Archive of Our Own

Will barely gets the door open and Mike is already pawing at him as soon as he enters.

"Will, please—"

"Hello to you, too, Mike."

Will struggles to shrug off his coat because right now, a rather clingy man has him in a vice grip, with his cheek rubbing frantically against Will's neck as the younger man tries to scent him. Will manages to get some of it off before Mike, in an annoyed huff, tosses the winter coat to the floor and starts unbuttoning Will's dress shirt.

"Why are you— why are you wearing so many damn layers?!" Mike asks incredulously as he stares at the thermal undershirt clinging to Will's chest.

"Because it's freezing outside," Will answers with a shiver.

Mike's gaze darkens for a moment. "Well, I can warm you up real quick."

Will just shoots him an exasperated glance. He finally sets his messenger bag on the floor, rolling his shoulder to stretch it out. "And need I remind you— I have to be professional at work." He glares at Mike, who's barely paying attention and is instead fixated on the way the muscles in Will's arm pull taut. "Which informs the way I dress, and it also means you shouldn't be calling me when I'm teaching."

"But you answered!" Mike fires back.

"I thought it was an emergency!"

"This is an emergency!"

"Mike," Will pinches the bridge of his nose, "being horny out of your mind is not an emergency."

Mike lets out a long groan. "But I'm in rut— I can't help it!"

Will sighs deeply, staring at the young alpha in front of him. He's in a loose white undershirt and Spider-Man boxers, despite the fact that it's below freezing temperatures in New York City. His outfit does nothing to hide something long and throbbing between his legs, and Will tries to not let his gaze linger there for too long. The air in their shared apartment feels a little warm and sticky, and the scent of a heavy musk trails out from their bedroom. Will can feel it tingle on his skin, sending goosebumps up his spine and across his neck, but he shakes it off. He's just too tired right now.

"You're in pre-rut, Mike," Will clarifies. "If you were really in a rut, we wouldn't be having a conversation right now."

"Yeah, because I'd be too busy fucking you into the couch," Mike says bluntly. Will's face heats up immediately in response. Mike catches it and grins. "You like the sound of that, don't you?"

"Michael." Will finally shuts the front door, locks it behind him, and pushes past Mike, who stares at him slack-jawed. "I've just had a long day, okay? I've had to stare at thousands of words worth of essays about famous American painters, and I feel like my brain's fried."

"Then please, let me take care of you!" Mike begs, following Will into their living room. He's practically on his knees by the time Will slumps into the couch. "I'll be so good, I promise! You don't have to move a finger— just please, let me touch you…"

Will looks down at the younger man, his eyes glistening and pleading, cock heavy in his boxers. If Will was being honest, he wants to say yes. He wants to help his boyfriend through his rut, to let him have his way with him, but he just couldn't— at least not right now. Maybe if he was a few years younger, maybe if he had that same youthful energy as the young alpha, he would think differently. But he wasn't— he's a man with a full-time job and bills to pay, students to teach.

He isn't like Mike, who only has a few courses to take within the week— who undoubtedly decided to ditch said courses on the onset of his rut. He's just been sitting here in their apartment, lonely and restless, marinating in his own arousal and waiting for Will to come home from work.

Meanwhile, Will has spent the past few hours droning on about art history and color theory to lecture halls filled with students who were just as tired as he was. At least his painting classes offered some form of enrichment, but even then he was still working. He likes to keep himself busy, but it does essentially drain him by the end of the day, as he nearly nods off at the wheel as he drives out of the university parking lot.

Will could already feel himself slowly drift into sleep as he sinks further into the plush cushions of their couch. Mike's scent grows stronger, strong enough to keep Will's consciousness awake for just one more moment to hear him say:

"Please, omega."

Something hot coils in Will's groin, and it chokes out a low whine from his throat. Mike licks his lips in anticipation— it's just so unfair. He knows exactly what to say to get Will riled up. The older man just huffs an annoyed sigh, turning his head to the side as if it'll hide the creeping blush on his cheeks.

"Okay, fine," he says with a tight jaw.

Mike jumps to his feet immediately. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—" he chants. He grabs Will's right foot, tugging at his dress shoe. "Let's get this off, okay? Let's get you nice and comfortable, omega…"

Mike is whispering mostly to himself, his breaths loud and heavy like every movement was painful, and yet he still kept going. He takes off Will's other shoe next, then he pulls at his socks and tosses it all behind him. Will watches this all happen with quiet intensity, lightly chewing on his finger to muffle the small noises he makes when Mike starts to massage his feet.

"You're probably so tired from standing all day," Mike mumbles. "My poor omega— you've got your work cut out for you, don't you?"

"Mike…" Will breathes out, his heart starting to beat faster. He doesn't protest, though, and Mike takes that as a sign to continue.

He takes one foot and kisses his ankle, just over the bone, and Will lets out a breathy sigh. Mike eventually drops his legs, settling himself between them, as he crawls forward and against the couch. His hands reach upwards and finds the zipper to Will's pants. He slowly pulls down the metal tab, that distinct unzipping sound echoing in their apartment. Mike's every move is careful and torturous— again, if he was really in a rut, he'd be ripping away at Will's clothes until he was laid bare before him. But right now, with his consciousness still hazy but present, Mike takes his time. Now it's Will's turn to be impatient.

"May I?" Mike asks politely as he pulls at Will's dress pants.

"Yes, you may," Will answers back, quiet and amused.

Mike drags the fabric of Will's pants down and off, and though he may seem cool and collected now, his shaking hands betray the anticipation brewing under his skin. Once his pants are tossed alongside his discarded shoes and socks, Mike crawls back up to rest his chin on the edge of the couch, face just inches away from Will's aching core, his clit throbbing against the thin fabric of his underwear. It may still be covered, but Mike's actions and the heavy musk in their apartment already has Will soaking through the cotton. Mike blows a hot breath against it.

"Mmnf— Mike," Will whines, and if Mike had a tail, he'd be wagging it so hard at the noise Will just made. At the very least, something twitches in Mike's boxers— a different kind of tail wagging, one might say.

"Look at you, you're already soaking," Mike says darkly. "It's okay, baby, I'll take care of you. Just relax."

Mike's large hands plant themselves onto Will's bare thighs as he leans in closer. He doesn't even bother to take off his underwear like the rest of his clothes and instead drags his tongue over the thin fabric. The sudden heat surprises Will, and he's barely able to contain the moan that escapes his lips. The sound only emboldens Mike, who pushes his face in deeper until his prominent nose is bumping up against Will's clit, the friction just barely enough to get Will rocking into his face slightly. But Mike's grip on Will's thighs tightens, enough to bruise.

"Stay still, baby," he whispers as he kisses the soft flesh of Will's thigh. "You said you're tired, right? I can take care of you. Don't move."

"Mike, you're ridiculous," Will groans, but his comment has no bite.

"How do you expect me to control myself when you're dressed like this?" Mike asks as he stares up at Will. "You said you dress 'professionally' for work— do your students know you're wearing panties while you're teaching them?"

"M-Michael!" Will scolds.

He looks down at the underwear he's wearing— it's really just a pair of pale yellow panties, the kind with lace and frills along the band. Definitely a lot more dainty than he's used to wearing, especially to work, but it's only because he hasn't had the time to properly do his laundry; it was only clean pair he could find in his rush to work that morning. Mike has surely seen Will in something much more scandalous than this.

Mike doesn't retort back and instead dives into Will's cunt again, greedily lapping up at the slick that is steadily soaking his panties. Will writhes at the sensation, frustrated with the young alpha's strong grip on his thighs, spreading him wide but preventing him from moving away from or even into his ministrations.

Mike eventually leans back and licks his lips. "You taste so good, baby," he says in a voice resembling a growl. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy. Gonna make you cum in your panties, okay? Wanna see you make a mess."

"Mike, we can't— The couch!" Will protests.

"Don't care," Mike says quickly as he leans in.

His movements grow more hasty, mouthing at the thin cotton until it's soaked through with a mix of his spit and Will's slick. Mike juts his tongue out in a scooping motion to push against Will's hole and to graze against his clit, and the sensation licks a fiery tingle across Will's skin as he moans. Will has no idea what to do with hands, so he throws one forward to tangle into Mike's mess of curls while the other grips the back of the couch. He throws his head back, thudding against the wall, as he tries and desperately fails to grind against Mike's face— the alpha's grip on his thighs is just too strong.

"Mike, Mike, Mike—" Will starts to chant as he feels that familiar buildup in his core. He doesn't even restrain his voice anymore, too lost in his arousal to care about the embarrassing sounds he's making.

Mike moves faster, more sloppy, as Will's voice grows louder. Even he's groaning into Will's cunt, the low rumbles of his throat vibrating straight into Will's core. Will tugs harder at Mike's hair, the pain stinging against his scalp in ways that feel erotic, as Will finally topples over the edge. His cunt throbs uncontrollably as he releases a gush a slick over Mike's face and into his mouth, his clit engorged between his folds, but Mike doesn't stop. He moves a little slower, but his tongue is still lapping against Will's oversensitive clit. Will hisses at the mix of pain and pleasure as he tries to pull Mike away with his hair. When he finally does, Mike's jaw is still open like it's stuck, his eyes glossed over and hazy.

Will then looks down at the mess beneath him. He sees that he's thoroughly soaked through his underwear, but also that his slick has stained the couch cushion he's sitting on. He groans as his eyes trail over to Mike, who was a mess himself— he actually came in his boxers, his cum slowly seeping through the fabric as his cock twitched underneath, still upright despite his own release. Mike looks up at him like he's hungry for more.

"I hope you're sated for now," Will says with a croak. "Thank you, Mike, but we should probably clean up."

Will lets go of Mike's hair as he stands up shakily, turning around to face the couch. He picks up the ruined cushion — at least it was only one of them, — and he starts to search for the zipper to remove its covers. Then, Will feels something tug against his waist, and all of a sudden he's weightless.

"Mike—?!" he yelps, dropping the couch cushion in surprise.

"You shouldn't be working, baby," Mike mumbles back. He throws Will over his shoulder with alarming strength, one arm wrapped around his waist while the other braces him around his thighs. "You said you're tired, remember? Let me get you to bed— let's go lay down, omega."

The older man huffs in frustration but is too weak to fight back; his legs still feel like jelly, and his whole body shivers when Mike's fingers graze over his thighs. Mike brings him over to their bedroom and— wow. Will knew that the scent of Mike's oncoming rut was strong with how it permeated down the hall and even past the front door, but he wasn't expecting this. The scent of arousal hits him in waves, like a hot gust of wind just blew in his face. It leaves his core aching again, his pussy clenching down on nothing as his body reacts to the alpha's pheromones.

If omegas built nests, then this was no doubt an alpha's den— blankets and pillows tossed around with no rhyme or reason, random pieces of furniture soaked with Mike's scent, the bedding still damp with his sweat (and probably his cum, too). Will should find it disgusting and improper, but instead he thinks it's so, so hot. His mind floods with images of Mike, writhing wantonly in their bed as he tries to get any satisfaction he can from whatever remained of Will's scent in this room. To be wanted so badly, to be craved carnally like that, it makes Will feel young again.

Mike tosses Will onto the bed without much thought, and Will bounces atop the cushions like a ragdoll. He watches as Mike crawls over him, tossing his shirt to the side— but annoyingly, he's still in his Spider-Man boxers. Will grimaces at it.

"Are you comfortable, baby? Are you going into heat?" Mike mumbles, lost in a haze. He's barely clinging on now, slowly losing his consciousness to his rut.

Will's frown only grows deeper. "I haven't had a heat in ages, Mike."

It was the sad truth. His irregular heats are not only a sign of his age, but they're also compounded by the fact that he's constantly stressed and overworked— not a good combo. His gyno told him this was normal, that if he wanted to, he could ween off of his suppressants and his birth control without fear of risk. He hasn't had a heat since then, and no pregnancy scare even with how many times he and Mike had done the deed since they started dating about two years ago. These days, Will tries not to get his hopes up about ever having another heat.

Unlike what happened a few weeks ago. He was on a night out with his colleagues, and the topic of relationships came up. Will tries not to bring up Mike as much as possible— they both know well-enough that their relationship is unconventional. Able to avoid their prodding questions, Will's colleagues then went on about their wives or husbands or partners, then the conversation drifted off to family and then to kids. Most were complaining, but almost always from a place of love and affection. Will stayed silent the whole time, drinking it all in along with his gin and tonic.

He came home late that night, his head light and fuzzy. Not too dissimilar from Mike, Will pawed at his boyfriend's chest, asking for sex. He swore he was in pre-heat, that he needed his alpha to take care of him, but Mike knew he was just inebriated— that he wasn't in the right space for sexual intimacy. Mike put him to bed, and that was that. Will didn't have a heat, he was just delusional. He was never going to have a heat.

That fact makes him upset, so Will tries his best not to think about it. He's always wanted a family, always wanted a few young pups to watch over and raise with his caring and loving partner. But he missed out on that chance.

"Are you sure?" Mike's question pulls Will out of his head. "Are you sure, because you smell different right now— it's driving me crazy."

"Mike, you always say that," Will says with a sad smile. He could probably tell that Will is upset and wanted to say something to cheer him up. And it works, mostly because Will finds his efforts endearing.

"No, no— I really mean it." Mike leans over Will's body, hovering by his neck as he places gentle kisses on his scent gland. "Your scent smells stronger, deeper— God, it smells so good, I feel like I'm gonna lose it."

Will brings a hand to tangle in Mike's hair again, his other hand gliding over Mike's back. Something alights in his chest— hope. A hope that maybe Mike is right somehow, even though deep down Will knows he isn't. He just closes his eyes, allowing Mike to mouth over his gland. He bites and sucks on the sensitive tissue like he's trying to drink Will's scent straight out of his skin, and Will moans at the pain that blossoms as Mike paints bruises into his neck. Will pushes down that hope, pushes down those sad thoughts and just focuses on the pleasure his boyfriend— his alpha is giving him.

Will takes a deep breath, smelling the pheromones that were swimming in the air. He picks up notes of ground coffee and rainy forests, the scent that is undoubtedly Mike. And it's deeper now, more intense, as Mike's rut finally comes upon him. His ruts are irregular, too, but not in the way Will's are. No, the irregular thing about Mike's ruts is that they happen too often. Like, way more than a typical alpha should have ruts. He's urged Mike to get this checked out before, because Will was concerned it could be a sign of some underlying health condition. But nope, the doctor said that other than it being rather abnormal, it wasn't a sign of anything bad. Mike's pituitary gland was just overproducing the chemical that triggers an alpha's rut. A rather fortuitous quirk of his biology, one might say. So, Mike gets his ruts as often as an omega experiences their heat, which is to say it happens every month or so. So every month, Will finds himself coming home to an extremely horny 26-year-old, pawing at him to get his clothes off so they could just fuck already.

And just like that, Will has made himself sad again.

Will was hesitant to date Mike at first because he's too old for him. Well, nearing his 40s isn't old, and Will's certain he'd offend his other NYU colleagues for saying so, but still. The point is, Mike is young, and he should be with someone his age— an omega or even a beta who could keep up with his impulsive, energetic nature. He shouldn't be dating an art professor, that's for sure. Will's thoughts drift off to other omegas, with that youthful glow to their skin, their hair full and silky. Will's skin was starting to wrinkle, especially around his hands with how often he washes paint off of them. And Will's hair was already showing signs of graying, white strands sprouting out of his scalp that he's too lazy to color in with hair dye. Whenever he looks at Mike, he often wonders what he could possibly see in him.

Mike is handsome, classically so. Almost like a Disney prince sometimes, if he remembers to groom himself properly. He's tall, if a bit lanky, but his frame betrays his strength— he just fireman-lifted a grown man, for Christ's sake. Besides his physical appearance, Mike is smart. He's pursuing his Master's in English Literature, and Will has often heard from fellow professors in the English department about how studious and helpful he is to others in their classes. And he is a bit of a nerd, but so is Will. They bond over their shared interest in classic movies from the 80s, over comic books and most of all music. Mike is funny, caring, sweet— all of the things one could wish for in a partner, let alone an alpha one. And of course, there's his irregular ruts, which Will is certain other sexually active partners would find as a plus. Mike is a keeper, and Will feels lucky to be with him.

But whether or not he deserves him is a different story.

"You're quiet, baby," Mike comments. Will didn't even notice he stopped kissing his neck, and now Mike is staring down at him, hands braced against either side of his head. "Is everything okay?"

"Sorry," Will mumbles, breaking eye contact with Mike. "Just a little in my head today. Tired, remember?"

Mike stares at him hard. Will can feel the intensity of his gaze, even when he's not looking at him. "You're beautiful," he says plainly. Like it's a fact.

Will lets out a longing sigh, but he doesn't smile. He frowns, actually. He hopes Mike doesn't catch it. "Are you coming down from your rut?" he quickly changes the subject.

"No," Mike answers, shaking his head, "just wanted to check in on you. Make sure you feel good."

"Of course I feel good, Mike." Will smiles this time, locking eyes with Mike's. "You always make me feel good."

Mike doesn't say anything back. Instead, he leans over to plant a kiss on Will's lips. It's slow and sensual, very different from how they kiss when Mike is deep in the throes of his rut. Mike is kissing him like he's doing it for Will, not to satiate his desire. Even without speaking, Mike always knows exactly what Will wants; Will would find it eerie if he didn't also find it very sweet. It's like he knows what he's thinking, knows what he needs to hear— or doesn't need to hear. They've only been dating for two years, and yet it feels like they've known each other for lifetimes.

So Mike's kiss feels like he's giving himself to Will, reassuring him even when he didn't ask for it. Mike moves his hands down Will's body, finishing his work from earlier and shrugging off Will's dress shirt. He adds it to the pile of discarded laundry, along with Will's thermal as soon as he gets that off as well. They're both just in their underwear now, and Mike deepens the kiss. Will moans into it as his lover's hands snake down the bare expanse of his body. His ghostly touches send shivers down his spine, and again Will feels as if Mike is giving and not taking. He's not grabbing at his waist greedily like he expects him to. No, instead he caresses it gently, holding it in reverence. Like Will is holy.

Mike breaks their lips apart. "Why are you crying, baby?"

Will didn't even notice. "It's nothing," he quickly deflects. "You're just— you're really good at this."

Mike doesn't reply, probably because his rut is building up again by the way the scent in the room deepens; it's making it harder for him to think, let alone speak. Instead, he leans down to kiss at Will's cheeks this time, licking at the salty tears that have stained them. He cants his hips downwards and presses his hardness against Will's cunt, and suddenly Will remembers why they're here in the first place— Will needs to satisfy his alpha.

"Poor thing," Will drawls out as his hands move down to cup Mike's erection. "It feels so heavy, do you need me to empty it for you?"

"No!" Mike growls. He snatches Will by his wrists, pinning both his hands over his head. Will looks up at him in surprise. "I'm going to take care of you, omega. My omega, my Will— so sweet, you smell so good—" Mike is rambling incoherently, grip tight around his wrists as he grinds down into Will again. His other hand lands on Will's hip, and just like before on the couch, he pushes it down against the mattress to keep him still. He doesn't want Will to move at all.

Mike continues to thrust down on Will, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated. He's losing his control, and soon enough he'll be completely enveloped by his rut. Will stares down at their bodies pressed up against each other, and his eyes land on the unfortunate sight of Mike's erection jutting underneath his stupid fucking Spider-Man boxers. Will wants to tear it off of him so bad, but he's completely pinned down by Mike's unusual strength. Mike angles his hips differently, and his dick slides against Will's clothed clit. He yelps in surprise; he's still sensitive from earlier, not quite having the recovery speed he used to.

"Mike, your underwear," Will squeaks out. "Please take them off. I can't— I can't be looking at Spider-Man while you're grinding on me."

Mike grumbles in frustration. He takes his hand off Will's hip, and Will could see his pale skin darken with popped blood vessels, bruises from how hard Mike was holding him down. He finally rips off his boxers, and his cock springs free. It's heavy and leaking— and it's stupid big. Will starts to drool at the sight of it. He wants it in his mouth, wants to get his lips wrapped around its head, but Mike's grip is tight around his wrists. Mike won't let him move.

Once he's settled over Will again, Mike goes back to thrusting downwards. His dick slides against Will's pale stomach, before Mike shifts lower and presses it against Will's clit again. Now Will is frustrated for a different reason; his panties are still on. He should've asked Mike to take those off for him, too, but before he could speak, Mike moves lower until his next thrust almost presses into Will's pussy, taking his panties in with it.

"M-Mike—!" Will chokes out, but Mike isn't listening. In fact, he's probably gone by now.

A low growl erupts from Mike's chest and his movements quicken, each thrust becoming sharper, harsher. He's fucking Will through his panties. It should hurt, the fabric should feel like sandpaper against his dick, but it doesn't— it doesn't because Will's slick has completely soaked through it. The pale yellow cotton is drenched in that warm, sticky liquid, saturating it until its fibers become almost translucent and it no longer scratches over his lips. And with the fibers this loose, the panties stretch.

They stretch enough that Mike can actually push them into Will, can see them vanish between those velvet lips. He changes positions again, digging his knees between Will's legs to further spread him open. The hand on Will's wrists finally lets go, as Mike moves it south and over the other side of his hip. Mike pulls Will closer until he's hoisted onto his lap, back lifted off the mattress, and Will has to prop himself up on his elbows. His grinding doesn't stop, and with the way he hunches over Will as he grunts aggressively, Will can already tell that he's close. And he is, too.

"Will, Will—" His name doesn't even sound like a word on Mike's tongue, with how much he's drooling through his clenched teeth. Not that Will could say much, because he couldn't even speak at all. He's too busy moaning like his life depends on it, his wails only growing louder and louder as he approaches his second climax for the night.

And strangely, a frustration bubbles underneath his skin, because— why hasn't Mike taken off his panties? Why isn't Mike shoving his huge dick straight into his pussy like he does every time he's in rut? Mike said he'd take care of Will, but all he's done so far is manhandle him and hold him still. Maybe that's what his rut calls for right now, but it's strange. Just as strange as this unfamiliar itch in Will's veins.

Will's breaths are becoming more ragged, and there's a pressure building up in his core again. He lets his body relax, wanting to topple over the edge just as he did earlier, but—

"Open your mouth," Mike strains, and Will just listens.

He doesn't even question it, opening his mouth as Mike pulls his hips away from Will's. The absence of friction immediately shuts off whatever climax Will was about to have. Instead, Mike pumps his cock in his fist, drawing a few more staggered breaths from him, before finally long ropes of white cum shoot out from its tip. Mike tries to aim for Will's open mouth, but he's too lost in his own pleasure to aim it accurately. Only some of that salty fluid lands on Will's tongue, and most of it paints his skin with his warm spend. Mike's breathing slows, but he's still hard in his hand.

Will looks down at himself and doesn't know what to make of what just happened.

Does… does Mike not want to cum in him anymore? It's a ridiculous notion, and Will really shouldn't care about it this much, but when Mike has done it all other times they've had sex, it's hard not to notice how it doesn't happen this time. Hell, Mike hasn't even taken off Will's panties. It's a stupid thing to spiral about, but Will's spiraling about it. Is there something wrong with him? Does it have anything to do with the fact that Mike said he smells differently now? Is he just not as attracted to Will as he used to be?

Mike — oh-so caring and attentive Mike, — notices that Will has gone completely still, his body locked up. He lets Will slide off his lap as he hovers over him again, eyes studying his blank face. "Is everything okay, baby?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you not love me anymore?" As soon as the question leaves Will's lips, tears start to spill from his eyes again.

"What?" Mike looks hurt, and Will regrets asking the question. He takes Will in his arms, pulling him into a hug as he plants even more kisses on his cheeks. "No, no, no— Of course I love you, baby," he mutters.

Will can't stop the sob that chokes out of him. "Sorry, sorry— I'm just being really stupid right now…"

Something feels wrong. His heart is racing, but for different reasons. There's something bubbling under his skin that he can't quite reach, and it's leaving Will squirming for something. But he doesn't know what, which only drives his frustration further. As his arousal fades away, something akin to fear settles in his bones. Fear that Mike is losing affection for him, which is why he won't let Will move or won't fuck him in earnest. It's such a childish thing to be upset about— isn't Will supposed to be the more mature partner in this relationship? Yet somehow he's the one who wants to feel satisfied, even when it's his boyfriend who's in dire need to fulfill his carnal desire. Suddenly, Will feels tossed aside, unwanted. There's something warm creeping over his body.

"No, you're not stupid, Will," Mike says in a comforting tone. His consciousness seems to be returning for the moment now that Will is in distress. He sits up on his haunches so he can get a better look at Will. "Why would you— Why do you think I don't love you anymore?"

Will hesitates, because what he's about to say makes no sense and paints him like a pervert who only cares about sex. But that unfamiliar something is making him do things he wouldn't normally do if he was in the right mind. "B-because you won't fuck me…" he says through his tears. "Is it because I'm too old? Am I— Am I not attractive to you anymore?"

Mike looks down at him like he just spoke blasphemy. "Will…"

When Mike doesn't further elaborate, Will takes it as an answer to his deepest fears. He can't stop his tears anymore.

"It's true, isn't it? You're just— y-you're just this perfect alpha, and yet you're stuck here spending your rut with s-someone like me… I'm spent, Mike. I've passed my time. I have to go to sleep by 9 PM or else I'll get cranky— I-I can't even lift a few groceries without cracking something in my knees," Will chokes out a laugh. "Y-you should be with someone else, Mike. S-someone who— who deserves you. You shouldn't be with me…"

Mike gazes at him darkly. "Is that really what you think?"

Will goes silent. That wasn't the reaction he's expecting. He thought Mike would frantically dote over him, to mutter over and over again that he's wrong or that he's too in his head. Instead, Mike's stare is intense, expression unreadable as the young man studies Will's face. Will squirms under his gaze, feeling restless in the silence that now surrounds them. Why isn't Mike saying anything? Is he actually considering what he said? Is Mike finally realizing he should leave him?

Something aches in Will's chest, but also in his abdomen. He recoils at the pain, letting out a strained whimper. His skin feels like it's on fire, and he desperately wants to crawl out of it. Something feels so wrong— he feels disgusting but like he wants to be touched and held. It's conflicting and agonizing, this burn that's burrowed deep into his veins. He wonders if Mike can see what's wrong with him, which is why he's just sitting there and staring at him.

"Please— say something, Mike," Will begs, his own voice feeling foreign in his mouth.

"Sorry," Mike finally says as he shakes his head. "I was just too busy staring at you— thinking about how pretty you are."

Will shivers, shrinking away from Mike's gaze. "D-don't lie…" he whimpers.

"I'm not lying." His voice is the clearest it's been the whole night. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

Will manages to laugh at the ridiculousness of Mike's words. "You haven't even been alive for as long as I have…"

"It's long enough to know that I'd like to live the rest of my life with you."

Warmth blossoms in Will's chest at the sincerity of Mike's words. And yet, a nagging doubt still tugs at the edge of his thoughts. Mike doesn't mean that— he's only saying that because he's in a rut. He wants Will to go back to feeling good so that they can continue having sex, or whatever it is that Mike needs to do to satisfy his needs. Will keeps telling himself that, except he's finding it increasingly harder to believe it.

Mike's breathing seems to have returned to normal, his eyes no longer lost in a haze. His hands aren't wandering or grabbing, they're planted on Will's legs and lightly stroking his skin, comforting him. And his face— Mike's brows are furrowed, lips pulled tight as he looks at Will in concern. He doesn't look like he's in a rut, he's fully conscious. He's being sincere, he's being genuine. There's no ulterior motive to his words. He means what he says, and that just makes Will ache even more.

Mike leans over Will's body again, slow and steady. He trails kisses over his cheeks, wiping away at Will's tears with his lips. His hands come up from his thighs to gently clutch at his waist. Every touch is delicate, like Mike is holding onto something precious. Between each soothing kiss, Mike whispers honeyed words in Will's ear.

"There's no one else I'd rather be with, Will," he says quietly. "No one else I'd spend my life with, no one else I'd want by my side. You're beautiful, Will— my perfect angel."

"Mike…" Will tries to protest, but he's running out of words. Mike is being so tender with him, and it's quelling whatever doubts trailed in his mind while simultaneously stoking the fire under his skin. Something in him wants more. He wraps his arms around Mike's neck to pull him closer. "Mike, I-I feel weird…"

"Like I said, you're in heat, baby," Mike grins, his expression wolfish.

A tingle runs up Will's spine. "You know that's not true, Mike… I don't have heats anymore…"

"Are you sure?" Mike pushes.

Will hesitates, because he really isn't sure. "I'm not— I can't—"

"Yes you can, baby." Mike's kisses move away from his face and trail down his body. "Look at you— you're trembling for me. Am I making you feel good?"

Will nods.

Mike starts sneaking in little nips as he kisses, dragging his tongue over Will's soft flesh. "You're gorgeous, you know that? I love every part of you. Your perky nipples—" As he says this, Mike wraps his lips around Will's nipple and tugs lightly. Will yelps in surprise, throwing a hand down to grab Mike's head. He continues, swirling the little nub in his mouth with his tongue until it's swollen. Once his work is done on one nipple, he moves on to the other one. This time, he sinks his teeth in the mound of flesh, and Will cries out.

"I love all the little moles over your body, like constellations on your skin," Mike continues, his voice growing deeper. He's losing himself to his rut again. He starts kissing over every little dark spot on Will's body— his shoulders, his ribs, his stomach. He licks up whatever cum remained from earlier, and his warm tongue sends ripples of pleasure across Will's skin. More, more, more, Will chants in his mind, but he doesn't know what he's asking for.

"And I love your scent, vanilla and caramel." Mike rises back up to Will's neck, digging his nose into the crook of it as he mouths at his scent gland once more. His neck is already heavily marked with bruises and bites, skin swollen and abused, but now Mike's gentle kisses feel like a warm blanket over the marks.

A thought rises in Will's mind: he wants Mike to bite down hard, enough to draw blood— enough to stake his claim.

"Mmm, Will—" Mike's throat lets out a low rumble. "Do you have any idea what your scent is doing to me right now?"

"N-no, I—" Will's hands start to paw at Mike's back. He needs him closer, wants him to curl up underneath his skin to sate the burning he feels deep inside. "I-I don't know what's happening—"

"Shhh, it's okay," Mike comforts. "My beautiful, precious omega…"

Mike's strong hands pull at Will's waist until he flips him over onto his belly, exposing his back. Will presses his face into the pillows and wrenches his eyes shut— every movement, every touch, every sensation feels amplified on his skin. It's weird, it's new, and despite feeling terrified of it, he also feels excited. Something's changing, and Will's not sure if he's ready for it yet. But Mike, his kind and gentle alpha, seems to notice his hesitation. His rut is back, but he's still taking the time to keep Will comfortable. He can feel with the way Mike rakes his nails over his skin that he's holding back the need to grab and mark. Eventually, Mike's hands stop on the soft mound of Will's ass. He squeezes it tight.

"What do you want, baby?" Mike asks darkly as he massages the pale flesh.

Will's panties— they're still on. "Off," Will says quickly, voice muffled by the pillow. "I want them off, and— and I want you inside…"

Mike hums to himself. He drags his fingers over the band to Will's panties, until they finally slip underneath and he pulls down. His movements are slow and once again torturous, and Will has to bite down on his lip in frustration. For a young alpha in rut, Mike isn't moving like he wants to devour Will— he's taking his time, teasing him. Will wants to cry, but he's spilled enough tears already. He doesn't want to lose any more dignity than he already has.

Mike finally gets that delicate fabric off and tosses it into the dark void of their bedroom. He goes back to massaging Will's ass, and before Will could protest, he feels him line his cock up to his hole. Yes, yes, finally, Will wants to say, but he loses function of his mouth again as Mike slides his dick between his ass cheeks. The glide is smooth, his cock thoroughly slicked by his own spend, and he presses back and forth over his puckered hole.

"Is this what you need, baby?" Mike says with a smirk— he knows what he's doing to Will.

Will shakes his head into the pillows, but he doesn't complain. At least, not verbally. Internally, he wants to— he told Mike he wants inside, damn it. But at the same time, that slight friction between his ass cheeks feels heavenly, his skin lighting up like a live wire. He pants into the pillows, digging his fingers into them as Mike picks up the pace.

Mike angles his hips downwards, and his cock slips from between Will's ass cheeks and slides between his legs instead, right up against his cunt. Will gasps— Mike's so close to where he really wants him, but the alpha is still choosing to fuck anywhere else. It's driving Will crazy, and yet he's also delirious with pleasure. Mike braces himself atop Will's thighs as he thrusts down into them, his hands squeezing at the soft flesh as he starts muttering to himself. He always gets so wordy when he's close.

"Your body feels amazing, Will," he says between ragged breaths. "So good, so perfect— like you're made for me…"

Then why aren't you inside? Will thinks in frustration, but the only sound escaping his lips are the long, drawn-out whines he pulls out of him as Mike drives deeper, the head of his cock brushing against Will's clit. The friction is much needed, however, because Will desperately needs a distraction from the agonizing ache that's settling in his abdomen. It's foreign, but strangely familiar. Still, the sensation is unwelcome, and he needs something else to replace it; Mike's dick rubbing against his cunt feels good, but it's not enough. Will needs more.

"C-close—" Will chokes out. It's painful, not having Mike inside, but either way Will is seeking release. He thinks maybe another orgasm would help ease whatever was wrong with him. "Mike, I need—" Will can't finish his sentence, his mind lost in a daze.

"Use your words, baby," Mike growls. His movements are becoming erratic— Will can feel his dick throb between his legs. He's about to cum again. "Tell me what you need."

Will stops himself. He really wants to say it, to tell Mike what he really wants, but something in him that's still grounded in polite society is holding him back. He doesn't usually beg, too embarrassed by the thought of it. It's not that he's too proud or has an ego he can't bruise, it's more so a result of his timid nature. He's too shy to beg for what he wants. But Mike doesn't seem to care— he wants to hear Will say it, out loud. Normally, Will doesn't have to say anything, Mike just knows exactly what he means or what he needs and gives it to him. But right now, something has possessed Mike to demand words from Will. Will doesn't know if he can do it, but the coil in his core is becoming too much to bear— he needs some kind of release, some kind of satisfaction.

"Shit," Mike hisses. He stops thrusting and pulls his dick away from Will's thighs. He pumps it in his hand, a few quick strokes, and he comes again, warm, sticky fluids coating Will's ass cheek and thighs.

Once more, Will has been denied an orgasm.

Something in him snaps. His dissatisfaction has come to a boiling point, and his feelings of low self-esteem and body image issues are quickly overshadowed by a deep-rooted anger. There's a heat rising from his skin, the fire in his veins raging. He feels so overwhelmed, not by the pleasure or ecstasy he craves, but the lack of it. He really wants to stop crying tonight, but he can't help it; tears of frustration are already welling up in his eyes. Will props himself up on his forearms, fists clenched tightly, as he whips his head around to glare at Mike. He hates to act petulant like this, but he feels he has no choice. He speaks through gritted teeth, lips pulled down into a tight frown.

"Michael Wheeler," he seethes, "why won't you fuck me?"

Mike stares down at him, unmoving. "Is that what you want?"

Will chokes out a frustrated noise. "'Is that what I—?' Of course that's what I want!" he says incredulously.

"Are you willing to beg for it?"

Will freezes. Mike knows that Will doesn't beg— it's a blatant challenge. Mike is dangling exactly what Will wants right in front of his face, like a dog with a treat. Mike is breathing heavily, one hand lazily stroking at his engorged member; he's still in his rut and yet he chooses to play games with his omega. He wants Will to bite the bait. As Will stares at his long shaft, he imagines how good it would feel once it finally sheathes inside him, hitting every spot his fingers couldn't reach. He thinks about that beautiful swell of his knot at the base of his dick, just how full and complete he'll feel once he comes inside of him. Will wants it— he wants it so bad. It's a need that's brewing under his skin, a desire so ingrained in his DNA that it's built into the structure of his bones. He's losing grip of whatever sanity he has left.

The flood gates have opened.

"Yes, Mike!" Will presses his head into the pillows, lifting his hips up into the air on shaky knees. "Please, please, please— I need you inside of me right now, alpha. I want you to breed me, pump me full— Just give it to me, please— I can't take it anymore!"

Will can't believe what he's saying. It takes him a moment to register the exact words he said, but he doesn't feel any guilt or shame for it. In fact, he feels relieved. He's not one to plead like this — usually Mike does enough begging for the both of them — but there's something cathartic about asking for exactly what he wants. Then, he catches something— an unfamiliar scent that isn't Mike's. It smells like warm vanilla, burnt sugar, and a hint of cinnamon. It's a scent he hasn't smelled in a long time.

It's his own. Mike was right this whole time.

"See?" Mike says, licking his lips. He looks down at Will hungrily, his strong hands gripping at his hips. "I told you— you're in heat."

Mike lines his cock up against Will's ass again, and the sensation is different. It's like knowing that he's in heat has made Will hyperaware of the state of his body— how sweat was starting to bead across his skin, how every touch from Mike sent waves rippling throughout his frame. But the ache was still there, and Mike was still uselessly frotting against Will's puckered hole.

"Mike, Mike— get inside, please," Will begs again. His voice doesn't even sound like his own.

"Fuck, Will—!" Mike juts forward harshly, and both of them suck in a breath. "You sound so good, baby. I'll give you what you want, okay? Fuck, I'll give you everything."

Mike grabs at his length, it's twitching in his grasp, and finally — finally, — he guides the head between the folds to Will's cunt. Will doesn't feel anything at first, his build up of slick lining his entrance and making the glide feel seamless, but once Mike starts to slowly push forward— holy shit. Will could cum just from the feeling of Mike bottoming out with one quick movement of his hips. His forceful thrust slaps his balls against Will's groin, right where his clit is throbbing between his legs. Will trembles at the light sting.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck— Will, I'm already cumming—!"

Mike scrambles to hold on to something, splaying himself over Will's back as he prematurely unloads his spend the moment his cock settles into the warmth sheath of Will's pussy. He doesn't lock — his knot has barely even formed after all this time, — but the sudden surge of liquid warmth between his thighs is enough to sate Will's burning desire, for now. Mike pumps slow and shallow thrusts as ropes of cum shoot out of his dick for the fourth time, and there's still plenty more where that came from.

"I knew it— I knew you could do it, baby," Mike rambles. His hands trail up Will's torso to settle on his chest, massaging his breasts. "Your heat, fuck, it's so good…"

Will's consciousness returns for a moment to form a coherent thought. "How did you—?" Will turns around, still keeping Mike between his legs, and looks up at his alpha. "How did you know I was in heat?"

Mike hesitates. He presses his sweaty forehead against Will's back. He looks slightly ashamed and embarrassed, but he answers truthfully. "Your scent— you smell different, so good."

"Yes, but— ahhn— " Will moans as Mike pushes himself further in, but he still needs answers, "you don't normally act like this — nnnf — when you're in rut. So how did you—?"

"Read about it." Mike is picking up the pace. His grip tightens on Will's chest. "Read about how to trigger heats, — mmnf — had to make you submit, make you beg."

Will's face lands back on the pillow. He pushes back in rhythm with Mike's thrusts. "Why…?"

"Because you wanted it, a few weeks ago…"

Before Will is lost to another wave of his heat, he remembers that night from a few weeks ago, the night he came home swearing he was entering his pre-heat. Whether his face burns red from his arousal or from the memory, Will isn't sure. But Mike took note of what happened. He remembered how needy Will was— or at least wanted to be.

"S-sorry," Mike says through gritted teeth. "Should've told you. I-I — ahhn— wanted to surprise y-you. Make you feel good."

Mike presses his body against Will's forcing him deeper into the mattress. Will lets his body go limp, complying with his alpha's every move, as he contemplates what Mike just told him. Mike's large hands reposition themselves on top of Will's shoulder blades, bracing himself as he now drives his dick down into him in earnest. His thrusts are strong, but there's a slight hesitation to his movements, like he isn't sure of himself but still chasing his next high.

Mike wanted to surprise him. He wanted to give Will what he wanted: a heat. The thought coils something warm in his abdomen, his cloying scent filling the room and battling against Mike's musk. Shit, what the hell did Will do in a previous life to deserve someone like Mike? Mike, who realized how much Will longed not just for a heat, but for a chance to bear children and have a family, and wanted to give it to him. Mike would give him all the stars in the sky if he asked, or even hinted at it.

Mike slows down when he realizes Will hasn't said anything. "W-we can stop if you don't like it—"

"No!" Will throws his arm out behind him and grabs onto Mike's hip. "No, don't stop. I want this— please, I want this."

"Are you sure?"

Fuck, Mike's too nice even when he's in rut and his omega's in heat. It's endearing and annoying.

"Yes, I'm sure," Will says as clear as he can, because he's losing himself to his arousal again.

"Okay, okay." Mike slows down for a moment, but there isn't any trepidation anymore. Instead, it feels like he's bracing himself— and Will. His voice drops down an octave, going into a low growl. "If this is what you want, I am going to ravish you, sweetheart."

Mike grits his teeth and drives down into Will in one devastating thrust. It knocks the wind out of Will's lungs, and he can barely recover before Mike drives into him again, and again, and again. Laying prone beneath his alpha makes it hard for Will to move, but not because Mike is forcing him to lay still like last time. No, Mike's uncanny strength and his arms braced on his back might make it hard for Will to meet his thrusts— but damn it, he's going to try. He bends his knees a little enough to lift his hips up and rock them back in time with Mike's movements. The shift opens up Will to a new angle that has both of them gasping; Mike can drill himself deeper into Will's cunt, and Will can feel himself getting speared in full.

"Mike—!" he screams, "I'm close— I swear to fucking God, you better not stop—!"

"Of course not, baby," Mike pants. "Won't stop— never gonna stop—"

Will just has to take his word for it and lets himself go limp to his own pleasure. There's a build up in his abdomen again, and Will focuses all of his senses on it, desperate not to lose the feeling. He feels himself rising and rising, until finally his orgasm crashes down on him in an overwhelming wave. His body seizes up, his cunt clamping down on Mike's dick, clit throbbing, and he lets out a loud wail. Mike follows him soon after, grunting as his cock fills his pussy once more.

But Mike doesn't stop— he makes good on his word.

Will hasn't even caught his breath, and Mike is already switching positions again. He leans back, letting his arms guide Will to his side before grabbing his leg and raising it in the air. Mike straddles Will's other leg beneath him, riding the smooth skin of his thigh as he starts to move. Mike drapes Will's leg — the one in the air — over his shoulder, and the new position leaves Will even more open to Mike's unyielding thrusts. Will looks up at Mike's face, completely lost in a daze, his eyes blown wide with arousal as his pupils completely eclipse his warm brown irises. Will probably looks much the same.

This is it. They've both lost themselves to their respective mating cycles. They're moving only based on instinct now, chasing their deepest, most carnal desires.

"Mike, Mike, Mike—" Will chants in time with each thrust; he's surprised he can even speak right now.

Mike stays silent and focused, one arm cradling Will's leg. The other one then reaches forward, thumb pressing against Will's sensitive clit, and Will nearly passes out. He's only conscious because the ache of his heat is keeping him awake, keeping him stuck as wave after wave of overstimulation hits him. He screams out, sobbing into the pillow beneath him. Mike continued to fuck his own cum back into Will.

"Shit, you sound so good, sweetheart—" he says through gritted teeth. "Wanna keep you like this, crying beneath me— a sobbing, uncontrollable mess. You're so fucking gorgeous when you cry, you sing so beautifully for me when I pound your pussy."

Mike's words are completely unlike him, purely animalistic and filthy as he loses himself to his rut. But Will doesn't mind— in fact, his long-dormant omega brain is absolutely bathing in it. "Yes, yes, yes—" Will cries back. "Please keep fucking my pussy, alpha. Want your cum so bad, need you to fill me up."

Mike rolls his head back at Will's words, coming undone at the obscenities spilling out from it. It's so different from what Will usually says, and it's becoming addicting. Mike wants to do this every time he's in rut, wants to force Will to submit until he falls into another flash heat. That way, he can keep plump and full of his cock. Mike is about to cum at the thought of it.

Will can't think straight as Mike quickens his pace, both his hips and the thumb over his clit moving faster. Then, he feels it, something wide and hot at the base of Mike's dick— his knot. Will wants it inside him, wants it to plug him up so none of Mike's spend spills out of him. Will wants Mike's cum to take, to get him pregnant.

Pregnant. If Will's in heat, he could get pregnant. Their chances are even doubled because Mike's in his rut, when he's most potent and virile. Suddenly, age didn't matter— he couldn't even think about that right now. The only thing on Will's mind is the possibility of carrying his and Mike's child. He's hit with a new wave of emotion, not pleasure or ecstasy but bliss. The very thought of having a baby with Mike makes Will so soul-crushingly happy.

"Want your baby," Will babbles, his voice hoarse. "Please, alpha— get me pregnant."

"Fuck," Mike hisses. Then, a flash of clarity washes over his expression. "Are you sure—? Is it safe?"

"I don't know," Will answers truthfully. "But I want it. Please, I really want it. Tell me you want it, too, Mike."

Mike wrenches his eyes shut and nods his head furiously. "Yes, of course, Will. I want it— wanna have a pup with you."

"Then please, give it to me."

A switch flips in Mike's brain. The clarity from earlier vanishes. His gaze darkens. "If you want it so bad, I need to knot you properly."

Mike moves their bodies again. Will's body is so pliant at this point, it's hard to believe he's 37. But his heat is making him numb to whatever usual aches and pains he got from age— it was only the aches of his coiling heat that rang in him now. Mike doesn't stop thrusting, but he does slow down enough to position himself between Will's legs, throwing both of them in the air and over his shoulders. Will spreads his knees wide so Mike can settle closer to him, until Mike hovers inches away from his face. They both gaze into each other's eyes, hazy with arousal, but their stare is grounding, comforting— loving.

"Are you happy, Will?" Mike manages to say, even as his movements become relentless.

"Yes," Will says breathlessly with a nod, completely lost to the bliss as he closes his eyes. "You make me so happy, Mike."

"Good." Mike leans closer, burying his face in the hollow of Will's neck. "You make me happy, too."

Mike's arms snake around Will's waist and back, pulling him into his thrusts. While his bottom half is fucking Will like an animal, cock throbbing as it slams into Will over and over again, his upper half — his arms, his lips, — is showering Will with love and affection; his hands rubbing smooth strokes over Will's sensitive skin, his mouth peppering sugary sweet kisses along the column of his neck. Will drapes his arms over Mike's back, raking his nails into his skin to pull him closer, deeper. He, too, kisses along Mike's cheeks and shoulders, everywhere his freckles scatter on his skin.

As Mike's thrusts become more forceful, Will starts to feel his knot catch against his velvet lips. The constant press in and pull out from his cunt stings a pain that shoots tears into his eyes, but Will doesn't mind. He's lost to his arousal, the heat underneath his skin overwhelming. His entire body is vibrating in anticipation, begging for his own release as well as Mike's. He has no idea how long his flash heat will last, but he knew he was going to make it count. Everything he dreamed of, Will was going to ask for it. And he knows Mike will do everything in his power to give it to him, unable to deny his lover.

"Bite me, alpha," Will whispers. He instantly feels Mike shiver in his arms at the words. "Please, I want you to claim me."

"Be careful with your words, omega," Mike warns, but deep down he wants it, too. "If I bite you— If I claim you, we'll be bound forever."

Will clenches down on Mike's dick at the thought of it. "Yes, that's what I want. Please, Mike—" Will's words grow sincere; he's not just begging, he's pleading with his life. "If you'll have me, I want to be yours."

Mike already has his fangs hovering over Will's mating gland. "You have always been mine."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Mike sinks his teeth into Will's skin. The pierce is immediate, and Will cries out from the pain. Then, the sharp sting is washed away by a soothing warmth enveloping his body, different from the warmth of a heat; it's the warmth of the mating bond forming, intertwining not just their bodies but their hearts, their souls. Now, there was just one last part of Will's body that has yet to be claimed.

"I'm gonna pump you full now, omega," says Mike, his voice returning into that deep boom. "And if it doesn't take, we'll try again and again and again."

Will doesn't even try to answer him back. He just spreads his legs wider, so that Mike's dick can reach the deepest depths of him. He throws his head back, pressing against the pillows as Mike laps up the blood left behind by his mating bite. Mike's thrusts become more desperate, his knot nearly refusing to leave Will's cunt until it's harshly pulled out again. Each time it pops out, Will gasps from the sudden loss of fullness— but it's close. He can feel how large the swell is, how Mike has to strain harder to pull it out. Will's moans grow louder as he nears his next and probably final orgasm, and Mike joins in the chorus with his own grunts and groans.

"F-fuck—" Mike whimpers, gripping tightly at Will's waist. "Shit, I'm cumming— Will—!"

"Yes, yes— Mike—!"

Mike throws his hips forward one final time, and the knot locks into place with a roar. Will wails in response, the last of his voice echoing across the walls of their bedroom as he, too, is hit with a wave of ecstasy. His cunt flexes, clamping down on Mike's knot. It swells against Will's tightening walls as his dick unloads stream after stream of his seed. Will's pussy fills with warmth from his spend, undoubtedly coating his throbbing insides with that milky white fluid. Will can feel how his lower abdomen distends outwards from the sheer volume of cum flowing into him, and then finally the omega is full, sated. The burn under his skin dies down into a dull static, his limbs falling numb. Mike's body crashes atop Will's, before he gets the idea to roll to his side to get them both into a more comfortable position.

"Will, Will," Mike chants, eyes closed. "You did so good, baby. You're amazing."

Will draws himself closer to Mike's body, embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he finally realizes what just happened, what he's done, and of course what he's said. But it's hard to be mad, especially when Mike's cock twitches inside of him, drawing out one more moan from his lips. Will's mind drifts off to what Mike said earlier, an amazing feat considering he was swimming through waves of his heat at the time. He thought about Mike drawing out his heat in the first place, because Will wanted one.

"Why do all this for me…?" Will asks weakly; all of his strength and energy has been drained out of him.

Mike blinks at him, as if the question confused him. "Because you wanted it, and I want to make you happy," he says plainly.

"A-and you?" Will protests. "I just— I just don't understand… What did I do to deserve any of this— to deserve you…?"

Mike's expression softens. He cradles Will in his arms, one hand stroking through his soft brown waves while his other presses against the small of his back. He plants a small, sweet kiss onto Will's temple. "I did this because I love you, Will. And you know what they say— love, it makes you crazy. So, I'm crazy for you."

Will laughs, because the notion is so childish and simple, so classically Mike— and yet, that was the genuine truth of it. To Mike, he needs no other reason to treat Will with such care and grace. There's something to be learned from this approach. Will can get so in his head about the complexities and nuances of relationships, that sometimes he misses its simplicity; sometimes, people just do these things because they're in love.

"I feel so lucky to have you," Will whispers in Mike's ear. It's the truth, and he'll never grow tired of saying it. "I love you, too, Mike."

They'll be locked together for a few more hours, connected not just physically but now also through their mating bond. In the meantime, Will curls up against Mike's chest and purrs, his eyes fluttering shut, as Mike gently coos and lulls him into sleep. Once he's finally able to slip out, he does so without waking his lover. Mike momentarily — but hesitantly — leaves the comfort of their bed to grab a warm wet towel and clean up the mess between their legs, before he finally returns to Will's side, drifting off to sleep right next to him.

When dawn breaks, Will's eyes open to see Mike's face just inches away from his, still blissfully asleep. The memory of the night before filters into his mind, and at the thought of their final deed, Will draws his hand over his plump stomach. It's still full of Mike's seed, and a little bit of it dribbles out when Will pushes down on the taut skin. It causes him to whimper involuntarily, both at the loss and at the strange bloated sensation, and Mike's eyes immediately fly open at the sound.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asks, propping himself up on his forearms.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you…" Will apologizes.

Mike follows Will's gaze down to his stomach, where Will is still clutching at the fullness of it. Mike puts a hand over it, too. "Do you think we did it?" he asks with a smirk.

Will chuckles. "Maybe? But… are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, of course, because—"

"—it's what I want, I know," Will finishes for him. "But Mike, this is serious. How do we both know if we're ready for this?"

"I don't think anyone's ready for it, honestly," Mike replies with a chuckle. "But, either way, I want to do it with you— want to start a family with you."

Will nods slowly, but Mike senses the hesitation. So, he continues on. "Y'know, I see the way your face lights up whenever Lucas and Max ask us to babysit their twins. Or how excited you get when we see your older brother and his husband, dragging along their kid with them— even if he is a little shit, just like Steve." Will laughs at his comment, and Mike grins in response, happy that Will is smiling again. "I want to give that to you, want you to come home to something like that— a happy, burping baby bouncing on a knee, or a kid running around the house and causing a ruckus. I just know you'd be a great mom, and I can only hope to be even a half-way decent dad."

"I think you'd be a great dad, Mike," Will encourages.

Mike shrugs, but he's still smiling. "Eh, we'll have to see. But— I know you're worried. Not just about having a kid, but about the whole pregnancy in general. Just know that I'll be here to support you through anything and everything. Whatever decision you make, I'm right here."

Will could cry; he really has the most thoughtful boyfriend in the world. But what Mike's implying is right— a pregnancy at his age could be dangerous, both for him and for the baby. They had to be responsible about this, couldn't just act impulsively like they did last night. If he needs to, Will has to put his health above all else, even if it calls for something like a termination. He pushes all those thoughts aside for now. They're not even sure if Will is pregnant or not, and it would be too early to tell. He doesn't need to worry about it, at least not for a while.

"Sorry for doing this all out of order," Mike says with a dejected laugh. "Guess maybe I should've proposed first or something."

Will smiles. "So you are planning to propose?"

"Obviously! Once I scrounge up enough money, of course. Gotta make sure I find a nice little rock to put on your finger." Then, Mike sighs, "This stupid Master's program is draining my funds dry…"

"Well, you better hurry up and do it before I shrivel up from old age," Will jokes.

Mike scoffs in response. "Oh my God, Will—! You are not that old."

"Ow, I think I popped something in my back."

"That's because I fucked your brains out last night— that's not because of age, dummy."

Will lets out a loud laugh at Mike's pout. He muffles the noise into Mike's chest, until the younger man relents and pulls him deeper into a hug. Mike buries his nose into Will's hair, pressing kisses onto his forehead. Will lifts his head up, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, before they lean in close for another kiss.

It's soft, delicate, and they take their time, because they have the whole rest of their lives to enjoy together.

A few weeks later…

"Hey, Will! What's up?"

"Hey Jonathan, I'm doing great! How are you?"

"Doin' good. Steve just took Olie to baseball practice for the day, and I'm probably gonna meet up with Nance and Robin for brunch. Is there something going on? You don't normally call me out of the blue like this."

"Yeah, actually I had something to tell you… Promise not to be mad?"

"…Why would I be mad?"

"…"

"Will?"

"Could you hop onto FaceTime real quick?"

"Uh, y-yeah, sure."

"Can you see me?"

"Yep, and— wait a minute. Will, is that what I think it is?"

"Um, surprise…!"

"Will, please don't tell me… Not with him?"

"You said you wouldn't be mad!"

Then, the phone is quickly snatched away from Will's hand, and a new face pops up on Jonathan's screen. "Surprise, Jon! Looks like we're gonna be brothers now— also, how do you feel about being the godfather?"

Jonathan lets out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, God."

Pictured above: Will Byers, 37, showing off his positive pregnancy test. Mike Wheeler, 26, is photographed in the background posing excitedly. When asked about getting his older omega pregnant, the younger alpha had this to say: "Biology is my bitch."