Archive of Our Own

“H-hello?” 

The soft ding of a bell announces Mack’s entrance as he walks into the store, but years of deeply ingrained manners make him blurt out an automatic greeting anyway, even as stiff and nervous as he is. 

“Well, damn.” The guy behind the front desk looks amused as he rests his chin on his hand, eyes bright with mirth. He’s perfectly groomed and styled in a way that would make him look like any high-end receptionist, if not for the series of piercings dangling from his ears and colorful tattoos adorning his skin. “Aren’t you cute. You sure you’re in the right place, kid?” 

Mack flushes to the roots of his hair. He can’t deny he sticks out like a sore thumb—just an awkward, ordinary college student, nothing special at all—but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing to be called out on it. 

On instinct, he glances back at the sign anyway—stark white letters with the tattoo parlor’s name etched in a bold serif script—and immediately blushes deeper at the amused laugh the receptionist gives, clearly endeared by his complete show of incompetence. 

“A-ah, yeah!” 

“You sound uncertain,” the guy teases. 

“Sorry, I just—I’ve never done anything like this before,” Mack admits, and the receptionist gives an exaggerated gasp.  

“Really? I never would’ve guessed!” At Mack’s weak glare, the guy only laughs again and straightens up, patting the counter in front of him like a shopping mall Santa beckoning a child to sit on his lap. “Come on, you can call me Eky. What can I help you out with?” 

Hesitantly, Mack approaches the desk, glancing briefly at the walls covered in framed artwork and ink, varying from dramatic colored pieces to ones drawn only in black and gray. 

The place is a lot nicer than he would’ve expected for a tattoo shop, clean and almost professionally decorated, with sparklingly clear display cases and expensive leather furniture set up neatly in the waiting area. 

There’s actually a person sleeping on one of the couches now, long limbs draped over the cushions without a care in the world. The guy is golden all over—gold skin, gold hair—with silver piercings gleaming from his ears and black ink crawling up his neck and down the exposed skin beneath his rolled up sleeves. 

For a moment, Mack frowns, concerned at why some random person is sleeping out here in the middle of the day, but then his gaze travels back to the guy’s face, and Mack jolts with a start when he realizes that piercing blue eyes are staring back at him, nearly glowing and definitely awake. 

Mack whips his head around back to the front, heart beating fast. 

But he can still feel the guy’s gaze hot on his back, like a brand burning through. 

“I’m Macklin,” he blurts to Eky, feeling flustered at being caught. “I mean—Mack. Sorry, I was just…” 

Thankfully, Eky must see how pathetic he’s being because he takes pity on him with a reassuring grin. “Nice to meet you, Mack. You looking for a piercing or tattoo?” 

“Tattoo,” Mack says, relieved. 

“Do you have an artist in mind?” When Mack only blinks at him, confused, Eky bites back a laugh. “Some people like to do extensive research before they pick someone to ink them, but it’s fine if you didn’t. If you have a picture of the design you want or at least an idea of what you’re looking for, I can help match you to one of our artists who might fit your style.” 

“Um…” 

Eky smiles at him like he’s the most adorable fumbling puppy, blindly running into walls. “You really are new to this, aren’t you?” 

“Sorry,” Mack says again, cheeks burning. “I wasn’t… I, ah, actually never really thought about getting a tattoo before. I’m kinda here because I lost a bet.” 

At that, Eky laughs like it’s all finally coming together and this is the final puzzle piece falling into place. “Let me guess: an abundance of alcohol was involved.” 

Mack smiles wryly. “I’m guessing I’m not the only idiot this has happened to before?” 

“Let’s just say our Lady Vodka makes us a lot of money, and hey, who are we to complain?” Eky winks, bright and teasing, and it makes Mack feel much more at ease, even with the strange tingling sensation still curling at the back of his neck. “So what are the punishment parameters for your oh-so-unfortunate dare?” 

“Ah, basically I just have to get a random tattoo at least the size of a golf ball and I’m not allowed to know what it is. The artist gets to choose everything, and I can’t complain.” 

“Oh wow,” Eky whistles. “They’re not even letting you pick the ink you have to live with for the rest of your life?” 

“I make really bad decisions when I’m drunk,” Mack admits ruefully. 

There’s a reason Mack prefers to be the caretaker rather than the shot taker when they hang out. Saying no to Asky is hard enough when he’s sober. When there’s a little booze saturating his veins? 

Mack is pretty much a helpless wreck. 

“Well, lucky for you, our artists aren’t such dickheads that they’d pick something horrendous to brand you with, and since it’s so early, we can definitely fit you in for something small.” Eky clicks through the computer as he speaks, with the sort of casual ease that accompanies someone who is comfortable yet excellent at his job. “Actually, Delly should be arriving soon, so he can probably—”

“I’ll do it.” 

Startled at the sudden voice behind him, Mack squeaks and whirls around, hand flying to his throat. 

It’s the sleeping man from the couch. Mack didn’t even hear him get up. He’s standing so close that Mack’s shoulder brushes his chest when he turns, and Mack flinches a little in surprise, backing up into the counter, but the stranger doesn’t move away. 

If anything, he seems to purposefully exist in Mack’s space, like it’s his sole intention to steal the air from Mack’s lungs and make it harder for him to focus or breathe. 

“Wait—Will?” Eky sounds surprised. “But… it’s not even noon yet? Are you sure—” 

“I’ve got him,” Will hums, a low murmur that makes Mack blush for reasons he can’t explain, the sound almost like a purr. 

Will’s eyes haven’t left Mack’s since he first spoke, and he shifts even closer, resting one hand on the counter by Mack’s hip. He’s only a bit taller than Mack, but something about the intensity of his gaze and the way he carries himself, dark and sure, makes Mack feel like he’s being caged in, shackled from all sides. 

“Ah, hi,” Mack says, strangely breathless. “I, um. You’re an artist here?” 

“You could say that.” Will’s gaze travels from Mack’s face to his throat, lingering around his collarbones, and Mack feels his shoulders tremble a little as he exhales a shaky laugh, desperately trying to play it cool. 

“G-great! Should I… I mean, do you need anything from me, or…?” 

The corner of Will’s lip twitches in a slow, devastating smile, and his eyes only seem to burn brighter when it makes Mack’s cheeks warm even more, fingers trembling as he grips the edge of his sleeve, curled next to his neck. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Will says, “I can think of a lot I’ll be needing from you.” 

Mack’s breath catches, but Will leans back before he can even try to react, stepping away just enough that he’s no longer close enough to feel Mack tremble, though his eyes still burn like a flame, never straying far from Mack, locked in on him almost hungrily. 

“We can take care of it at my station, yeah? Just follow me.” 

“O-oh, sure!” Flushed and somewhat dazed, Mack does as he’s told, trailing after Will like a dumb fisherman lured in by a siren’s crooning song. 

Mack only glances back at Eky at the last second, and he actually blinks at how wide and stunned Eky’s eyes are, one hand lifted to cover his mouth in shock, before Mack rounds the corner and Eky disappears from sight. 

Will leads him into a small, sectioned room at the back of the shop, separated with a dark velvet curtain instead of a door. He pulls it closed after Mack walks in behind him, and Mack tries—and fails—not to blush at their sudden seclusion. 

Mack doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. He can be awkward as hell sometimes, but he’s never been this jittery around a stranger before. But there’s just something about Will’s gaze on him, heated and unrelenting, that makes him feel like a tiny, helpless animal caught in a predator’s trap, just one small movement from being completely devoured. 

“Come on, sit.” Will tilts his head invitingly towards the tattoo bed, eyes sparkling like he can read exactly what Mack’s thinking. “No need to look so scared. As if I’d ever hurt someone as cute as you.” 

Mack almost squeaks in surprise at being called cute, though judging from Will’s quiet laugh, he’s pretty sure he does a terrible job hiding it. “I’m n-not scared!” 

He shifts carefully around Will in the open space, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the recliner. It’s elevated a little high for him, his feet dangling several inches from the ground, but it gives him the perfect view of the small, cozy space, from the wide marble countertops and utilitarian cabinets above the sink to the gorgeous, framed pieces of artwork spread out on the walls. 

“I’m Mack,” he says. 

“I heard. I’m Will. You’re gonna have to wait for me for a few minutes, okay?” Will rummages through one of the cabinets, pulling out a varying range of items, all professionally packaged and none of which Mack recognizes. “I wasn’t expecting a client this soon, so I don’t have most of my equipment ready yet.” 

“You also heard what I was telling Eky then? Since it’s for a dare, I’m not looking for anything complicated or whatever, just something simple and small. You don’t have to—” 

“Mm, I’ve got it.” 

“Wait, really?” Mack says in surprise. “You already have an idea of what tattoo you’re gonna give me?” 

“Of course,” says Will. “I’ve known how I wanted to mark you since the moment I first saw you.” 

Finished gathering what he needs, Will carries the items to the small stand next to the bed, which consists of several long shelves and a wide platform on top for him to set up his things. He tugs his chair closer with his foot, settling on it with all the grace of a predatory cat. His eyes are so bright Mack almost swears that they’re glowing, even under the fluorescent overhead lights. 

“You’ve got such gorgeous skin,” Will says. “Pretty stoked to be able to claim it for myself.” 

Heat rushes to Mack’s cheeks, and he quickly averts his gaze to the side, as if trying to distract himself by focusing on something else. “D-dude, come on! Saying it like that is a little…” 

“No?” Will hums. “I mean it though. I get to be the first one to brand you, and it makes my blood hot just thinking about it.” 

Mack exhales a shaky, nervous laugh, fingers curling over the edge of the recliner. “Jeez, do you flirt with all your customers like this?” 

“Just you. I couldn’t care less about anyone else.” 

Even knowing this is all probably just some wild, twisted form of lip service—there’s no way someone looks the way Will does and doesn’t get around—it still makes Mack blush like a virginal schoolgirl who’s encountering a potty-mouthed bad boy for the very first time. “Th-that’s—you’re so…!” 

“What?” Will coos, amused. “What am I?” 

“Impossible,” Mack finishes, face hot. “Seriously, what are you even saying right now?” 

Will only smiles, the kind that would send a shiver down a saint’s spine, and says, “Silly Macklin, I’ve been very clear about what I want. You’re the one who’s not listening.” 

Mack splutters embarrassingly, opening and closing his mouth several times in a failed attempt to try and find a response. 

When that doesn’t work, he settles for shifting his attention back to the walls, ignoring Will’s low chuckle and quiet, insulting comment calling Mack cute. 

“Did you draw all these?” Unlike the varying styles that were framed out front, the artwork hung around this room are all done with the same sharp, pitch-black inkwork, with the kind of clean, precise lines that can only be done with an expert hand.  

“Mm.”  

“They’re gorgeous,” Mack admits. More than gorgeous. They’re stunning, bold, imaginative pieces that a non-creative like Mack couldn’t even begin to fathom. Will could probably make a doodle of a garbage bin look lovely. 

That’s one thing Mack doesn’t have to worry about, at least. 

“So, ah, can I ask what you have in mind? For my tattoo, I mean.” 

Will’s laugh is low and quiet, even if he doesn’t stop readying his supplies. “I thought it was supposed to be a surprise. You nervous? Don’t trust me? I’m hurt.” 

Mack really wishes he weren’t so quick to show his embarrassment on his face. It only makes his reactions worse. “Hey, we just met and you haven’t said a serious word since we started talking. Do you really blame me for being concerned?” 

“What do you mean? I’ve been nothing but honest with you,” Will says, and Mack levels him with a look like see what I mean? Will smiles, far too entrancing for his own good. “You have nothing to worry about. Your skin is so damn gorgeous, I’d never do anything to ruin that.” 

Mack sighs, understanding that this is the best answer he’s gonna get and any further prompting will only be a waste of time. “At least promise you won’t, like, draw a dick or something vulgar like that.” 

“Just who do you think I am?” Finished with his setup, Will rolls slightly closer on his chair and says, “Now take off your shirt.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Your shirt,” Will repeats. “I need it off for where I want to ink you.” 

“Wait, aren’t you just gonna do it on my wrist or something?” 

“I want your neck,” Will says firmly. “The back of it, just above your collar.” He taps the spot he’s talking about on himself with two fingers. “I want it somewhere people can easily see, showing it off to the world, even when you’re all dressed up. I want people to know I was there first. That I claimed you first.” 

Eyes wide, Mack feels his cheeks color with pink, and he coughs a little, feeling—not embarrassed, that’s not the right word, but something. Something warm. “Y’know, if you say it like that, people are gonna get the wrong idea,” Mack laughs nervously. “I didn’t know tattoo artists took that much pride in displaying their work.” 

To that, Will doesn’t respond, only staring at Mack with those deep, captivating eyes of his, so intense he doesn’t even feel real, let alone human. “Macklin, are you telling me no?” 

Okay, now that’s just unfair. How is anyone supposed to deny him when he looks like that? 

Feeling shaky and more than a little warm, Mack sheds his jacket, pausing only slightly before tugging his sweater off over his head soon after. That leaves him in only a thin, loose tank top underneath, and he sends Will a pleading look, hoping that’s enough, but Will’s expression remains inscrutable, so Mack deflates and relents to getting rid of that, too. 

The cool air of the shop leaves goosebumps on his skin. Now naked from the waist up, Mack wraps his arms around his torso as if to keep himself warm, but he can’t deny the fact that Will’s burning gaze on him lights a fire in his core that is stronger than any heater. 

“O-okay?” Mack asks, tentatively. 

Will’s smile could ruin an angel. “Perfect. Lie down, okay? I’m gonna take such good care of you.” 

The smooth leather of the tattoo bed is cool to the touch as Mack settles on his stomach, propped up slightly on his elbows. The quiet anticipation of waiting for Will to finish setting up his machine makes him more jittery than he’d like to admit, so Mack turns his head slightly to watch him, as if that could ever make him less nervous. 

Will really is stunning. From strong lines of his shoulders to the piercing blue of his sultry, half-lidded eyes, it’s like someone took every possible attribute from a “How to Create the Most Irresistible Sex Icon” manual and shoved it all together into one devastatingly gorgeous person. 

And the ink definitely doesn’t help. Mack never really understood the appeal of tattoos before, aside from thinking they were pretty cool and not giving them a second thought beyond that, but here, up close, where he’s able to see the way the black ink stands out so starkly against Will’s throat to the gorgeous map of dark petals painted along his forearms… 

It makes Mack’s mouth dry. He doesn't think he’s ever been gripped by such striking, unbridled want. 

“Like what you see?” 

Mack nearly jumps out of his own skin, face growing warm. “I-I was just counting your piercings!” He regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. The lie is pathetically obvious. 

Will’s eyes twinkle with amusement, but thankfully he doesn’t call Mack out on it. “I’ll save you the trouble: I have eleven.” 

“Wait. Eleven?” Mack is confused. From what he can see, Will has seven varied across each ear and—something that leaves him a little hot under the collar whenever he catches a glimpse of it—one tiny silver ball resting in the middle of his tongue. 

That leaves three unaccounted for. Three in places Mack can’t even begin to fathom. 

“Eleven,” Will confirms. Eyes glittering, he takes Mack’s hand, surprising him enough that he doesn’t resist, and places it against his chest. 

Even through the layered fabric of Will’s shirt, Mack can feel the hard ridges of the nipple piercing underneath, and heat rushes to his cheeks as he lets out a quiet gasp. 

“This is nine.” Will guides his fingers to the other side, smiling as Mack trembles. “Ten.” 

He guides Mack’s hand down slightly, not far, just enough that the pads of his fingers brush over the firm lines of Will’s abdomen. The entire time, Will’s eyes never leave Mack’s face, watching him with a dark, spellbinding intensity that can’t be described as anything but hungry. 

“The last one is a little farther down, but cute as you are, I doubt you’d survive if I made you touch that, too.” 

“Y-your belly button?” 

Will’s laugh is low and captivating, rumbling through Mack’s core. “Not there. Lower.” 

“Wh…” Lower? Brows furrowing, Mack’s gaze drops, wondering where the final piercing could possibly be located if not at his belly, when he stops at the bulge at the front of Will’s pants, and his cheeks warm so much he feels like he might explode. “O-oh.” 

Will laughs under his breath. “Oh, he says. Like I didn’t just tell him I pierced my dick. You’re really fucking cute, y’know?” 

“Th-that’s…” Mack should probably pull away, but he can’t bring himself to as Will keeps his hand and presses a soft kiss to the inside of his palm, like a lover would. 

Mack is so warm. His mind feels like mush. There’s something dizzyingly heated between them, and Mack feels breathless at how entranced he is already, just from the slightest touch. 

“But… why? Didn’t it… hurt?” 

“Mm, I got it done years ago, so it’s fine now. Doesn’t hurt a bit. As for why…” Will smiles. “You know, I’ve never had a chance to try it out before, but I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me soon enough. After all, you’ll be the one reaping the benefits.” 

In his dazed state, Mack can only blink at him, confused, but Will releases his hand before he can try to process the meaning behind his words, guiding Mack to lie back down on his stomach, head cradled by his arms. 

“Just like that, good boy.” When Will’s fingers brush the back of his neck, pressing just firm enough to act as an instruction to stay still, Mack whimpers, and Will lets out a quiet moan. “God, you’re sweet. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so primed for it. You’re perfect.” 

Something of a whine escapes Mack’s throat, and he hides his face in his arms, shaky over how little control he seems to have when Will’s this close. 

Will brushes the short strands of his hair away from the back of his neck, lingering just enough to make Mack shiver. Every movement is slow, unhurried. He takes his time as he preps Mack’s skin with a disinfectant and stencils quick lines to map out where he’s planning to draw. Doesn’t force it, doesn’t rush. 

When Will finally, eventually snaps dark nitrile gloves onto his hands so he can get to work, Mack feels so dazed and lulled into half-consciousness that he almost doesn’t hear him speak. 

“Okay?” Will murmurs. Mack thinks he moans a reply, making Will chuckle, and then he feels the needle press against his neck. 

It… doesn’t hurt at all, actually. He doesn’t know why he expected it to be painful—exaggerated word of mouth, maybe—but all he feels is a light sting as Will’s tattoo gun presses against his skin. There’s a faint rawness that burns the longer Will works, exacerbated whenever he uses a paper towel to wipe away the excess ink between lines, but it’s nothing unbearable. 

In fact, it almost feels good. Maybe not pleasurable like the chill that ran up his spine whenever Will’s bare fingers brushed across his skin, but even now, gloved and working with purpose, Will’s touch is like a soothing balm to his soul, binding and electric. 

It ignites a flame within his veins that leaves him helpless and dizzy, a feeling Mack’s only ever experienced after having at least a few orgasms wrung out of him first, so the fact that Will managed to get him here so easily, so fast, feels almost dangerous. 

If this is how much power Will has over him just by exhibiting a little control over his neck, Mack can’t imagine what he’d be willing to do if Will were to push even further. 

Mack doesn’t know how he managed to fall into this state so quickly, but before he knows it, Will is finished, cleaning his tattoo with soft, purposeful strokes before smoothing on a strip of clear plastic wrap to cover the newly inked skin. 

“Gorgeous,” Will murmurs, and even knowing he’s probably just talking about his own artwork or whatever, Mack whimpers. 

There’s a brief, sharp silence, and then suddenly Mack is flipped onto his back with Will hovering over him, like a lion finally tackling its prey. The air between them has been electric from the beginning, but with this, it’s like something has finally snapped, the delicate balance fully tipping over like a crack of lightning bursting free. 

Will is kneeling between Mack’s legs, curled over him as close as humanly possible without breaking their locked gazes, and when he reaches up to cup Mack’s face, hands now ungloved and perfect, Mack swears he’s so embarrassingly close to the edge his whole body shudders at the touch. Someone lets out a needy moan, and Mack is too desperate to be mortified that it’s probably him. 

“Macklin, I can’t wait anymore,” Will breathes. “I’m gonna take you now, okay?” 

“Please,” is all Mack can beg before Will’s lips crash into his. 

And oh god, it’s perfect. Powerful. Destructive. All-consuming. Will kisses him like it’s all he’s ever been meant to do his entire life, and Mack is a mess for it, clinging desperately to Will’s shoulders and wrapping his thighs around his waist. 

“Fuck, you’re sweet,” Will moans, kissing him deeper, one hand sliding through Mack’s hair while the other grips his hip, pulling them tighter together. “You’re the prettiest canvas. I wanna claim you all over, cover you in my bruises and bites. Occasionally ink too, but that’s too permanent. I prefer being able to mark you over and over, watch it heal, then repeat the process, again and again.” 

Mack whines into his mouth, trembling uselessly. The way Will devours him is unreal, marking Mack with hot, open-mouthed kisses that Mack sob and gasp. But it’s when their tongues brush against each other, slick and filled with greed, that Mack feels his heart jump to his throat at the feeling of a cool metal ball sliding against him. 

It’s a fervent reminder that Will has his tongue pierced, has somewhere else pierced, soon to be deep inside him. 

The thought alone is nearly enough to drive him mad. 

Everything blurs in a blaze of heat and need. Will is instantly aggressive in a way Mack’s never felt before. It’s no secret Mack likes it rough, but it usually takes people a while before they feel comfortable taking it, like they’re unsure if it’s what he really wants. 

Will has no such reservations. His grip is bruising over Mack’s thighs, his mouth punishing and intense. Mack’s pretty sure he hears something tear when Will unbuckles Mack’s belt and yanks his pants off his hips, discarding the clothing with his underwear and shoes like they’re nothing but a nuisance, leaving Mack completely naked while Will is still fully dressed. 

Then he flips Mack over as easily as someone would turn the page of a book, with Mack’s cheek pressed against the recliner, hips up, knees and thighs trembling as Will pins him down from behind, stunned by Will’s strength. 

“Please,” Mack begs. He pushes his ass back into Will’s front, whining at the large bulge there, prominent even behind his jeans. Why is Will still wearing so many clothes? Why isn’t he inside Mack yet? 

“Shh, I’ve got you, it’s okay.” Will’s weight disappears from behind Mack for barely an instant, and then he’s back, something cold and slick coating his fingers as he slides one of them inside Mack, all the way to the base. 

Mack downright sobs. He tries to muffle it against the bed, against his arm, but it’s useless when it feels this good. The stretch is blunt and intense, just teetering on the right amount of too much, and Mack can feel himself clench down tightly on Will’s finger, especially when Will takes his sweet time sliding it in and out of him before adding another, long and gorgeous and prying him wide open. 

It feels so good. Too good. Will’s fingers move with skilled, devastating purpose, pumping deep inside him with an almost rhythmic precision, curling just enough to brush his prostate with each stroke without stimulating it directly. 

The way they slide against Mack’s plush, lube-slicked walls, as if greedily trying to touch every part of him… It makes Mack choke on a broken keen, body jerking for more. If not for the almost punishing grip Will has on his hip, Mack would’ve pressed back as much as possible, wanting Will somehow even deeper than he already is. 

When Will curls his body over Mack’s back and adds another finger, even rougher this time, Mack almost whines around a desperate sigh of relief, thinking maybe Will’s ready to fill him for real. 

But Will only says, “Looks like your body is used to this after all. You’ve been cheating on me, sweetheart?” 

Surprised, Mack makes a small sound of distress, like a confused, whimpering animal. 

“Your slutty hole is opening up too easily, and you’ve got bruises all over your hips. Someone’s been using you without my permission. These aren’t the marks of a boy who plays by himself.” 

With each word, Will works his fingers deeper and deeper inside him, and Mack has to bite back his weak, desperate moans. “Th-that wasn’t… I didn’t even know you,” Mack chokes out. “We just met today. How could I…” 

“You’ve always been mine, even before you realized it. Everything about you: your soft skin, your cute moans, and definitely this pretty little hole.” Will curls his fingers as he drags them nearly all the way out, putting direct pressure against the spot he’s mostly been avoiding, and Mack cries out in bliss. “So who was it? Who did you let touch you? You told Eky that you were drinking the other night. Do you just spread your legs for anyone at the bar, not caring who’s inside you as long as you’re filled?” 

“What? No, I—a-ah!” Mack breaks off with a cry when Will fucks him a little harder with his fingers, seeming to grow more aggressive with every second that passes. 

“One of your friends then? A boyfriend maybe?” 

Mack blushes deeply, head jerking quickly back and forth. “No, of course not! It’s not like that.” His friends are great. They’d never want to date someone like him. “It’s just… sometimes, when we’re hanging out and we’re drinking, they… They want—” 

“Oh?” Will’s voice is markedly pleasant, and yet his touches are anything but. “So you’re saying when you get a little alcohol in your system, you just let your friends use you however they please? Pass you around like a shared cigarette?” 

A small whimper escapes Mack’s throat, shoulders shaking. Will’s not wrong, not technically, but it sounds so much worse when he says it like that. 

Mack just loves his friends a lot, and sometimes they love to fuck him. They’re close. It’s not a big deal. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

Except from the way Will is grabbing him, it’s clear he believes there is. Will ghosts his hands over the prominent marks on Mack’s hips from when Asky digs his fingers in too deep, to the larger bruises decorating his thighs from the way Cherny and Mukh grip him as they take him together, and it makes Mack tremble, waiting breathlessly. He can feel the obvious displeasure in Will’s touch as he leans tensely over Mack’s back. It thrills him and scares him with equal measure. 

Apparently, he’s not as good at concealing his desire as he’d hoped, because Will lets out a low laugh, dark and far too captivating. 

“Does it make you excited, knowing how jealous I am? Knowing how much I want to hurt them for putting their hands on what belongs to me?” 

Mack’s face burns, caught. He feels dizzy with want, intoxicated by Will’s reaction to him, like Mack is actually something worth feeling possessive of. Will’s rough fingering feels like he’s establishing ownership over Mack’s body. Laying a claim. Mack never thought he’d care to belong to someone, but with Will… 

“You look so innocent, but really you’re just a pretty whore begging to be fucked, huh…” 

“M’not,” Mack slurs as he shakes his head back and forth against the leather, trembling almost violently beneath Will’s grip. “M’not, m’not, please, please—” 

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m not mad. It just means I get to be as rough with you as I want, and I know my pretty slut will be able to take it.” 

God. Will’s words make Mack feel weak. And it’s just—so much. This whole thing is so much. Asky’s the only one who sometimes talks to him like this, but even then it’s different, softer, filled with that sunshine sweet warmth that clings to Asky like a crown, so gorgeous and bright that not even a few crooning words of degradation could mask it. 

For Mukh and Cherny, they prefer to lean into praise, calling Mack a good boy, telling him he’s doing so well, taking their dicks so deep, and it always makes Mack sob and beg, eager to take care of them, to please them. 

He thought praise was his kryptonite. Thought that was all he wanted to feel useful. 

Thought. 

“You’re clenching down on me so sweetly,” Will practically croons. “You really do just wanna be my whore, don’t you…” 

Mack whines pathetically, even as he pushes back on Will’s fingers. 

But then Will pulls them out, the sudden emptiness making Mack sob. Mack throws a pleading look behind him, ready to beg or cry or call himself a whore as many times as Will wants if that’s what it takes to get his fingers back in him—but instead, his breath catches as he sees Will unzipping his jeans and tugging them down, just enough to free his cock. 

It’s enough to make Mack’s thighs shake. Not just the sheer size of him, but the sight of two small silver balls attached at the head. 

Will breathes out a quiet laugh at whatever expression Mack must be wearing, leaning in to catch Mack’s lips in a kiss. “You really are so fucking cute. I almost can’t blame your friends for using you all the time when you look the way you do.” 

Mack’s face burns, and he turns to hide his face against his arm. “P-please, I…” 

“If I were them, I’d always have my hands all over you, too. Hugging you from behind, nuzzling at your neck, crawling into your bed every night… I’d act all innocent, but you’d know I wasn’t. Not when you could always feel my cock pressing right against your ass.” 

As Will speaks, he drags the head of his dick teasingly over Mack’s hole, and Mack’s thighs nearly give out from the force of his want. “Please.” 

“But there is one difference between us,” Will continues. This time, his cock catches slightly on Mack’s rim, and Will has to keep a punishing grip on Mack’s hip to prevent him from pushing back. “Unlike them, I don’t share my things. Once I’m in you, there’ll never be anyone else. I won’t allow it. Do you understand?” 

Mack nods his head almost frantically, so needy he doesn’t even care how desperate he looks. He wants this way too much. 

“Macklin,” Will growls. A warning, and Mack knows what he wants. 

“I’m yours,” Mack slurs in a rush, “I’m yours, Will, yours, so please, please—” 

He breaks with a cry when Will pushes inside him. Will is so big in him, heavy and thick. He presses in so deep it’s like he’s trying to rearrange Mack’s insides, and Mack wants it, wants that stretch, wants Will to ruin him so badly he’s gonna always need to feel this full. 

“Oh my god,” Mack whimpers. “I c-can’t—how are you so—” 

And that must be Will’s undoing, because any possibility of Will being gentle flies out the window as Will starts fucking him for real. 

There are no words to describe how good it feels; how deeply Will takes him. Mack can only brace himself weakly against the surface of the leather recliner, breaths coming in short gasps as Will drives into him again and again, his thick cock filling Mack so completely it steals every other thought from his mind. 

The stretch is insane, and the sensation of the cool metal of Will’s piercing dragging against his inner walls is downright dizzying. With Will’s hands gripping Mack’s hips hard enough to bruise, he keeps Mack exactly where he wants him to be as he fucks him with slow, punishing thrusts. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Will breathes, still curled over Mack’s back, his clothed chest feeling so strange against Mack’s bare skin, but somehow that only makes Mack clench down even more. “I knew you’d be perfect from the moment I first saw you, but this… Fuck, it’s not even fair that you’re this pretty, do you even realize that? What you do to me? How crazy it feels that you’re only mine now?” 

Mack tries to answer. Can’t. He doesn’t even know if he’s aware of the words he’d want to say, if he were capable of it, just that he’d do anything, give anything, so Will doesn’t stop touching him like this, and talking to him like this, ever again. 

“But I guess it doesn’t matter,” Will continues, and now his mouth is right against the side of Mack’s throat, lips wet and hot. “No one else matters, not ever again. Right, baby?” 

“Yes,” Mack manages to sob, and Will’s grip tightens as he drives in deeper. 

Mack can barely hold himself upright against the pleasure. He’s always loved being filled, but it’s never felt like this before, never been this intense. He feels wrecked, ruined, and the worst part is he likes it. Not just the way Will fucks him, deep and filled with purpose, but with the words Will says, his crooning voice like a dangerous song in Mack’s ear. He’s never felt more used. More wanted. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll be able to go back to regular sex after this. He doesn’t think he can. 

When Will’s hips stutter slightly, his unshakable pace finally stumbling over its rhythm, Mack feels his body tighten in response. “A-are you g’nna come in me?” he slurs. 

Will hums. “Don’t worry, I’ll take responsibility. We’d make really pretty babies.” 

That’s not what I meant, Mack wants to say, but he’s interrupted by a particularly hard thrust that makes him cry out, erasing any thought he has. 

Mack’s not gonna last. He’s being dragged towards the ledge far too fast. He tries to warn Will, tell him he can’t take anymore, that it’s too much, but then Will is saying, “Baby, I need one more thing from you. Just tell me yes. Tell me I can have it. I promise I’ll make you feel good. You’ll never want for anything else ever again.” 

Isn’t the answer obvious? “Anything,” Mack slurs. Will can have anything he wants from Mack, as long as he keeps making him feel like this. 

There’s a low chuckle against Mack’s throat before there’s a sharp pressure against his skin as Will’s teeth sink in. 

Mack bursts. He has no control over it. The orgasm hits him like a fucking tidal wave, so fierce and overpowering Mack doesn’t even know if he’s even still on flat ground as he comes untouched, release spilling over the tattoo bed, hole clenching wildly around Will’s cock. 

Will makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, but it’s muffled by the flesh of Mack’s neck in his mouth as he drinks heartily, like Mack’s blood is the best thing he’s ever tasted in his life. 

That’s… good to know, at least. Kind of flattering. And the immediate euphoria when Will’s fangs pierced his skin was startling at first, but it makes sense, Mack thinks in his dizziness. Humans wouldn’t volunteer to feed vampires as often as they do if it didn’t feel amazing, and the pleasure of Will’s fangs sinking into his skin was like anything he’d ever felt. 

Would’ve been nice to know Will was a vampire beforehand, but hey, maybe it was obvious. Will is unnaturally attractive. Mack doesn’t know any vampires; he kind of thought they were just a myth. He was probably just too dumb to guess on his own. 

Eventually, Will must get his fill of Mack’s blood because he pulls away. Licks over the puncture marks so they immediately close up—which, wow, how convenient! Healing saliva sounds great—before flipping Mack over with the grace and ease of someone who is most definitely not human in a way that Mack is starting to understand he totally should’ve guessed. 

Will cups Mack’s face with one large hand, and Mack blinks slowly until his eyesight fuzzes back into focus, revealing a frown on Will’s too-handsome features. 

“Macklin, are you okay?” Will asks seriously, then curses when Mack can only blink up at him once more, just as lethargically. “Fuck, I knew I should’ve held back this time. You’re too perfect, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to help myself if I started—” 

“I’m fine,” Mack mumbles. Or tries to. It comes out a little incoherent, but Will looks relieved. 

“Oh, thank hell.” He kisses Mack, strong and brief. He tastes a little metallic, which isn’t something Mack would usually be into, but Mack is starting to think his typical easygoing sluttiness is a good thing. He’s not as freaked out by these new kinks as he probably should be. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You were amazing. Let me take care of you now.” 

Will is dedicated and sweet as he cleans Mack up, using wet wipes to erase most of the evidence of their tryst before helping Mack dress with heavy, barely functional limbs. 

Once Mack is no longer embarrassingly naked in the quickly cooling air, Will grabs a bottle of dark red liquid from his minifridge for Mack to drink, and grins when Mack makes a face. 

“It’s pomegranate juice,” Will explains, amused. 

“O-oh!” Duh. Feeding someone blood without their permission is probably a code violation, right? Then again, fucking a customer and drinking their blood during a tattoo session probably doesn’t speak of propriety either. 

Do human laws and boundaries even apply to vampires? Mack is seriously lacking in supernatural knowledge. This is what he gets for being such a realist and a nerd. The closest to outrageous fictional content he consumes are cheesy 2000s romcoms that always end in a chase scene and an unrealistic confession to an All-American Rejects song. 

Maybe he should've read Twilight, after all. 

After Mack has drunk enough juice to appease Will’s intense, watchful gaze, Mack sets the bottle aside and slides off the tattoo bed. He winces at the soreness in his ass, but the dizziness is gone, at least. He can stand on his own two feet. 

Which means it’s time to leave. 

“Well, this was nice,” Mack says awkwardly. Fuck. This is why he mostly only sleeps with friends or strangers when he’s drunk and doesn’t need to make daytime small talk after. Post-coital getaways are so much easier when his partner is passed the fuck out after and he can sneak off like a cowardly Cinderella into the night. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you a nice tip when I pay up front with Eky. N-not that I’m paying you for sex or anything! I am not! Just—for the tattoo?” Mack frowns, caught. “Unless… you want me to pay you for sex? I, uh, don’t really know the protocol here. Or does the blood count as payment?”

Will has been staring at Mack with an unreadable expression during his utterly embarrassing attempt at a goodbye, but the last part makes his jaw tick. “What are you talking about?” 

Are there rules against Cinderella running away before midnight? Mack very much wants to avoid answering and just book it out the door. “Look, we don’t have to do this,” Mack blurts. 

“Do what?” 

“Y-you know!" Mack waves a hand helplessly in the air. "The whole polite act where you say that was great and you’d love to see me again, and I tell you I can’t wait even though I know you’ll never call. We can skip all that. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Why are you so sure I’d never call you?” 

“I mean…” 

Will’s hot, older, and a talented tattoo artist. He probably eats nervous little college students like Macklin for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

“I’m just saying you don’t have to pretend,” Mack finishes. “I don’t expect anything from you; I’m not demanding anything. This was great, and now we never have to see each other again. It’s okay.” 

Will’s jaw must be iron for how much it tightens with every word out of Mack’s mouth. “So you’re calling me a liar.” 

Mack balks. “W-what? No, I—” 

Suddenly Mack is being pressed against the wall, Will’s body flat and hard against his, two strong hands cradling his face. Will kisses him once, just to turn Mack’s mind to mush. Another time to turn his bones to jelly. And a few more to erase every bit of terrible anxiety in Mack’s frame until he’s just a mindless, pathetic mess chasing Will’s lips when Will finally pulls away. 

“Like I already mentioned, I meant every word I said to you,” Will murmurs. “I want you. You’re mine. I’m never letting you go, and if you ever let anyone else touch you again, I will make them wish they were never born. Do you understand?” 

“O-oh,” Mack breathes. “That’s—really? You… want me?” 

Will’s expression softens, and he kisses Mack again, gentle, feather-light. “You’re mine,” Will says simply. “And I’m very loyal to things that belong to me.” 

Oh wow. That’s… 

No one’s ever wanted him like this before. Mack spreads his legs to make people happy and tells himself it’s enough to make him happy in turn, but he’s always known his place, always known he was just there for convenience. A passable, willing bed warmer until someone better and more interesting comes along. 

The fact that Will is telling Mack he actually wants to keep him… It feels almost unreal. Will’s gorgeous; he could have anyone he wanted. There’s not a single reason why he should settle for someone as mediocre and awkward as Mack. 

And yet. 

Mack really is selfish. Deserving or not, he can’t help but want to be kept by Will, too. 

A loud bang sounds on the wall next to Will’s station, startling Mack, and the unfamiliar voice carries through easily, considering they’re separated only by a velvet curtain and no door. 

“Hey! Are you two finished in there so we can finally re-open the shop or do I have to cancel my twelve o’clock just so you can keep getting laid?” 

Mack’s head whips back to Will, eyes wide with horror. 

“Oh my god,” Mack whispers. “Oh my god.” 

He was so caught up in wanting Will that he totally forgot where they were, but this isn’t a private place. They certainly weren’t quiet. And judging from the new voice sounding understandably annoyed with them, someone else must’ve arrived to join Eky out front while Will and Mack were being the most inconsiderate people alive. 

Will looks irritated. “Yeah, yeah, Delly, we’re done now, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Will calls back. “We’ll be out in a sec.” 

“You better be dressed!” Delly snaps, but stomps away without waiting for a response, apparently done with them. 

With a heavy sigh like Delly is somehow in the wrong for interrupting them, Will places a quick kiss on Mack’s cheek before starting to pull Mack along. “C’mon, let’s get out there before Delly decides privacy be damned and drags us out himself.” 

Mack digs his heels into the ground, shaking his head wildly back and forth. “Are you kidding? I can’t go out there now! I-is there like a back door or something I can sneak out of? Holy shit, I can’t believe we just did that. I’m never gonna be able to show my face again.” 

The corner of Will’s mouth quirks up. “You are so damn cute. Don’t worry, it’s fine. Delly’s not actually pissed; he just likes having an excuse to call me an idiot." 

“B-but—” 

Will tugs on Mack’s hand again, and this time, Mack can’t resist him. “Come on, I wanna show you off.” 

Thankfully, there are only two people in the front reception area and not an entire crowd to watch Mack’s emergence of shame. Eky sits in the same spot behind the counter, expression amused. 

Next to him is a guy with dark blond hair only a couple shades deeper than Will’s and an extremely disapproving look on his face. Delly, Mack assumes. 

“Well, well, look who finally decided to remember this is a workplace and not his own personal lair,” Delly sneers, earning him a glare from Will. 

“Don’t be an ass. I wanted to introduce you to my wife.” 

“W-Will!” Embarrassed beyond belief, Mack hurries to say to Delly, “I’m so sorry, I never meant to—” 

“Ugh, don’t apologize to him,” Will grumbles. “Delly once set my kitchen on fire because he fell asleep while trying to bake a sheet of fridge-ready cookies. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“That was one time!” Delly gapes, outraged. “Years ago! And it was a completely unrelated incident! You’re not absolved from apologizing for something just because the other person has annoyed you in the past. That’s not how manners work, asshole.” 

Will makes a face. “How tedious. Are you sure you’re not making that up? You’re not exactly the smartest person.” 

“Oi, watch it. You know I'm the only one here who actually graduated from college—” 

Mack lights up. “Oh! You’re Ty Dellandrea!” 

Mack recognizes him from his thesis advisor Toff’s collection of old photos behind his desk. Aside from the abundance of piercings and tattoos, Delly looks so much like the college kid Toff used to mentor it’s almost scary. 

Delly’s expression instantly shifts from disapproving to wary. “Do I know you?” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt out your name like that.” Mack winces. “I actually… kind of came here because of you?” 

Delly was the reason Toff recommended this shop to him in the first place. Toff said that while Delly’s personality was a little twisted, his skills as an artist were impeccable and he’d take care of Mack really well. 

“I was—ack!” 

Mack is cut off when he’s abruptly pulled back against Will’s chest, Will’s warm breath at his ear and an arm wound tightly around his waist. 

“What’s this?” Will says lowly. “You’re flirting with another man right in front of me? I’ll have to punish you, y’know? I already told you I don’t share.” 

“W-Will! I’m just trying to apologize to your friends,” Mack insists, helpless. “We totally inconvenienced them with what we did, and—”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s too early for work anyway, so it’s good if we gave them a break to relax, right?” 

“There is nowhere in the world where that’s the right thing!” 

“Well, aren’t you close,” teases Eky. “It’s okay, Mack. We know you were probably coerced into it by Smitty. We don’t blame you at all.” 

“Well, excuse you,” Will sniffs. “I’ll have you know he was very willing.” 

“Will!” God, is this how the rest of Mack’s life is gonna be from now on? Constantly flushed and embarrassed by the shameless things coming out of Will’s mouth? 

“Sorry, baby. You’re just so cute when you’re flustered. It makes me wanna bully you more.” 

“Why you—” 

“Adorable,” Eky says. “Absolutely adorable. Isn’t he, Delly?” 

“Hm, I guess I see it.” Delly eyes Mack carefully, the way you’d study a brand new species of insect under a microscope. “The flustered, wide-eyed, desperate-to-please look is cute. I get the appeal.” 

Mack squeaks, surprised, and Will lets out a low rumble in his chest as he tightens his grip around Mack’s belly. “Is that a challenge, Dellandrea?” 

“Christ, Smitty, calm the fuck down. I’m not after your girl, jeez.” Delly rolls his eyes. “You’re worse than a nineties punk puffing out his chest in an old movie. I just said he’s cute. I’m not stupid enough to risk my head just to get my dick wet.” 

“Good,” Will says. “Keep it that way.” 

Mack doesn’t know whether to laugh or run crying in the other direction. “Dude, you’re kind of insane. Are you always this possessive?” 

Will shrugs, relaxing his weight to let his chin rest on Mack’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. You’re my first.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Mack snorts automatically, barely resisting the urge to pout. He knows he’s not very bright when it comes to decoding the terribly confusing aspects of interpersonal relationships—this is why he uses sex as an icebreaker so often; he's much less awkward when he's not expected to make small talk about anything not found in a textbook—but does Will really think Mack’s dumb enough to fall for a line like that? 

But then Eky starts sheepishly, “Uh, actually, Mack,” and Mack gapes when he registers the expression on his face. 

“Wait, really?” 

Will’s smile is slow against the lobe of Mack’s ear, and he nips at it lightly, like a cat nibbling on his favorite toy. “Is that really so hard to believe?” 

“But… There’s no way. You were so…!” 

“So what?” Will says. “Perfect? Amazing? Mindblowingly good in bed?” 

“Will!” Mack shoves weakly at his shoulder, as if to try and put a little distance between them even though everyone here knows Will would let Mack pull away from him over his dead body. To the others, he asks, “He’s really never…?” 

“This is the first time we’ve ever seen Smitty act like this,” Delly confirms. “Trust me, we’re just as freaked out as you.” 

“O-oh.” 

“Still don’t trust me? After everything we’ve been through? How cruel,” Will croons, and Mack flushes all the way to his bones. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean… I was just—” On instinct, Mack’s hand reaches for the back of his neck, an awkward habit he’s developed whenever he’s anxious, only to flinch when he remembers about the fresh ink drawn there and the clear plastic wrap pressed over top. 

Eky’s eyes light up, as if remembering the same thing. “Oh, let us see! What’d you end up getting?” 

“I, ah, actually have no idea,” Mack admits. They got… distracted before he could find out. To put it lightly. 

“I bet,” Delly snorts. “Here, let us take a look. I mean, if Smitty will detach himself from you long enough to let us,” he adds pointedly, eyes rolling, like he'd sooner eat nails than hold his breath. 

To everyone’s surprise, Will actually does release Mack, something that makes Mack blink at him in confusion, because he really did think he’d have to pry Will free with an iron crowbar. 

“Go ahead,” Will says. “Show them. I’m really proud of my work.” 

Something about the way Will says that makes Mack give him a funny look, but he obediently turns to reveal the back of his neck to the others. 

The reaction is immediate. Delly sucks in a sharp breath, and Eky gasps out loud. “You didn’t!” 

Delly sounds just as horrified. “Smitty, are you insane?” 

“Wait, what’d he draw?” Blinking, Mack twists his neck instinctively as if could actually angle his head enough to take a look. When that obviously fails, he turns to fix Will with an accusatory glare. “Dude, you said you wouldn’t tattoo anything vulgar! What—” 

“Relax, Macklin, it’s fine.” Will sounds annoyingly pleased by their reactions, and it kind of makes Mack want to pinch both sides of his face. “I’d never break a promise to you. The only dick I want near you is mine anyway, so it’s nothing like that. I just made it clear who you belong to.” 

There is so much wrong with what he just said that Mack doesn’t even know where to start. Instead, he sends a pleading look to Eky, who—bless his soul—swoops in to save him once again. 

“Lift your hair a little, kid?” Eky snaps a quick photo with his phone then hands it to Mack, who immediately balks at what he sees. 

“Will!” 

He wrote what Mack assumes are his initials. The letters WCPS have been inked down the slim length of Mack’s neck in bold black lines, and Mack actually trembles a little as he stares unblinkingly at the picture, as if expecting the image to change. 

This isn’t a tattoo. It’s a brand. Will branded him. 

“Y-you…!” 

“What’s wrong?” Will’s demeanor is lazy and light, but there’s a sharpness to his expression that makes it clear he’s paying deep attention to Mack’s reaction. “You don’t like it?” 

“It’s not a matter of like!” Mack insists. “Will, this is insane. We just met. You can’t go around branding people you barely know! That’s—” 

“That’s what?” Will says. “You said you belonged to me. Were you lying about that?” 

“W-well, no, but—” 

“And you’re not gonna leave me, right? You’re not gonna break my heart and run away?” 

“Of course not!” Mack blurts, and Will smiles like a hunter watching a rabbit take the bait. 

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it? You’re mine now. I’m keeping you. I’m never gonna let anyone take you away, so what does it matter if it’s permanent? So are we. It’s me and you against the world. No one will ever break us apart.” 

As he speaks, Will presses close to Mack and slides his palms beneath his shirt, resting against the warm skin of his back. Will’s hands are cool and firm, but the heat he ignites in Mack’s core when he’s touching him like this, trapping Mack with his gaze just as much as his body, makes Mack feel like he’s being set aflame. 

“Okay?” Will murmurs, and Mack exhales a breathless whimper in response. 

“I—I guess that’s alright,” Mack manages, almost dizzily. 

Will lets out a happy hum as he hugs Mack closer, like he never wants to let him go. 

“Oh my god,” he hears Eky whisper. “He’s… Should we say something?” 

“Uh, not trying to die, thanks,” Delly responds. 

Cheeks hot, Mack tries to pull away, embarrassed at how he keeps forgetting everyone else when Will’s in the room, but Will only holds him tighter, so Mack relents, accepting the fact that he’s gonna live the rest of his life with a clingy boyfriend attached to his shoulders. 

“I-it’s fine,” Mack assures them awkwardly, seeing how wary Eky and Delly look. “Really! Will talks big, but he’s harmless. I don’t mind.” 

“If you say so,” Eky says doubtfully. 

Delly, on the other hand, fixes Will with a glare. “I can’t believe you. The first time you show interest in a guy and you brand him like an animal.” 

“Macklin is mine,” is all Will says, lazy and unapologetic. “I’ve been waiting for him my whole life. I’m not gonna let him get away just because human mating rituals are so slow and stupid.” 

“How romantic,” Mack says dryly, but he can’t help the warm blush that spreads across his cheekbones as Will nuzzles at his neck and refuses to let go. He’s surprisingly clingy for someone with such a dirty mouth, and Mack finds it strangely adorable. 

Someone with as many tattoos and piercings as Will has should not also be allowed to be this sweet. Mack’s heart is fragile; his resolve is weak. To an emotional, neurotic nerd like Mack, this level of unmitigated affection is bound to drive him to an early grave. 

“Ah,” Will says suddenly, leaning back to give Mack a knowing grin, unfairly gorgeous. “Your pulse sped up. You really love me, don’t you. You like the idea of being claimed.” 

Mack blushes deeper. “I-idiot!” he blurts, without thinking. But then, pushing through his brief yet heated embarrassment, Mack tilts his head up slightly, cupping Will’s cheek so he can press a soft kiss to his lips. 

The way Will’s eyes go wide and a faint tinge of pink crawls across his cheeks are very, very gratifying. 

“Idiot,” Mack says again, softer this time, filled with warm, soothing affection. “You don’t have anything to prove, okay? Of course I’m yours. I said so, didn’t I? You don’t need to keep reminding me. I won’t forget.” 

Mack doesn’t know why, but for some reason, his words seem to visibly shift something in Will, his blue eyes growing headier, darker, yet somehow brighter, all at once. 

Will’s fingers have already slipped beneath Mack’s shirt again, like a burgeoning compulsion for skin contact he can’t resist, but they dig into his flesh even more now, pulling Mack closer so there’s not a single sliver of space between them, his heart beating almost startlingly quick. 

“Macklin,” Will breathes, sounding dazed. “Macklin, let’s get married.” 

Mack flushes. “Shut up! Can you be serious for one freaking second?!” 

“I am serious. Hey, how about dress shopping now? You’d look so pretty in white. What are your thoughts on lingerie? You have such gorgeous legs, they’d look so good in thigh highs, yeah?” 

“Will!” 

“Hey, Smitty?” 

“Mm?” 

Will has been sulking ever since Mack finally managed to escape his hold, insisting that he would not be a stay-at-home mom and actually had to go to class to pursue a career or whatever, thank you very much. 

At this point, Delly doesn’t know why Will didn’t just follow Mack to school. It’s not like Will’s been accepting any other walk-ins. He’s useless here. He’d be far more productive as an admittedly dangerous, concerningly possessive stalker. 

“Mack knows you’re actually a vampire, right?” 

It’s hard to tell for sure because born vampires are pretty rare these days and Mack is already so unnaturally receptive to Will’s behavior, but Delly can’t help but wonder if Mack understands just how serious Will actually is. 

Vampires mate for life, after all. When Will said Mack was his forever, it wasn’t an exaggeration. 

Rolling lazily onto his back, Will gives a thoughtful hum. “I mean, I drank his blood and he didn’t say anything, so either he figured it out or he thinks I have some weird fetish and doesn’t mind it.” A shrug. “Either way, he’s dumb and cute and if anyone tries to take him away from me, I’ll rip their heart out and feed it to their family.” 

Delly snorts. “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.” 

“Do you think he’ll wear a collar if I buy it for him as a gift and tell him it’s a necklace?” 

Tomorrow, Delly is gonna slip Mack his phone number. The poor kid needs all the help he can get.