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He can’t do this anymore. Will truly thinks he’s reached the very limit of what’s acceptable, fully aware that he himself caused the current situation.
The thing is, he woke up with an itch under his skin, feeling restless through all of his morning classes. Consumed by a heat with a first name, last name, and a very stubborn personality.
When he had to leave Mike sleeping in the apartment they share a few blocks from campus, Will swears it physically hurt. The younger man was sleeping peacefully in Will’s bed even though he had a perfectly functional bedroom at the end of the hall. They’d always preferred sharing a bed — from childhood sleepovers in pajamas to now, in a stable relationship known to everyone important in their lives.
Mike had already passed the class he would’ve attended today, so he told Will he’d keep sleeping and spend the rest of the day working on the draft of the book he’d been writing for months. The night before, Mike had talked excitedly about how he’d connect one plot point to another, gesturing and smiling.
“That’s why I’ll need to focus really hard on writing tomorrow. Like I told you, I’ve already put most of it on paper, but I think tomorrow I’ll be able to develop it better and use the typewriter.”
Which is why it’s complicated when Will wakes up that morning with chaotic energy and a strong desire to sabotage his boyfriend’s writing process.
When he gets back to their apartment, Will is greeted by the sound of Mike’s fingers furiously hitting the typewriter keys.
“Love? Are you home? If that’s you, can you bring me a glass of water when you come in?” Mike shouts from his room at the end of the hall.
“Of course, I’m coming.”
Will tries to contain his excitement and take a deep breath. He knows that when he reaches the bedroom he’ll find Mike in comfortable clothes and glasses — those damn glasses that make him look even nerdier. He stops by the kitchen to get the water and heads toward the room.
Mike’s bedroom isn’t much different from Will’s, except for the bigger desk and more comfortable chair, a gift from his parents for the future successful writer. Mike types with intense focus, only acknowledging Will’s presence by tilting his head to receive a kiss on the cheek and murmuring a small “thank you” when Will sets the glass down on the desk beside him.
Will sits on Mike’s bed and watches him work. It’s incredibly hard to keep his thoughts from wandering when Mike looks like that. Mike presses his lips into an almost imperceptible pout when he’s deep in thought, his eyebrows drawing together slightly in the center of his forehead, making him look a little angry — as if the typewriter keys and the sheet of paper have personally offended him. Will’s gaze trails down the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck to the worn-out The Cure shirt Mike is wearing — Will’s shirt — which, despite being oversized, is still too short to cover the waistband of the black underwear beneath his gray sweatpants. One of Mike’s legs bounces up and down with anxiety; that means he’s not as focused anymore.
Will tests the waters by scooting back until he leans against the headboard, watching how Mike follows his movements.
“Sorry,” Mike says, standing up from the chair and flopping down on top of Will on the bed. “These dialogues are getting more and more complex to develop.” He presses a chaste kiss to Will’s lips. “Hi.”
“Hi.” They’re very close now. Will feels Mike’s breath on his neck. “So… does that mean you want to take a break?”
“Not a chance. I just need a motivational kiss.”
Will takes the opportunity like a man lost in the desert spotting the first bottle of water in days. He kisses Mike slowly at first, then deepens it when their tongues collide for the first time that day. He can’t stop a soft moan from slipping out. Mike breaks the kiss shortly after.
“We can get back to this later,” he says, pushing himself up on his elbows, ready to leave the bed.
Will smiles and wraps his legs around Mike’s waist, trapping him there.
“Oh, come on. I told you I’d work on the book today… pouting won’t help, I’m not giving in.”
But Will wants to be a brat today.
“Please, Mike. Tomorrow’s Saturday, you’ll be able to write all day. I won’t bother you.”
“I need to get this on paper if I want to sleep tonight, I swear. I’ll give you attention later.”
Will lets out a frustrated sigh, but at the same time notices that Mike isn’t resisting with as much strength anymore. He rocks his hips slightly, seeking friction against the man above him. Mike’s breath stutters; he lets out a moan like someone realizing he’s losing a fight.
“You can wait a few more hours, Will.”
“But I don’t think I can,” Will says, eyes locked on Mike’s red, swollen lips, thinking about how badly he wants to be kissing them again. “Please? And I’ll be good.”
That’s more or less how they ended up in the current situation, which has been going on for so long Will has lost track of time. Mike did give in — partially.
First, they kissed until they could no longer muffle their moans. Their tongues met in a slow, delicious rhythm, the kiss so wet that a bit of saliva ran down the corner of Will’s mouth, which he didn’t mind at all. Then Mike started undressing Will, beginning with his shirt and ending with the white underwear he happened to be wearing today. Will should have found it strange that Mike remained dressed, but he couldn’t form a coherent thought like that while Mike was jerking him off and littering his neck with kisses and bites. The hand stroking him didn’t take long. Mike brought two fingers to Will’s mouth, pressing them lightly onto his tongue. Will sucked them, putting on a small private show — licking and playing with saliva while keeping his eyes locked on Mike’s.
Mike used those fingers to open Will up without any rush, an excruciatingly slow rhythm for someone who claimed he wanted to focus on writing all afternoon. The in-and-out motion of the two fingers made obscene sounds, slick with saliva Mike was using for lubrication. The torture felt endless. Will writhed on the bed, forbidden from touching himself to relieve the aching need for friction on his neglected cock. Mike added a third finger and thrust a few dozen more times before seeming satisfied.
Will props himself up on his elbows.
“This is so unfair. You’re really going to stay dressed?”
“Yes,” Mike replies, standing up and moving toward the chair in the middle of the room. “I said I wanted to write today.” He slips his hands into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down and freeing his cock from his underwear. “And you promised to be good.”
Mike sits down and gestures for Will to come closer. He spits into his own hand and slicks his cock before offering his palm so Will can do the same, spreading Will’s saliva over himself as well.
“Sit here and keep your promise. You’re going to stay quiet, warming my cock while I work on the book, and later I’ll give you the attention you deserve.”
Will restrains himself from jumping with excitement. He swings one leg over each side of Mike’s hips, and Mike helps him adjust his position to be penetrated. Mike’s cock slides in with almost no resistance; Will is so relaxed he barely feels any burn at all. When their bodies press together, both of them moan, and Will can’t stop himself from rolling his hips, taking Mike even deeper.
“No. You’re forbidden from doing that if you want to stay there,” Mike says, his expression already returning to the neutral concentration of writing.
Will tries to think about anything other than Mike’s cock inside him. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, and Will always tries his best to behave, wanting to be a good, warm sheath for his boyfriend. He relaxes into the position but still moves too much, earning a disapproving look from Mike that clearly says behave or leave.
Time crawls. Will drifts into a hazy stream of thoughts, not holding onto any of them for long. The constant typing and Mike’s breathing so close to his ear nearly lull him to sleep. He huffs, amused by the idea that he might fall asleep with his boyfriend’s cock buried inside him. He wonders if Mike is almost finished, already starting to resent the story competing for his attention. Mike hasn’t interacted with him in a while, lost in thought, only moving to change the paper in the machine or yawn. He barely acknowledges Will sitting on his lap, and that excites Will far too much — he loves thinking about how he can be used like this.
At some point, Will gets lost in the soft scent of Mike’s shampoo, which makes him shift and lightly touch the hair at the nape of his boyfriend’s neck. The gesture exposes more of Mike’s neck, and Will desperately needs to kiss it. He moves again and earns a displeased huff.
“I’m almost done. Be more patient.”
“Sorry, I’ll behave.” Something in Will’s broken tone makes Mike soften. Moments later, hesitant fingertips start stroking up and down Will’s spine. Will can’t help but moan.
“Mike… you’re not making this any easier for me, and… I’m really trying.” Will’s voice breaks, his effort to stay still crumbling in the final minutes.
Mike finally breaks. He leans back in the chair, taking Will with him, plants his feet on the floor, and presses his cock even deeper. Both of them let out long, relieved moans at the movement after so long. He allows Will to kiss him then — open-mouthed and desperate. Will moves as much as he can in the position, surrendering to the kiss. With some effort, Mike stands up, and they laugh with their mouths still pressed together, teeth bumping as Mike carries them to the bed without pulling out.
They land carelessly. Will sprawls across the mattress while Mike finally pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. He draws Will’s knees up to his chest and braces himself there to deepen his thrusts.
“You really couldn’t wait to get fucked, could you? Brat. I told you I needed this time, but you just can’t resist,” Mike says, his voice surprisingly firm for someone pounding into him so hard.
“I—I can’t resist,” Will moans. “I was so hungry for you today I considered hiding your typewriter.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s my greatest enemy right now.” Will doesn’t know how, but he’s still capable of forming full sentences. “I think you’re feeling pity for me today.”
Mike accepts the challenge with a crooked smile. He kisses Will and then trails down, circling each of his nipples with his tongue. They moan loudly, not caring about the neighbors. Will braces himself against the bed, fucking back against every thrust. His hard, untouched cock leaks pre-cum down his stomach, the slick turning redder as Will contemplates the crest of the roller coaster approaching.
Mike changes his rhythm when he notices Will is close. The truth is, they both prefer sex that’s intense, intimate, and slow. Feeling his own climax near, Mike presses his lips to Will’s, swearing softly and murmuring filthy promises. “I’m going to fill you with my cum,” he groans. “You’re going to keep it for me, right?” Will answers with frantic nods and weak “y-yes,” already unable to tell up from down as the wave of pleasure crashes over him.
They kiss fiercely, mouths parting and reconnecting, strands of saliva stretching between them before their lips meet again in a slow, deliberate dance of tongues, swallowing each other’s moans. Mike thrusts hard, their bodies slapping together as they near climax. Will lifts his hips to meet the thrusts, their ragged breathing merging in that tiny space where they can still tell where one ends and the other begins. Will comes first, untouched, spurting so hard it splashes their chins. At the last moment, Will wraps his legs around Mike’s hips again, limiting his movement and leaving him no choice but to thrust deeper and deeper until he comes, filling Will with thick, hot fluid. Will savors the sensation of his boyfriend’s cock pulsing inside him.
“Now you’re going to keep that safe for me, okay?” They look at each other with devotion.
“Y-yes,” Will replies.
“You’re so good and obedient. Next time, maybe you’ll remember this — behave, and I won’t make you wait so long.”
“It was worth it,” Will says, already half-asleep, a soft, satisfied smile on his face.
It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Mike gets out of bed and, after returning from the bathroom, covers Will with a sheet, kisses his forehead, and sits back down at the desk — condemned to finish the damn dialogue that has completely vanished from his head.