Chapter Text
The fierce, unabating desire to give Mike a wolf pup hits Will like a brick to the face the first day of their visit to Robin and Nancy's house in Philadelphia.
The trip takes place in winter, about a month after Nancy had given birth to a wolf cub. The wolf-shifter couple, ecstatic about the birth after they had been trying for so long — alpha pregnancies are difficult, and Nancy had been bedridden for much of the nine months she had been with child — had invited the entire Maldonado-Wheeler troop to her apartment; Mike, Will, and their two kits, Maya and Rian.
Will initially had his misgivings about making the visit, despite wanting to see the pup just as much as every single one of their family and friends. And he had multiple, valid reasons for doing so.
Maya, after all, at a precocious five years of age, is a terribly ill-behaved kit who is in the phase of her life where she is determined to make her mark on and destroy anything she gets her hands on. In the week leading up to the visit alone, she broke two vases and one potted plant, using the full effect of her puppy-like brown eyes she inherited from Mike to get herself out of trouble.
Meanwhile, Rian — two years younger than his sister, and deathly afraid of abandonment for reasons unbeknownst to Will — clings to his mama's skirts any chance he gets. He is so overly attached to Will, refusing to leave him alone for extended periods of time, that Mike once wondered out loud if they needed to schedule an appointment with a child psychiatrist for him. It had been a genuinely valid question, but it had also kickstarted an argument so fierce Mike was relegated to the couch for a week.
Nevertheless, despite Will's various misgivings, the visit itself is actually pleasant. Mike drives, and Rian for once is happy to sit in the back next to his elder sister while Will takes the front seat and control of the aux. Their two children sleep the whole way there, and Will snaps at least twenty pictures at one point, rolling his eyes when Mike snorts at him.
"Keep your eyes on the road," Will admonishes, putting the phone down and smoothing down the fur of his ears, where they lay draped on each shoulder. He's dressed in one of Mike's sweaters and jeans, and although it's the most mundane ensemble he's ever worn, Mike keeps gazing at him with that look in his eyes — the same look which is half of the reason why they have two children before either of them have hit the age of twenty-six. "You'll crash if you keep staring at me."
"I always stare at you," Mike objects, neatly swerving a car to speed ahead on the road. "You're too pretty not to."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Will retorts, before leaning over to give one of Mike's ears a good scritch, smiling faintly at him. Both twitch in response, and Will knows if Mike's tail hadn't been pinned to the seat, it would be wagging.
The streets are mostly empty and so they make good time, reaching the apartment before lunch. The second Nancy opens the door, Maya's off like a shoot, dashing through the hallway and screaming at the top of her lungs for her Aunt Robin. Will can't even corral her back, because his arms are full of a still-dozing Rian and Mike's handling their bags; instead, he looks at Nancy with a wince and apologises.
Nancy, though, has a knowing glint in her eyes. Her hair's a mess of curls around her face and she looks tired but happy, dark circles beneath her eyes and a sweet smile on her face. "Happens to all of us," she says wisely, drawing Will in for a hug and carding her fingers lightly through Rian's hair.
And then, she turns to Mike with an appraising look and crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a beer belly?"
Mike, who goes for a run every morning to sate his wolf instincts but definitely has been slacking on his weights routine, puffs up in response. His face scrunches up in a formidable scowl, he drops the bags on a floor to point his finger in his sister's face, and his tail points straight up in annoyance. He paints the picture of an alpha who got successfully irritated by their sibling's attempt to irritate, and Will has to stifle a sigh.
"I don't fucking have one, and you know what, you look — "
The tone of his voice is reaching a fever pitch that sounds scarily like Maya when she's whining for a second helping of ice cream after dinner. Will winces, pressing Rian's head to the crook of his neck and covering his free ear with a hand to prevent the ensuing expletives from reaching him somehow, and heads down the hallway to find Robin and Maya.
It takes a while, because the house Nancy and Robin live in is a higher-end penthouse-type of abode in the richer side of Philadelphia. About a year ago, Robin and Nancy had decided to splurge on a new house by taking advantage of their earnings from being one of the city's most adored DJs and most admired journalists respectively. And splurge they did — it's glossy and glamorous, with two storeys containing a polished, mahogany feel to the floors, ornate paintings hung up intermittently down the snaking hallway, and each room wide enough to house a brood of puppies.
He eventually finds his wayward daughter and her godmother in a room at the end of the hallway of the second floor, Maya stretched up on her tippy toes as she peers down at a crib. Beside her is Robin herself, dressed in pyjamas and a baggy Ramones shirt, gently speaking to her in a hushed tone. The second Will lets him in, she's glancing up with a grin, rushing over to take Rian from her arms.
"Baby Byers!" Robin whisper-yells, hoisting Rian up perfectly on her shoulders, as Maya comes to stand by Will's side. Will leans over to hug Robin, as Maya, giggly and sweet, joins in on the hug too. "Oh, look at you. You're glowing, you don't look a day over twenty. Tell me your secrets."
"You're talking about me but look at you," Will says admiringly, standing back and taking in his fill of Robin. Despite the messy fit — there's what looks to be a jam stain above Joey Ramone's head — she's healthy and beautiful, with her cheeks flushed and her hair pinned back with butterfly clips, a pen behind her ear. She's beaming too, no shadowed emotion of worry in her eyes for once unlike the way it's been for the past few months; it's a relief, after how much stress she'd been under during Nancy's pregnancy. Back then, she would facetime Will every three days or so, fretting and rambling about a whole list of anxieties about her wife's health. "Motherhood suits you, you know."
"Oh, hush," Robin scolds, even as she smiles, and opens her mouth to say more, when there's a short, cut-off wolflike whine from the crib. Will perks up from where he's standing and beside him, Maya shrinks behind his leg, clutching at his jeans while one bunny ear flops over to cover her right eye.
Robin's eyes twinkle in mirth at their reactions. "Wanna meet him?"
After they get Rian settled, Will's brought over to the crib while Maya stays by his side. There, he peers in and immediately feels his heart swell with warmth at the frankly adorable sight that greets him.
Zane Wheeler-Buckley is tiny, hands curled into loose fists while he dozes in the center of the massive bedding, small tail occasionally flopping and thumping on the sheets. His ears, miniscule and the cutest thing around for miles, twitch in his nap in little furtive movements back and forth, as if listening out for any sounds in the relatively new surroundings he finds himself in. He's got that new baby smell too of powder and milk, and as Will continues peering into the crib, he opens his eyes by the tiniest fraction, peeks of Nancy's chocolate brown poking through.
"Oh!" Will gasps, and covers his mouth. Maya, who had been watching him keenly, copies his movements and slaps both hands to her mouth as well. "He's awake, did we wake him? I'm so sorry — "
"Relax, he's fine," Robin laughs, gathering the cub up in her arms. Zane goes with her, docile as a mouse, now blinking his huge brown eyes sleepily at the strangers in his midst. The poor kid lookes terribly confused but not entirely put off at this sudden turn of events of finding two unfamiliar bunnies in front of him. He's dressed in a wolf onesie too, the hood gathered up at the nape of his neck as his socked feet idly kick up and back again.
Robin pats a hand on his back and busses a kiss into his hair, before grinning at Will. "Wanna hold him?"
Without much preamble, she dumps the baby in his arms. At the movement, Zane shifts, a small grumble of protest escaping him that is bordering on a cry. However, the second Will shushes him and brings him up to his scent gland, he quiets down immediately.
It must be something about Will's omegan scent, daisies and caramel, but whatever it is, it makes Zane nuzzle into his neck and exhale out a tiny puff of air, no longer on the verge of crying but instead exuding waves of calm. And standing right then and there, with a tiny pup in his arms, his small ears and tail twitching against him, Will feels a strong ache wring him dry. It's painful and real, starting in the core of his heart before wrapping its fingers around his soul and clenching tight, saying, you want this.
Things just get worse when Mike appears in the doorway, eyes wide at the baby in Will's arms. When Robin urges him over, he goes, not snarking at the older alpha for once with his gaze still fixed on the pup. There is something in his eyes as he looks at Will, something reverent and awed, and Will finds himself amazed at all the news ways Mike seems to showcase his love for Will. It makes him blush, and he hands Zane over quietly with heated cheeks, murmuring, "Do be careful."
"I always am," Mike protests, and hoists Zane up in his arms, whispering, "Hey there, buddy. I'm your Uncle Mike." As if in response, the baby nuzzles into Mike's cheek, so well-behaved it makes Will smile fondly. He looks even smaller in Mike's arms, too, ears twitching against Mike's cheek as Mike's large hand reaches up to support his bum.
The similarities pop out when Will takes a step back and stares at the duo. Both Mike and Zane have the same messy Wheeler hair, probably a hereditary thing. They have the same freckles and the same nose as well, all of which are classic Wheeler traits.
Logically, Zane isn't Mike's son — he's his nephew. But the sight of it, Mike essentially holding a mini version of himself, who could easily pass as his child, sends that aching want coursing through Will all over again. It's visceral and real, making Will bite his lower lip as he watches Mike coo at the pup and laugh softly at the way Zane snuffs into his neck and kicks his little feet.
It's a two-day visit, much of which is spent cooing over Zane and taking a bunch of pictures for the extended Wheeler clan. During the trip home, their two kids doze in the back like they'd done on the way there, while Mike's turned on the local radio as he navigates the mostly empty roads back to New York. It's mostly quiet, the low sound of the radio DJ announcing traffic updates filtering through the car, and Will realises that he's just been given an opportunity on a silver platter. There's no more perfect time than now to bring up his want, and he nervously chews on the end of one of his ears for a little bit, an anxious tic that developed in the Upside Down and has stayed with him until now.
Mike, focused on the road as he is, doesn't really pay any heed to Will's nerves. That is, until he sends him a glance askance, and then reaches over to pick Will's hand up, pressing his knuckles to his mouth for a gentle kiss. Will lets him for once, deciding not to scold him for driving one-handed. "You okay, baby?" Mike asks softly, pitching his tone low in the way he still does when he speaks to Will, and Will knows that it's now or never. He has to ask, with the afterimage of Zane's tiny ears twitching against Mike's neck still ever-present in his mind.
He means for it to be a gentle production. A light hint, maybe, a question like what do you think about more kids or my heat's coming up; but instead, the words that tumble out of his mouth are as blunt as a sword.
"I want a baby," he says, and Mike raises his eyebrows, looking at him with his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.
"We've got two of them, baby."
"I mean — " Will hesitates, glancing towards the back where Rian and Maya are both sleeping again, slumped into each other. Maya's in a mini Ramones shirt courtesy of Robin, who'd given it to her as a gift which she had been positively ecstatic about, refusing to take it off for the entire trip. Stray locks of hair that have come undone from her ponytail are flopping into her eyes, and her ears are draped over her shoulders much like Will's is.
Beside her is Rian, with one of his ears bent up in sleep, as he idly kicks out his feet while presumably deep in a dream. Will had asked him once what he usually dreamt about and he'd said very shyly, "You, Mama." He'd been awfully flattered, until Rian had explained the dream was about Will bouncing on marshmallows — but still, the sentiment counted.
They're his unique little kits, the lights of his life, having given him so, so much to be proud of. He loves them fiercely, wholeheartedly, with all the power he's got in his body. It's incredible to consider the fact that he's come this far with a beautiful husband and two beautiful children by his side, after having spent most of his teen years traumatised, assaulted and hunted by an unnatural entity who had attempted to kill him on numerous counts.
So really, he's lucky. He's incredibly lucky to be here in this car with Mike and Maya and Rian, and all of that should be enough for him. And yet… that ache remains.
"I want a wolf pup," Will admits in a low, hesitant voice, and Mike's frowning again.
"We can look into adoption processes, baby — "
Fucking hell. Will tries and fails to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at how obtuse his mate can be sometimes. "I want to give you a wolf pup," he says pointedly, and Mike freezes.
For a few seconds, he doesn't even move beyond still keeping his hands on the steering wheel — Will would have assumed he had stopped breathing as well, if it hadn't been for the minute rise and fall of his chest. The air in the car turns dense, almost strangely heavy with the sudden stress that has entered the vehicle upon Will's words, and his heart drops.
In truth, he doesn't know what reaction he'd been expecting, but it definitely isn't this. It isn't the expression on Mike's face smoothing out into blank impassivity, his fingers tight around the wheel, the scent in the air turning sour with sudden distress. It isn't Mike's lips pressing together, as Will suddenly feels as if they're both about to fall from the edge of a cliff. It isn't Mike reaching over to turn the radio off, plunging the white noise in the car to abrupt, dramatic silence.
The silence continues for a long moment, before Mike breaks it with a heavy sigh, dragging his hand over his face. "Will," he says flatly, and the dropping of the petname is sign enough to Will that he's not going to like whatever comes out of Mike's mouth next, "what on earth brought this on? We're doing fine, aren't we?"
The words make something in Will's stomach squeeze, as he defensively tugs on his ears, focusing on the sharp pinpricks of pain in his scalp. There's a slight aggressive edge in Mike's voice, an indicator that tells Will this is going to be an uphill battle, that convincing Mike is going to take an inhuman level of force.
But his mind is made up, and he wants a cub. He needs a cub. "I just…" Will swallows, and tries again, willing his voice not to shake as he twists the fabric of his shirt between his fingers. He thinks of the way Zane had nuzzled into Mike's neck, the way his little socked feet kicked against Mike. "Seeing Zane in your arms, his little ears, it made me want a cub, too. Don't you?"
All Mike does in response is frown heavily, shooting him a quick glance before deliberately avoiding his gaze by focusing on the road. "Rian and Maya are enough," he rumbles, and Will realises he's avoiding the question, too.
The thing is, Will had seen Mike's desire, too. He had seen the way Mike looked at him when Zane was all cuddled up in his arms, and he had seen how Mike smiled down at the tiny pup, stroking behind his ears and watching keenly while Zane's one-month-old tail wagged.
He had watched the way Mike interrogated Nancy endlessly on what it was like to deal with the infant, shooting out question after question and aiming them all at his sister. There had been a strange, morose wistfulness in his eyes, as Nancy described hearing Zane attempt to howl for the first time with nothing but a squeak escaping. And Will hadn't missed the forlorn manner with which he'd traced the angle of Zane's ears, commenting on how beautiful they looked already.
Mike is — mostly, at least — an open book to him, his emotions always out on his sleeve. Back during their days at college, Will had always been able to tell that Mike was having a bad week before he would come to him about it. The week before his rut was always obvious with the way he would behave, all clingy and possessive, and the bouts of anxiety he experienced was something Will could easily predict and counteract by supporting Mike through them exactly as any partner would.
The point is, Will knows Mike. And Will knows that having a wolf pup is a desire of his too, to have a mini version of himself from the tips of his ears down to his canines, sharpened to a point. So, it doesn't make sense for him to act like this now, act like he never wanted a cub, not unless there's something else at play.
"We wouldn't even know if it's a bunny inside you or a wolf," Mike continues, the defensive edge in his voice growing more obvious in a minute. His knuckles are white where his fingers clutch at the steering wheel, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I'm always happy to give you more bunnies, Will, you know if it was up to me I'd have ten of them running around — "
"But I want a cub," Will whispers, and Mike actually flinches at that, arms bunching up under his shirt.
"Will — "
Will barrels on. He's determined to get to the root of it, see why Mike is so reticent to the idea when his desire had been clear as day back at Nancy's apartment. He's not seeing things that aren't there and he's not fooling himself into dreaming for something Mike doesn't equally ache for. In fact, he is fully cognizant of what his husband wants, what his husband craves. And so, arriving at this point in their argument feels like ending up at a dead end where he hadn't expected there to be one.
When Will speaks next, he does so on autopilot, his brain-to-mouth filter all but gone.
"Why won't you listen to me? What are you afraid of?" he demands, and Mike immediately stiffens at that, lips pressing together in a thin, white line. The scent in the air turns acrid, stinging Will's nose, the sharpness of it so intense that from the back of the car, Maya whimpers in her sleep. At that, Mike lets out a soft curse, and he reels his scent in until the acrid note of the scent is all but a faint memory lingering in the air.
For a second, Will is nonplussed by it all — Mike's reaction, his scent turning acrid, him reeling it back — until realisation hits him. And it hits him hard, a brick to the face with the force of it painful and jarring.
Mike is afraid.
His fear is now a thin undercurrent beneath his usual scent of coffee and cedarwood, but it's obvious to someone like Will. Over the years, he's become so intimately familiar with each note, each uptick and each switch in Mike's scent that at any point of time, he'd be able to tell the difference in Mike's pheromones with a specificity bordering on obsession.
Right now, Mike's scared, and Will has no idea as to why. That is, until his alpha drums his fingers on the steering wheel, sighs and speaks again.
"Only about 4,000 cross-species pregnancies have been recorded, whereby a prey gave birth to a predator, and 200 of those were stillbirths," Mike says. He measures out each word in his mouth with the sort of hesitance that drives a fist into Will's stomach, but he still continues. Even when the impact is heavy and painful, digging in beneath Will's skin to make a home for itself. "63% of those prey-shifters spent half their pregnancy bedridden, and had to deliver prematurely. I looked it up while at Nancy's because you're right, I want a pup, but not at your expense. Not if I might lose you during the course of it."
A ringing silence follows his tirade, and Will can't find the strength within himself to respond to it. The drive continues for a bit in silence, and Will is unable to stop himself from taking a peek at Mike throughout, at the redness in his eyes and the way his jaw remains clenched. It's as if even considering the possibility of it is enough to drive him into a manic emotional state, unable to function. And Will understands the danger, understands the thought process that Mike took to reach this point, but the memory of Zane in his arms feels too strong to resist.
Unbidden, his hand drifts to his abdomen. He has to fight for this, he thinks.
"We've survived the Upside Down," he says softly, and sees Mike's eyes snap to him. Smiling lightly, he leans over to place a hand on Mike's tense arm, smoothing it up and down until the tension leaks out of his body. "We've survived Vecna. We've survived the craziest things, Mike, and you think a simple little pregnancy's going to be the end of us?"
Mike blows out a breath noisily, his ears twitching at the sides of his head. Will can see him softening, though, in the manner with which his shoulders slump against the back of the leather seat. His answering smile is reluctant, and he huffs in Will's direction, sounding exasperated. "You can't blame me for being terrified," he says obstinately.
"But you want a pup, too," Will counters, grinning triumphantly when Mike grunts out in a non-committal manner, even as his eyes shift away guiltily. All of his tells have always been obvious to Will, and they are even more obvious now, in the tightening of the skin around his eyes and the flaring of his nostrils. "You can't hide it from me, Mike. You want someone to go on runs with, you want someone to roughhouse with, you want a little baby you can teach to howl at the moon to your heart's liking."
Will swallows noisily, thinking of all the firsts he's had with his kids. Guiding them to burrow, divvying up their carrots for them, teaching them on taking care of the fur on their ears and tail. As much as Mike loves them, a rift exists due to the difference of their species, and it's something that has gnawed at Will like it's a personal shortcoming. But now, he can rectify it.
"And I want to give you that, Mike," Will says softly. "I want it so bad it hurts."
The raw, sincere truth seeps into the space between them, tinging it with the beauty of possibility. Will can see it all so clearly in his mind's eye, too; a tiny wolf cub running at full sprint alongside Mike, scenting him in the way wolves uniquely do, both indulging in a bloody steak while the rest of the family dines out on celery and carrots.
And besides that, he thinks he'd love a wolf cub that nibbles on his ears and calls him Mama. He'd love a wolf cub with tiny ears and a tiny tail, running along behind him like Mike used to do when they were kids. And he'd love a wolf cub who would whine low and mournful at him whenever he forced them to eat their veggies, Mike's puppy-dog eyes shining at him.
It is a dream that feels attainable, despite the statistics Mike rattled off at him. The hope he feels in his chest is dangerous, yes — but addictive all the same.
Mike finally lets out a long, bereaved sigh, sounding put-upon for the crime of being forced to put a wolf cub inside Will. "It won't take on the first try," he warns, staring daggers at Will. "And we have to see a doctor beforehand. Non-negotiable, Will."
"Oh, fine," Will acquiesces with an easy smile, but he shows his gratitude by scenting Mike, rubbing the inside of his wrist over the side of his husband's neck, Mike tilting his head to make it easier, looking far too beautiful for words. The sun outside is not too hot, and the rays that filter in through the car's windows set Mike's hair alight, turn his eyes a beautiful golden-brown.
Both of their bunnies have those eyes, puppylike and wide, which they always use to get whatever they want out of their parents. And honestly, Will loves the fact that he can see his husband's eyes staring back at him whenever he looks at their bunnies, because he loves everything about Mike.
He'd very much like to see those eyes on their wolf pup once again. He'd like to carry them in his arms, see them open their eyes to gaze up at Will with Mike's beautiful irises.
"I love you," Mike says suddenly, flicking his eyes towards him and sending him a small smile, achingly handsome. "I love you so much, you know."
Will's heart swells. "Love you too, baby," he says quietly, reaching over to give Mike a quick kiss on the cheek.
*
The first person they inform of their decision is Joyce, who is more than a little wary about Will's choice to carry a predator pup to full term. Unfortunately, she knows there is no use in attempting to change her youngest son's mind — Will is notoriously obstinate, and refuses to move from his spot the second he sets his brain on doing something.
Then, they decide to contact Dr Owens. Will's old doctor is more than happy to meet with them, and although he is similarly cautious when advising them on the pregnancy, he does say that the fears of predator-prey pregnancies are overblown at times.
"The number's definitely not that low," Dr Owens says airily, waving his hand away at it when Mike brings up the report he'd read on such pregnancies. "And Will's as sturdy as they come. It takes a lot to survive the things he did, Michael — it's no walk in the park, but I don't imagine there to be cause for concern, either."
Will preens at the praise, and not so subtly kicks at Mike's ankle, with his alpha rubbing the smarting area with a wince. "I told you," he says arrogantly, lifting his chin when Mike shoots him a look that lets him know he'll regret the brattiness later.
After that, because Mike is nothing if not thorough, they pay a third visit to the doctor they had for Will's pregnancies with Maya and Rian. A red-haired beta named Beverley, she exclaims happily at the news before immediately prescribing them a whole host of medications for both Mike and Will to take to improve natal health and very embarrassingly, sperm count.
It's humiliating to have it all spelt out on pieces of paper, and stand by while the nurse gives off an air of judgement as she doles the meds out, but Will would grit his teeth and bear it a thousand times over for the possibility of giving birth to a wolf pup. That's how eager he is for a cub of his own, how eager he is to fulfill Mike's wish, to have a mini-version of his alpha get underfoot alongside his bunny kits.
Once that's all settled, the actual attempts start — admittedly, the best part of trying for a child.
Maya had been a happy accident, born when Will was in his third year of college following a premature heat that hit after exam week. Will had spent weeks throwing up before Mike bodily dragged him to the clinic, and they both sat in aghast horror when Beverley, who they'd been meeting back then for the first time, wanted to know if Will had been recently sexually active.
When she brought out the tests proving Will was pregnant, Mike had keeled over in a dead faint, which the Party still ribs him about. He woke up to Will waving smelling salts under his nose, an unimpressed look in his eyes.
They had discussed abortion for a bit, especially since one of Will's college friends had gone through it because having a baby just hadn't aligned with her plans at hand. Will had even gone with her to the clinic to get the abortion done, glaring at the pro-life protesters parked in front of the establishment and giving them the middle finger.
"Your choice, Will," Mike had said gently, when Will asked him what he wanted. "It's not my body. It's yours."
His words were sweet but spectacularly unhelpful. Will spent a whole week thinking, and finally chose to see the pregnancy through in a gap year from college, and it was smooth-sailing from there on out. Morning sickness rarely hit, Will's libido shot up like crazy and Mike was obsessed with him the whole time throughout, and they eloped five months into the pregnancy much to the consernation of their family and friends. Max refused to speak to them for a week, only conceding when Will told her she could organise his wedding reception.
Rian, on the other hand, was planned. Will had been itching to give Maya a sibling and Mike was on the same boat, so they paid Beverley another visit and gave it a try. After a very active heat and three weeks of going at it like a horny bunny, Will woke up one morning to his stomach shifting and tripping over itself uneasily, and just knew.
This time round, though, they don't leave a single moment to chance. They book out a woodside cabin for their synced-up heat and rut, leaving Maya and Rian with Jonathan and Steve before setting off. It's a neat little place, rented for just that week alone, and Will leads Mike on a raunchy chase that ends with him getting eaten out against a tree, the bark rubbing his skin raw. And Mike doesn't even give him any relief; he brings him to the edge four different times before pulling back, nearly making Will cry from the pain of not coming during his heat, cunt pulsing and abdomen aching.
"We're not so young that you can just edge me," he snaps, keeping a sharp grip on Mike's hair while the alpha grins up at him, all teeth.
"You're turning twenty-six in three months," Mike says reasonably, his tone frustratingly calm as he places a hot kiss on the side of Will's bare inner thigh, clearly meant to soothe. All it does is make slick dribble out of Will's core, his clit twitching plaintively in response. "You're in the pinnacle of your youth."
Leaning against the tree and edged to within an inch of his life, skin grimy from sweat and slick and heat, Will doesn't feel youthful. He does feel like slapping Mike, who's somehow still in control of his senses in the middle of his rut. "Either fuck me, or let me go so I can find a proper wolf who will," Will snarls, and it's that, of all things, that makes Mike's eyes flash a dangerous red, before he dives back into Will's pussy with a ferocity that makes all their previous times having outdoor sex pale in comparison.
After making Will come at least three times in a row, Mike takes him against the tree, pinning both of his lop ears back with one hand and driving into him hard. They fuck rough in front of the cabin, Will on all fours with Mike mounting him from behind, and then they screw again in the kitchen, hopelessly dirtying the counter with Will bent over in front of it.
By then, Will's out of his mind with the heat and Mike is too, canines fully elongated and eyes scarlet from the rut. It's violent and harsh and incessant, Will's senses full of alpha alpha alpha, and they only emerge out of it towards the tail end of the week. Mike eyes the bruises, bites and cuts littering Will's skin with a tired, satisfied gaze, and Will dozes the whole trip back to New York under the protective surveillance of his alpha.
The second they go to Jonathan and Steve's to pick their kids up, Maya gasps. "Who hurt you, Mama?"
"Yeah, Mama," Jonathan says pointedly, as Will goes down on one knee, letting Maya run her fingers over a hickey on his cheekbone. "Who hurt you?"
Mike, obviously, doesn't take that lying down.
"You're one to talk," he fires back, raising an eyebrow. "Last Thanksgiving at the Sinclairs', I saw Steve gnawing on you like a — "
"Mike," Will grits out, as Rian hops closer and also starts to touch his bruises, little eyes wide with shock.
As chewed up and wrung out as the heat and rut left both Will and Mike, it's not enough to put a bun in the oven — or, well, a pup in the oven.
And so, Mike hilariously draws up a schedule and after many bouts of giggles from Will and resultant pouts from Mike, they collectively decide to adhere to it. Anything for their future cub, and if that means having marathon sex even after their heat and rut, so be it.
Mornings consist of sleepy sex in bed, Mike fucking into Will from behind with his hands digging into Will's left tit, fingers leaving marks and bruises that show up as purple on cream-coloured skin. He kisses said marks and bruises in the shower later, fucking into Will once more, slow and steady with an aching intimacy that leaves Will with tears in his eyes and his heart in his throat.
After they send the kids off to preschool and kindergarten, they have another bout of sex in the car — Mike tugging back both of Will's ears in one fist while Will bounces on his lap, hands clenched on Mike's shoulders with his teeth snagging on Mike's left ear.
Their third round comes after lunch. The fourth, after Mike clocks off from work at home, shutting his laptop to immediately pull Will away from a commission he's been working on, bending Will over the couch to fuck into him with reckless abandon. For this round, he pins the bunny's wrists to the small of his back and leaves biting marks all over the skin of his shoulders, digging in his canines hard enough to draw blood.
Often, Mike takes too long to come inside Will and then it's a rush to pick the kids up from school, Will berating Mike the whole trip there for not leaving him enough time to clean himself up. It's disgusting in the best way possible; Will can still feel Mike's spend leaking out of him, and not even clenching his thighs prevents the leakage.
It makes him feel slutty and whorish, like opening his legs and letting Mike come inside him for the billionth time in a row. As much as he acts annoyed about it, he really does like feeling this messy and filthy around him — revelling in the wet sensation of his come pooling out of him, trying to keep it in with one hand pressed against his pussy.
This, of course, always makes Mike act even more lecherous than normal, worming one hand between Will's thighs before Will smacks it away with a sigh.
"You fucking love that shit, don't lie to me," Mike says with a cocky smirk on his face, making his canines visible. It makes Will feel insanely hot to the core and impossibly aroused, the slick between his thighs now joining the mess that is Mike's cum, probably irreversibly staining the leather. The smell of it is in the air, too — and Mike's nostrils flare, taking it in. "I can smell it on you. Don't make too much of a mess, princess, I'm going to have to eat it out of you later."
That makes Will actually let out a whimper, even more of the slick and cum spurting out of him in response as he squirms in the seat. He has to brutally push down the urge to grind his clit on the leather seat like a horned-up bunny, pressing his palm even harder against his pussy and ignoring the heat of Mike's stare.
Will's favourite round of all, though, comes in the evening after they've put both Rian and Maya to bed. That's when the hours feel long and endless, the night stretching out for an eternity with the possibilities positively unending, as Mike has his way with Will. Some nights, they do it fast and quick, Mike folding Will into a mating press to pound into him hard and deep, pinning his wrists to the headboard and leaving him with ring-shaped bruises sore and heated to the touch.
On other nights, like now, Will decides to spice things up a little. He has on black lace panties with a matching bralette, and he's lounging back against the pillows when Mike walks into the bedroom, taking off his shirt and groaning out loud as he talks.
"Sweetheart, Maya's still not talking to me about that fox girl at school she claims is her girlfriend," he's saying, not looking up as he runs his fingers tiredly through his hair. His jaw's dark with the shadow of five-days-old scruff, his glasses are perched on the tip of his nose, his hair's standing on end, and the effort of increasing his weights at the gym is starting to show in the tightness of his muscled biceps, the lean tone of his stomach — all of it makes Will squeeze his thighs together in barely restrained pleasure, cunt growing embarrassingly wet from just looking at his alpha. "You know, I think we should stay back at her school tomorrow after we drop her off, sneak in and — " he looks up, and his voice trails off.
Will grins at the way his jaw immediately drops, and he leans back into the pillows further, spreading his legs open. He knows exactly what he looks like — the wildest dream in Mike's life, probably.
"You were saying?" he prompts, and Mike shakes his head in disbelief.
"Forget what I was saying," he says incredibly solemnly, before jumping onto the bed with all the grace of a wolf set on his prey, intent on devouring the bunny he's ensnared in his grasp. His glasses are still perched on his nose as he dives in headfirst, and as much as Will loves Mike with them on he also knows his husband is going to hate shelling out for a new pair if he cracks it in the middle of sex. And so, he manages to remove the glasses, tossing it on the bedside table just as Mike gets two large hands on the fat of his thighs, spreading them even wider before dragging the tips of his canines over Will's folds.
"Oh!" Will shrieks out, hands tangling themselves in Mike's hair the second Mike's tongue follows the burning path his teeth took, his cunt spurting out slick like it's a Pavlovian reaction. His clit is red, angry and twitching, and Mike blows air over it, grinning meanly when Will tugs harshly on his hair. "Mike, Mike — "
"Hands," his alpha barks, the tone of his voice arrogant and domineering, and Will has the barest awareness to bring his hands forward before Mike's tugging his wrists together and binding them with a belt. He then places them high above his head, his eyes roving all over Will and staring him down; from the bite mark on the side of his neck that Mike bit into him all those years ago, to the slope of his small tits beneath the bralette, the nipples poking through the lacey fabric, down the slight pudge of his belly, to the thatch of hair above his cunt that's wiry and wet with slick. His hunger emanates off him in palpable waves, so tangible Will can taste it.
This is another thing of theirs they indulge in, sometimes — Mike, Will has realised, is addicted to having his omega bunny at his mercy. It's the predator-prey clash in their relationship coming out in full force, Mike loving Will being bound and helpless at his feet, supine enough to devour. And Will, of course, loves receiving all that attention from the gentlest of monsters, the sweetest of killers.
Still, that doesn't mean Will can't act out a little. He rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, come on. What next, you're going to gag me?"
Mike gets a considering look in his eyes.
That's how Will ends up with Mike's shirt balled up and stuffed in his mouth, his hands bound over his head and Mike devouring him completely, his panties pulled to the side with the thin, stretched-out strings of it digging into each jut of his hip. It's euphoric bliss, Mike licking and biting and nipping at his core as Will squeaks and yips through the fabric in his mouth, devolved and reduced to the basest version of himself.
He's brought through two orgasms, coming all over himself and staining the sheets, nipples smarting from the way his alpha had rubbed his scruff all over them through the thin lace of the bralette. Then, Mike finally clambers up his body to take the shirt out of his mouth, kissing him deeply and filthily. "Hi," he says, smiling goofily with Will's cum and slick wetting the entire surface of his mouth and chin, as if he's waiting for a treat after messing Will up so thoroughly.
"Hi," Will says right back, feeling his lips stretch in a smile. Mike just looks so gorgeous like this, chin all drenched in Will's essence, ears flicking to attention, and lips red from pleasuring Will over and over. His scarred-over bite mark, courtesy of Will, is clear as day on his neck, and Will wants nothing more than to mouth at it. He brushes his wet cunt against Mike hopefully, twitching his fingers where they still lie over his head. "Can you fuck me now? Please," he adds as a belated addition, because he can be bratty and sweet in equal measure.
"So polite," Mike appraises, before proceeding to slide his cock into him, mouthing at his nipples through the bralette. It doesn't take long for both of them to come — Mike, already keyed up, thrusts a few times before abruptly coming inside Will. And the gush of wetness and slick warmth in turn causes Will to squirt around Mike's cock, the forcefulness of the spraying liquid making his cheeks turn beet red as he hides his eyes with his ears.
Mike immediately pulls his ears away from his face, kissing him all over — across his cheeks, the tip of his nose, over his left eyelid, and then his right. "Don't hide from me," he begs, licking into Will's mouth, sucking at his tongue and tasting his teeth. "You're beautiful, Will. You're going to look so pretty with my baby, all swollen up. My pretty wife."
Will smiles helplessly at that, carding his fingers through Mike's hair as he pants in the aftermath. "Your pretty wife," he says, feeling Mike's knot lock them together. The straps of his bralette are all twisted up along his shoulders now, and Mike assists in unhooking it, sliding it off his torso before reverently placing it on the floor. He kisses over the thin bruises that have been left behind, sucks little hickeys into the sides of Will's small breasts, the sensation so arousing that Will can't help but slick up again.
Mike helps him through his fourth orgasm of the night. Fingers dance over his clit in concentric circles and tight pinches as a hot, wet mouth closes over his nipple, teeth grinding in, and Will's eyes roll back as he whines out Mike's name for what must have been the billionth time that night. When he comes yet again, it's a weak, valiant spurt of liquid, and the resultant squeeze of his cunt around Mike's cock makes his husband come a little, too.
By the end of the marathon sex, Will's belly is distended from the sheer amount of cum that's been pumped into him, and Mike smooths the flat of his palm over the swollen area, a darkly hooded look in his eyes as he rubs on top of it. Will nuzzles into his neck, licking idly over his bite mark, already dizzy and lightheaded from how much he's been fucked over the course of one hour.
"You look like you're pregnant with my cub already," Mike says, grinning sharklike and mean. "All round and squishy."
"God, I'm going to punch you in the face," Will groans, slapping a hand at the side of Mike's cheek and trying and failing to turn him away. "You're a fucking mutt."
"Your mutt," Mike corrects, leaning up to kiss him all over once again, and even as irritated as he is, Will can't help but lean into his touch.
It's got to take, he thinks, tracing the distended edge of his belly later, Mike snuffling into his neck in his sleep, with his cock still lodged inside Will's cunt. It's got to give Will a wolf pup by now.
*
Like Dr Owens had said, the path to getting pregnant with a wolf cub is not easy. Maybe it's the intention of specifically wanting to incubate and grow the fetus of a predator-shifter, but this time round, it's not as easy as it had been with Maya and Rian.
Three months in, Will's getting nothing but negatives from the pregnancy kits he uses. It becomes a humiliation ritual of sorts, a let-down each morning to wake up, do the test while praying with all his might that he's successfully with child, and have it come back negative, every single hope of his dashed in an instant.
It affects Will's mood and appearance, too. His ears and tail begin shedding fur at an alarming rate, and he snaps at everyone except his kids. His temper fluctuates so much it's almost as if he's pregnant all over again — without the nausea, the weird eating habits, the baby and the swollen ankles, obviously. The last straw for Mike, though, is when he walks in on Will hastily wiping his tears with a handkerchief while curled up in bed at night.
"That's it," he says firmly, eyes growing concerned as he takes Will in his arms in a tight embrace. He places a kiss in Will's hair, rocking him back and forth slightly, the tone of his voice leaving zero room for argument. "No more tests, okay? No more sex schedules."
"I liked the sex schedules," Will blubbers, feeling more tears rise to the surface. He just feels so utterly useless. A failure of a bunny, a failure of a mate, a failure of a wife, who's been unable to give his husband a wolf cub of his own. All these months of trying and trying, and all he's got to show for it is walking permanently bow-legged and a few new sex positions ingrained into his brain. It's horribly disappointing and demoralising, in a way that makes his heart sink to the pit of his stomach in dismay, makes him rethink the capabilities and capacity of his own body.
"Fuck the sex schedules," Mike emphasises loudly, and grabs his hands in his own. His hands have always dwarfed those of Will and they do so now, fingers wrapping around his own, the length of them overwhelming and weirdly alluring. "Will, I want to have a pup, you know I do, but I am happy without one. I've got a wonderful family, two brilliant kids, and the sexiest wife I could ever hope for who's fucking miles out of my league."
That gets a wet snort out of Will, as he knuckles away at the tears in his eyes. It's not true, obviously, it's Mike who's out of Will's league — Mike with the way he's always made Will feel protected and loved, so gorgeous to boot that Will cannot function around him at times, even now, five years and four months into their marriage. Still, he'll let Mike hold on to his delusions.
"If we never have a wolf pup, I'll be fine," Mike says softly, and gives his hands a squeeze. "I need you to be fine, too."
For once, they don't have any sex for the rest of the day, and it feels really, really nice. Mike takes him out to dinner after depositing the kids with Max and Lucas, who live a block away, and they have sushi at a Japanese diner in town. Afterwards, they go for a stroll, and Mike buys him a bracelet from a jewellery store they pass by, the salesgirl calling them the cutest couple she's ever served. Then, they have ice cream at the local park, and Will admits to Mike that maybe, just maybe, he was acting slightly insane.
"Slightly?" Mike says disbelievingly, and then yelps, wearing an infuriating grin, as Will aims a slap at his shoulder.
"Shut up, you know what I mean," Will sighs, and tugs on Mike's hands, entangling their fingers together. He keeps his gaze on their interlocked hands, his cheeks burning as he parses through what he's been feeling the past few days.
Will is aware of how lucky he is. He's got the hottest husband in the world, two incredible children he loves very dearly, and a nice, cushy job of being a freelance comicbook artist that lets him work from the comfort of his home, without ever having to step one foot out of the door. By all rights and purposes, he should be satisfied with his lot in life. He should be happy.
And yet, that niggling itch remains. The itch for a wolf cub, for a mini-Mike to run around in the house, howl with Mike at the moon. It's an itch he has to push down and compartmentalise, if he wants, in any way, to cling to some peace of mind for the rest of his life. "I'm fine with us," he says finally, giving Mike's fingers a squeeze. "I'm happy with us. I just… wish for more. But I'm fine if I don't get it."
The look in Mike's eyes softens, as he tucks a stray lock of hair back behind one of Will's floppy ears, before brushing his knuckles down the side of it. "I know, baby," he says, hand coming down to rest against Will's bite mark. "For the record, I'd give you anything if you asked, if it was possible. Anything."
The sentiment in his words makes Will smile softly, heartened by the declaration. Mike is always so effortlessly sweet with him, even when he absolutely does not deserve it. "I know. I love you," he adds, and feels Mike's nose nudge down the side of his cheek, his alpha murmuring I love you in response.
It's almost as if their conversation by the park had been a premonition, a catalyst for what was about to come next. The morning after, he wakes up to a strong, overwhelming sensation of nausea hitting him with the force of a speeding truck, and he's instantly launching himself out of the bed he shares with Mike, making a mad dash for the adjoined bathroom and collapsing to his knees in front of the toilet bowl.
That bout of nausea is the worst pregnancy-related bout he's ever experienced — as of yet.
The bile almost fights and kicks and punches its way out, and after last night's dinner and supper are both out, Will dry heaves a few times before somehow throwing up liquid he didn't know he had. His stomach muscles cramp up with the force of the vomiting, and his fingers begin trembling, exhausted from where they're clutching the sides of the toilet. It's only with a vague sense of awareness that he realises Mike's holding his ears out of the way, his other hand rubbing circles on his back.
Eventually, he manages to catch his breath and flush the toilet, before leaning back into Mike's hold, panting violently with his stomach feeling uneasy and his fingers still trembling. Mike begins to rub his hand up and down over his stomach, and the soothing movement helps, his flip-flopping insides somewhat settling at the rhythmic comfort. "Not a stomach flu, huh?" Mike whispers, and Will shakes his head, closing his eyes for a second.
Before he can gather his thoughts enough to tell Mike to get the pregnancy kit, there's a patter of feet at the door. Looking up, Will fully freezes when he sees Rian and Maya standing hesitantly in the door, both in their jammies. It's the weekend, so thankfully Will and Mike don't have to usher them off for a quick breakfast before school — but the sight of them in the doorway is no less concerning despite it. Rian is chewing the end of his bunny ear, in a frenetic, anxious gesture he's most definitely picked up from his mother, and Maya is shifting from foot to foot, almost thumping both feet, nervous in a way his brave, brave girl rarely is.
"Is Mama okay?" Maya asks, and she sounds so terrified that Will's heart breaks in two. Her lip is trembling while Rian clutches her wrist so hard his knuckles are turning white, and the entire scene feels devastating to witness — a roller-coaster derailing off the tracks. Mike and Will only need to share a glance before they're bursting into motion, lunging forward and ushering the two kits out of the door.
"Mama's fine, darling," Will says gently as Rian instantly glues himself to his side, while Mike bends down to lift Maya up and place her on his shoulders. She goes willingly, immediately resting her chin against on the top of Mike's head. "Just a bit sick. Like after your birthday when you ate too much cake, remember?"
Maya hums thoughtfully, looking slightly disgusted as the four of them lead the way to the kitchen and dining table. "That was gross," she announces, clutching at Mike's wolfish ears with her little chubby fingers. "I threw up everything! But you gave my tummy a kiss and I felt better. If I give your tummy a kiss, Mama, will you feel better?"
Will smiles softly at that, at the childishness of the words, the pure kind intent behind it. They're raising her well, he thinks — and he sees that same affirmation in the way Mike is beaming too, canines poking out as he gives Maya's sock-clad feet dangling over his shoulders a warm squeeze. "You can give me a kiss after breakfast, darling," he says, reaching up on tip-toe to give Maya's ears a little tweak and ruffle her hair up from behind.
Rian is still quiet, chewing on the end of his bunny ear as he plods along beside Will. His baby boy isn't one for words, usually — he'd taken the longest time to even say Mama and Papa, which had frightened Will so much he'd made a doctor's appointment and called his mother to have a panic attack over the phone, crying about how he had ruined his son, somehow. Joyce had taken the reins then, and gentle-parented Will at that moment, telling him that he had been the same way as a child — and there was nothing wrong with that.
"Some kits take a little while, but they get there," she had said, her tone fond with nostalgia. "Be patient with him."
That's the advice that is ringing in his head now, as he kneels on the floor and makes Rian face him. His youngest son looks like a carbon copy of Will from the tips of his fluffy brown locks all the way to the rosiness of his cheeks, the mole above his lip and the slope of his nose — except for his eyes, which are all Mike. Right now, with the anxious shift of his feet and his ear still in his mouth, he looks especially like Will. The similarity has always been startling, and Will aches for him.
"Were you scared about Mama, baby?" he whispers, pulling the three-year-old closer to him, before tugging his ear out of his mouth. "I'm fine. See? Just a little stomach bug, honest."
Rian still looks hesitant — and heartbreakingly scared — as his eyes rove all over Will's face. His scent, which at this point consists of that childlike powder and milk tone all babies have, is intense in the air, and he's twisting the fabric of his shirt between his hands now that the ear's no longer in his mouth for him to nibble on. Rushing him will only make him retreat into his shell, and Will would never dream of doing that to a kid of his.
He still remembers his own childhood, after all — how his father would yell at him to speak up and stop being such a fucking fairy. Now that he's a parent of his own, with two beautiful kids to look after and care for, he cannot imagine ever doing what Lonnie Byers regularly did. It helps with dealing with those memories, recognising that inherent rift between himself and Lonnie — widening it every day by making sure his baby knows he's safe in Will's hands.
So, Will waits patiently, ignoring the way his stomach hasn't quite settled yet and the way his knees have begun smarting from how they're pressed against the freezing cold cement floor. He begins rubbing Rian's back, making sure to provide that comfort and safe space for his baby boy to gather his thoughts together and put across what he's feeling at the moment. Eventually, Rian leans forward and pecks Will quickly on the cheek, before leaning away.
"Feel better, Mama," he says softly, and everything in Will melts. He tugs Rian into a tight hug, pressing kisses into his hair and ears, and grins at the way Rian shrieks and laughs in his arms.
They then go off for breakfast, which takes too long, as is expected of young bunny kits like Rian and Maya — Rian loves pushing around his carrots, mashing them up to create a mountain he'll then refuse to eat, while Maya will always avoid drinking her milk. Leaving Mike to deal with them for once, Will slips away and gets five pregnancy kits from their utilities cabinet, before going to the bathroom.
All come back positive. When Mike's entering the toilet, presumably to check on him as he's been taking too long, he takes one look at Will's teary eyes and just knows.
"We're having a baby?" he asks, amazed, and Will nods — before yelping and laughing as Mike immediately picks him up and spins him around.
"We're having a baby!" Mike yells in his ear. Will laughs again, throwing his arms around Mike's neck and kissing him soundly on the lips. "Fuck, I love you. I love you."
Still, it's not a confirmation that they're having a pup — not yet. But Will does have an inkling that they've definitely got a mini-Mike in the oven, because this pregnancy is different from the previous two. For one, it's definitely not as smooth-sailing, with Will waking up every morning and every night to hurl everything that was within his stomach down the toilet bowl, along with a fair bit of stomach acid that is inside him, too. He's always left feeling weak and shaky in the aftermath, and he knows it's beginning to alarm Mike from the way Mike's always waking up right on time for his bouts of morning sickness, rushing to hold his ears back and rub down his stomach afterwards.
He shouldn't be doing it at all — he has deadlines to adhere to for his next book, and his publisher is always breathing down his neck. "You have to go to sleep," Will urges him once, after a particularly bad round of nausea caused him to throw up on the carpet, before he ran for the bathroom. Mike was left to clean up the mess, entering the white-tiled room afterwards to help him wash out his mouth, bridal-carrying him to bed. "Your deadlines — "
"Can wait," Mike interrupts, brushing Will's hair away from his ear with a concerned frown, cupping his cheek and wiping a tear that had escaped when he'd been vomiting into the toilet bowl. "You can't."
Will feels inclined to argue at that, because he can see the exhaustion in Mike's eyes, the dark shadows beneath them. However, he also feels far too fatigued to keep protesting Mike's words, even if all he's done lately is sleep. Instead, he rolls on top of Mike to sleep and especially because it feels really good when Mike holds him like this, the pressure of his hands against his back providing the closest sensation to paradise Will's ever going to get. As his eyes drift close, he feels Mike rub at his stomach and whisper, "Go easy on your Mama, okay?"
The second alarming difference is the loss of appetite. Will, all of a sudden, can't find anything palatable — oatmeal makes him throw up, his mother's vegetarian casserole makes him throw up, even the plainest of carrots with light pepper sprinkles on top makes him throw up. He begins dropping weight even though he's doing all he can to prevent it, with Mike bringing home other foods and ingredients that will help with his nausea. Ginger candy becomes a permanent fixture in every corner of the household, Rian and Maya also keeping handfuls of it close by, immediately offering it every single time Will's breath so much as hitches.
Mike is really, really worried. He can tell Mike is worried, from the way his ears are always pricked up to a point of attention on a constant basis these days, as if danger is always around. He's overbearing to the point of it being aggravating, constantly taking care of Will and making sure he doesn't get up for longer than necessary. When Will wants to tread over to the supplies cabinet for more paints while finishing up his commissioned pieces, Mike's there. When Will wants to make himself a cup of ginger tea, Mike's there. When Will wants to go to the bathroom, Mike — incredibly — is there.
Usually, Will would rankle at the attention, take Mike down a peg or two and remind him very firmly that he is pregnant, not invalid, thank you very much, except that he gets it. He's seen the weighing scale, he knows how much he's thrown up over the past few weeks, he's looked in the mirror. This pregnancy, like Dr Owens had said, won't be a walk in the park. As Mike's omega and wife, it would be remiss of Will not to give him some leeway to act ten times as overbearing as his mother.
All of it also means that Will knows what he's going to see in the ultrasound image when they go for their eighth week appointment. Still, though, it comes as a pleasant surprise to lie on the stretcher and have Beverley point out the tiny image of the fetus growing tiny pointed wolf ears and a tail.
"It's a wolf cub," she says with a smile, and Will exhales on a watery sigh, gripping Mike's hand tightly and beaming up at him. Mike beams right back, placing a kiss right over the gel before wiping it away with a grimace. Both of them have tears in their eyes, and the assistant nurse simply hands them both a tissue each, a light smile on her lips.
Laden with medications courtesy of Beverley — who'd heard out Mike's frazzled concerns about Will's morning sickness and weight and decided to help them out with pills that she warned were not cures but would likely be an assist — they head home. After Mike parks the car, Will slides out and is prepared to swing open the gate that leads to their modest suburban house, when Mike calls out, "Will, wait."
It makes Will roll his eyes. "Mike, I am perfectly capable of opening a gate by my own damn self — "
Mike swoops down and kisses him.
It's a cinematic kiss. His arms are around Will, leaning him back into a romantic dip, lips pressed against his with his tongue licking into his mouth, forceful and possessive. Will immediately entwines his arms around Mike's neck, sighing into the kiss, feeling himself go on tip-toes as he accomodates Mike's much larger height compared to his own.
They could kiss for a thousand times, a billion times, and he'd never get tired of it. He'd never get tired of feeling Mike's lips against his own, his tongue in his mouth, his large hands smoothing down his back. It's an entirely unique feeling, heady and dizzying and all his to cherish.
When they detach, a thin string of saliva falls onto Mike's chin, and it's so attractive that Will wants to kiss him again. "What was that for?" he whispers dazedly.
Mike grins, wolfish and sharp, as he leans one hand down to cup Will's ass. It's a bold move out in the open, and it's also incredibly hot — Will flushes a beet red and also starts to embarrassingly slick up, the smell of his arousal permeating the air between them.
"I love you," Mike says proudly, canines poking through as he smiles down at Will, "and I love how amazing you are. I love your body. I love that you're giving me a wolf cub. I love you."
Will can't help but smile back at that, wide and true, teeth poking into his bottom lip. "I love you," he murmurs, grinning wider at Mike's tail wagging traitorously behind him, and they fall into another kiss all over again, genuine and overwhelming.