Chapter Text
Mike had already decided he would kill for Will.
Not because he wanted to—but because he knew, with terrifying certainty, that if someone ever tried to take Will from him, there would be no hesitation. No mercy. Just blood.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Will said softly.
They were alone in the apartment, the city lights bleeding through the windows. It was late. Late enough that Mike’s control was thin and fraying.
“I can’t,” Mike replied. “You asked me to stay.”
Will turned to face him. “I asked you to stop treating me like I’m fragile.”
Mike laughed under his breath, sharp and humorless. “You’re not fragile. You’re fatal.”
He stepped closer. The room seemed to shrink around them. Will felt it immediately—the pressure, the attention, the way Mike’s entire existence narrowed until there was nothing but him.
“You know I hear your heart,” Mike said. “Every second I’m near you. I count the beats when you sleep. I know when you’re scared before you do.”
Will’s breath caught. “That’s… not normal.”
“No Will” Mike agreed. “It’s obsession.”
Mike lifted a hand, stopping just short of touching Will’s throat. His fingers trembled, not with fear—but restraint.
“I have lived decades,” Mike continued. “Wars. Hunger. Bodies. None of it mattered. And then you exist, and suddenly everything does.”
Will swallowed. “You’re scaring me.”
Mike’s eyes softened instantly. “I would never hurt you.”
“But you want me,” Will said. “That’s the difference.”
Mike closed the distance, resting his forehead against Will’s. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“I want you in ways that terrify me. I want to keep you. Hide you. Be the last thing you see every night so the world can’t touch you.”
“That’s not healthy,” Will said—barely audible.
“No,” Mike said. “But it’s honest.”
He kissed Will then—not rushed, not gentle—deliberate. Like a vow. Will felt the edge of Mike’s fangs against his lip, not breaking skin, just enough to remind him that this wasn’t safe.
And yet—Will didn’t pull away.
When Mike finally drew back, his eyes were glowing red.
“Tell me to stop,” Mike said. “And I will.”
Will’s hands fisted in Mike’s jacket.
“Don’t,” he said.
Something dark and reverent settled into Mike’s expression.
“Then understand this,” Mike murmured. “I don’t love halfway. I don’t leave. And I don’t share.”
Will’s heart was racing now—not with fear.
“Okay,” he said.
Mike kissed his forehead, almost tender.
“Good,” he whispered. “Because I would burn the world before I ever let it take you from me.”