is that what you call me?" Will turns the color of a tomato. It makes Mike want to laugh. Will can pretend that it's just Mike who thinks it's hot when Will is embarrassed, but Mike knows that Will gets off on it too, gets off on feeling small and stupid, gets off on the patronizing way Mike addresses him when he breaks a rule or slips up.

"N-no, I'm sorry, daddy," Will pauses, gnawing on his bottom lip. "And I'm sorry for not buying anything pretty to wear for you. I, ah, sh-should know better."

Mike hums. "Yeah, honey. You should know better. What should we do about that?"

"Um," Will's voice comes out small. He gnaws at his lip again. "I need to be punished?"

"Yeah? And what do you think you deserve?" Mike leaves the ball in Will's court. This name—daddy—it's new for them. Mike wants to see how far Will wants him to go.

"I shouldn't—" Will takes a shaky breath, like it's hard for him to get the words out. "I shouldn't get to come."

Mike blinks. He really wasn't expecting that. Really, Mike doesn't think that the punishment fits the crime, but then he takes a better look at Will. His posture is relaxed, almost curled into himself as he kneels before Mike. He meets Will's eyes and it clicks for him; Will is barely there, eyes hazy and far-away. Mike knows that Will likes Mike's rules, likes his rewards and punishments. But now, Mike thinks, it seems like Will needs daddy's rules.

"Okay, baby." Mike plasters a frown on his face. "You're not coming tonight." Will's lip quivers like he wasn't the one to suggest the punishment. "Hey, no tears. You made a mistake, right?"

"I didn't mean to, daddy. I just forgot."

"Mhm," Mike hums. "That's okay. You'll just do better from now on." Will nods. "And maybe if you're good for daddy tonight, you'll get to come in the morning."

"Oh!" Will perks up at that. "I can be good for you, daddy, I can be so good. I can make it up to you."

Mike hums again. "And how are you gonna make it up to daddy?"

Will struggles to find the words, face scrunching up like he hadn't expected Mike to make him think that hard. He rubs an eye with the back of his hand, brushing away a forgotten tear before looking down at his lap. The gesture is so cute that Mike nearly abandons the whole scene to drop to his knees in front of Will and kiss him breathless. He refrains. For now.

"C'mon, angel," Mike prompts. Will's head snaps up. He looks a tad startled, almost like he's forgotten that he was supposed to give Mike an answer. Mike's voice is gentle when he reminds him.

"I know daddy's head was hurting today," Will strings his sentence together slowly, thinking aloud like Mike isn't even there. "So I want to take care of him."

"How, baby?" Will furrows his brow, looking at Mike with confusion. Will is fucking gone. Mike is in awe, a heady feeling of responsibility and power and maybe even omnipotence thrumming through his body. Will parts his mouth slightly and brings a hand up to tap his bottom lip.

"Mhm, that's right, baby. C'mere," Mike murmurs. Will crawls forward, moving himself further onto the bathmat and right in front of Mike. "Can you be good and use your words?"

Mike grips his absolutely fucking throbbing cock and guides it towards Will's mouth, waiting.

"I—I want—" Will huffs. "Can you please use my mouth, daddy?"

"Yeah, good girl, that's my good girl, huh?" Will opens his mouth wide and sticks his tongue out as Mike inches closer to him. Mike anchors himself in Will's hair and taps his cock against Will's tongue.

He inches into Will's mouth, thrusting slow and deep and Will bobs his head to take Mike even deeper. Mike thinks back to that first night all those weeks ago, thinks back to Will's tears as he panicked and struggled to take Mike. It's a far cry from the Will that's in front of him now, the Will that's sucking him down with ease, looking blissed out and satisfied.

Mike begins to still his thrusts and Will doesn't hesitate, bobbing his head faster as he takes Mike nearly to the base. And, listen, Mike has talked a lot of shit. Will is small and Mike is big and Mike would probably shit himself if Will shoved ten inches in his face and expected him to deep throat it. Mike does a lot of things really well. He thinks that, all things considered, he's a pretty attentive lover. He's spent ten years learning Will's body inside and out, learning how to take him apart and build him back together. But ten fucking inches, Mike could never.

And yet here Will is, buried to the hilt, his nose pressed into the wiry hair at Mike's base, languid tears falling from his eyes. Mike holds him there, a guttural moan rumbling from his chest.

"Eyes on me, baby." Will looks up, almost lackadaisical, and doesn't even gag. Mike rocks forward, pressing himself impossible deeper into Will's throat as he stares into those green eyes. He pulls back and presses in again, just as deep, and Will just takes it. He does it again, and again, and again, picking up speed on each thrust.

Mike wishes that Will didn't suggest not coming as a punishment of all things, because the orgasm that Will rips from him might nearly be the best one of his life. His vision goes spotty and he grips the sink to keep from collapsing. Mike wants to kiss the ground that Will walks on. Mike wants to carry Will around forever, actually, so that Will never has to bother with something as demeaning as touching the ground.

If Mike we're eight years younger, he might have come again just at the sight of Will after Mike's dick leaves his mouth. Will tilts his head back, keeping his mouth open and tongue curled around Mike's cum. It's fucking gorgeous and almost makes Mike want to undermine himself, makes Mike want to abandon any semblance of punishment enforced upon Will tonight and instead take him to bed to make him come five times over.

Almost. Will needs daddy's rules, after all.

But Mike can still be romantic about it. He drops down to his knees and grips the side of Will's throat. "Should I let you swallow?"

Will lets out a low moan, tilting his head back further to meet Mike's eyes and nodding slightly, trying to keep the cum from leaking out of his mouth.

Mike smiles. "Use your words."

Will's words come out garbled and unintelligible, "Please, daddy."

"Aw," Mike tuts, wrapping his other hand around Will's throat. "You need to speak up, honey. Couldn't understand you." Will repeats himself and this time, cum dribbles down his chin. He whines at the loss.

Mike tightens his grip around Will's throat, mouth quirking up in a small smile. "Swallow." Will complies, obviously, swallowing thickly before taking a wheezing breath. Mike leans forward and licks his cum off of Will's chin. He hovers above Will, swirling his spend around in his mouth before spitting the mixture of saliva and cum into Will's own waiting mouth. "Swallow that too."

Will does; Mike pulls Will into him, hands still wrapping around his neck, and kisses him greedily, deep and wet and languid. His tongue laps into Will's mouth, tasting his own saltiness along with the faintest hint of black tea and maybe guava.

"Mm," Mike pulls back, relaxing his grip and humming. "You're such a good girl."

Will smiles, dazed and sleepy. "Thank you, daddy."

"You wanna lay down while daddy orders dinner?"

Will licks his lips, coming back into himself slightly at the mention of food. "Can we get Thai?"

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•

four months later

Will is all giggles when they burst through the front door. It's late, almost past their bedtime, but Mike can't bring himself to care with how radiant Will looks in his satin blouse. The cowl neck dips down his chest and Will positively glows in the off-white color. Mike didn't let himself think too hard about it at the party tonight, but now, in the sanctity of their home, his head supplies him with visions of veils and garters, of first dances and rings, of his bride. One day, Mike thinks as he locks the door behind him and Will, one day.

Mike's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Maybe it's the champagne or maybe it's the fact that he's a fucking New York Times bestselling author now.

Will throws his arms around Mike's neck as they stumble through the foyer. Mike thinks that he has the most perfect life in the whole world. Mike doesn't know how anyone could be happier than he is right now. Really, the only thing that could make him even happier would be—

"I have a surprise for you, daddy," Will mumbles, pressing a wet kiss to his mouth.

Mike grins. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," Will hums, pulling away and tugging Mike's tie from his waistcoat and pulling him towards the bedroom. He leads Mike to the bed and sits him on the edge, standing back to survey him. "You look so handsome in this suit. I like you in maroon."

"Thank you, angel." Mike reaches out to grab Will by the hips and show him how beautiful Mike thinks that he looks tonight when Will swats his hands away. Mike cocks a brow, giving Will a look somewhere in between intrigue and warning.

"Sorry!" Will squeaks. "I just—you'll distract me and then I won't get to show you your surprise."

"S'okay, baby," Mike's mouth quirks up in a smile, his voice teasing. "It gets hard to think when daddy's always doing it for you, huh?"

Will pouts. "I know how to think."

"Sure," Mike hums, casual and noncommittally. "Why don't you go get your surprise before I give you something to actually frown over?"

Will scurries off at this, his face flushed as he closes the bathroom door behind himself. Mike stands up, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the dresser. He lazily unbuttons his waistcoat, piling it onto his jacket before making his way back to the bed. The bathroom door creaks open just as Mike begins to loosen his tie.

Mike's mouth goes dry at the sight before him. Will leans up against the doorframe, cocking his hip and batting his eyelashes at Mike. "Do you like it?"

A cropped camisole top clings to Will's frame, the sheer periwinkle a stark contrast to his tanned skin. Ornate vines of gold stretch across the fabric on his abdomen, matching the golden straps of the top. A gold bow sits atop the ruffled fabric across Will's chest, like he's a present for Mike. Mike's eyes trail down and find another golden bow sitting atop the waistband of Will's matching shorts. The shorts are the same periwinkle, dotted with small gold flowers and a gold trim lining the scalloped edges. The shorts cover more skin than Will's everyday panties usually do, but the sheer fabric leaves little to the imagination.

"I love it," Mike breathes out, crooking his finger in an invitation to come closer. Will pads across the bedroom and stands in front of Mike with his hands behind his back, looking bashful. Mike studies him. Will's naval piercing shines in the soft light of the bedroom, much like the pale pink gloss swiped across his lips and the soft golden glitter painted across Will's eyelids, accentuated by the mascara that lengthens his eyelashes. He's beautiful. Mike tells him so.

"You just worked so hard writing your new book," Will pauses, inhaling sharply as he slides himself onto Mike's thigh, sitting between his open legs. Will wraps an arm around Mike's neck, resting a palm against Mike's chest with his other hand. "And I know that daddy likes it when I use his money to buy myself something pretty to wear for him." Mike practically growls.

"Very pretty, baby." Mike settles a hand on Will's thigh. "Are these just your pajamas then?"

"Not pajamas." Will makes a disappointed sort of noise, leaning in to whisper in Mike's hear, "Your surprise. Daddy can do whatever he wants to me."

"Yeah?" Mike steals a kiss. "And you'll be a good girl for me?"

"'Course," Will giggles. "I'm always a good girl for you."

Mike gives him an unimpressed look. "I don't know about that, honey."

Will juts his bottom lip out. "I try my hardest."

"Mhm," Mike hums. "Why don't you get on your knees then and show me how hard you can try?"

Will slips down, his knees hitting the hardwood with a soft thud. He stares up at Mike through his long eyelashes and Mike's slacks tighten at the thought of mascara running down Will's cheeks.

Mike makes to pull himself out, but hesitates, instead reaching up to loosen his tie further and pull it over his head. Will holds his hands up with his wrists together before Mike even has to ask. Mike supposes that Will really is trying hard to be good tonight. Will drops his hands down to his lap once Mike has the knot retightened around his wrists.

Will is excited. Mike can tell by the twinkle in his eyes. He's lucid (for now), the potency of daddy having worn off slightly in the past few months. Mike doesn't mind; he likes a challenge. He likes that he has to work harder now to put Will into that fuzzy head space that drives them both crazy. It's better this way, with Mike pushing Will's buttons until his boyfriend breaks for him.

Will watches, rapt, as Mike pulls his half-hard cock out of his slacks. He leans over Will, cradling his cheek and pressing his thumb into his jaw to pry it open. A moan reverberates through Will when Mike spits into his mouth and Mike smiles before snaking his hand around to the back of Will's head and pulling him onto his cock.

"Said I could do whatever I want?" Will nods as Mike pushes him further down. "Didn't know I needed your permission."

Will's moan is lost as Mike forces him down rough and fast, wet sounds filling the room. That's another thing that's changed in the past few months; Will's joined the big leagues. There's no more training, there's just Will taking it like a fucking champ now. Seriously, Mike thinks, it's worthy of a gold medal, the way that Mike's cock slides easily down Will's throat nowadays. It's a far cry from the Will that was, well, crying over not being able to take more than half of Mike a few months ago.

He's even learned some new tricks too. Mike stops his movements, holding Will down on his cock. Mike feels Will's throat spasm around him, working hard to swallow as Will focuses on his breathing. It's almost seems innate to Will now, sucking cock, instead of something that he spent months perfecting. Mike is lost in the burning sensation of Will's mouth when he feels Will's throat starts to spasm. Will gags around Mike, drool spilling from his mouth as he pushes against Mike's palm. Mike acquiesces, curling his fingers into Will's hair and pulling him off.

Even major league players stumble sometimes. And that's okay with Mike. He likes Will messy anyways.

"Y'look pretty." He really does. Will's lip gloss is nearly gone, the pale pink rubbed off onto Mike's cock and staining the corners of Will's lips. His eyes are wet, drops of mascara pooling on Will's lower lashes and threatening to fall. Mike wants to see them fall, wants to see Will ruined. "You want more?"

Will nods dumbly, taking a laborious breath, dazed, yet still too lucid for Mike's liking right now. Mike thumbs at Will's runny nose and wipes the excess off on his slacks. Maybe it's gross, sure, but Mike needs a good grip. He stands and Will starts putting the pieces together, mewling pathetically as he shuffles back to give Mike more room. This is Mike's favorite of Will's new tricks.

Mike pinches Will's nose shut between his thumb and forefinger. He gives Will a moment to take one last shaky breath before he's shoving his head back down on Mike's cock and fucking into his mouth. Will garbles out wet sounds below him as drool leaks down his chin. Mike knows that he can't do this for too long. Will can only handle so much and Mike doesn't want to finish yet. It's just so fucking good that Mike can't bring himself to stop yet, snapping his hips forward and letting out a long-winded groan.

He opens his mouth to tell Will how good of a girl he's being when Will's bound hands rush up and push against Mike's thigh once, then twice. Mike retreats instantly, pulling out. Will gasps when Mike drops his fingers from Will's nose.

"Are you okay?" Mike grasps at Will's hands on his thigh. "Are you tapping out?"

Will shakes his head. "Not tapping out, I just—" Will cuts himself off with another gasping breath.

"Baby," Mike furrows his brow, voice soft. "It's okay if you want to stop. I won't be mad. You pushed against me like you were trying to tap out and—"

"M'not tapping out," Will whines, cutting Mike off as mascara streaks down his cheeks. "S'just too much, Mike, too much."

Mike's gaze hardens. "Is it too much, Will?" And, okay, it's not like Mike expects Will to call him daddy all of the time. They have plenty of sex where the word is never uttered, not even at the forefront of either of their brains. Mike likes it (kind of loves it, actually), but he doesn't always expect it. But the thing is, Will knows better when they're in a scene. Especially when Will is the one who started it.

I have a surprise for you, daddy.

Will inhales sharply and shakes his head, eyes wide and panicked as he babbles, "No, n-no. I'm sorry, daddy, I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I'm so—"

Mike kneels and cups Will's cheek. Will gulps. "What's your color?"

"G-green, it's green."

"You sure?" Mike raises his eyebrows. "You're not lying?"

"M'not lying!" Will huffs out, desperate and more than a little petulant. "I'm telling you it was an accident, daddy, I swear. I already said—"

Mike's palm swiftly connects with Will's cheek, a sharp crack ringing out through the room along with Will's cry. "Cut the fucking attitude, yeah? Thought you were supposed be good tonight?" Mike rubs his thumb across Will's cheek as Will whimpers, soothing the angry skin.

After a moment, Will nuzzles into Mike's hand, nose whistling as he breathes. "M'sorry, daddy. Y-you're right." Will turns his head to kiss Mike's palm. "Thank you for reminding me." Will turns his head back to Mike and meets Mike's eyes. Mike smiles. There he is, glassy-eyed and gorgeous.

"It's okay, baby. Daddy forgives you, yeah?" Will nods and Mike kisses him, leisurely and a little out of place for the scene unfolding between them. Mike swipes his tongue across Will's bottom lip and Will's mouth falls open easily, sighing dreamily as Mike maps the inside of his mouth. They stay like this for a while, Will's breathing evening out, his head heavy against Mike's palm like he doesn't have it in him to hold himself up. Mike presses a final chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and standing up. "Lay down. Head off the bed."

Will holds his bound hands up to Mike and Mike huffs out a laugh, grasping Will and pulling him up. It's funny, Mike thinks, how Will can still look so cute even when he's fucking wrecked, his eyes teary and his cheeks stained with mascara, snot and spit everywhere.

He helps maneuver Will onto the bed, his head now hanging upside down off the side of the bed. "Show me what you do if you want to stop." Will raises his hands up and taps them against Mike's stomach three times before bringing them back down to his lap.

"Good, baby, good. Your hands stay down unless you want me to stop, okay? None of that pushing."

"Okay, daddy," Will nods fervently, babbling away. "I'll be good from now on, so good, I swear. It won't happen again and—"

Mike shushes him, "Open your mouth." Will complies and Mike slides in.

This is another one of Mike's favorites of Will's new tricks. Not his favorite, no, because Mike doesn't get to see how wrecked Will gets from sucking him off or those big green eyes staring up at him. Mike very nearly misses Will whenever they do this. What can Mike say, he's a romantic.

But it's not all bad. Actually, none of it is bad. Will's throat is just as hot and tight and even though he doesn't get to see his wife's beautiful face, the view is still gorgeous. Will is hard in his little shorts, the wetness of his pre-cum seeping through the sheer fabric, his cock bobbing every time Mike rocks his hips forward.

The pièce de résistance, though, is the way that Will's throat shifts every time Mike pushes into him. It's maddening, the way that Will's body accommodates him. Mike fucking carved this space out in Will.

But maybe that's not right. That's giving Mike too much credit. Mike helped, sure, but it was Will who did this, Will who worked so hard to chip away at his body's reservations until he could take Mike. Mike groans. His baby is so good for him (mostly), so fucking talented.

Mike's pace is much less punishing than when Will was on his knees; it doesn't need to be. The sight of Will's throat bulging around Mike's cock makes him dizzy and wears him thin. It's not long before he's pulling back enough for Will to suckle on his tip and coming with a drawn-out fuuuuck.

It's an awkward affair, pulling out of Will and shuffling him around until he's laying on his belly and hanging his mouth open to show Mike his spend. It'd be much easier to come down Will's throat and Mike definitely wouldn't mind watching Will swallow around him, but Will likes it better this way, likes getting permission from Mike to swallow.

Mike briefly considers making Will spit his load out, a final consequence for his brattiness earlier, but decides against it. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

Will swallows and effectively collapses, face shoved into the comforter as his hands hang off the bed still bound in front of him. Mike grips into Will's hair and pulls his face back up. Will gives Mike a dopey smile. "Was I good?"

Mike huffs out a laugh. "For now. C'mon," Mike taps Will's shoulder. "Want you on your back. Lay down in the middle of the bed."

Will brings his hands to the edge of the bed and pushes himself up while Mike tucks himself back into his boxers and rids himself of his slacks and dress shirt. Will lays in the middle of the bed looking like an angel, dazed and splayed out. He rubs at his eyes and Mike laughs.

"Are you sleepy already? Not even close to being done."

"Not sleepy," Will mumbles, straining his neck for a kiss when Mike crawls over him.

Mike hums into his lips, "'Cause if you are we could always go to bed instead. Could just tuck you in in your pretty pajamas."

"Daddy, no."

"No? What does my baby want instead then?"

Will thinks for a moment. "Whatever daddy wants."

"Yeah, good answer." Mike kisses him again. "My good girl." Mike slinks down Will's body, kissing down his neck and across his collarbones before making his way towards Will's exposed stomach. Will shivers when he tongues at his naval piercing. "Want you to come for me now."

Mike presses a ring of soft kisses across Will's waistband. Will strains against his shorts. Will cants his hips up when Mike mouths at it through the fabric. Mike grunts in response, bringing a hand to splay across his waist and hold him down. His other hand moves in between Will's legs. He hooks a finger in the loose fabric at Will's core and shifts it to the side, exposing Will's cock.

"So cute how I can just—" Mike wraps his hand around Will's cock, his palm effectively engulfing Will's entire length. "Make you disappear." He thumbs at the steady stream of pre-cum leaking from Will and pumps his fist, spreading the wetness across his length.

"What do you think, honey? Should I even play with your clit tonight? You probably don't even need it." Will whimpers as Mike continues to slowly jerk him off.

"Please, daddy," Will whines, his hands brushing against Mike's curls. "Please, I do need it." Mike nods up at him and Will takes it as his cue to thread his fingers through Mike's hair, not pulling but resting.

"So wet for me," Mike hums before taking Will into his mouth. Mike glances up at Will, but his view is blocked by Will's hands. Mike doesn't love that, but he does love the way that Will fights against himself to not tug, tightening and loosening his grip in Mike's curls as Mike lazily bobs his head. Really, Mike thinks, he does have it easy. He can take all of Will in his mouth and Will's cock doesn't even hit the back of his throat. Will had let Mike measure it once and had gotten so embarrassed that he couldn't meet Mike's eyes for an hour. Mike, he had whined when Mike grinned about being a whole six inches bigger than Will, you're being mean.

Mike is torn from his thoughts at the loud keen Will lets out. He anchors himself in Mike's hair, not tugging but tightening, like he might float away if not for Mike.

"Daddy," Mike hears Will pants from above him. "Oh, can I p-lease come, I—ngh."

Mike pulls off, his hand replacing his mouth. "So soon," Mike teases. "Come for me, baby." Mike take Will back in his mouth and soon Will is arching against Mike's grip, tugging on Mike's hair as Mike swallows his release. Mike continues lazily until Will squirms, hips twitching in sensitivity.

Will releases his grip on Mike, hands falling to the side as Mike finally pulls off. Mike rests his head against Will's thigh and watches as he tries to catch his breath, face flushed and chest heaving. Mike feels like the luckiest man in the world.

He runs a finger across Will's cock and Will shudders. "Sensitive."

"Aw," Mike coos. "You don't want daddy to touch your clit anymore? I don't have to. I can just ignore it for the rest of the night." Before Will can respond, Mike grasps him by the hips and flips him over. "Can just play with your pussy instead."

Mike palms at Will's cheeks and Will's hips jerk into the mattress. Will shifts, pulling his arms out from underneath him and reaching them above his head. Mike probably should untie him, but Will's ass is in his face and there's really more pressing matters at hand right now. After Will comes for him again, Mike decides.

Mike hooks his fingers into Will's waistband and pulls the shorts down Will's ass, leaning down to press a kiss to the mole that sits right above the cleft of Will's ass. The shorts slip down to Will's thighs and Mike pauses. Mike pushes himself up and roughly yanks the shorts down further. He abandons them at Will's knees before pulling Will's cheeks apart and groaning.

"Baby," Mike huffs. "You're fucking killing me tonight. Seriously? Did you set out to get punished as much as possible tonight? Is that it, you just wanted to be a bad girl tonight?" Mike is incredulous. Nestled in between Will's cheeks is a jeweled butt plug, heart shaped and periwinkle, a perfect match to the fabric that clings to Will's body.

"No! Daddy," Will whines. Mike sits back on his knees between Will's spread legs, running a hand through his hair as he huffs out an unamused laugh. "I'm not trying to be bad, I'm not. I thought it would be a good s-suprise for you."

"Well that's what you get for thinking," Mike deadpans. Will sniffles at this and Mike softens his tone slightly. "Baby, you know that you don't get to touch yourself without permission. Did you ask me?"

"N-no, daddy, but it was—"

"Ah," Mike cuts him off. "No, you didn't. That's why you're acting up tonight. I should've known." Mike presses his thumb against the plus and Will keens. "You always get so stupid once your hole is filled." Mike keeps pressing at the plug. It really is very cute that Will found a plug to match his set. Mike ponders a punishment. He supposes that it was meant to be a surprise; his heart was in the right place, even if he broke a rule. Mike could go easy on him, just this one time.

After all, Will had been so excited to come home, so excited to change and—

Mike shakes his head at his revelation. "You had this in all night." It's not a question. Will buries his face into the pillows instead of responding. Bingo, Mike thinks, caught him. "You did," Mike laughs dryly. "You slut. I know you didn't have time to finger yourself open when you changed into your surprise. All night long, talking to all my colleagues with your pussy stuffed. Bad girl," Mike scoffs. "Bad wife."

Will shakes his head into the pillow and Mike hears a muffled sob. Mike sighs and drops down next to Will, laying on his side and running a hand through Will's hair. "Look at me." Will turns his head, cheek pressed into the pillow, lip wobbling as tears slip from his eyes. "Why are you crying, honey?"

"'Cause," Will hiccups, another sob overtaking him and his reply falls off. Mike shushes him, scratching at his scalp as Will works to compose himself. Will takes a shaky breath before responding again. "Don't wanna be in t-trouble, I was just—ngh—trying to—" Will breaks off with another hiccup.

"I know, honey, I know. You wanted to surprise me, I get that. I know you didn't mean to be bad and I don't want you to be in trouble either. But you know you broke a rule, right?" Will's bottom lip juts out as he nods. "Yeah, and daddy has to make sure you follow the rules." Another nod. "So I'll tell you what, honey, why don't you decide how daddy should punish you."

Mike moves his hand away from Will hair to thumb away the tears on his cheek. Will is stretched thin, his eyes cloudy and far-away, his face puffy from crying. He stumbles over his words, "Daddy, I don't, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," Mike cuts him off.

Mike can practically hear the gears grinding in Will's brain as he desperately tries to focus on the matter at hand. Mike knows it's hard, knows that Will's thoughts are coming in slow and syrupy right now, but Mike's not the one that broke the rules. When Will finally does speak, his words come out soft and feeble, barely a whisper. "Spank me."

"Good, baby, that's good." Mike sits up and pulls Will across his lap. He shucks Will's shorts the rest of the way down his legs and rubs his palm across Will's ass. "How many?"

Will moans pathetically. Mike knows that this question is even harder. Will won't want to be greedy, won't want to ask for too few and make it look like he's trying to get off easy, but also won't want to ask for too many and have to take more than what Mike would have given him had he himself. Mike thinks that the perfect number would be—

"Ten."

Mike smiles and keeps rubbing his palm across Will. Mike feels Will tense underneath his palm when he speaks. "Remember to count, yeah?" No sooner than Will whimpers out an affirmative, Mike's hand lands on his right cheek with a crack.

Will's body folds up at the impact. His voice comes out in a whimper, "One." Mike reminds him to stay still and follows with another hit, this time to Will's left cheek. Will's count is muffled into the comforter, but he stays still this time, so Mike allows it. Mike repeats the pattern. Right cheek. "Three." Left cheek. "F-our."

He pauses to rub at the redness, Will now squirming in his lap. Will is hard against his thigh and his skin is hot underneath Mike's fingertips. Mike feels himself twitch in his boxers, his own cock beginning to stir to life.

Mike's spreads Will's cheeks apart and thumbs at the heart-shaped plug. He taps his thumb against the jewel and Will writhes, unburying his face from the comforter and letting out a high-pitched whine, his face damp with tears. Mike acts before Will has a chance to anticipate it, landing two hits in a row to Will's right cheek. He cries out, practically vibrating atop Mike.

It's silent, save for Will's choked-out sobs. Mike waits a beat. And then another. "Baby," he warns.

Will gulps. "S-sorry—ngh—I'm sorry, daddy. Five." A shaky breath. "Five and six."

"Good, baby." Mike goes back to playing with the plug. He nestles his thumb underneath the base of the plug and lifts is slightly, watching as Will's hole eagerly sucks it back in when he retracts his thumb. Mike alternatives between this and feeling Will's feverish skin where his smacks have landed.

Mike pulls the plug up further this time and it catches at Will's rim. Will moans, loud and lewd. It breaks off into a cry when Mike lands two smacks to Will's left cheek. Will shakes in Mike's lap, silent again as his hips twitch forward. Mike lets it happen until he doesn't. It's a lot, he reasons with himself. Will has taken much more than eight hits before, but he's also never had a plug in. Mike can be fair about this, can be reasonable about this, except then Will's twitching turns into grinding against Mike's thigh and there's still no number leaving Will's lips.

Mike grabs him by the hair at his nape and pulls his head back. His body bends uncomfortably as Mike forces Will to meet his eyes. "You're not counting." Will opens his mouth to respond, but Mike speaks over him. "And you're trying to get off."

Will doesn't even try to defend himself, just cries harder as the reality of the situation sets in for him. Mike thinks that Will is so pretty when he cries, with his face all splotchy and his lashes dark and clumped together. His mascara streaks are nearly gone, likely rubbed into the comforter along with the rest of Will's tears and snot, but the golden glitter is still there, flaked across his face and giving him the glowing appearance of an angel. Mike says that a lot—that Will is an angel. It's because he is.

Will's mouth falls open as he tries to fight through the sobs to say something, but no words come. Mike feels his dick twitch again at the sight of Will so upset and takes pity on him, if nothing else for the fact that the sooner they finish this, the sooner Mike can go back to making Will feel good, which inevitably makes his dick feel good. It's a win-win.

"I have to start again," Mike coos. Will frowns so deeply that it kind of makes Mike feel bad, makes him want to sweeten the pot. "But if you're good this time and keep count, maybe I'll let you come, okay?"

Will nods and Mike raises an eyebrow. Will takes a shuddering breath before replying. "O-okay, daddy. Th-thank you."

Mike drops his head. "You're welcome, honey."

Mike doesn't play with Will this time; he's inpatient. The plug stays untouched as smacks ring out through the room, one after another after another after another. When Will starts rutting against him after the sixth hit, Mike doesn't stop him, just lets filth drip from his mouth as he gives Will his seventh (or fifteenth) hit. "Can't believe you're gonna come from this." Will stutters out his count and Mike gives him another. "You're so easy, such a slut." Another count, another hit. "Bet this is what you wanted."

Will protests at this. "No, daddy I—nine—I w-want to be good, I didn't—" Mike lands his final blow and Will cries out. Mike soothes the smarted skin with his palms as whimpers out a sad and pathetic ten.

Mike shifts his thigh, pressing it into Will's neglected cock. "Go ahead, baby." Will ruts against Mike's thigh, babbling out a stream of thank yous as Mike's fingers find the plug again. He grips the base between his forefinger and middle finger and begins to gently pull it up. Mike watches the silver metal of the plug become exposed as it pushes against Will's rim. Will makes an unintelligible noise, bearing down on the plug and pulling it away from Mike's fingers. Mike tsks and grabs it again, resting his other hand on the small of Will's back, his pinky finger grazing the hem of Will's top, a nonverbal warning.

Will looks desperate like this, ass angry and red, rutting against Mike's thigh while he tries to stay relaxed enough for Mike to play with the plug. It really is very cute—Will and the plug. Mike wouldn't mind putting a plug in Will more often, wouldn't have even minded Will having one in tonight so long as Mike was the one who got to do it. That's what frustrates him. He doesn't care that Will's a slut, Will is his slut, always has been. He cares that Will took this from him, that Will took away something that should have belonged to Mike—the knowledge that Will was filled and ready for him all night long while he and Will fielded congratulations on Mike's book and mingled with Mike's colleagues. Mike doesn't need to be surprised; Mike needs to be in charge.

Will buries his face back into the comforter as Mike pops the plug out of Will. It's not very long, just a little shorter than Will's cock, but it's girthy, the widest part of the plug maybe an inch and a half wide. Will whimpers when Mike presses it back into him. His hole sucks it in eagerly. That should be Mike, should be Mike's cock buried in Will's hole. Not some hunk of metal.

He fucks it in and out of Will steadily and Will's ruts grow more erratic. When Will pulls his face up from the comforter, his voice is broken. "Please, daddy. Please can I come? Please?"

"Aw," Mike pops it out again and watches Will's eyes roll back. "Should I let you?" He pushes the plug back in and Will's face crumples, whether at Mike's statement or the feeling of being stretched, he doesn't know.

"Yes," Will gasps out. "Yes, please. I'll be so good. I p-promise, I'll be such a good girl. I swear daddy, I swear, I swear, I swear, I—"

"Okay, you can come." Mike fucks the plug in and out again, his voice firm. "But do not make me punish you again tonight." Will comes nearly instantaneously, coating Mike's thigh. Mike ignores it, instead reaching over to untie Will's hands. He throws his tie off the bed and lifts Will up, sliding his legs out from underneath Will and sitting up on his knees. Will is limp and pliable as Mike pushes a pillow underneath his hips and spreads his legs for Mike to settle between.

It'd be nice of Mike to give Will a reprieve, but it also would have been nice of Will to not make Mike punish him twice in one night, so whatever. Mike is face to face with the plug now and pulls it out, unceremoniously tossing it off the bed and relishing Will's hiss at the action. Will's hole winks at him and Mike very nearly growls, shoving his face between Will's cheeks and licking a long stripe up from his perineum to his hole.

Mike pauses, taken slightly aback, and presses his tongue against Will again. It confirms his suspicions, but he still has to ask. "Is that…green apple?"

Will does not seem to find the same hilarity in this situation as Mike does. He looks fucking wrecked, exhausted and boneless and barely there as he confirms that, yes, he did buy flavored lube, as another surprise. This makes Mike laugh. Will does not.

"Hey," Mike murmurs, pressing a kiss to Will's thigh. "What's your color?"

Will hums, folding his arms underneath him to rest his head on his forearms. "Green." Will giggles softly. "Green apple."

Mike barks out a laugh and turns his attention back to Will's hole, diving in with fervor now that he knows to expect the tart flavor. Maybe Mike does like some surprises. Even if Will should have known not to use the plug, Mike thinks it's sweet that Will knew Mike would want to eat him out after he ditched the plug. He likes that his girl was thinking about him, likes that his girl grabbed the green apple flavored lube instead of using the chemically-tasting silicone-based one that they already have at the house, even if she was probably red-faced and embarrassed handing the items to the cashier.

Mike's hands splay low across Will's hips as he laps away at him, his thumbs pulling Will's cheeks apart. Mike always loses himself when he's between Will's legs like this, Will's pretty little sounds serving as the soundtrack to his favorite activity. Mike licks into Will until he doesn't taste green apple anymore, until all he tastes is Will directly from the source, salty and slightly musky and something inexplicably Will.

Mike pulls away and replaces his tongue with his fingers, sliding in two to the hilt with ease.

Will twitches, clenching around Mike's fingers. "M'sensitive."

Mike hums, "I'm sure you are, with that fuckin' plug in your pussy all night." Mike pulls himself up to his knees and sits back, lazily fucking his fingers into Will. "Already so stretched out, could probably just.." Mike presses his ring finger against Will's rim and it sucks him in easily. Will clenches around him again and Mike is suddenly aware of his dick throbbing insistently between his legs. As if he needed anymore motivation to make Will come again.

He crooks his fingers and Will cries out, writhing beneath him. "Daddy."

Mike is a man on a mission, keeping his fingers buried deep in Will and rubbing against his prostrate vehemently. Will is crying again, beautiful and fucked-out, sparkling under the warm light of their bedroom with the glitter now dusted all across his face. He rocks his hips, pressing further back into Mike's fingers.

"Wanna see you come for me again. Go ahead." Mike stays steady in his ministrations, watching Will fall apart on his fingers.

"Oh," Will whines. "Oh, daddy, I'm—" Will bears down around Mike's fingers before coming with a silent cry. His hole flutters around Mike's fingers as Mike works him through it.

"Daddy," Will mewls. "M'sensitive, so sensitive."

Mike acquiesces, reluctantly pulling his fingers out of Will and climbing off of the bed. Will stays where he is, not even raising his head to look at whatever Mike might be doing as he pants into his forearms.

Mike pulls open the top drawer of their nightstand and snorts. In all the excitement, he forgot about the green apple flavored lube, but here it is, nestled in right next to their bottle of their K-Y Jelly. The choice is obvious.

He shucks his boxers off and kneels behind Will again, popping the top of the bottle open and squeezing a dollop into his palm. Mike grimaces at the slightly off-putting pale green color before slicking himself up and wiping the excess onto their comforter. Will seems to become lucid again as the bottle of lube lands next to him.

"No, daddy, I can't. Not yet, I need a minute, I can't. It's too—"

Mike snatches Will's head back by his hair, leaning in to talk right into his ear. "Don't you fucking dare tell me it's too much, baby."

He drops Will's head grips his hips, pulling him up to his knees. Mike tosses the cum-covered pillow off of the bed and widens Will's legs. "Daddy, I just need—hah—just need a minute, please."

"Oh," Mike huffs. "So you don't want daddy to feel good now? Thought this was supposed to be a surprise for daddy? Or did you forget?" Mike lines himself up, slapping the head of his cock against Will's hole. "Is your head just that empty, honey? Daddy makes you come a couple times and suddenly you're useless? Keep up."

Mike presses in slowly, the thick scent of sweat and sex and green apple making him dizzy as Will's heat envelops him. Mike thinks that, actually, Will should definitely be wearing a plug more often with the way that Mike slides in with little resistance.

Will is useless as Mike rocks his hips forward. Mike isn't even all the way in yet and Will can't even hold himself up, collapsing into a fit of sobs as his legs shake with exertion. What he's exerted from, Mike isn't certain. Mike supposes that being a slut is a lot of work. Will just cries more when Mike tells him this and Mike takes pity on him, gripping him firmly by the hips and holding him up as Mike bottoms out.

The thing about Mike's cock is that, well, it's so big that he can't not hit Will's prostrate every time he thrusts in. Mike is sure that it's probably overwhelming (he wouldn't know), but he doesn't really care. He wants to overwhelmed Will, wants Will feeling so good and fucked-out that his brain can't form a coherent thought. And Will can't do anything but take it as Mike pulls back and pistons forward. Will is so hot and tight around him and Mike thinks that this might be the eighth Wonder of the World, the way that Will is still so impossibly tight around Mike even after a decade of Mike carving out space for himself inside of Will.

The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of Will's hole is filthy, the sight of it even filthier. Will is so pretty and pink and stretched wide around Mike. Mike thinks that he should ask Will to make a tape one day, fuck him from behind and zoom in on his pussy so Will can see the way that Mike splits him open.

"Daddy," Will whines, long and drawn out. "Daddy, daddy, daddy."

Mike grins, pulling Will's hips roughly towards himself with every thrust. Will always gets like this after a few orgasms, babbley and dumb, unable to do anything but sing Mike's name. Mike, sometimes even Michael, and now daddy. Mike isn't really sure what about the name gets him so worked up. Maybe it's that it makes him feel powerful, makes him feel even more in-charge than he already is. Maybe it's that he likes the implication that he's the one who takes care of Will. Maybe it's just that it's fucking hot. Mike doesn't really give a fuck, he just knows that when Will gets like this, it makes him want to fucking breed him.

Mike reaches around and thumbs at the head of Will's cock, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Will nearly collapses. "I c-can't, I can't. S'too m-uch, I—"

Mike shushes him, "We talked about that, right? Not too much. Don't you wanna give daddy one more?"

Will shakes his head, sobbing. "No, n-no, daddy, I really can't, hah—"

"Aw," Mike coos. "You can do it one more time. I know you can, my—ah—good girl."

Will spits out a steady stream of nos and I can'ts, clenching down so hard on Mike that he nearly blacks out. It only spurs Mike on, snapping his hips forward faster as Will's hole tries to keep him immobile. Maybe, Mike thinks, Will wants Mike to breed him too.

"Do it, baby," Mike grits out, his thumb still swiping at the head of Will's cock. Mike's certain that if he wrapped his hand around Will, Will would probably come after a few pumps of his fist, but Mike likes it better this way, rubbing Will's clit until he spills for Mike.

And Will, Mike's sweet and perfect angel of a wife, comes for him in no time with a coarse shout, a few minuscule spurts of cum spilling onto the comforter below him. Vaguely, Mike thinks that their cum and lube streaked comforter will be pretty gross to sleep with tonight, but the thought quickly leaves his mind as Will's hole flutters around him.

Will hisses when Mike pulls out, his hole raw and abused. Mike feels just a little bit bad about not being done with Will.

Mike flips Will over and Will sighs, arms splayed out above him and head lolled to the side. His whole body is flushed and his tiny little top is rucked up, exposing the smooth and tan expanse of his abdomen. Will's eyes droop closed as Mike leans down to kiss him. Will smiles into the kiss, halfheartedly kissing Mike back in his stupor.

"You done?" And, poor Will, he's too dumb right now to realize that Mike is so totally baiting him.

Will smacks his lips and sighs again. "Yeah, daddy. Thank you." Mike leans back and hums, grabbing the abandoned lube bottle to slick himself up again. Will's eyes snap open at the sound of the cap opening. "Wha—"

"I'm not done. Told you, baby, keep up. Daddy's turn to feel good."

"But," Will reaches down to rest his fingertips against Mike's chest. "But, I—"

"Yeah, yeah," Mike squeezes another dollop of pale green lube into his palm and slicks himself up, again wiping the excess on the comforter. "You can't, I know. I just wanna see you when I come baby, can't daddy do that? Look at my pretty girl's face when I fill her?"

Will lets out a weak sob (performative in Mike's opinion) and nods. Mike slots himself between Will's legs and pushes them up, bracing himself behind Will's knees. He moves a hand down to guide himself in and Will keens as the head of Mike's cock slips in. Mike rocks in slowly, gentle as he leans down to drape himself over Will and kiss him.

Will whines into Mike's mouth as Mike bottoms out, wrapping his arms around Mike's neck to pull him closer. Mike smiles into the kiss and mumbling against Will's lips, "Such a good girl for me. My good little wife."

Mike wonders why he felt so impatient before when this, slowly rocking in and out of Will, is heaven on Earth. Maybe not even on Earth, maybe just heaven in general. Mike thinks that there's probably nothing in the afterlife that could compare to the feeling of being close to Will in this way, nothing that could feel as good as loving Will inside and out.

Mike's hands roam. He already unwrapped one of his presents, Will's little shorts abandoned somewhere on the floor, but he hasn't played with his other one yet. His fingers graze the velvety bow on Will's top and find one of his nipples through the ruffled fabric. Will takes a gaspy little breath and Mike already know what he's about to say before he says it. "Sensitive."

Mike nips at his bottom lip. "Haven't even played with your tits yet, angel. How are they sensitive?" Mike pulls up from Will to get a better look at his face.

"'Cause." Will's eyes roll back as Mike's thrusts speed up just a little bit, his arms tightening around Mike's neck. "R-rubbing."

Mike pinches Will's nipple through the fabric and he arches up into the touch. Mike releases his nipple after a moment and snakes his hand up Will's top instead, touching him without the barrier of the fabric. Will cranes his neck up and Mike obeys, ducking back down to kiss him.

In their younger days, Will had had his nipples pierced. Another escapade with Max back when the four of them—Mike and Will and Max and Lucas—we're horrifically broke and shared an apartment for a couple years. 1991, Mike thinks, or maybe 1992. It was the same year that Max and Will had come home with matching naval piercings. Will had taken the nipple piercings out a few years ago, claiming something about newfound maturity and being an adult. Really, Mike thinks that Will had just caught one too many towels on them and was sick of it. The increased sensitivity, however, had remained long after the piercings were gone.

Mike moves his attentions to Will's neglected nipple, thumbing it and tweaking it as Will breathes heavily into Mike's mouth, having abandoned his desire to kiss Mike in favor of crying again. Mike isn't even sure how Will has any tears left to cry at this point.

Still, Mike thinks that he can get more out of Will. Mike snakes his other hand up to grasp at once of Will's, resting it against the bulge at Will's naval and pressing down.

Will gasps. "No, no, no, no, no, daddy. It's so much, it feels—" Mike shushes him, but Will continues babbling on anyways. "I can't, not again. Please, just use me. It's okay, please, daddy, just use. Please don't make me, I'm—" Mike presses harder against the bulge and groans.

"Just one last time for me, honey. I promise. Wanna come with you, wanna feel your pussy come on me." Mike's hips roughly snap forward on their own accord and Will cries out. "Please, honey? You can do that for daddy, right?"

Mike's pace turns relentless, a far cry from the languid nature of his thrusts earlier. He continues pressing Will's hand down into his belly and pinches his nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

"L-last time," Will stutters out. "Last time, daddy, please." Mike thinks it's cute that Will thinks he's in any position to tell Mike what to do, but Mike agrees nonetheless.

Will comes with a cry that would get them a noise complaint if they still lived in an apartment. His back arches off the bed and his eyes roll back as a barely there dribble of watery cum leaks from his cock.

Mike follows close after him, coming with a husky groan as his hips snap forward, fucking his cum into Will. Will's arm drops from Mike's neck as Mike pulls out of him, sitting back on his knees. Will's eyes drift shut and, for a moment, Mike thinks that he's fucked him to sleep until a yawn rips through Will. Will smacks his lips and sighs, nuzzling into the pillow. It's really very cute.

Mike knows that he should leave him alone now, he really does, but Will just looks so sated and Mike thinks that it would be a shame not to take care of him just a little bit more.

Mike shuffles down the bed and lays between Will's legs again, pushing his thighs up and exposing his hole. It's puffy and pink and so upset with Mike. Mike wants to kiss it better.

So he does. Will whines and threads his fingers through Mike's hair to try and pull him away. Mike lets him get away with it, not quite having the patience to dole out any punishments this late in the night.

"Shh, baby," Mike turns to kiss Will's thigh. "Daddy is just gonna clean you up. Promise you don't have to come again." Mike doesn't wait for a response, instead turning back to lick at Will's leaking hole. Mike is met with the flavor of green apple again, this time saltier as his own spend mixes with the artificial taste. Mike knows that Will thinks this is so dirty, knows that it makes him feel embarrassed, but Mike loves it, loves getting to taste himself in Will and soothe what Mike's ruined.

When Mike no longer tastes anything but Will, he reluctantly pulls himself away and climbs off of the bed. Will doesn't acknowledge him as he leaves to go procure a wet wash cloth, too busy nodding off.

When Mike comes back, now dressed in pajamas, he coos praises at Will as he gently wipes him down, telling Will how perfect he is and how he did such a good job and how daddy loves him so much. Will lazily lifts his arms as Mike strips him of his top and switches it out with one of Mike's old band tees. He rolls Will over and reaches across him to grab the bottle of lube, exchanging it with a tube of soothing rash cream from their nightstand. It's not not diaper rash cream, but Will gets entirely too upset with Mike if he tries to make a joke about that, so Mike keeps his mouth shut as he rubs it across Will's reddened cheeks.

He rolls Will back over and helps him tug on a pair of Mike's boxers. Mike maneuvers him under the covers and stares at their ruined comforter, nose wrinkling at the various stains he'd like not to sleep with. Mike doesn't have it in him to go hunt down blankets to replace the comforter, so instead he rotates it, turning the stains towards the bottom of the bed and deciding that it's good enough for now.

Mike turns to leave the bedroom when Will's hand grasps his wrist and tugs him back towards the bed with a surprising amount of strength for someone who couldn't even help pull their own underwear up. Mike huffs out a quiet laugh. "Where are you going?"

"Just to get you water, sweetheart. M'barely gonna be gone." Will allows it, hand dropping back to the comforter and eyes drifting shut again.

When Mike pads back into the bedroom with two glasses of water, Will has already dozed off. Mike gently shakes him awake and helps him sit, holding the glass up to Will's lips as Will takes gulp after gulp. Mike sets the nearly empty glass on the nightstand when Will decides he's done before chugging his own glass of water.

Mike ditches his empty glass on the nightstand next to Will's and clicks off the lamp, climbing into bed behind Will and wrapping his arm around Will's waist. Will presses into his back and sighs blissfully. "Love you, Mike."

Mike smiles, nuzzling into Will's neck and pressing a kiss to the still sweaty skin there. "Love you too, baby."

Mike finds sleep easily.