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When Mike’s knot goes down, it leaves him shivering for a long moment, temporarily disoriented without his mate’s comforting softness tightly wrapped around him.
Will keens at the loss, shuffling back to chase contact.
“‘s alright, baby,” Mike murmurs against the shell of his ear. “‘s okay. You did it.”
Careful with his movements, Mike turns him around in his embrace, to look at his pretty face and make sure he's doing alright. Will makes a tiny noise at the change, burying his nose into his chest without even opening his eyes. His neck is littered in hickeys and bite marks, his cheeks streaked with dried tears but, apart from that, he’s utterly relaxed: his eyebrows are at ease, his lips softly parted, breath deep and even.
Mike’s heart swells at the sight, his long tail wagging proudly behind him.
“You’ve done so well,” he praises him, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of Will’s neck, damp with sweat.
Will hums peacefully, nuzzling his face against him.
“Come here,” Mike says, even though Will couldn’t possibly be more here unless they’d become one.
Sometimes Mike grieves the impossibility of it, knowing he will never be able to hold the entirety of his boundless affection for Will in his arms all at once; that his mate will never understand the true magnitude of it, despite Mike telling him over and over again like a broken record. He wishes there could be a way for Will to live inside of him for one day, hell, merely one hour, even that would be enough, just so Will could feel how much love Mike harbours for him.
Words and gestures aren’t enough: his love for Will cannot be described— it can only be felt.
Perhaps solely by becoming one, then, could Mike breathe easier.
Since he still hasn’t learnt how to do that yet, he opts for the next best thing, looping his long, fluffy tail around them and pillowing Will’s back with it. His fur is long and thick, yet soft and voluminous, and wrapped around them it creates a visual and physical separation from the rest of the world— an intimate, enclosed space where only their synchronized breaths and mixed scents exist.
Will lets out a pleased hum at the change, his lips brushing against Mike’s collarbone.
He looks like a baby, like this: unbothered, innocent. Utterly trusting in Mike.
It breaks something in his chest, in the best possible way.
They cuddle for hours.
Mike barely moves, barely blinks. He can’t seem to get enough of how safe and content Will looks, bundled up in his embrace after being knotted and bitten within an inch of his life.
There is still a lot of prejudice about interspecies couples, which Mike will never get: how can this gentleness be anything but right? He never feels more at peace with himself than when he’s with Will, devoting himself to his care.
As if sensing his thoughts, his boyfriend makes another little whimper, a bit more urgent this time.
“It’s alright, bunny,” he whispers, drawing soothing circles on his bicep. “Everything’s alright. Sleep, if you need.”
Will quiets at once, curling his fingers against Mike’s chest. He does some more shifting around before finally settling with a satisfied hum. Then, his pretty mouth splits into a big yawn that leaves him dazed for a moment. Finally, he pushes his forehead back against Mike’s chest, resembling a kitten, more than a bunny.
All through it, not a word passes through his lips.
By now, Mike knows that Will turns almost mute in his post-knot recovery. It happened the first time too, so he’s not as freaked out as he was then, but it’s still wild to see Will, beautiful clever Will, not saying anything for hours at a time other than softly cooing comforting nonsense to himself.
Now that he knows it is a normal occurrence and actually a sign of Will feeling safe with him, Mike allows himself to take it all in, and he has to admit that it’s cute as hell. He can’t stop staring adoringly whenever Will starts mindlessly blabbing away.
Truth be told, Mike spends a lot of time looking at Will, even normally. What can he say, he loves looking at his pretty boyfriend (which, according to Max, makes him look like “a lovesick fool, but Will loves it, so don’t stop”) and, with Will only vaguely aware of what’s going on around him, Mike basically gives himself permission to shamelessly stare at him for hours at a time.
He’s reminded of what his mom once told him: that when he and Nancy were pups, she would spend her days obsessively looking at them, needing to take in each and every new expression they made, enamoured with their unique way of navigating the world.
Mike is no parent but, as he stares at his mate safely nestled in his arms, he feels painfully seen by the words: he needs to be with Will, to cherish every soft huff of breath, scrunch of nose, and sleepy yawn that leave him watery-eyed and adorably disoriented. All of this comes only once, and Mike cannot, for the life of him, let any of these moments pass without holding them in his hands first.
So, yeah: he wasn’t expecting to get anything done during Will’s recovery in any case, but now that he’s in it, it hits him all over again how utterly useless he becomes when Will offers himself to his care.
He couldn’t focus on anything else if he tried.
With Will recovering, Mike’s animal brain takes over, and suddenly he’s nothing but a ball of fur driven by the primal need to protect and provide for his mate: he needs to look over Will as he sleeps, needs to double-check whatever food he’s feeding him, needs to make sure he’s drinking enough water, and that it is at room temperature, as Will likes it best.
There is no space for work, college, or anyone who’s not his mate. Mike is pretty sure he’d actually bite someone’s hand off, if they’d so much as looked in Will’s general direction, as of now.
Luckily, they don’t have to see anyone nor be anywhere for the next couple of days, not even for groceries: after last time, Mike stocked up their pantry like a madman, with Will staring amusedly at him while Mike told him that no, Will didn’t have to help, “please baby, let me do this.” After some negotiation (aka Will trying to grab a can of beans and Mike biting his tongue to keep from coming off as even more intense, as he knew he was being, only to end up looking at Will like “I betrayed you or something, Mike. It’s just beans”), he tried to explain that no, it wasn’t just beans: it was Mike needing to provide for his mate. He needed to do it for Will, and for himself, too— needed Will to let him do it.
Of course, Will understood at once: his expression melted from amusement to fondness, so intense Mike had to break eye contact.
“Mike.”
He peaked at the bunny through his fringe.
Will held his gaze as he slowly put the can of beans back on the shelf, letting his arms fall by his sides.
At once, a weight Mike hadn’t even noticed he was bearing dropped from his shoulders.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t know,” Will apologised, taking his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “You can do all of it yourself. I won’t get in the way, I promise.”
“Thank you,” Mike exhaled the breath he had been holding, squeezing Will’s hand back. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit strange.”
“No, it’s not— I understand, I think.” Will said, endlessly gentle. He was drawing these tiny slow circles on the back of Mike’s hand that were helping calm his frenetic anxiety. “I’m not a wolf, but I want to take care of you all the same. And I love it when you take care of me.”
“Even when I act crazy about it?”
Will took a step toward him, entering his space.
“Especially when you act crazy about it.” He whispered, right there and then in the canned food aisle. “Actually, if you make a quick enough job of it, you can take me home and I can show you just how much I appreciate it.”
Needless to say, Mike had reached undocumented levels of intensity after that.
How could he not, when Will looked so fucking pretty, chuckling serenely and staying put with his hands by his sides as Mike ranaround the store like a man possessed by the spirit of grocery shopping and coupons. Each time his frantic spree would bring him back to their cart, (which he magnanimously allowed Will to push) Will would lean toward him, whispering terrible, terrible things into his ear, like “you’re doing such a good job, puppy,” and “are those the cereals I thought were discontinued? Oh my God, I need to kiss you,” and “can you get more of those olives I like—oh, you already did.”
It wasn’t even dirty stuff per se, but in that context, in that moment, right after having gone through the life-changing experience of seeing Will needing days to recover from his knot, it registered like the dirtiest dirty talk Mike ever had to endure.
Especially in the middle of a grocery store.
He had to fight his worst demons not to let his tail wag at the speed of light.
Will, of course, was well aware of the effect the entire thing was having on him: after the canned beans accident, he touched absolutely none of the food around them, making sure Mike noticed. He kept his hands to himself, politely folded on their cart, all while staring at Mike with these wide, innocent eyes. He even dropped his shoulders and flattened his bunny ears against the back of his head, making himself appear smaller, like the good little bunny he was.
Mike’s wolf kept howling in satisfaction at being able to provide for him, and the fact that Will knew Mike needed to do this and let him, turned him on so much that he struggled to follow the grocery list he’d carefully compiled earlier that day.
By the time they were paying —Mike was paying, of course; Will was cheerfully stacking cans into their backpacks and bags, an angelic expression plastered onto his cute little face— for their truly ungodly mountain of dry goods and tinned food, Mike was so hard he had to keep his own jacket draped over his arm, which he strategically kept in front of his middle, lest they got banned from the one store that was both close to their place and somewhat affordable.
Will kept sneaking him these teasing, amused glances all while Mike paid and hauled their cart back to the car at the speed of light.
Which was when Will made the mistake of speaking.
“Baby, calm down—”
Mike whipped around like a bolt. He felt like a fucking bull, a target only he could see pointing right at Will’s head.
His mate’s eyes went wide, his ears twitching.
“Do not call me that right now,” Mike said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. His wolf ears were trained on Will—his prey. “Get in the car.”
Will swallowed. Hard. His bunny ears drooped down in submission, yet his eyes kept that dangerous glint Mike loves, as it means trouble.
He can’t even say he drove them home breaking every speed limit like he was dying to do, because he would never risk putting Will (and himself, he guesses) in danger like that.
So what Mike did, was driving them (and their quite intimidating mountain of groceries) home in the most frenzied yet safe way ever known to man, stopping at every single red and yellow light, and even waiting for an old lady to cross the street, bouncing his leg up and down and aggressively stumping his tail against his seat and the door next to him.
All while sporting an honest to God weapon in his jeans.
Through it all, Will kept his hand firmly planted on his thigh, still drawing those tiny circles with his thumb, only now it wasn’t soothing anymore, but it was driving Mike up the fucking wall with the need to fold him in half and devour him in one bite.
He realised he started growling only because he heard Will’s keening in answer.
“Fuck,” he swore. “Jesus Christ, Will— I’m gonna die.”
“No, you’re not,” Will told him, his voice thin and thready, like he too was having trouble breathing steadily. “You’re doing so well. And you’re so hot when you’re like this— close to losing control.”
Mike almost snapped the steering wheel in half.
Once they finally made it to their apartment, after he sweated buckets with how worked up he was, Mike basically threw all of their six bags worth of groceries on the floor (“Mike!”), bent Will over their kitchen table (“Mike—”), and proceeded to eat him out for a solid forty minutes (“M-Mike—oh—”), groaning like a starving man while pushing his nose into Will’s drenched pussy, Will’s cum splattered wetly onto their kitchen floor.
Multiple times.
It is one of his fondest memories.
🐺
As he resurfaces from his own drowsy state, Mike takes stock of their surroundings: the bedroom is a mess of clothes, pillows and blankets thrown everywhere; he has no clue what time it is, but the entire ordeal must have taken more than half a day, with how dark it seems to be outside, the noises of the city muffled, no light coming from the window.
The bedroom is soaked in their pheromones, sweet and humid, like a sauna of their own making. He is sticky in a million different places, with his own sweat and Will’s slick soaking the sheets underneath them. Will seems to like it though, judging by the way he keeps rubbing his entire body into them, where their combined scents are stronger.
Well, then. He figures they can stay like this a bit more, since Will enjoys it.
Truth be told, Mike understands him all too well, as his wolf adores scents. It’s always been a huge part of who he is as a person, of how he navigates the world: even as a puppy, smells and scents were crucial to him. He loved how his nose would tell him who was in the room he was about to enter even before he’d approach it, loved how scents differentiated each person in his life— how everyone had their unique note, how he could never mistake one for the other if he tried.
And then there’s Will’s scent.
Will always smelled particularly appealing to him, even when they were younger. When Will hit puberty, however, Mike hit a wall of want, softness, desire, arousal, must protect, must chase, must take, mine, mine, MINE.
Suddenly, he couldn't think about anything other than how heavenly his best friend smelled. He became obsessed with Will’s sweet, mouth-watering scent, needing to have it under his nose at all times. It got to the point where he started stealing Will’s clothes, something he still hasn't had the courage to confess, embarrassed by his lack of control.
Yet he couldn’t stop doing it— needed to do it.
The first time it happened, he’d done it in a haze, as if under a spell. Only once he’d opened his backpack in the safety of his bedroom did he realise what he’d done, confronted with the sight of one of Will’s t-shirts staring accusatorily at him.
After that, it was a downward spiral into obsession: he stole Will’s pajama pants that he forgot after a sleepover, a t-shirt draped on the back of Will’s chair, snatched as soon as the bunny turned his back on him, and even a pair of socks abandoned in the corner of Will’s room.
His best friend’s scent was a drug and Mike was an addict who couldn’t stop himself from taking just a bit more, just this one last time.
Like any addiction, it got worse.
One memorable time, Mike stole Will’s dirty boxers.
In hindsight, he understands why he did it when he did: he was about to hit his first rut. He didn’t understand it, back then; all he knew was that his body had become too small for him all of a sudden, too warm, and too tingly. At the same time, he wasn’t really registering any of that: the only thing he could focus on during those maddening few days was Will’s scent. That in itself wasn’t new— the intensity of it was. Mike was living in a bubble of sweetness and warmth, separated from everyone else. He was going through the days in a haze, the hours slipping away from him without his control, his mind empty of thoughts but crowded with images of his best friend’s warm smile, his puffy tail, and his long, cute ears.
That afternoon (three days before his rut, as he would learn later), he was at the Byers’ for their usual routine of homework and comic books reading, though he couldn’t focus on either.
He remembers excusing himself to the restroom.
He remembers locking the door behind him.
He remembers the way his heart leaped in his throat when his gaze locked onto the laundry basket.
He remembers how his paws shook as he opened it, praying that he would find one of Will’s t-shirts, or maybe a hoodie.
When his eyes locked on a pair of boxers —too small to be Jonathan’s, and reeking of a devastatingly familiar sweet scent— a growl rose from his chest, startling him. He knew it was possible for a wolf to make a similar sound, but had no idea he could do it himself, nor that he would sound like—that. Hungry. Intense. A bit desperate.
Before he could think twice about it, Mike was reaching into the basket, grasping for the treasure and hastily shoving it into his jeans pocket. With the tunnel vision of a drug addict who just got his hands onto a fresh dose, he marched back to Will’s room, told him he wasn’t feeling good and needed to go home, yes, right now, and fled the place.
He hadn’t liked lying to Will, but it was either that, or exploding right there and then.
Once he made it home (after almost getting run over twice since he could barely bike straight), he locked himself into the bathroom (again), collapsing with his back against the door. Then, he carefully took the boxers —Will’s boxers— out of his pocket.
He stared at it, wide-eyed and unblinking.
It was a grey pair with a black elastic band: nothing fancy, nothing special.
Except that it was Will’s.
Will’s body had touched it. That piece of fabric had hugged Will’s hips and—the rest of him like a glove, soaking up his scent, caressing the most intimate, delicate parts of him.
Mike watched as his own shaky hands brought the fabric up to his face, pressing it close.
He remembers rubbing the fabric against his nose with a blinding desperation that later alarmed him, for he’d never felt that needy before. He didn’t even know he could feel like that.
He remembers violently coming untouched after only a few deep, greedy inhales, wailing like a puppy, his mind a red flashing light of WILL-WILL-WILL-WILL-WILL.
🐺
The bathtub in their apartment isn’t nearly wide nor long enough for two grown up boys, and especially for Mike, with his long limbs and even longer tail, but he makes it work, needing to keep Will against his own skin.
When he carefully lowers him into the warm water, Will makes this adorable, surprised contended sigh, like he wasn’t expecting it to feel that good.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Mike asks, smiling at the wondrous expression on his mate’s face.
Will, of course, doesn’t reply. Not with words, at least.
Instead, he stares at Mike with this awestruck look in his eyes, like Mike is the axis of his world. His gaze remains fixed on him even as he slowly slops forward, coming dangerously close to the edge of the water.
Once again, Mike is reminded of a kit not knowing how to hold himself without his mother’s help.
“It feels good, right?” He asks him, placing his hands on Will to keep him upright and gently push him forward. “Scoot up a bit so I can join you—yes, that’s perfect.”
Will lets himself be moved and shifted around with no resistance whatsoever, not knowing what to do with his body without Mike’s input.
After some shuffling, Mike climbs in behind him, folding his legs as best he can, careful with Will’s tail.
Through it all, Will’s wide, shining eyes never leave his face, despite now having to crane his neck back to maintain the contact.
“Come here, let me hold you,” Mike murmurs, encircling Will’s torso with both arms and pulling him against his own chest.
Will gives an adorable squeak, before downright melting against him, like someone cut the strings off him: he lets his head fall against Mike’s shoulder, pushing his nose onto the side of his neck, right under his ear, where his own little mating bite stands out. It’s not as wide or angry-looking as Mike’s mark on him, with Will not having the teeth of a predator, but Mike is so fucking proud of it nonetheless: he wears it like a diamond, showing it off even when it’s freezing cold outside and he should definitely be wearing a scarf. Will always rolls his eyes fondly at him; never asks to cover it.
“Mmh—mmh.” Will coos to himself, body thrumming pleasantly. The vibrations have an immediate relaxing effect on Mike too, and he lets his eyes close, taking the moment in.
“Got you, bunny,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into Will’s hair to leave a soft kiss there. “Comfortable?”
Will makes the same happy, relaxed sound as before, circling an arm around Mike’s torso and nestling even closer.
One of these days Mike’s love for him will make him burst at the seam, too big to be contained in his physical body. For now, he lets himself float in the comforting haze of his mate’s sweet scent—
Which is when he realises it.
There is something different about it.
His eyes fly open.
He can’t immediately place what it is that makes Will’s scent different: it is still the same vanilla fragrance as always, unbelievably delicious, nothing new there. If anything, it is even better than normal, something in it making Mike rumble in bliss. He pushes his nose against the side of Will’s neck, needing to understand what this new tone in his fragrance is.
As he inhales deeply, a growl rises from his chest, his mouth flooding with saliva.
“Will— baby,” he slurs. “You smell so good, holy shit. Like,” he laps at the side of his neck, ripping a whine out of him, “better than usual, like—what is it, is it—cream? No,” he gives another lap, tongue flat against the skin, “fuck, it’s— God, what is it, I can’t—”
Will keens loudly, arching his back to push his neck right under Mike’s fangs.
“Yes, you like it, don’t you,” he groans against the delicate skin, before lapping at it some more. “Jesus, Will— you even taste like your scent, holy shit, it’s so good, what the hell.”
He’s panting like he just ran a marathon, Will’s scent making his pulse speed up.
“Hold on, I need to—understand what it is,” he keeps on saying, breathing through both his nose and mouth, unable to wrap his head around the new creamy side of the fragrance.
He cups the side of Will’s face, tilting his head to keep him exposed, which makes Will wheeze almost violently, his whole body spasming in Mike’s hands. Despite this, he does nothing to resist Mike’s touches; lets himself be played with, like the perfect little mate he is.
“Baby, I just need to—” Mike pushes his nose against the shell of his ear, unable to restrain himself.
The next inhale he takes is sharper and deeper than the previous ones, sending him into the fucking stratosphere, and he doesn’t even understands why.
Until he does.
He almost pops his knot right there and then.
“Will, it’s— you smell like—” He doesn’t even manage to say it out loud before his mouth violently fills with saliva once again. He doesn’t even bother swallowing it this time, instead letting it run down his chin and onto Will’s shoulder. “Fuck— Why do you smell like— like fucking milk, oh my god.”
Through the haze of it, he barely realises he’s got Will half folded in his lap, keening non-stop and shaking like a leaf. His bunny ears are tense and plastered over his flushed face, leaving his neck and shoulders bare for Mike to lick and taste. His big hazel eyes are glassy, barely connected to reality.
“Fuck,” Mike swears under his breath, groaning and panting like a dying man as his wolf roars to be let out.
He brings a hand to grasp at Will’s chest, fondling his pec, almost expecting to find it swollen and soft, but it is its usual size and shape, nothing changed there. Still, Mike’s mind is going fifty miles per second, slapping him in the face with images of Will with a huge belly and turgid small titties swelling with milk, two wet circles darkening the front of his t-shirt.
Will’s little tail trembles frenetically against his groin, and Mike suddenly realises he’s been humping it for God knows how long, hard as a rock and pressed against that soft, now wet bundle of fur that drives him crazy.
“Will,” he pants, his thoughts pulsating with the knowledge of what Will’s body is doing for him. For both of them. “Bunny—feels like I bred you.”
Will whimpers, loud and high-pitched.
To be fair, it is an impossible thought, as they are both on birth control. Plus, Mike doesn’t even want that, if he’s honest. They’re too young and too messy to have a child, and he’s pretty certain Will is of the same mindset, at least for the moment.
It is precisely the certainty of this being nothing but a fantasy, that makes him growl louder: the knowledge that Will’s body is still doing what it’s supposed to do after being knotted, after being bred, despite not actually being able to conceive, makes something in Mike’s human and animal brains howl with pride and joy: how terribly good his bunny is for him; how well his pretty body takes care of what Mike has given him.
For a moment, he’s blinded by another vision of a pregnant Will, rosy cheeked and glowing with hormones, so fucking pretty Mike would have no choice but stuff him full of come 24/7.
He’s abruptly brought back to the present moment by Will scratching desperately at his forearms.
“Baby,” he rumbles, noticing how his mate is waving his hips in the water. “You’re hard, bunny?”
It takes him a moment, but eventually Will gives a weak nod.
“Yes, you are,” he confirms, grazing his fingers around the base of his small, straining hard cock. “Want me to play with you?”
Will furrows his eyebrows, seemingly debating it. Despite his obvious hard-on, he shakes his head, face still hidden in Mike’s neck.
“That’s okay,” Mike leaves a kiss to his furry ear. “You already felt a lot today, didn't you?”
Will hums, and Mike takes it as an agreement, ignoring his erection where it’s poking at his wrist.
It is possibly even more lovely than actually getting Will off: knowing that his mate is so comfortable with him that he lets himself get aroused around Mike not (only) for the sake of sex, but just because he can, because he feels like it, because it happens, and it doesn’t necessarily have to lead to the act itself. Because Will knows Mike is going to check with him first, never forcing him into anything, despite how desperate he might get for it.
And God knows he is desperate, especially right now, horny as fuck and hopelessly in love with the pretty boy purring in his arms.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he tells him, leaving a kiss on his damp hair.
He removes his hand from Will’s groin, going back to obsessing over his scent— his milky scent.
Holy shit.
He can’t resist pushing his face back where Will’s smell is stronger on the side of his neck; then, he wraps an arm around his front, pulling him flush against his chest and groin, slotting his aching cock right against Will’s sensitive tailbone.
Will cries out, arching up against him, causing his tail to rub right against his dick.
“Fuck,” Mike swears, momentaily blinded by the sensation of that soaked puff of fur rubbing against him. “Fuck, that feels good.”
So he does it again: he grabs Will's hip to keep him still, rocking himself against the base of that thick, drenched bundle of fur.
“Ah—” Will cries out, grasping onto Mike’s knee with a hand, while the other flails behind him, grasping at Mike’s shoulder, his neck, until he gets a hold of his wolf ear.
“Shit—” Mike moans, hips stuttering violently, sending water sloshing over the edge of the tub.
Will’s pretty face is all scrunched up and flushed, covered by a faint sheet of sweat, his bunny ears twitching in time with Mike’s thrusts against him.
“Shit, bunny, you feel—” He struggles to talk around the constant growl rising out of his throat. “Your tail— it feels— you’re so soft—”
Will’s scent spikes up at the praise, making Mike literally drool onto his cheek.
“You smell so fucking good— oh my God, baby,” he rasps, lapping up his own spit on his skin. “Wanna eat you.”
Will twitches at the words, pulling lightly at Mike’s furry ear, making his eyes cross.
He’s only managing to restrain himself from biting and sucking everywhere on him because Will’s neck is already a mess of angry looking hickeys and marks from their previous session and, for as much as he wants to claim him over and over again, he’s put Will through more than enough for today. The last thing he wants is to make this unpleasant for him, especially as Will has gone basically non-verbal and Mike is more wolf than human, at this point— the sensible part of him terrified of missing a sign that Will might be getting overwhelmed.
He mentally limits himself to using his mouth to lick and lap only.
Problem is, Will makes it very hard to respect his self-imposed decision, with all of his “hhhhhng” high-pitched broken whines that are melting Mike’s brain and self-control into nothingness.
Especially as every sound is accompanied by a wave of milky scent.
“Will,” he rasps, rocking against his little drenched tail. “You have to let me taste you later, please, you have to,” he begs, drunk on his new scent.
“I have to know if,” he brings his free hand in between Will’s thighs, grazing lightly at his folds, “if you taste like milk here, too.”
Will has a full-body spasm, like he got electrocuted, sending more water over the edge of the tub.
“‘s okay, ‘m not gonna touch you right now, promise, I promise,” he reassures him with a sloppy kiss to his cheek, “but you’ll let me have a taste, yeah? You have to, Will, please, baby, I need to know.”
He is consumed by the idea. Can almost taste it on his tongue through the scent alone, as he licks and laps at Will’s neck, using him like a damn lollipop, turning him this and that way in his hands.
And Will lets him: he’s as malleable as dough for him, head dropped heavily onto Mike’s shoulder, then the opposite one, as Mike shifts him around to sniff, lick, kiss.
“You’re so— so pretty like this, you know?” Mike pants, burying himself against his furry tail. “Letting me do anything I want to you. For days.”
Will’s whine tears through the little bubble of warmth they’ve fallen into.
“M-Mike,” he moans, eyes barely open.
Mike’s heart leaps in his throat at hearing his voice, suddenly realising how fiercely he missed it, despite it being only a few hours since Will fell in his non-verbal state.
“‘m here, baby, it’s alright,” he murmurs at once, lapping at his cheek and slowing down the rocking of his hips, not to overwhelm him. “You’re doing so well, little bunny, letting me use your tail like this. Is this alright, can I keep going?”
He doesn’t expect him to actually answer, but his Will is smart, and a wonder, and answers all the same: he lifts his unfocused gaze to Mike’s face, then pulls at his wolf ear.
Mike howls.
“Yeah—yeah, fuck, pull at my ear, that’s fucking good,” he slurs, hips stuttering against Will’s sensitive tailbone, making him yelp.
He knows he gets extra talkative when Will is in his post-knot recovery, but he had no idea he’d do the same during sex too, considering they only cuddled last time.
It makes sense, he thinks: since Will doesn’t communicate with words, Mike has to make sure his mate knows what he’s doing to him, how much pleasure he’s giving him.
How good of a bunny he’s being, reeking of milk after Mike bred him for hours.
“You don’t know what this is doing to me,” he rasps against Will's neck, breathing him in. “Seeing you like this, Will— smelling like this, of milk and—me.”
Will chokes on a whimper, keeps pulling at Mike’s ear as he arches against him. The motion drags the base of his tail against the entire length of Mike’s cock, tearing matching moans from the both of them.
Mike swears under his breath before finally giving in: he tightens his hold around Will’s chest, keeping him still as he starts humping his tailbone for good, feeling every inch the animal he is.
What sends him over the edge, in the end, is not the contact itself, but Will’s high-pitched whines shifting from that “hhh-hhhhng” wordless sounds, to a “M-M-M—” making him growl possessively.
“Yeah—yeah, bunny, ‘m here,” he pants, open-mouthed and buried into Will’s neck as he ruts against his tailbone a few more times before finally soaking it in cum.
His provider instinct pulls him out of his post-orgasm bliss faster than what he normally would, to be present for his mate who, for his part, is thrumming happily in his arms, mouthing softly at Mike’s jaw. Will’s erection is pressed against Mike’s inner thigh, but he seems unbothered by it, so Mike ignores too.
“Shit,” he groans, pulling Will closer. “That felt so good. You felt so good.”
Will whines softly, eyes half-lidded with desire and something that Mike recognises as sleepiness. It’s fucking adorable—like Will can’t help but be aroused around him even when tired as hell and needing to recover from being heavily knotted.
“You’re pretty,” Mike tells him, feeling a dopey smile pulling at the corners of his mouth which he knows for certain makes him look like a lovesick fool, to quote Max once again. He does feel like a lovesick fool right now. He is a lovesick fool. Will’s lovesick fool.
“My pretty little bunny,” he whispers, peppering Will’s flushed face with feather-light kisses.
Will’s eyes droop all the way closed, lulled by the vibrations coming from Mike’s chest. He clutches at his own arms in between them, curling his fingers against his mate’s skin.
Mike leaves a kiss on his temple, lapping at the sweat there, tasting salt along the milky cream.
Now that he knows what to expect, he realises the new accent in Will’s scent feels surprisingly comforting, as if Will’s bunny is telling him I did it, I was good for you, see? I’m gonna have all the pups you just put in me, you can smell it on me, right on my skin.
“You did so well, baby,” he praises him, whispering into his hair. “My good bunny. I’m going to wash you up now, alright?”
Will remains, once again, silent in his arms.
Despite him not really using words when he’s in his post-knot state, Mike still likes to talk to him, constantly letting him know what he’s about to do, so as not to inadvertently spook him. It reminds him of when they were kids and Will would barely speak, clinging to Mike’s sleeve and letting him do the talking for the both of them with other puppies and adults alike. Mike never thought much of it, back then: if Will wasn’t a big talker, he still was his best friend. The fact that he would barely utter a word when they were in kindergarten didn't make a difference to him. Words or no words, Mike knew how to read Will just the same, and he didn’t mind translating his friend’s expressive looks and silent gestures to others. If anything, it baffled him, how no one seemed capable of understanding him: it was as easy as breathing, for Mike. It wasn’t like he had to learn how to do it—he just did.
He will never forget the day Mrs Byers gently took him aside, confiding that no one else understood Will’s silent glances like Mike seemed to do, and that it was unusual for Will to be talking as much as he did when he was in Mike’s company.
Mike was barely more than a puppy, back then: his tail was but a short stub, his canines barely sharper than the rest of his teeth, and he was scared, so scared of so many things (his father; bullies; the darkness), yet he understood the implications of Mrs Byers’ words all the same. He had felt so chosen by Will, growing five inches taller with the trust his best friend quietly but undeniably put in him.
After that, he promised himself he’d never betray Will’s trust, and that from that moment onwards he would be the one to use his words for the both of them, so that Will wouldn’t even have to think about doing it himself.
Will in his post-knot state reminds him a lot of Will back then, clinging to him like a lifeline, trusting him with himself.
He first thought about it last time, when he made it only half way to the kitchen before Will’s alarmed wails arose from the bedroom.
Mike broke both glasses he was holding in the haste of running back to him, terrified Will could have hurt himself in the short time they’d been apart.
As soon as he stepped into the bedroom, he froze.
Will was seated upright on their bed, shaking and clutching desperately at their blankets, looking terrified out of his mind. Fat tears were streaming down his face, and his bunny ears were straightened all the way up in obvious alarm, trembling like leaves in the wind.
Mike’s heart dropped.
He covered the distance between them in two long strides, dropping onto his knees.
“Will? Will, are you hurt?”
He scanned the room, trying to locate the cause of his mate’s distress, but everything looked normal, like he left it barely a minute ago, when Will had been purring peacefully in his arms.
“Will, baby— what’s happening?” He kept asking, over and over again, frantically trying to read Will’s teary eyes, but finding no answer. Only a lot of pain.
His mate was so distraught he couldn’t even speak, each time he tried to get his voice out he would choke on his own sobs.
Mike felt like his chest was being crushed under a truck.
“Will, please— baby, what’s happening?” He asked again and again, increasingly alarmed. “Can you tell me? Please, what’s the problem, are you hurt? What can I do?”
“Y-you—” Will eventually managed to choke out, clutching at Mike’s biceps so tightly he left the imprint of his fingernails.
“What, Will, what?” Mike cupped his face, trying to wipe some of the tears away. That was when he realised how badly he was shaking, genuinely feeling like he was about to die. It was horrendous, being able to sense Will’s blind desperation, yet not fathoming how to make it go away for the life of him.
And the expression on Will’s face—Mike rarely saw him that scared. It sent him back to Halloween 1984, clutching at Will’s shaky body and desperately calling for him as Will kept staring at the sky above them with wide, empty eyes.
“You—” Will finally managed to say, and it came out in an angry, broken word: “Left.”
It was like being shot.
For a short, insane moment, Mike got angry at him: how could Will think Mike would leave him? Didn’t Will know how much Mike cherished him? How could he even think Mike would ever do something like that? Didn’t Will know Mike would choose to die, before he’d choose to leave him?
Then, he replayed the last few minutes from Will’s perspective: being claimed, taken, bitten, marked, loved that intensely, only to then be left to deal with all of it on his own. Sure, Mike had whispered into his ear that he was going to get them a glass of water, before getting up, but Will had been barely conscious at that point: not seeing Mike anymore, his mate, the person who was supposed to take care of him and protect him, especially in the vulnerable state he was in, probably felt the same as being abandoned.
It took all of Mike’s self-control not to bash his own head against the wall, right there and then.
He willed himself to take a shaky breath, trying to clear his mind. Then, he took Will’s trembling hands in his, holding them as steadily as he could despite his own tremors.
“Will, I wasn’t going to leave, I swear—”
“You left!” Will screeched, loud and heart-broken, looking at Mike with such profound despair it made tears rise to his own eyes.
He never saw that expression on Will's face, ever before. It wasn’t just pain— it was betrayal. Something Mike would never, ever do to him.
He heard himself wail out loud, his wolf ears flattening against his head in shame.
“No, Will, no, I swear—” He tried to console him, but his words kept getting all tangled up. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—I didn’t—” He mentally cursed himself for how poor of a job he was doing, but he was so devastated he couldn’t think straight. “Will, please— I’m so sorry, I was just getting us some water, I’d never leave you, you know that, right?”
He hunched his shoulders down, making himself appear smaller despite already being on his knees on the floor. Then, he tentatively opened his arms, trying to get closer.
Will launched himself against him, only to furiously hit his chest with his tiny fists, over and over again, wailing you left, you left, you left.
“Will— Will, please,” Mike hiccuped a sob around his own deafening wails, hating himself for it: he had no right to cry when his mate’s pain was his own fault.
He was trying to stay calm for both their sakes’, though witnessing Will’s distress was making it almost impossible.
But he had to do it.
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to work.
First, he caught both of Will’s hands in between their bodies. Then, he hugged him tightly, whether Will wanted it or not, hoping to make him feel small and safe, as he knew Will loved. Needed.
Thankfully, he felt Will’s body relax all at once in his arms, quickly giving up the fight, though he was still breathing shallow and too fast.
“Baby, I’m so sorry, I promise I’d never leave you, ever. I love you and I’m here with you, I got you. You’re safe.”
Mike kept holding him, murmuring reassurances into his hair as he rubbed soothing circles onto his back and forced himself to growl soothingly for him, even though he didn't feel happy or content at all, but Will needed it, so he provided.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he left a kiss on the top of his head, right in between his bunny ears, which were starting to slowly come downwards. “I love you. I love you so much, you know that, right? You’re everything to me.”
He kept whispering comforting nonsense into his hair for a long time, needing Will to hear all of it even though he might not believe him, after what Mike did. He had to try. He’d always try, for Will.
“You’re my mate, my best friend— I’d never leave you,” he said, petting his long ears. “It was all my fault. You didn’t deserve it—I’m so sorry I made you feel like that, I promise you are not alone, I’m right here with you.”
Will’s sobs had turned into weak sniffles by then, and he was not pushing Mike away anymore, but clinging onto his shirt instead, pulling him closer.
“Mike,” he sniffled, rubbing his face into his chest. “Mike.”
“I’m here. I’ve got you.” He reassured him at once, heart almost exploding at Will’s shaky voice calling for him. “You’re safe, I got you. It’s okay, I’m here with you. I’m never leaving.”
“Never?” Will asked, a small, frail thing uttered uncertainly against Mike’s chest. Af if he really was uncertain about it.
Mike moved back, cradling his face in his hands, gently guiding Will to look at him. The sight of his tears-streaked face made him sick, but he swallowed it down— he deserved to feel sick anyway, after what he just did.
He placed his forehead against Will’s, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.
“I promise.” He’d sworn, holding eye contact and putting all of his love into it. “I’m never leaving. I’ll always take care of you— if you’ll let me.”
“Mike,” Will sighed, placated at once by his mate’s words, touch, and scent. “Mike.”
It was almost like the past fifteen minutes never happened.
If Mike would have been in his right mind, that would have been enough for him to understand how what just occurred wasn’t Will suddenly hating on him, and that Will didn’t love him any less than five minutes or five years ago. What happened was simply that Will had dropped: basically, a chemical reaction in his animal brain at not seeing Mike anymore, telling him that Mike had left, gone, died, abandoned us. Once Mike had been back, and Will could smell him, touch him, and hear him again, his brain quickly calmed down, telling him that his mate was there to take care of him, that he was safe. Which was why he relaxed so quickly in Mike’s arms even after such an outburst of pain and terror, clinging to him like an anchor.
But Mike wasn’t in his right mind in the slightest, which means he didn’t make the connection to any of that: shocked and rattled, barely able to silence the wretched howls of pain that kept rising from his throat, he ended up cradling Will for hours, terrified out of his mind.
He couldn’t stop replaying Will’s sobs and accusations (“You left!”), paralyzed by the memories. He didn’t even realise how Will had noticed his distress, how he’d instinctively started purring to console him, even while asleep.
He had been about to lose his mind.
At some point, he seriously considered calling Mrs Byers to ask her to take his place and care for Will, since Mike was obviously incapable of doing it and needed to be kept away from him forever. Luckily, he decided to phone Will’s GP first, vomiting up everything that just happened and asking, no, begging her to tell him he hadn’t ruined Will, that he didn’t make him feel as bad as it had looked. The doctor had been wonderful, calmly talking him out of his panic and understanding what happened even through Mike’s stuttered, anxious recount. She explained how Will went through a drop, which was very common after intense knotting sessions, and that it wasn't Mike’s fault— insisted on it, in fact. She even asked Mike to repeat it out loud, to his utter mortification, saying how important it was that he wouldn’t drop too, as not to repeat the cycle.
After hanging up, he redoubled his efforts in taking care of his mate: Will needed even more reassurance and physical closeness after that, and Mike was more than ready to oblige. He never again left Will out of his sight until he fully recovered: never walked away from him; never left his side for more than five seconds, and only to grab a t-shirt or a protein bar for them to share; he’d kept his hands on Will for three days straight, keeping him in his lap while they ate, spooning him closely when they napped, constantly holding him against his chest, where Will could hear his heartbeat.
Once Will fully came back to himself, a few days later, he apologised profusely.
“Mike, I’m so sorry—”
“No, it was my fault—”
“No, it wasn’t,” he stopped him. “You couldn’t have known that leaving me for five damn seconds would have made me freak out like an idiot.”
“I should have known,” he said. “And I didn't. And you weren’t an idiot, don’t say that.”
He felt sick all over again. He had one fucking job, and he failed miserably.
He was a bad partner.
A horrible friend.
A terrible mate.
“Mike,” Will gently took his hands. “You couldn’t know. If anything, I should have known. It’s my body, my mind—”
Mike shook his head.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“Neither could you.” Will said back, impossibly tender. He took a deep, shaky inhale. “I’m so sorry for the way I reacted. I couldn’t think straight, which is no excuse anyway. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
“I did.” Mike said, his voice breaking on a wail. He hid his tail in between his legs, ashamed and in pain. “I deserved more, if anything. I was shitty—”
“Mike, you were great,” Will said, voice sure, gaze unwavering. “You are a perfect mate—”
“No.” He shook his head, Will’s words tearing a sob out of him. He wrenched his hands away, hiding his face.
“Look at me,” Will asked, gently, still so gently. “Please, Mike,” he placed a hand over Mike’s own, on his face, drawing small circles with his thumb. “Look at me?”
He could never say no to Will.
He looked at him.
Will rewarded him with a gentle smile, taking his hands.
“You are perfect as a mate— my mate,” he insisted, and kept going even when Mike couldn't physically look at him, and had to shut his eyes against the kindness of his words.
“Yes, it did not feel good to open my eyes and not see you,” Will gulped, eyebrows drawing together, “and yes, I thought you left. But I also thought you died, Mike.” His voice breaks, “which made no sense, but I wasn’t thinking straight— I wasn’t thinking at all. I couldn’t. I could just feel.” He took a shaky breath. “You’re incredible with me. You take care of me like no one else.”
Mike felt himself flinch.
“I made you feel like I abandoned you—”
“That’s true,” Will agreed, stunning him into silence.
Mike finally lifted his gaze on him: Will’s eyes were filled with tears, but locked on his, and still kind, full of a fierce determination.
“And you realise after what, five seconds? Don’t say it was five seconds too long.” Will anticipates him, with a teasing, encouraging smile. “You understood that I was feeling bad, that there was something going on, and you fixed it, Mike.” He tightened his hold on his hands. “You fixed it at once. You did what I needed you to do, without me even telling you.” He cupped Mike’s face: “you did it yourself, baby.”
The petname, in that moment, broke him.
The dam opened all at once and suddenly Mike was shaken by these horrible sobs, all the fear and guilt he had been harbouring for days exploding in between them.
Will pulled him in, guiding his face against his own shoulder, keeping him there with a hand on the back of his head. He scratched in between his furry ears like he knew it usually helped Mike relax.
“I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, Will—” Mike gulped air between his wails, grasping at Will to keep him close, never let him go.
“I know you are, baby, but you don’t have to be,” Will gently whispered against his wolf ear, leaving a tender, feather-light kiss there. “I promise you it’s alright. You were so good, Mike, you handled me so well.”
“F-fuck—” He swore, Will’s words shattering something in him. “I don’t—deserve you.”
“You don’t have to deserve me, Mike,” Will said, carefully moving him to be at eye level again. His face was open and full of trust as he said, “you have me.”
Mike squeezed his eyes shut, letting his forehead rest against his.
“I love you.” He whispered, voice thick with tears. “I love you so much it hurts me.”
“I know,” Will said, tender. He moved a hand to the centre of Mike’s chest. “Here, right?”
Mike nodded, keeping his bottom lip in between his teeth or he would have broken down again.
“Me too,” Will whispered, eyes full of melancholia and love. “I think it’s normal, when you find your missing part.”
“Fuck—” Mike burst into another fit of sobs, folding onto himself to let his boyfriend cradle him against his own body. “Jesus Christ, Will.”
“I know,” Will kept saying for a long time, rubbing his wolf ears. “I know. It’s okay, you’re alright. You did so well. I’m so lucky to have you.”
They stayed like that for a long time, not wanting to part from the comforting presence of their missing part, as Will put it.
Will hooked a foot onto Mike’s legs, pulling him closer, against his own chest: Mike has always been much taller and bigger than him, but right then he’d needed Will to make him feel smaller, to make him feel safe. To make him feel like he could disappear into him.
Later, when he was slightly more clear headed, Mike begged him for details about why and how Will had felt so desperate when Mike left, and despite Will’s protests (“You don’t need to know, Mike. It’s not relevant, it wasn’t me thinking those things,”) he eventually caved, telling him how a sense of dread had choked him as soon as Mike had disappeared from his sight. As if, by disappearing from the room, Mike had disappeared from life altogether.
“I think it got me that bad because I already went through the experience of thinking everyone had died, you know? When I was in the Upside Down.” Will explained, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to explain. “My body already knew what all of that felt like, and I think it went right back to that feeling, despite me being completely safe here. With you.”
“I’m not leaving you out of my sight ever again.” Mike declared, after hours of non-stop, intense scenting.
He could finally breathe again, now that Will’s scent was all over him.
“Please don’t,” Will agreed, rubbing the tip of his nose against his. “Never let me go.”
🐺
Mike starts from his arms.
He decides to use his own showergel —mint and tea tree— needing to cover Will in his own scent, even the artificial one.
It’s a good choice: Will gurgles happily as soon as Mike starts working his soapy hands into his skin, careful with every inch of him.
He scrubs their sweat and various bodily fluids off him, leaving Will’s skin pink and glistening. His mate is silent through it, just purring and making a few happy sounds here and there, boneless and already half-asleep in his arms.
Mike makes sure to give special attention to his tail, after the way he just abused it, using Will’s special soap meant for bunnies’ fur. When he does the same with his long floppy ears, Will’s head drops against his shoulder with a weak, breathy whimper. The skin of his ears is thin and delicate, and Mike’s heart skips a beat at seeing the shape of his own bite there, one of the many signs of what he put Will through only a few hours ago.
Will doesn’t seem in any pain though, as the more Mike works his hands into the fur, the more Will meowls brokenly into his collarbone, breath hot and ragged.
“Will,” he still double-checks, “pain?”
It takes him a few moments to reply, but eventually he shakes his head.
“Alright, good.” Mike praises him with a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”
He resumes his work, laser-focused on making his mate feel as safe and comfortable as possible.
When he’s done cleaning them both and the water is definitely more cold than lukewarm, he gets them out of the tub, proceeding to bundle Will up in their softest bathrobe. Then, he carries him back to the bedroom bridal style, one arm thrown under the back of his knees.
Will feels tiny in his arms: he’s a bunny, so he’s naturally smaller than Mike, but he’s small even for his own species, always has been. He was the tiniest kit in kindergarten, an entire head shorter than his peers, his ears never reaching his classmates’. He was the last one to be chosen in P.E., and the slowest of the Party, always weak and sickish after the Upside Down. He’s mostly recovered now, has grown into his body and can take care of himself just fine, but the memories of him feverish for days a time over and over again are imprinted into Mike’s brain like a brand, too traumatic to forget.
After almost losing him, Mike swore to himself he’d protect him at all costs. He made it his life mission, always in the forefront of his mind, whether it means shielding Will with his own body from interdimensional demons, or washing him up with an amount of care and patience he reserves for no one else. Not even himself.
“Let’s go put some clothes on, yeah, bunny?” He asks him, giving an affectionate lick to his cheek. Will mumbles something intelligible but happy-sounding, pushing his face against him, like a child asking for another kiss.
It takes Mike an embarrassingly long time to stop staring at him.
Lovesick fool, Max’s voice echoes in his mind.
Back in their room, said lovesick fool deposits his precious cargo on the edge of the bed. He then makes quick work of stripping the soiled sheets and putting a clean one and a thrown blanket on top, as a temporary layer. He doesn’t want to be away from Will too long, but he also doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable with sticky fabric all around, so this will do.
As Mike is busy around him, Will’s big, shiny eyes follow his every movement, like a compass with its North. The rest of him is completely still, staying exactly where Mike put him, all bundled up in his bathrobe, face half hidden under the hood. He looks like the cute version of his Cleric, a little elf staring adoringly at Mike like he really is a brave Paladin who’s got the answer to everything and anything.
Mike is pulled toward him like a magnet.
“I’m going to dry you up now, okay, baby?”
Will’s eyes get even bigger, if possible, his lips parting slightly, as if he can’t believe what is seeing.
Mike would be lying if he said it’s not the biggest ego boost ever. Better than that though, is how Will’s awestruck, open gaze makes his heart grow three sizes, filling his chest with warmth.
“I’m gonna dry your hair first, alright?” He asks, kneeling in front of him and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
He starts by fluffing Will’s hair, tail and ears with a clean, dry towel, knowing all too well how he dislikes the feeling of damp fur, always attentive at drying all of himself as soon as he’s out of the water.
Will chuckles happily at his fussing, malleable under his hands, letting Mike do whatever he pleases with him. Abandoned to Mike's care.
When he’s done with it, Mike stands up, helping Will slip his arms out of the bathrobe.
“Alright, lift your arms up now, please,” he instructs him, with a gentle tap on his forearm.
Will obeys, though he must still be aching from the intense knotting session, and he only manages to lift his arms halfway.
A growl of pride rises from Mike’s chest at the visible proof of what he did to his mate’s body and mind, both melted into uselessness: exactly how it should be. It is Mike’s job to worry and care, not Will’s. Will shouldn’t even have to think; Mike is there to do it for him. Mike is there to murmur soft nothings into his ear, clean him up in their bathtub, feed him from his own hand, and cuddle him until Will regains his strength.
Mike is about to slip his own t-shirt on him —the Ronnie James Dio one he wore yesterday,— when Will suddenly lets his upper body tumble forward, smushing his face against the centre of Mike's chest, arms still half-raised in the air.
It’s so fucking cute that Mike is stunned into stillness for a moment, just taking the sight in: Will with blissfully closed eyes, bunny ears completely drooped down, one softly folded over the other against his back.
He feels such a surge of love for him that he’s choked up with it for a moment.
“Will, baby,” he says, voice strained with feelings.
Will purrs against him, unmoving.
“Bunny,” he tries again, feeling a smile pull at the corners of his lips. “Can you lift up for me, please? I want to put your t-shirt on—well, my t-shirt, but yeah.”
Will remains as he is, actually rubbing the side of his face against him.
Of course, Mike is helpless but to let the t-shirt drop on the bed and his hands to Will’s hair.
“Alright, we can stay like this a bit longer, I guess.” He concedes, making sure to help Will’s arms down, so he can relax fully.
Will hums happily, his cheek smushed against him, looking so much like the bunny he is, all fluffy hair and soft whimpers.
After a while, not wanting to risk him falling asleep half upright, Mike grabs the t-shirt back.
"Shall we try again? Lift your arms up for me?”
This time, he manages to make Will lift one arm and then the other, making quick work of pulling the item of clothing down on him.
“Good job, that was perfect,” he praises him, cupping his cute little face to leave a kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Look at you. You look so pretty like this, all cozy and soft in my clothes.”
And that’s when it happens.
Mike doesn’t know if it is because of something he did, or said, or if it happens just because it was meant to happen.
Nevertheless, it does happen.
Will’s face opens in a dazed, happy smile.
“Mmh,” he gurgles, his gaze fogged over, “Mommy.”
Mike freezes. Completely. Both in thoughts and body.
Will hides his face into the palm of Mike’s hand, happily nuzzling there, seemingly unaware of what he just said. He's even licking at Mike's skin, tongue lazily seeping out, pink and pretty like the rest of him.
Between this and the—other thing that just happened, Mike is having trouble thinking straight.
Or, well, thinking at all.
“Uhm,” he indeed cleverly says, “Will— baby, what did you say?”
Will ignores him, looking blissfully unaware of the sudden, utter chaos he caused in Mike’s head.
And chest.
And a little bit in his boxers, which oh God, why—
“Will,” Mike tries again, gently plucking him out of his hiding spot. “What did you call me, baby? Can you say it again for me?”
I just want to be sure I heard it right, he tells himself, lying like a bastard, because he can’t deny the sudden rush of blood that that word just gave him, which really, he does not understand why he even liked it that much—
Oh.
He liked it.
The thing is, Mike is greedy as hell when it comes to Will: he wants, no, needs, everything Will has to offer, and this is something new, something Will never gave him before, something Mike didn’t even know it was possible to have from him, which means now that he knows, he has to have it.
He is not a sensible person, when it comes to Will Byers. Luckily, he accepted this side of himself ages ago.
Will, for his part, doesn’t seem preoccupied with any of it: he’s staring back at Mike with his beautiful green eyes, utterly empty of thoughts. Mike loves him in this state, he really does; he loves that Will trusts him so much he can be this unaware of what’s happening around him, but right now, he would love for Will to either deny or confirm what he thinks he heard, because there’s no way Mike is going to let that go.
Despite this, he also doesn't want to push Will somewhere he is not comfortable going, so he does his best to be gentle about it.
“You know who I am, right?” He tilts Will’s face with a hand on the back of his neck, to make him look at him. “Can you tell me who I am, baby?”
“Mmmh.” Will says.
Mike smiles encouragingly at him.
“Mmh,” Will murmurs again, smiling that same soft smile, before adding: “Mom.”
Mike’s eyes go wide. Comically so. He can feel it.
“Uhm.” He gulps.
His wolf awakens at once, buzzing like crazy at the title. There's something in it that makes it feel like he just hit the whole jackpot and more.
He can hear his own tail wagging euphorically behind him.
Will’s gaze drops to it and his cute dopey smile widens.
“No, baby,” Mike struggles to contradict him, wanting to remain gentle while desperately trying not to burst a knot right here, because this is new, it never happened before, and he needs to know that Will is okay with it—needs to know if he means it.
“What’s my name, bunny? Can you tell me?”
At that, Will’s gaze sharpens slightly; he tightens his grip on Mike’s biceps, pulling gently.
“Mike.” He says, at last, in a whisper.
He looks so soft, like this. He always does, thanks to both his bunny nature and just him being Will, soft-spoken and kind, but there’s something extra sweet in post-knot Will, when he’s drowsy and non-verbal, abandoned to Mike’s care while covered in Mike’s marks and smelling like milk because Mike fucking bred him—
“Mike,” Will repeats, not in demand, just to have Mike’s name in his mouth.
“Yes, good job,” He makes sure to praise him, resting their foreheads together. “Good job, Will. That’s right.”
Will nuzzles his nose against his with a happy whimper. He’s painfully beautiful like this, content and utterly relaxed.
“And you know who I am to you, right?” Mike checks again, has to be sure. “Can you tell me?”
Will looks at him with this open, trusting expression that makes Mike want to die, because there’s no way he’s deserving of it.
“My mate.” He whispers, almost reverently.
Mike breathes again. At the same time, there’s a crazy part of him that is disappointed at not being called— that other thing again. He’s not even sure why, as it doesn’t even make sense: Mike is not a mother. He’s not even a woman, for fuck’s sake, and Will already has a mother, and a very good at that too, so what is this even about?
“That’s right. I am,” he still makes sure to praise Will for answering. “And you are mine. My mate.”
Will pulls at his biceps again, eyes trained to his face, in a silent, undeniable confirmation of ownership.
🐺
It doesn’t happen again.
Until it does.
It’s maybe half an hour later, and they really need to get up and eat something, especially Will.
“Let's go to the kitchen, baby,” Mike says, carefully sitting up and helping Will do the same. “We need to eat something, it’s been like, ages. You need food.”
He gently moves Will to rest with his back against the headboard, bundling him up tightly in one of their clean blankets, brushing his hair away from his forehead as he goes on mindlessly chatting, giving him a background noise.
“I got these protein bars, remember? The peanut butter and chocolate ones you said you wanted to try?”
Will has a serene expression on his face, looking utterly at ease in his cocoon of blankets at the top of the bed, like a little prince on his throne, peacefully seated where Mike put him.
He takes it as a chance to look for a pair of clean boxers for himself and a hoodie for Will, amidst the mess that it’s their bedroom.
Eventually, he catches sight of the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, before Will ripped it off him: it’s forgotten in the corner on the other side of the room.
Mike doesn’t think too much about what he’s doing, taking a step toward it.
And that’s when it happens again.
“Mommy?”
He freezes. Like, hand in mid-air type of freezing.
Alright, so he didn’t make it up the first time.
Nor the second.
He heard it loud and clear now, can’t possibly deny it.
Despite the word itself, it’s Will’s slightly alarmed tone that makes him turn around at once.
He can barely look at Will like this, with how cute he is, his soft, flushed face peeking out of their blankets. His bunny ears are perked up in alarm, eyes wide with obvious anxiety, the corners of his mouth tilted slightly downwards.
Despite Mike’s brain basically shutting down because of what Will just called him, he’s back at his side at once, pushing a hand in his hair to soothingly scratch at his scalp.
“It’s okay, I’m here,” he tells him. “Will,” he says, thoughts going a mile per hour. “Baby—what did you just say?”
This time, it comes with no hesitation.
“Mommy,” Will repeats in an urgent keen, making grabby hands at him.
Mike is about to pass out.
Mike is also a very bad, very terrible person, because what do you mean he’s getting hard at his boyfriend calling him—that.
“Mike?” Will asks, pressingly. His eyes are huge with primal, visceral worry, like he really believes someone could snatch Mike away from him any seconds. “Stay?”
It’s all the talking Will is doing in his current state that abruptly brings Mike back to earth, as Will does not talk after being knotted.
He mentally slaps himself out of his horniness, as this is not the time to think with his dick.
His mate needs him.
“I— yes, of course I’m staying. I’m here.”
He pulls Will in his lap to hug him tightly, ensuring plenty of skin to skin contact. Will immediately loops both arms around his middle, forcefully pulling him in, like he really needs to feel Mike as close as possible.
“I’m not leaving,” he reassures him again, scenting him to prove his point. “Just wanted to get some clothes. But clothes are stupid, I don’t need them.”
He threads his fingers through Will’s hair at the back of his neck, which makes him hum in contentment. His puffy tail gives a happy flick, his bunny ears relaxing downwards.
Mike, on the other hand, is not relaxed.
At all.
He can’t stop thinking about—it. About the overwhelming trust seeping out of Will's voice as he called Mike—that. About his specific choice of word too, because yes, Will is pretty out of it right now, which means his animal brain is in control and his human brain is asleep, but that nevertheless means that there’s a part of Will, the most primal one, that consciously chose to call Mike—that.
Which means that Will’s most inner instinct is to see Mike as—his mom.
Mike does not want to be Will’s mother, nor father, if that’s the matter. However, there is something in the title that clearly states the utter trust Will puts into someone wearing it, as Will loves and trusts Mrs Byers with all of himself. In fact, Will didn't even call Mike the male equivalent of it, his instinct choosing the female version of the word, multiple times, which is probably because he didn’t have a father, growing up, not really. Mrs Byers was Will’s father, along with Jonathan.
Basically, Will just told Mike how he trusts him like a child trusts their caregiver— blindly, completely.
Mike is both dangerously close to getting hard and breaking down into tears, at the same time.
After that, it does not happen again.
That doesn’t mean Mike doesn’t keep going back to those precious moments for hours afterwards, as he finally manages to have their snack break, which he goes through in a haze, his mind filled with Will’s huge eyes staring at him like Mike holds the world as he calls him mom and mommy.
🐺
It takes Will another two days to completely come out of his post-knotting stupor.
By day three, his eyes have their clever spark back.
Mike’s eyes, on the other end, are circled by black shadows, as he barely let himself sleep between his visceral need to look after Will and his spiralling thoughts about—one particular pet-name.
Will never uttered another word afterwards, yet Mike hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it for half a second since.
“Oh God,” Will moans, stretching his arms above his head. “I feel like I slept for a lifetime.”
“Hi, baby, welcome back.” Mike chuckles despite being tired as fuck and mentally wired like he just had five espressos in a row.
It’s so fucking nice to see Will, all of him, back with him. Mike loves his boyfriend in his post-knot submissive headspace, but he kinda missed him as he is now: fully himself, groaning loudly as he stretches and whines about how his bunny ears are still sore from all of Mike’s biting.
“As if you didn’t like it,” Mike flicks his nose, which Will proceeds to scrunch adorably, ending up in an actual sneeze.
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t ache,” he pouts, just to be petulant about it. Then, he takes the end of his own abused bunny ear in between his fingers, pointing it to Mike: “kiss it better.”
Mike groans out loud.
“You’re so fucking cute even when you’re being whiny, it shouldn’t be allowed.”
“I’m not being whiny!” Will squalls, indignant. “I’m the victim here.”
“Victim of a marathon of great sex and kisses, no doubt,” Mike grins. “Sorry your lobster is too juicy and your boyfriend’s dick too—”
“Mike!”
“Yes, baby?”
And it’s this, among all things, that makes Will soften adorably. At once, he’s hugging Mike, leaving a loud smacking kiss onto his cheek.
“I missed you.” He says.
Mike’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s still a wonder to have Will plainly telling him that he missed him, that he loves him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.
“I missed you too,” he whispers, threading his fingers through his hair. “I mean, I loved having you like that, I really did. You’re so fucking pretty when you have no idea of what’s happening around you.”
“Yeah?” Will asks, cheekily, but actually checking. “It wasn’t too much?”
“It wasn’t. I promise.”
“Okay. Thank God.” He lifts his gaze on him, a slight frown on his face: “and you, you’re doing alright? How do you feel?”
“I’m good. Super good. Don’t worry about me,” he says, his heart threatening to burst at Will’s concern.
“Sure? You look a bit tired.” Will frowns, because of course he’s just as attuned to Mike as Mike is to him. Also, Mike’s dark circles are probably visible from outer space. “You’d tell me if I did something weird, or if we need to do things differently next time, right?”
It’s Mike’s turn to leave a loud smacking kiss to his cheek, then the other, making Will chuckle happily.
“Everything was perfect,” he earnestly tells him. “I promise. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Okay.” Will says, visibly relieved. “I’m glad. Me neither, by the way. It was…” He lowers his gaze, flustered: “It was so good, Mike.”
“It was,” he agrees at once. “You were.”
Will hides his face in his hands, flustered.
“I mean it,” Mike says, because he does mean it, and Will needs to know. And then, because he has no chill and can’t possibly wait any longer: “By the way, do you remember what you called me a couple days ago?”
Will’s eyes widen in horror behind his fingers. His bunny ears actually shook upwards, tensing up.
“You just said everything was perfect!” He scolds him, face burning.
“Because it was!” Mike argues back. “One thing doesn’t cancel the other.”
“Ugh.” Will groans, keeping his hands where they are. “God, I was hoping you didn’t notice that.”
“Didn’t notice—” Mike almost laughs. “How—Will. I haven’t been able to think about anything else for the past fourty-eight hours.”
“Oh my God.” Will groans again, shutting his eyes. “Mike, I’m so sorry about that. I’m—I’m mortified.”
“No,” he stops him before Will can get the wrong idea. He gives a gentle tap at Will’s hands in front of his face, silently asking for access. “I mean, I wasn’t really expecting it, so it was a bit of a surprise, for sure.”
Will lets him move his hands away from his face, even though he’s still grimacing.
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t remember.”
“How could I forget about it? Really, Will. I spent three days thinking about it, babe.”
“Oh my God.” Will groans, for the third time —to be exact— in a row. “I’m so sorry, Mike, I swear. I couldn’t control what I was saying, it just kept coming out of me.”
It’s clear that he is not feeling great about this entire thing, and there’s no way in hell Mike is letting it happen. He loops his fluffy tail around him, trying to make him feel safe and protected. Then, he catches both of Will’s hands on his own, holding them steadily in between their bodies.
“It wasn’t bad.”
Will frowns.
“What do you mean it wasn’t bad? I literally called you—that.”
The fact that he can’t even repeat it is not ideal.
Mike is going to fix it.
“I know, and maybe it should be weird—I don’t care. It wasn’t weird to me.” He says, making sure to look into Will’s eyes, making him understand he is serious about it.
Will’s floppy ears perk up slightly.
“No?” He asks, sounding genuinely surprised, but not as embarrassed as before, which is a win in Mike’s book. “How?”
“I guess—I guess I like the idea of being like a parent to you?” He frowns, feeling his face flare up. “Not always and not for everything! I know you have your own parents—”
“Please don’t talk about them right now.”
“Right, no, shit. Sorry!” Mike groans, desperate not to make a mess of this. He chooses his next words as carefully as possible: “you know I love taking care of you, right? I need to take care of you, Will. I love doing it, it’s always been like that, even when we were friends only.”
Will softens at that, the tension seeping out of his shoulders.
“I know,” he says, looking at Mike with obvious tenderness in his eyes. “You’ve always been good at it.”
Mike lets himself bask in the praise, pushing their foreheads together.
For a moment, they just stay like that, breathing each other’s air.
“So, you don’t hate me for calling you that? More than once?” Will eventually asks, nibbling nervously on his lower lip.
“I swear I don’t. I didn’t.” Mike confirms. “It was really sweet, honestly.”
Will perks up at him through his eyelashes.
“Sweet?”
“Yeah, I mean,” he thinks about how to better explain it. “It was like— you trusted me, Will. So much.”
“I do,” he says, without having to think about it. “Of course I do, baby.”
Mike’s heart is about to burst, it is a physical ache. He brings Will’s hand to his lips, leaving a kiss to his knuckles.
“I know you do, and I love you for it, and I’m so grateful you do, I swear,” he says, all together, “but—but when you are like that, Will. You’re like—like a child, in a way. In a good way. You turn to me for everything. You stare at me with this expression on your face that makes me want to die because you trust me so much.” He’s talking over his own words, needing to convey what he feels, needing Will to understand how meaningful this has been for him. “Like, you would do things only because I make you do them. And you let me do everything to you, baby. It’s not even about sex, it’s just, I don’t know—you let me wash you. You let me feed you. You let me dress you and undress you. You let me talk to you, about nothing at all, for hours, and you let me hold you for even longer, and I—it just means so much to me, Will. It’s such a privilege to get to have you like that. I mean, you just trusted me with your body and everything else of you. For days.” He’s panting a bit, in the haste of saying everything he’s been keeping in till now. “It just—” He swallows the anxiety coating his tongue, because Will deserves to know: “it’s everything I want.”
Will is silent for a long, long moment, so long that Mike eventually gathers the courage to look at him and—
“Oh—no, shit, I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t,” Will breaks down, letting a broken sob out. “God, Mike.”
He grabs onto Mike’s shirt, pulling him in with more force than what Mike was anticipating. He lets him do it: lets him grasp onto his back, moving the both of them to sit in the center of their bed, pulling him as close as he needs him. Wherever Will needs him, Mike goes.
“I love you,” Will sighs against his temple, “I love you so much, I’m—” He chokes on a sob, shaking his head. “Sorry I’m crying, I don’t know why—”
“Shh, no, it’s alright,” Mike reassures him, his own eyes wet anyway. “It’s okay, baby. You can cry if you need to.”
“No, you have to understand—” He moves back, taking a deep breath, as if to collect his thoughts and words before speaking.
Mike waits for him to be ready, rubbing circles onto his hands.
“When I’m like that, I’m still me, I’m still there,” Will explains, “but it’s almost like I’m a passenger, not the driver. I don’t really have much control over anything, not even on myself. I can’t really decide what comes out of my mouth. I didn’t hate what I said—what I called you,” he specifies. “Actually—I’m sorry if it’s weird to hear this, but…” He looks at Mike with his beautiful, beautiful teary eyes: “it felt really good calling you that.”
“Yeah?” Mike asks, his heart galloping in his chest. “Really, it was?”
“Yeah,” Will nods, one perfect tear sliding down his cheek. “I just—these past few days you made me feel so safe.”
“Oh, Will,” Mike gulps around the knot in his throat. His hands go to Will’s neck, caressing his own mating bite there. “Baby, I’m so glad. It felt good?”
Will nods again, with intention.
“So good. Like—like I was a kit again, as you said. But at the same time I was still me, as I am now.” He gives Mike this broken, honest look, whispering, “Mike, I—I felt so cared for.”
“Oh, baby,” Mike pushes their foreheads together, growling loudly with all the love he’s feeling. “You deserve it so much, I’m—fuck, I’m so happy you felt like that.”
“You made me feel like that,” Will says, both hands going to pet his wolf ears.
They are perfectly wrapped around each other, arms slotting around necks and torsos, pulling closer, closer.
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Will tells him. “And I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with that, but you,” he adds, and then finally, in a confession: “not even my actual mom, Mike.”
“Will,” he says, voice breaking under the heaviness of his love for this boy.
There’s nothing casual or mundane about Mike’s love for Will: it is heavy, dense, thick as maple syrup. It coats everything else, moves slowly, leaving Mike to wonder how he managed to go through life without it, for the first five years of it.
“I trust you with all of myself, quite literally,” Will smiles gently, his beautiful face wet with his own love for Mike. “I knew you would have taken better care of me than anyone else could have. Better than I could have.”
“I did,” Mike nods, his hair bouncing with the force of the movement. “I mean, I tried, at least.”
“You did,” Will confirms, petting his wolf ears. “And I guess me calling you mom was my way of letting you know that I trusted you. Unquestioningly.”
“Will,” he sighs, possessively lapping up Will’s tears. “I want that so bad.”
“You have it,” Will whispers. “You have me.”
“Come here,” Mike says, urgently pulling him into a tender kiss.
It is the first clear-headed one they share since the knot, and Mike feels it in his bones.
All through it, Will keeps playing with his ears, which melts Mike’s wolf into goo in about three seconds. The touch makes him so primarily happy and content he can’t help but growl louder, the vibrations of his chest transferring all the way to Will from where they are connected, which is basically everywhere, with the way they are clinging to one another, Will sitting in lap by now.
It leaves him dazed, like he just got his first breath of fresh air after having stayed in apnea for too long.
“Hi,” he whispers against Will’s lips, once they separate.
“Hi, puppy,” Will smiles tenderly.
Mike’s face heats up.
“Hi,” he repeats, dumbly.
“You said that already,” Will teases, looking so completely happy.
“Sorry, it’s just—it’s good to have you back,” Mike sighs. “I mean, it was good these past few days too—that’s the thing.” He chuckles, self-conscious. “Everything is good with you.”
Will’s breath hitches in his throat. His fingers dig further into Mike’s furry ears, making him almost purr.
“You really liked me calling you that?” He checks.
“I loved it. So fucking much.” Mike licks his lips, finding that he wants Will to know all about this. “I want to be—that for you, if you’ll let me.”
“Yeah?” Will asks, chest heaving. “You wanna take care of me like a mom, baby?”
Mike only manages an eager nod, his hair and ears flapping with the movement.
“I would take such good care of you,” he insists, desperate to have it, “you won’t have to worry about anything. I don’t want you to worry—I only want you happy.”
“You make me happy, Mikey,” Will whispers against his lips. “You take such good care of me already. There’s nothing more I could ask for.”
“There must be,” he insists, feeling slightly crazed with it. “I’ll find it. And give it to you. I wanna give you everything.”
This time, Will initiates the kiss, and it has an edge to it, an urgency that wasn’t there earlier.
By the time they separate, they’re both close to panting.
“Wanna be my mommy, puppy?” Will whispers against his mouth.
Mike fucking whines at that, nodding like an imbecile, brain utter mush.
“You’re so good to me.” Will sighs before kissing him again. “I love you. So much.”
“Love you,” Mike answers, unable to rip his gaze away from Will’s pretty face.
Lovesick fool, a very familiar female voice whispers in his head.
He ignores it, not wanting his attention to be diverted on anything that’s not Will.
“I thought it was really sweet, as I said,” he adds, apparently unable to stop talking about it now that the truth finally spilled out of him. “But I also thought it was really hot.”
“Of course you did,” Will chuckles. “And why did you think it was hot?”
Mike has no answer to this.
Mike has a list of answers.
He mentally goes back to what Will looked like during these past few days: relaxed, peaceful. Utterly Mike’s.
“You were so… soft.” He tries to convey in words how much Will post-knot affected him, recalling some of the moments that made his heart soar. “All bundled up in our blankets, wearing my clothes, eating from my hand, calling me mom?” He says, moving his hands around as he speaks. “That’s my wettest dream, apparently, and I didn’t even know it till two days ago.” He catches Will’s gaze as he says: “I wanted to eat you up.”
“Oh my God,” Will hides his face against his shoulder. “Why is this hot?”
“Told you!” He exclaims triumphantly, glad he’s not the only freak in the room. “Now you feel my pain.”
“I’m not sure pain is the word I’d use to describe what I’m feeling right now, Mike.” He grins, his bunny ears perking up in excitement.
“No, it’s the perfect word, actually.” Mike insists. “You don’t know how hard it’s been not to devour you when you were barely conscious. I was fighting my worst, horniest demons.”
Will chuckles at his dramatics, but Mike can feel, can see how into this he is, the glint in his eyes unmistakable.
“You could have done it, you know,” Will indeed says, looking at him from underneath his lashes. “I would have loved that.”
“You would have let me?”
“You know I would have. I like the idea of you doing anything you want to me,” Will says, voice low, “whenever you want it.”
It’s his turn to drop his forehead against his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Jesus, Will.”
“You can do it, if you still want,” Will keeps going. “Next time, I mean. You have my permission.”
Mike moves so fast he gives himself whiplash.
In the blink of an eye he’s got Will pinned underneath him with a hand splayed over his collarbones, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of his throat.
He distinctively feels Will’s pulse jump under his touch.
“Why wait till next time?” He asks, purposefully wagging his tail in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, for Will to see. He presses his index fingers to the hollow of Will’s throat, feeling his heartbeat jackrabbiting under the skin. It’s so thin, there. Vulnerable. It would take Mike less than an effortless squeeze of the jaw to rip it.
“Yeah,” Will swallows, voice barely audible. Mike’s predator hearing effortlessly picks it up anyway. “Why wait till next time indeed, when you have me trapped already?”
He knows Will is expecting him to devour him, right there and then.
Which is why Mike moves off the bed.
“What—” Will frowns.
“Five.”
Will’s eyes widen. His bunny ears perk up all the way, straight above his head in immediate understanding.
He jumps to his feet, body reacting faster than his mind.
Mike’s Will is smart, clever and beautiful: he takes a step back, opposite to his predator, gaze fixed on him. He says, voice shaking in excitement: “Four.”
Mike’s breath catches in his throat. He starts wagging his tail quickly in anticipation of what’s about to come. His wolf ears are locked on Will, ready to track his every movement, his every breath and sigh. Identifying him as a prey.
“Three,” he growls, hands itching at his sides.
Will’s face splits in a euphoric grin.
He takes another step back.
Mike lets him: they both know whatever distance he is going to put between them is going to be useless. Mike is ten times stronger and faster than him, no matter how quickly Will may hop away. If anything, it’s fun to let him try, giving him the illusion of a chance he never stands. Not against Mike.
When he was a puppy, his mother used to tell him not to play with his food.
Sorry, Mom, he thinks, Guess I’ve never learned.
Not when his meal is a full-on buffet of a pretty boy, anyway.
“Two and a half,” Will continues, because he’s a nerd just like Mike. “You ready, puppy?”
Mike crunches down, prepared to bolt. He feels air hitting his gums, and realises he has bared his teeth in a snarl at the prospect of a hunt.
He licks his teeth in answer.
Will tracks the movement with his eyes; his bunny ears twitch downwards in instinctual submission, like he can’t even control them around Mike.
“Rrrrready, bunny.” He growls.
Will’s eyes widen. His sweet, mouth-watering scent, tinted with excitement and submission hits Mike like a blow. His mouth fills with saliva. He has to swallow it. Twice.
“Two.”
Will continues to move backwards, never letting his gaze wander away from him, his prey instinct telling him that the wolf is dangerous, the wolf is gonna eat us, the wolf is gonna devour us. Just like Mike’s instinct is bombarding him with memories of how unbelievably soft Will’s juicy pussy is when it tightly clenches around him, how prettily Will cries when Mike sends him over the edge three times in a row, and how cute and pretty he is, rocking himself against Mike’s hip as Mike lets him nibble at his own little mating bite with his useless, weak bunny teeth.
Mike snarls, low and urgent.
Will’s knees buckle.
“Come on, little bunny,” he encourages him. “Let’s play.”
Will bites his bottom lip, turning away from him almost fully.
Finally, as he’s already taking the next step, he whispers, “one.”
To his credit, Mike has to admit Will is fairly fast in running away before the word is even completely out of his mouth.
As if that could help him.
Mike lets him hop away for a couple of breaths, knowing how much Will loves a good game of catch. Plus, his mate looks so fucking cute like this, scrambling to put some distance between them while engulfed in his predator’s clothes, his long ears flapping against the back of his shoulders as he disappears into the living room. The memory of how Mike mistreated those cute little things just a couple of days ago flashed through his mind, making him growl. At once, his wolf hearing catches Will’s responding whimper, despite him being in the other room.
“Herrrrre I come, bunny.”
In three jumps he’s on him, missing his prey by barely an inch.
Will yelps, scrambling to hop away, his body thrumming in excitement.
“Come on,” he pants, turning toward Mike after putting some distance between them. “That’s everything you got, puppy?”
Mike bares his teeth.
“I’ll show you what I got.”
He can hear Will’s heartbeat speed up with arousal and instinctive fear, as he lets him hop away for a few more minutes, always letting him go at the last second.
His mother was right: Mike never learnt not to play with his food.
When he eventually decides it’s been long enough, he leaps on Will one final time, easily trapping his tiny body to his arms as they tumble onto the floor in a mess of limbs and fur.
Will screeches in excitement, face bright with delight and the effort of his silly little workout.
It’s ridiculously easy for Mike to cage him against the floor, catching both of his wrists in one hand and pinning them above his head.
“Gotcha, cutie.”
Will squeals happily. His chest rises quickly, trying to catch his breath; his cheeks are flushed with exertion, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat covering his pretty face.
Mike is not even panting.
The contrast makes him twitch in his sweats, knowing how much power he has over Will.
How in control he is; how Will is not.
His bunny pushes at the restraint, squirming underneath him, because he’s nothing short of a brat, when he wants to. Mike loves getting Will everything his heart desires, he really does; but sometimes, when he sees him like this, red-faced and a bit wild, attuned to his animal side, he is overcame by the urgency to make Will submit, make him shut the fuck up, make him cry and choke a bit, just because he can. Because Will would let him do it, saying pretty please and thank you, once he’d be done with him, like the perfect little mate he is.
The mere thought makes him roar right into his face, and Will fucking melts onto the floor, like Mike switched a button off.
He can smell how wet he is even from up here.
“What are you gonna do to me now?” Will asks, his chest rising quickly as he tries to regain his breath, eyes jumping across Mike’s face.
Mike places his lips against his neck, right under his ear.
“I think I’m gonna have a feast.”
Will’s head tumbles against the floor, body going limp at Mike’s predator voice.
“Yeah?” He asks, breathy. “You hungry, puppy?”
Mike catches his eye.
He licks his lips, making sure Will sees how sharp his canines are. How easily they’d sunk into his skin.
“Starrrrrving.”
Will gulps.
Then, he slowly moves his bunny ears away from his shoulders, turning his head to the side, baring himself for Mike.
“Well, then,” he whispers, all breathy voice and big, languid eyes, “have a taste.”