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Curses in hockey weren't uncommon, per se. They were actually rampant, and were unfortunately considered a natural occurrence, especially for young, emerging players in the league. The league provided no help at all, often disguising them as mysterious upper- or lower-body injuries when a player was suddenly scratched for a game after being struck by a god-knows-what curse, as if anyone would really believe it. No one did. Fans of opposing teams were proud enough to publicly announce that they had managed to land a curse on a player they didn’t like.
Luckily, it was much easier to deal with them now. It wasn’t like the curses were deadly; most of the time, it was just something stupid to ensure a certain player wasn’t available for maybe one or two games, or even five if you were really unlucky. There were no solid countermeasures, despite curses having been around the league since like, forever. Most of the time, they just disappeared after a certain period, saving players from the internal turmoil and humiliation of having to find a remedy.
Will wasn’t a stranger to that. He’d been cursed a few times himself, like the time he scored a dick trick against BU and someone thought it was a smart idea to miniaturize his dick. He was devastated when he woke up and first noticed it (seriously, so much for a dick trick, people are rather petty these days). He tried not to score any dick tricks after that for the sake of his ego, and well, it actually fucked with his balance and coordination on the ice so badly that he was out for practices. It was fixed after three days, though; the lasting effects of the curse vanished the moment it hit the 72-hour mark, so there was that. No biggie. He just suffered for three days without admitting to his team or coaches what had really happened, not that any of them were interested. Locker rooms were actually sensitive when it came to that; guys didn't press or ask questions, since most of them knew firsthand how humiliating some of the curses could be.
So, Will wasn’t a stranger to curses, and the rest of the Sharks certainly weren't either. But right now, he couldn't ignore the worried glances they’d been giving him in the locker room for three days straight. Three days since he’d been cursed by a man he at first thought was a fan while trying to buy coffee for himself and Mack. Three days since the man asked him for an autograph while they waited in line. Three days since he’d smiled at the man and picked up the pen he was holding, completely missing the amused glint in the stranger’s eyes. Three days since the man started whispering incoherent noises as Will signed, and did the guy teasingly woof at him? That was when he knew he’d fucked up.
Surprisingly, it had also been three days and he had yet to miss a game or practice. Unsurprisingly, it had been three days since he’d developed newfound, overwhelming urges. (Some weren’t new at all, but he’d had better control over them before, he was sure.)
“Dude, you gotta tell me what’s wrong,” Mack asks, currently bundled up in Will’s bed as they try to watch a movie. Though, one might say they aren't trying at all.
Will nearly whined. Goddammit. He nearly whined out loud. From what? Just Mack asking him to tell him what was wrong? He couldn’t just say, “Er, would you believe me if I was cursed to act like a dog?” Which would be no use anyway, because he could already see Mack agreeing; Mack believed whatever Will said, regardless. So, maybe he could say, “I think I was cursed to act like a dog,” and act confused and defeated. Then Mack would take pity on him, pull him into a tight hug, caress his hair, rub his belly, and let Will lick his face all over for comfort and and and—.
Right. His doggy tendencies would be delighted by that. Maybe he should just resign himself to his newfound urges instead of suppressing them and acting like a kicked puppy every time Mack just raised an eyebrow instead of patting his hair and telling him he’d been a good boy for keeping his paws off during practices whenever he caught Will staring expectantly. Not like his paws had actually been on Mack. But maybe he could. Like, get his paws on Mack right now.
“—Will! You’re distracted again.”
“M’sorry,” Will said, mildly ashamed as he burrowed his face directly into the warm crook of Mack’s neck and shoulder. Fuck it. He could see himself acting like a kicked puppy right now. Mack was talking to him and he wasn't listening. What if Mack didn’t like a bad puppy like him? Tears began to swell in his eyes at the thought. No, no, no. He swore to be good. No more distractions.
“S’okay,” Mack said softly. Will let out a tiny whimper this time. Mack was always so good to him. Surely, Mack would indulge him if he admitted what he really wanted. Maybe it could even break the curse.
“You okay, buddy? What’s wrong?”
Will could feel his mouth watering, there’s a desperate urge building up inside him to get on top of Mack, nip at his neck, and hump him until they were both breathless and spent. Maybe he could even taste Mack’s pussy, that sweet, salivating treat reserved just for a good dog like him. So, he continued his low, needy whines against Mack’s shoulder, desperate for any kind of release.
Will was acting strange. He had been for three consecutive days, really. Right after the cafe visit where he was supposed to get them coffee (which, in fact, he hadn't gotten; instead, he’d returned to the car breathless, flushed, and dazed). Will was… he’d been checked out and distracted ever since. Everyone had noticed it, and everyone had told him to take a break and stay away from hockey until the curse Will was so adamant about hiding got out of his system.
Mack had tried to be patient, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried. But Will was acting even stranger right now, whimpering against him, trembling like he was close to crying.
“Smitty, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”
Will squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching as he clutched at Mack’s shirt. “Can you—” he tried to choke out, his own words too shy to slip past his lips.
“Hm?” Mack prompted gently, encouraging him to keep going.
“Can you help me?”
“Course I can, Smitty. Just tell me what you need,” Mack murmured.
Will swallowed hard, his cheeks burning with an emerging flush. “Can you— I want, wanna lick you.”
“What?” Mack asked, his voice cracking slightly with confusion.
Will instantly let out a cry. Now Mack would think he was disgusting. He’d probably think Will was a freak who got off on weird shit (he did). Would they even be friends after Will just admitted he wanted to lick Mack? Who even licks their best friend?
“Hey, Smitty, I’m only asking, okay?” Mack rushed out, his voice still soft and gentle. “So I would know if that’s what you really want.”
Will nodded frantically, his face buried back in Mack's neck. “I’m sure.”
“O-okay,” Mack exhaled, a bit stunned by his own answer. “Where do you want me?”
Will beamed at that, he could feel his non existent puppy tail wagging furiously. “Can I sit in your lap?” he asked.
“Sure, Smitty. C’mon,” Mack guided him, adjusting his stance and pulling Will’s hips up to guide him over his thighs.
“Thank you,” Will whispered, shuddering at the sudden intimate contact.
“So–uh–”
Will didn't let him finish. He dove in, dragging his tongue up the smooth skin of Mack’s neck. He licked deliberate, wet stripes at first, savoring the tang of sweat and natural sweetness of Mack's skin. He bit softly, pressing wet kisses into the skin, practically mauling it with needy affection. He littered wet trails upward until he reached the corner of Mack’s mouth, licking there too.
Mack could feel Will’s drool dripping onto his chin, some of it catching on the collar of his shirt. It was fucking filthy, especially when Will moved to his cheeks, coating them with saliva and softly munching on the muscle of his jaw. Mack knew he should be disgusted, as his face was completely covered in Will’s spit, but he had no time for that as Will began to restlessly hump against his thigh, panting and licking his face all over like a desperate dog.
A dog. That’s it. He got it now.
Will was elated, letting out satisfied hums as he coated Mack’s face with his scent and saliva. Now Mack would smell exactly like him. He must have been a fool for suppressing his instincts at first, when he could have had Mack like this so much sooner. Will couldn’t help but roll his hips, humping firmly against Mack’s lap. He wanted—
“Puppy.”
The word made Will snap his eyes open, his tongue freezing mid-lick against Mack’s cheek.
“What?” he squeaked, suddenly intensely self conscious. Why did Mack call him that? Was he really that obvious?
“That’s right. You’re a puppy, aren’t you? A good one at that,” Mack cooed out as he slowly carded his fingers through Will’s messy curls, tugging gently.
“R-really?” The dog inside Will whimpered with desperate joy. Mack thinks we’re good!
“Yes, Smitty. Now tell me,” Mack whispered, his hand sliding down to grip the back of Will's neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to make Will gasp. “Do you want more? Wanna be a good puppy for me?”
“Yes! Yes!” he admitted far too quickly, his hips twitching hungrily against Mack. “Will you really—?”
“Anything you want, pup. Tell me,”
“Can I put it in?” Will whispered, his eyes wide and pleading.
“Put what in? Use your words, puppy,”
Will just made a strangled noise, too shy to say the actual word. Instead, he grabbed Mack’s hand and dragged it straight down to his cock, pressing Mack's palm against his raging erection. He guided Mack’s hand, slowly moving it up and down so Mack could map the thick length of his boner through his pants. “This.”
“Hm, and where do you want it in, pup?” Mack asked, still stroking Will’s erection through the fabric. He squeezed the head firmly, making the older boy squirm and let out a high pitched cry on top of him.
“In your p-pussy,” Will whimpered.
“Do you think you deserve it?” Mack raised his brows, giving his cock another tight squeeze, making Will's hips buck helplessly.
“Y-yes, I’ve been a good dog, Mackie,” Will cried out.
Mack snorted “Bottling it up for three days is good?”
“Hnghh, n-no. Will’s sorry for that,” he sobbed softly “Can I— please, Mackie.”
“Shh. Don’t start to cry, pup,” Mack murmured, pressing his thumb on Will’s bottom lip. “Now be a good dog and give your cock to me.”
Will scrambled frantically to help him discard his clothes, then proceeded to tear off his own, leaving them both completely bare, whispering i’ll be good like a mantra as he hurried to press their bodies together.
The first slide of his dick didn't come close to anything he had dreamed of before. This was his life’s greatest pleasure, Mack’s wet, hot pussy strangling his cock, of course he’d dreamed about this.
But to experience it in person, to feel the cling of Mack’s walls as he pushed in, the desperate grip they had as he slid out, was enough to leave him entirely undone. The way Mack’s swollen folds spread out so beautifully, flushed deep pink from every thrust, was driving Will crazy. The dog inside him was panting, tongue lolled out, whimpering like a beast in rut as he drilled into Mack’s cunt over and over, pushing apart the tender walls. Mack’s moans were music to his ears, encouraging him to go harder, faster, to fill his cunt completely until the remnants of their filth flooded the sheets and the heavy scent of sex lingered so deeply that anyone who entered the room would know exactly how Will had devoured him.
Will’s puppy brain was working overtime, though it was evidently dumbed down by pure pleasure, feeding him nasty ideas and urging him to lick, breed, and mark. Mack's tits looked so full, like it was filled with milk already. His puppy brain told him it was for their litter, and Will nearly busted his nut right then and there at the thought. Mack’s breasts heavy and full, their little pups suckling at the rosy nipples, hungry for the milk their mama had to give. The image made him dizzy, and all his previous attempts to suppress the curse were now reduced to nothing. Was it really a curse? Because this, this felt like a gift. To have Mack beneath him, face flushed and completely out of breath. To have his mouth against Mack's, tasting the sweetest sounds he could offer. To have the pussy he’d been wanting for so long wrapped around his cock, greedily milking and squeezing him tight. He continued to thrust, harsher this time, bringing his free hand down to Mack’s clit, rubbing and circling his thumb as Mack’s legs trembled violently around his hips.
Mack’s cunt convulsed around Will’s dick as he came, mumbling broken praises for Will, telling him what a good puppy he was for making him feel so good. Will happily lapped up the praises, kissing Mack through the gasps, burrowing his tongue deep down his throat, wanting to be completely inside him. If only he could breed Mack, have their very own litter growing in his belly. Maybe he could. Maybe he should.
Will kept pounding, feeling close himself, thrusting and rolling his hips at a brutal pace. He could feel the pressure building heavy in his groin; he was close, very, very close as he kept driving into the soaking wet pussy. It was tighter now, now that Mack was oversensitive from coming. Will let out a wrecked scream as he finally came deep inside Mack, filling his cunt with warm, thick seed. It kept flowing out from his cock, bursting as his dick twitched with every drop. It was so, so warm. Fuck. It wasn’t just cum, and Mack noticed it too. He was pissing inside Mack. He was marking his territory. It was so wet. So warm. It reeks. It reeked heavily of them. It dripped and seeped out, Mack’s pussy was completely overflowing from being so full.
“S-Smitty! Bad! Bad dog!” Mack sobbed out, feeling his own cunt heavy, stretched to the limit, and pulsing with cum and piss.
“Can’t, m’sorry, c-can’t pull out,” Will cried out, and began to thrust again slowly, watching in a daze as streams of cum and piss leaked out of Mack’s cunt in thick globs. “Oh god.”
“M’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorry,” He was crying now, not from shame, but from the overwhelming pleasure of it. It felt like forever before the stream of piss finally came to an end. His dog brain felt proud and satisfied, yet still desperately wanting more.
He’d get it later. For now, he just pressed adoring kisses onto Mack’s heavy eyelids as he drifted off to sleep.