. . .
Mike was the monster with the plans. Sulley could only react. Mike was the one planning nine steps ahead and charting the course, getting them places Sulley could never have hoped to reach alone.
Sulley had seen that, realized that, and reacted on instinct when he'd realized that he couldn't let Mike drive out of his life. He'd made more than enough mistakes to recognize them, and letting Mike Wazowski go felt like the biggest one yet.
He wanted a life with Mike, whatever it turned out to be, more than he wanted whatever mess he could make of it himself.
Sulley hitched his wagon to Mike's star, and Mike made the plans. He was the one who got them jobs at Monsters, Inc. (even if it was in the mail room instead of on the scare floor). He got them a pokey little one-bedroom apartment that wouldn't eat up too much of their paychecks—taking it as obvious that they'd be living together. Sulley didn't think about it until after, how they hadn't even had to talk about it. They were a team, now. They were in it together, through thick and thin. Sulley and Mike. Mike and Sulley.
There was no one else Sulley wanted to be on a team with, that way.
Sure, it wasn't all great, but it was just the beginning. Mike had the plans, starting by being the very best mail-deliverers Monsters, Inc. had ever seen. Whatever Mike went after, he did it with everything he had. It was kind of fun, the way training to compete in the Scare Games had been, when Sulley had finally started to listen to Mike.
They sorted the mail, loaded it into carts, and ran it through the whole facility to deliver every single piece exactly where it was supposed to go, as efficiently as possible. On his own, Sulley would have been a lazier mail deliverer than Yeti—if he'd bothered to get a job at Monsters Inc. at all. Mike pushed him, made him better than he thought he could be, and it felt good.
That part had been surprising. Sulley had spent so long afraid of not measuring up to everyone's expectations that he had been afraid to be seen trying. Mike wasn't afraid of working for what he wanted, and when Sulley had finally started to train and work with him, he was surprised how much he liked it.
It wasn't very cool to be seen working hard at something, but Sulley was over that. After all, if he'd learned anything at Monsters University, it was that his natural talents could only get him so far, and that it wasn't very far at all.
His natural talents paired with Mike's drive—now that was a different story entirely. He didn't think there was anything they couldn't do, if they were together.
Mike and Sulley were going to do great things, he was sure.
Right now, what they were going to do was be great mail deliverers. Those moments were the best. When they worked like a well-oiled machine, Sulley pushing two carts and dealing with the big packages while Mike barked orders and tossed letters with incredible precision. Sulley didn't have to think, didn't have to do anything but react, and Mike never steered him wrong.
"Hard right around the corner! Last big box, buddy, and we're in the home stretch! Push push push! Give it all the speed those big furry legs can give you! Aaaaand break!"
Sulley flopped on the empty carts, breathless but laughing as he let the momentum roll him the rest of the way into the sorting room.
"You're a beast! That's a full minute improvement on our best!" Mike slapped a water bottle into his hand. "Hydration! Catch your breath. It's a marathon, not a sprint." He was bouncing around, still full of energy even though he'd been running just as fast as Sulley on those skinny little legs of his and talking the whole time. "I've got a good feeling about today. We're going to break the all-time record, mark my words Sulley-boy!"
They'd set the all-time record, but that was no deterrent to Mike. If there was no one else to compete against, he'd compete against his own past self. He never stopped trying. Sulley downed his water, as sweet as nectar to his parched throat.
Mike was quiet for a brief moment, unable to speak while pouring his own water into his mouth. He wasn't scary, or imposing, or intimidating (in any other way than intimidatingly smart). He was little and round and really just kind of cute if Sulley was being honest. Mike wasn't scary, he'd never be, but he was everything else and that... that mattered. It mattered, no matter what anyone else thought.
Sulley reached out, an instinctive motion, to rest his hand on top of Mike's smooth green head, patting between his stubby little horns. "You're the best," he said.
Mike snorted. "What are you talking about? We're the best. With our brains, brawn, and striking good looks we're the best mail team Monstropolis has ever seen!" He jumped up on the end of the mail carts, striking a heroic pose. "No package undelivered, never a letter lost! But we won't stay the best for long if we laze around all day! Get that fuzzy tail of yours in gear, and load 'em up for round two!"
'We', not 'you' and 'me'. Us. The perfect team.
Sulley couldn't stop grinning as he and Mike loaded the mail carts high with sorted letters and packages.
. . .
Mike was the monster with the plans. He was loud and pushy, and Sulley figured that he would always be the one pushing.
He didn't, though.
Mike was pushy all right, and always pushed them both to get better, but he didn't... something. Sulley wasn't even entirely sure what he actually wanted Mike to push him for, so he probably shouldn't feel frustrated that he wasn't. He just knew he wanted more.
He kept thinking about those early days, when he first joined Mike's Oozma Kappa training sessions to compete in the Scare Games. How exciting it had been, how good it felt—and how that feeling was completely surpassed by how amazing it felt when Mike helped him scare an entire room of adults into screaming loud enough to explode a door.
Yes, Mike pushed him to get better at delivering the mail, and Sulley was bulking up some and getting a lot more stamina, which was great, and he always had fun at work with Mike, but he just didn't care about being an amazing mail deliverer the way he had being a scarer.
Maybe that was it, the piece he was missing.
Sulley pondered, staring up at the dark ceiling while Mike slept. Then, when he couldn't take thinking it over any more, he reached across the room to shake the little round lump of Mike beneath his blankets. The room was conveniently small, that way.
"Mike!" he hissed. "Hey, Mikey, wake up."
"Izzit classtime?" Mike muttered, rolling upright and nearly bashing his just-opening eye into Sulley's fingers, which woke him up a little more. He batted Sulley's hand away. "Hey, whoa, watch the eye buddy! I haven't got a spare."
"We should train," Sulley said.
"We should train?" Mike repeated. He glanced toward the alarm clock, then gestured toward it eloquently with one hand. "It's the middle of the night! No. We are not training now, we're sleeping. Sleep. Very important." He yawned and rolled onto the bed again, tugging the blanket up over his head. "No training!"
Sulley growled faintly as he shook Mike again. "Scare training," he explained, patiently. "We should... not right now, but we're going to work our way up. Be the best scare team in the company, right?" That was different, planning to be a scare team and not competing to both be scarers. They'd both been missing a half of the whole, then, grating at each other when they should have been joining together. It was so much better this way, even if they were taking the long road to get there. Mike had lowered the blanket a bit, and was watching Sulley with narrowed eye. He continued. "We shouldn't get out of practice. We should train. You should... train me."
Those words suddenly seemed like too much. Sulley's gut squirmed, and he fought the sudden desire to squirm on the outside too. At least his fur hid the heat of a blush rushing to his face. He shrugged like nothing meant anything, falling back into the uncaring persona he'd tried to hard to cultivate for so long, looking away from Mike. "You're a pretty good coach. If you want."
"Yes!" Mike rolled back upright, now fully awake. "You're absolutely right, Sullivan. We can't slack off now! I haven't been thinking far enough ahead. You know, I'll bet the ol' Oozma Kappa boys would send us copies of new research articles on scaring if we asked. Send us old textbooks. Hell, we can get library cards. Says who you have to go to school to continue your education? We'll be as good as the pros the minute they let us on the floor!" Mike was gesturing wildly now, making his grand plans.
Sulley grinned and reached over to tug the blanket up over Mike's head again, warm all the way through his chest. "But now, we sleep. C'mon, it's the middle of the night, Beachball!"
He couldn't help snickering as Mike cussed him out, which only made the cussing worse. He probably deserved it for getting Mike all worked up in the middle of the night.
Sulley couldn't find it in him to regret it one bit.
. . .
Training with Mike was great. It was perfect.
Sulley was still terrible at studying. He could fall asleep over a paper Mike gushed over as groundbreaking, absorbing nothing, but then Mike could explain the concept in two rushed sentences and a few wild gestures and suddenly it made sense. Sulley enjoyed actually understanding scare tactics and the theory behind them, but practicing the techniques was his favorite.
They didn't train every day. Work was exhausting (at least, it was the way they did it). Most days Mike just asked Sulley to give him a few practice growls and roars while they got ready for work, maybe some scary-feet. It was on the weekends that they got the really good training in.
Training was never boring. Mike never had him doing the same thing the same way too often, and his endless patter of orders and encouragement was always engaging and never repetitive. Mike really was great as a coach. Sulley was so damn lucky.
Sulley loved being trained. Mike told him what to do, and he could do it. He was good at it. That wasn't to say it was easy, Mike pushed him hard, and it was work to get as good as he could be. But how good he could be was much better than he'd ever thought. Sulley found depths of scary in himself he hadn't known he had.
He didn't always get it right, but when he messed up, Mike explained better and drilled him until it clicked. Until it was second nature. Until he was great. Mike didn't believe in half-assing anything, and he didn't let Sulley get away with it either.
Sulley welcomed it. He wanted to make Mike proud. Not the way he'd wanted his parents to be proud of him; and instead gotten their confusing blend of supportiveness, disappointment, and willful blindness to his weaknesses and insecurities. Mike really saw him, and not a vision of what he was supposed to be because of his family and his looks. Mike saw what he really could be, and it wasn't a warped reflection of his famous father or an 'of course you can do anything you set your mind to, sweetie' platitude.
Sulley wanted to make Mike proud, and Mike told him exactly how to do it and helped him get there. When he did good, when he finally nailed a technique he'd been struggling with or put together an interesting solution to a posed problem on his own, Mike was effusive. He made Sulley work for it, but he gave praise when it was earned. It was real, every time, and not just something he was saying.
It was everything.
Mike had him practicing the old Prowl 'n' Growl around and around their ratty couch, at the end of one grueling training session. Moving so low to the ground wasn't easy for Sulley, but that was the point of practicing. Mike hopped onto Sulley's back to adjust his posture, how he held his tail, grabbing a horn to lift his head to the right angle, poked his side to get him to tighten his core, and managed to coax a deep rattling growl from him that made the entire room throb.
"What a Monster!" Mike flopped himself on the couch for dramatic effect. "What kind of a kid isn't going to wet the bed at that, I ask? You're unstoppable! I've got chills and I'm a monster too!"
Sulley let himself flop on the floor, exhausted, and soaked it up. Mike was alight above him, little arms waving wildly.
"You'll give them nightmares for life. Dean Hardscrabble's record isn't going to stand a chance against you!"
Sulley laughed, shaking his head.
"Don't you shake your head at me, James P. Sullivan!" Mike grabbed him by a horn, making him nod his head instead. "You say 'Yes, coach, I'll do my best.'"
It was everything. It was everything, Mike's drive what was pushing Sulley to new heights, and Mike's plans and follow-through what was going to get them where they wanted to go, and Mike's praise warming Sulley's whole body like sunshine from the inside, and Mike's hand guiding him. It was everything... and it wasn't. It wasn't enough.
The words came out of Sulley's mouth on instinct, pure reaction, no plan. "You should tell me to kiss you."
Mike fell silent, big green eye wider than ever. His body rocked back, but his hand was still clenched on Sulley's horn. "Kiss me?" he asked. It wasn't a request, more like an echo in confusion.
Sulley leaned in, just a little. "Like you mean it?" he breathed— begged, maybe.
There was a moment, a horrible silent moment, before one corner of Mike's wide green mouth quirked up in a smile. He tugged on Sulley's horn. "Come here and kiss me," he ordered.
Logically, there was no way Mike could make Sulley do anything. Sulley was big and strong and scary and everything Mike wasn't, but at the same time Mike was his friend and his trainer and the star Sulley had chosen to hitch his wagon to, and when Mike told him to do something in his trainer voice, Sulley did it.
There was also the significant fact that Sulley had never in his life wanted to obey an order so badly.
He closed his eyes as his lips touched Mike's. For a moment that's all it was, the sort of awkward touching of mouths that was all kissing had ever been for him—even though Sulley's heart was pounding out of his chest. Then Mike's lips moved against his, sucking softly, pulling him in, and Mike's blunt rounded teeth scraped against his lip. Sulley gasped, a shiver passing all the way down his body all the way down to the tip of his tail, poofing his fur.
Sulley drew back, eyes fluttering briefly open to see Mike smiling at him, and then sank lower on the floor to tip his head up and kiss Mike again. Kissing Mike was a revelation. He felt like his body was burning, like he was starving for Mike's kisses, and Mike gave them to him. Sulley moaned when Mike's thick tongue pressed into his mouth, shocked with himself at the reaction as he opened up and let Mike in, but not nearly enough to stop. He just... he wanted. He wanted.
Mike's hands were in his fur, scratching and tugging at the hair around his horns and ears, and Sulley was moaning, melting. His hands came up, tenderly cradling Mike's little round body between his hands. He was adrift in the strange feelings, the closeness, and Mike was his anchor. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let go.
It was Mike who broke the kiss the second time, gasping a huge breath as he pulled away. "Whoa," he breathed. His pupil was blown wide, dark and mesmerizing. He stroked the side of Sulley's face, and Sulley leaned his head into it.
Down at the bottom of Mike's body, between his legs and a little forward, he looked different than usual. There was a dimpling of the smooth green skin, a wet seam of flesh showing a hint of vivid orange on the inside. Sulley wondered how deep it went, or, if Mike had externalizable bits, what they'd be like.
"Tell me." Sulley's voice was hoarse—he almost didn't recognize it. His eyes were fixed on the thin orange slit and his tongue flicked out of his mouth, wetting his lips. "Tell me to," he begged.
"Oh. Oh jeeze, embarrassing." Mike pushed away from Sulley, taking a step away, and Sulley reluctantly let him go. "Yeah, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. First kiss and all." Mike tensed his body, and the orange slit closed up and disappeared, leaving only a tiny dew-drop of moisture to show it had been there at all.
Sulley wanted it back, and paradoxically felt a wash of relief. He felt like he could breathe again. It wasn't happening today, right now. He was... he was shaking? How strange. He didn't usually do that.
"Your buddy Mike is a great kisser though, right?" Mike was saying, throwing Sulley a big smile. "I'd have to be right, I'm all mouth! That and a great looker, eh? eh?" He opened his eye very wide at Sulley, inviting him to laugh.
"Yeah," Sulley said, softly. It was a beautiful green eye. Green was nice. And it was Mike's eye.
"Ooookay, break time." Mike vigorously rubbed the fur on both of Sulley's cheeks, like he was trying to wake him up. "I'm going to get us some post-workout juice. Good for hydration and blood sugar, right? Yeah. I'm... I'll be right back. Hold tight." Mike hopped over the back of the couch and headed to the fridge.
Sulley halfway reached for him, and then shook himself and turned around to sit on the floor and lean against the couch like usual. By the time Mike came back with juice and his regular chatter, and Sulley had finished his big glass, things felt a lot more normal between them again.
If there was something in Sulley's chest, something that felt like a string—a piece of warm woolly yarn—tied around his heart and wrapped around Mike's hand? Well, Sulley had been living with that for quite a while.
. . .
The thing was, Sulley had never seen the point.
He'd gone through 'Monster Sexuality' class in High School, same as everyone. There had been all this talk about 'finding genitally compatible partners for a healthy relationship', and also all these fearsome lectures about never practicing 'genital entanglement' with said partners for risk of having your life ruined by monster babies. Then, out of class, there was all that gross locker room talk about how 'genitally incompatible' partners were the way to go because you could 'get your rocks off' without any risk.
Both versions had seemed completely pointless to Sulley. If he wanted an orgasm, and he did occasionally, he had two good hands and they worked on his bits just fine. It utterly escaped him why anyone would want to mush their body against someone else's for the purpose. But apparently he was in the minority. It seemed like everyone else was weirdly obsessed with sex.
Sulley thought the self-fertile monsters had the right idea, for a while. The budders and the selfers didn't need anyone else to reproduce, which was supposedly the point of sex, but then even some of them liked entangling bits for fun so Sulley kind of gave up on everyone.
It wasn't like he'd never had a chance to try it. Sulley was big and scary, and some people were impressed by the confident, never-care attitude he'd used to wear. Plenty of monsters had wanted him to pounce on them. There'd never been one he wanted to pounce, though.
That hadn't stopped his dad from giving him a couple of utterly mortifying talks about how 'naturally intimidating monsters like us' had to be extra careful about consent, to make sure their partners weren't scared to say no to them. Not really helpful when Sulley was always the one saying it.
It was kind of ridiculous thinking about Mike that way, too. Mike might be tiny, but he had never been intimidated by anything in his entire life, not even when Sulley had been trying to intimidate him. He bossed Sulley around all the time! And besides, Sulley didn't want to pounce on Mike at all. He really wanted to be—
After Mike told Sulley to kiss him, there was no denying what it was Sulley wanted. It had happened so gradually, was the thing. Sulley had never had a sexual interest in anyone, and he'd figured that's just the way things were going to be. He flirted a bit sometimes, but, like everything else, that was just a front.
And then Mike showed up. At first he was this frustrating annoyance of a rival, and then a mortal enemy, and then Sulley's only hope while still being the first two which was confusing and frustrating. Finally, he was a friend. An amazing friend who was everything Sulley wasn't and was fun and funny and made Sulley's life wonderful even though said life had fallen of the rails and imploded spectacularly. They were the perfect team, better together than they'd ever been apart.
At some point, something inside Sulley had woken up and taken notice for the first time. He'd started to want, even if he hadn't realized it right away. But even then he didn't want the regular way. Everyone knew that monsters like Sulley didn't get pounced on. Especially not by cute little monsters like Mike.
There were bad jokes with punchlines like that.
Sometimes, the string around Sulley's heart felt less like soft fuzzy yarn and more like a band of razor wire.
. . .
They didn't kiss again for two days, after the first kiss. Sulley didn't mention it, didn't know what to say about it at all, and neither did Mike. Other than some thoughtful looks thrown his way, Mike treated him the same as always.
If Sulley had had been making plans, he would have worried that kissing might ruin their relationship. As it was, he didn't think of that until after it was clear that it wasn't a problem. Mike was still his best friend.
The problem was that Sulley wanted Mike to kiss him again so bad his teeth ached.
There was no sign that the kiss had been anything but a one time thing, and a creeping worry that it had been started to gnaw on Sulley from the inside. He didn't know what he'd do if Mike never wanted to kiss again.
They did everything together. Worked together, lived together, ate together, slept in the same room. Mike was funny and pushy and energetic and—
"Ugh, enough with the sad eyes, you're breaking my heart!" Mike pushed away from their little dinner table, chair scraping back. "Do I have to tell you to kiss me?"
"Yes!" It was the instinctive answer, and Sulley said it too fast and loud in his relief. The boiling heat of a blush rushed to his face. "I would like... I want you to. Yes."
Mike blinked quickly, and then grinned. "All right then. Put one on me." He tapped his bottom lip with one finger expectantly.
Sulley immediately put his arm around the back of Mike's chair and leaned down toward him. Mike tipped up to meet him—but it felt weird. Wrong. Sulley pulled back before their mouths met, shaking his head. It didn't feel good to be looming over Mike, like he was pretending to be the big tough monster he was supposed to be. He pushed Mike's chair a little further back, instead, and sank to his knees in front of it to put them on the same level. His arm slipped down from the back of Mike's chair. Sulley rested his hand lightly on Mike's back, holding on to him, and then he kissed him.
It started with a peck, their lips lightly touching. Sulley watched Mike, the way his bright green eye just barely flickered open, the smiling curve of his wide lips.
"Again," Mike ordered, pulling Sulley in.
Sulley closed his eyes and surrendered, melting toward Mike. The kiss was long and deep, tongues touching, curling together, pressing into each others mouths. Their lips slipped, locked, and broke apart to let them take little gasping breaths, breathing each other's warm air. The whole world sank down to nothing but the places they touched and intersected. Sulley moaned, a long low rumble in his chest. He was burning again, fur fluffed out with the shivers of pleasure, but unlike the first time he wasn't shaking. He was present, there in the moment with Mike, and he knew what was happening. Sulley wasn't caught off guard by how much he wanted.
He was safe in Mike's hands.
When Mike pushed his face away, Sulley sat back on his haunches and watched him. His body was warm with arousal, but there was a calmness in his chest. He hadn't felt so settled in days—it usually took a particularly grueling training session to make him feel this way. He felt like he could wait forever, like there wasn't a thing in the world Mike could ask him he couldn't do.
Mike was flushed on his cheeks, brown where the red of his blood blended with the green of his skin. His pupil was wide. "Whoa," he breathed, tracing a fingertip along Sulley's bottom lip. Sulley shivered at the light touch. "You really don't hold back. I like how much you want it. You don't really need me to tell you to kiss me, do you?"
"I do." Sulley nodded. "Tell me what to do." It was all he wanted.
Mike laughed awkwardly, pulling back from Sulley. There wasn't far he could go, with the chair and Sulley's hand in the way. Sulley let him go, giving him as much space as he could. He didn't want Mike to feel trapped.
"I'm not sure how experienced you think I am," Mike said. "Now this may come as a shock to you, considering my overwhelming charm, but I haven't exactly had monsters lining up to pounce on me? I mean, I've fooled around a time or two, but—"
"I don't want to pounce on you," Sulley interrupted. In the moment of Mike's surprised silence, enough of the real world came back to make him self-conscious. He dropped his head, unable to meet Mike's eye any longer. His hand, resting on the side of the chair, slid forward until it was covering Mike's little foot, clinging. "I don't want to take charge. I want you so much, but not like that. I want you to tell me what to do. I like it. When you're training me, I like it. I..." He broke himself off, inhaling a sharp shaky breath. "That's weird, isn't it? That's too weird."
"Hey, c'mon, are we monsters or not?" Mike grabbed Sulley's chin, lifting his head. "Weird is normal, that's what Mama Wazowski's always says. If you'd rather get pounced on, I can get into that. It's actually pretty hot."
"Monsters like me don't get pounced on," Sulley protested, but weakly.
"Says who?" Mike demanded.
Sulley waved a hand vaguely. "Everyone?"
"Then 'everyone' can go suck an egg. I'll pounce on you if I want to! And I do want to." He carded his fingers through Sulley's fur, ruffling it over his cheeks and down his neck. "We'll figure it out, right? Mike and Sulley, there's nothing we can't do together!"
Sulley laughed, a quiet breathless huff. His heart felt too big, too warm in his chest as he gazed up at Mike. His Mike, who could make anything work.
Mike had on his thoughtful look, like when he was trying to solve a particularly thorny problem. "We'll figure it out," he repeated. "Now I'm a smart guy, but I'm not a mind reader. I can't guess what you want. Well, I mean, with the begging eyes after we kissed I could kind of tell this time, but that was more luck than anything else. So you've got to tell me what you want, too. What is it you like? Any particular favorites from your past?"
Sulley shrugged, the warmth of Mike's acceptance making the confession easier. "I've never wanted anyone before? You're my first. You've had some experiences, but... I haven't."
"Oh." Mike's eye darted back and forth as he made sense of Sulley's words. His whole posture softened, and he tugged lightly on Sulley's ear. "No wonder you freaked out last time. You had me worried."
"None of that. Communication, it's what words are for!" Mike tipped forward to bump his forehead against Sulley's, an affectionate touch. "Like I said, we'll figure it out."
"I'm not scared, this time," Sulley said, hopefully. He stroked his hand up Mike's leg to rest on his back again, holding him. "You should tell me to kiss you. Every day. And you should train me."
"Should I?" Mike raised one corner of his eyebrow, watching Sulley closely. He switched to his training bark. "Give me ten pushup-and-roar's, Sullivan, then come here and kiss me like you mean it. And you'd better be roaring loud enough to scare the neighbors!"
Sulley almost knocked the table over in his rush to jump to it, his insides all warm and molten.
. . .
"You should sit on my face, make me take it."
Telling Mike what he wanted was getting easier. Sulley loved getting to kiss Mike, loved being made to earn it, loved how good it felt to want and know that Mike was there to take care of him, catch him if he fell. It was amazing and wonderful, and they'd kissed and groped and cuddled quite a lot, but they hadn't had anything that could quite be called sex yet.
Sulley was ready. He was burning, not hot and fast and frightening, but like a low-banked fire heating his whole body. He'd seen enough of Mike's bits, when things got hot and heavy and they were both aroused, to know that they were 'genitally incompatible', but that didn't matter. They could still make each other feel good, and they didn't want kids, anyway.
Mike was more aroused than Sulley had ever seen him, or maybe just not trying to hide it. His slit was shiny and slick, vivid orange fading to soft peach inside, with a few slender yellow tentacles pushing out in search of stimulation.
"Yeah? Yeah. Let's." Mike's eye was glassy. His breath came in short gasps. He shoved at Sulley. "On your back. Hands behind your head."
Sulley obediently rolled over, into the center of the little living room where they'd cleared space for his scare-training workouts. He put his hands behind his head and waited.
Mike climbed onto him, slowly walking up Sulley's belly and chest like he had all the time in the world. Between his legs, more yellow tentacles were pushing out, a nest of slender twisting vines. "Look at the muscles on you. What a beast," Mike purred.
Sulley flexed his arms, arching his chest up beneath Mike's feet to show off his newfound bulk. "What can I say? My trainer's amazing."
"Is he?" Mike was straddling Sulley's face, now, and grabbed a handful of fur on the top of his head, pushing his head back. "He's got you well-trained?"
Sulley could only answer in a moan, eyes rolling up, mouth open and straining upward toward Mike.
Mike moaned with him, and a few little tentacles brushed Sulley's lips. "Lick," Mike ordered, breathless.
Sulley licked. His tongue was immediately engulfed in squirming tentacles, slippery and musky and pushing into his mouth. He moved his tongue through the mass of them, trying to caress all of them, pull them all into his mouth when they kept escaping to trace tickling trails all over his cheeks.
"Oooh, yes." Mike gasped. "Deeper. Get in."
Sulley probed with his tongue, following the tentacles back to their source in Mike's slit. He knew he'd found the right place when he felt Mike's muscles fluttering and contracting around the tip of his tongue, when he pressed in and Mike gave a ragged wail.
Mike's knobby little knees were braced on Sulley's cheeks, the claws on his fingers scratching through the fur on the top of Sulley's head. He rocked on Sulley's face, fucking himself on Sulley's tongue and fucking Sulley's mouth with his tentacles. Mike was beyond words, speaking only in moans and snarls as he used Sulley for his pleasure.
Sulley's hips lifted on their own, fruitlessly humping the air as he gave himself over completely. He existed for Mike, for physical sensation, to be good for him. His mouth was open so wide his jaw ached, the points of his fangs scraping against the curve of Mike's round body as he ground out his pleasure in Sulley's mouth.
Mike came with a rough grunting cry, his bitter spore oozing from all his tentacles to flood Sulley's mouth and smear all over his face. Sulley moaned helplessly, licking Mike through it.
"Ok, yeah. Whoa." Mike lifted himself off of Sulley's face and rolled onto the ground beside him, laughing and limp-limbed. "That was amazing and we need to do it all the time. My Sulley-boy's got skills."
Sulley shuddered, body arching in reaction to the praise. His groin was tight, aching with the desire to come.
"What a mess." Mike scraped up a bit of the spore on Sulley's cheek, pushing it into his lax mouth. "It's a good look on you."
Sulley whined, thrusting at the air again, but he couldn't quite seem to find words and Mike hadn't told him he could move his arms yet. His hands were trapped beneath his head and far away from his bits.
"All right, all right," Mike relented. "Touch yourself, big guy. Show me how you get yourself off."
He didn't have to be told twice. Sulley reached down, parting his thick fur and pressing down just where he needed to to let his hemipenes push out of him and inflate. He groaned in relief as he took them into his hand.
"Oh, wow," Mike breathed. "You're a monster all over, aren't you?"
Sulley glanced down at himself, at the thick twinned phalluses in his hand—bright purple and covered with red back-curved barbs. Sulley had never thought much about them. They were what he had, and they felt good to him, but they looked nasty and cruel beside the delicacy of Mike's tentacles. Sulley faltered, hemipenes retreating slightly.
"That's not a bad thing!" Mike said quickly. "It was an observation made in sincere admiration. They're beautiful. Now show me how you use them."
The repeated order helped. Sulley kneaded his bits in one hand, rocking his hemipenes against each other. The soft-cartilage barbs felt good rubbing against each other. He was so turned on already, the heat of orgasm not far away. He covered his mouth with his other hand, biting his fingers to muffle himself. His face smelled like Mike's spore, and his hand over his face intensified it. He moaned, squeezing his hemipenes tighter and thrusting into his hand.
Mike moaned beside him. Sulley rolled his head to the side and was struck breathless at the sight of Mike with his hand in his tentacles, rubbing himself off.
"You're going again? You can do that?" The observation left Sulley in a shocked gasp.
"I can go again, and again." Mike moved slightly away from Sulley, but just so he could lean against the couch and open his legs toward Sulley, giving him a better view. "So you're a one-and-done kind of monster, huh?"
"Mhm." Sulley nodded, no more eloquent answer coming to him. He was transfixed, watching the way Mike played with his tentacles, swirling them together into a thick rope to stroke together, then parting them to push his fingers into himself. Sulley's tongue moved, trying to catalog and remember all the motions Mike used to try and use them himself next time. To be better for Mike.
Mike's eye was almost shut, heavy-lidded in pleasure, but his gaze was fixed on Sulley's groin. "Beautiful. I could use you for hours, read a book while you kneel in front of me and lick me off again and again—"
The thought was too much, coupled with the burning image of Mike pleasuring himself and how turned on he'd already been when he started touching himself. Sulley bit his hand and came with a throbbing growl—sticky come pulsing out into his hand. Mike wasn't far behind him, gasping through his second orgasm.
Sulley was limp and exhausted on the floor in the wake of it, feeling floaty and pleased. He wanted to lay there forever, just looking at Mike all limp and grinning beside him. He did eventually remember his sticky hand and lifted it to his mouth to lick clean. His own come was muskier than Mike's spore.
"Too hot," Mike whined, even as he tightened his body to pull his tentacles back inside and seal up his slit. "You'll be the death of me."
"I did a good job?" Sulley knew he was digging for compliments, but he really wanted to hear them.
"Buddy, I'm not sure it's possible to do a better job." Mike knee-walked closer and kissed Sulley, sweet and gentle. There was no more fire in it, just the warmth the blaze had left behind. Sulley was sleepy and content, happy to be kissing his Mike and gently cradling him close. Mike, not so much. "Ugh, why are we on the floor? Up on the couch, let's go."
Sulley groaned and heaved himself upright, carrying Mike with him. He flopped on the couch, setting Mike on his chest. Mike kissed him again, and then reclined on Sulley's belly. It was cozy to have him there. Sulley yawned, enjoying the closeness and drifting toward sleep.
"I don't know, Sulley, it's so much," Mike said out of the blue, startling Sulley awake again. His hands were fidgeting together. "It's so much. I don't know if I can be everything, and I don't think I should be? Friend, trainer, coworker, lover—I mean, I like being in charge but I can't be in charge of everything all the time and... and... there has to be a line. I have to know where the lines are so I don't step all over them. I don't want to hurt you."
Sulley grabbed hold of Mike and rolled with him, curling around him and tucking his round body between Sulley's belly and the back of the couch. "Ok," Sulley said. "Lines later. Cuddling now."
Mike flailed, struggling a bit, and then relaxed completely in Sulley's hold. "You know what, yeah. Good idea," he mumbled into Sulley's chest. "Excellent tactical decision. Full points awarded to James P. Sullivan. This... this feels good."
"Yeah." Sulley pressed a kiss to the top of Mike's head, right between his cute little horns, and held him close. Mike might be the monster with the big plans, but Sulley could make a pretty decent plan too every now and then.
The coming negotiations might not be easy, but Sulley wasn't worried. They'd work out something great. Mike and Sulley. Sulley and Mike. So long as they were together, there was no problem in the world they couldn't solve.
. . .