Archive of Our Own

"Your Holiness!"

Will jerks awake. There's a heavy knock on the door, and it scares the living daylights out of him—he immediately reaches for the dagger under his pillow (a terrible habit, but Jane sleeps with damn blades under her nightgown, so he's not the only one freaking out).

"Your Holiness, it's Sir Michael!"

The dream lifts completely — he immediately jumps out of his warm bed, barefoot and wearing only his nightgown. The scythe still hangs outside the window, Orion winks at him with his eyes, and Will realizes it's the middle of the night.

His heart sinks with terror, because he knows what this means — he couldn't sleep for two whole hours, afraid of missing Orion's return from the campaign, but in the end, sleep won out.

If all had been well, Mike would already be in his chambers, but all was NOT well, because firstly, he returned later than he should have, meaning something had already gone wrong, and secondly, if these were ordinary wounds, they wouldn't have woken him. Something bad had happened.

He doesn't even fully put on his sandals, only his robe, and immediately rushes out of the chambers — the maid before him is soaking wet and scared to death.

"Where are all the healers?" he asks hoarsely, pulling on his shoes as he goes. The maid runs after him:

"All the healers of Saint Asclepius are there," she immediately replies. "Your Holiness, he's been cursed; medicine is completely powerless."

Will pauses for a moment, stumbling as he pulls on his shoes, but then speeds up. The hems of his robe billow, exposing his body, and he's freezing in the icy January air, but the only thing he cares about now is Michael, not his own discomfort.

"What kind of mark?"

The maid immediately backs away — she doesn't really understand the concept.

"Something to do with the soul," she says uncertainly.

Will's heart is frozen, not from the icy air, but from terror.

If the lines haven't reached Mike's heart yet, then he has less than eight hours. He just hopes Mike isn't foolish enough to rush to safety at the last moment.

"Aphelia, I need you to heat up the water and wake Lady Max," he says crisply. His hands are icy and shaking as he throws open the doors to the East Wing, now teeming with healers, and he sees Lucas leaning heavily on Dustin. Sinclair's face is already bandaged and his shoulder is bandaged. Dustin is fine — he wasn't on the expedition, having only arrived in Hardfall this evening. They notice him, and Dustin immediately covers his eyes with his hand, while Lucas bows his head and points toward the chambers.

"Did they drag you straight out of bed?" Dustin hisses, opening one eye. Will would be embarrassed — half the castle could see him almost naked, but he's not thinking about that right now, frankly.

Lucas nudges him weakly in the side.

Will quickly glances at his friend, but Lucas nods and points toward the chambers again.

"Hurry, his veins are already black," he says, and that's enough for Will.

He immediately rushes toward the chambers — people part for him and turn away. It doesn't bother him now, but he'll get a reprimand later, that's for sure.

In the chambers assigned to Michael are two healers and Jane, who also looks like she's just gotten out of bed, but she's wearing a robe and pumps. As soon as he appears in the doorway, the two healers retreat.

Michael lies on the bed, and Will sees his body writhing in pain — his veins are blackened all the way to his face, black dust literally pouring from him, and Will hears him breathing heavily, his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Get out!" Will barks, rolling up the sleeves of his robe and shirt. Jane catches his equally frightened gaze and waves her hand.

"Max is out of town, I'm taking her place," she says. Will nods.

He catches the boy's burning face in his cold palms, and two glassy eyes immediately stare at him. He leans over Mike, placing his knee on his hips to steady and soothe him, because he needs Mike to stop twitching if he wants this to end quickly. Mike twitches beneath him, and he has to sit on his stomach, crushing his twitching body with his weight.

"Will..." Mike breathes barely audibly.

"I'm here," Will mumbles, gently stroking his cheek, where dark veins are already beginning to appear. Jane hands him the dagger, and he immediately grabs it with his free hand, uninhibited by Mike. Mike digs his fingers into his thigh and shoulder, shaking with pain. "It's okay, it'll get better," Will whispers soothingly, almost against his lips. Mike shakes his head angrily.

"No, no," he begs, grasping Mike's wrist with his hot palm. "Don't hurt yourself. Not like that."

Will shifts onto his hips and presses his forehead against his — he has little time, very little, and if it will help calm Mike, then he must try.

"It's okay," Will whispers. Mike looks at him with his frightened, glassy eyes, and the veins in his neck tighten.

Will doesn't hesitate for a moment: he pulls his hand from the boy's grip and makes a sharp cut in his palm. Blood immediately drips onto Mike's cheek, and then Will grabs him. Will places his non-bleeding hand under Mike's jaw and presses hard to force his mouth open.

"Michael," Will hisses, pressing his body harder against the bed as Mike twitches beneath him. "Drink now."

Mike looks him hard in the eyes, but Will is already pulling his jaw up to force him to swallow, and Mike swallows. There's blood on his lips, which he doesn't bother licking.

Jane sets a cup of boiling water next to the bed, and Will immediately plunges his hand into it. Jane takes the dagger. Mike falls back onto the pillows. His whole body is sweating, and his leather shirt is now stuck to his chest. Will waits for the blood to clot, then reaches his free hand into the ties on his chest to undo them. Mike needs air.

"Do you need the tincture?" Jane asks, who has been squirrelly circling around them with herbs and bandages this whole time. Will shakes his head wearily as she pulls his hand out of the spell and begins bandaging his palm.

"Leave it for now, I don't know if the blood helped," he says hoarsely. Mike's palm is still on his lower back and thigh. His eyes are heavy. He looks at Will from under hooded lids. They're both wet, and Will feels his shirt sticking to his back. He wants to pull off his robe. He has nothing to be embarrassed about in front of his sister, but right now he feels a little self-conscious, sitting on Mike's thighs with his hair stuck to his forehead.

"Is it tight?" his sister asks, leaving the knot in his palm. He shakes his head.

Mike shifts beneath him. Jane snorts.

"Hi, Mike," she says. Will looks away from his sister and toward the boy. Mike lazily glances from him to Jane. "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Me too," he says hoarsely. Jane shakes her head and walks out the door, saying:

"I'm in the next wing, Aphelia's across the room," she says, almost closing the door behind her. "I'll send the healers packing, but I'll keep the servants."

The door slams behind her. Will yanks hard at the laces on Mike's shirt. The collar, which had covered half his throat, is now open, and Will sees dark lines of veins running down his chest. Then he climbs off Mike and collapses next to the bed. His heart is pounding somewhere in his throat. Mike doesn't move.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, somewhere upstairs. Will rests his head on his lap and exhales wearily. Mike is going to kill him someday. "I didn't know it would turn out like this," he adds guiltily. He rustles something, but Will can't bear to look at it.

"Of course not," Will mutters brokenly. His nose stings. He thinks about how he had less than half an hour left. Mike could have died. He looks up. Mike is already looking at him. The veins under his eyes are starting to pale. Will stands, his robe and shirt streaming down his body. He slaps his knees, straightening them, and immediately places his knee next to Mike's stomach to bend over him. "Next time, warn me if you want to die, idiot. I'll be mentally prepared for it."

He yanks hard at the collar of his shirt, revealing even more dark lines, circling Mike's heart like vines. Will slaps him hard on the chest.

"Do you have no brains?" he hisses, now pulling the shirt off completely. Mike props himself up on his elbow to make it easier. "Mike, you literally have fifty men, why do you always go into trouble alone?" he asks desperately. He sits down next to him, tucking his leg under him. Mike watches his movements. He carefully takes Will's cut palm in his own and pulls it up to his face to plant a gentle kiss just below the bandage. Will swallows. His throat is tight with anger and fear, and Mike is here with his kisses. Asshole.

"I wasn't alone," Mike defends himself. Now his lips touch the soft pad of his palm. "I was with Lucas and two other guys," he says. He kisses the hollow of his wrist.

"Don't try," Will breathes out. His voice trembles, but he doesn't know if it's from the gentle lips on his hand or from anger. Mike tries to make amends, but Will is furious. "I waited for you day and half the night," Will accuses. "I just should have told you no and gone with you."

Mike immediately frowns.

"No." he says.

Will snorts.

"Oh, well, if you say so." He climbs out of bed. His back is wet, and his nightshirt and robe are sticking to his shoulder blades, so he throws off his robe and the night air blows across his damp back. He shudders at the sensation. Then he pulls off his sandals, picks up the cup of murky pink water, stained with his blood, and pours it into the sink. The carpet is prickly and cool under his feet. He feels Mike watching his movements.

"Will," he says. Will tugs at the knot in his hand, checking how tightly his sister has bandaged it, and exhales noisily through his nose.

"What?" he asks irritably, looking up at Mike.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispers. "I really didn't mean to make you worry." "He tries to get up, but ends up wincing, and Will flinches at the sound — he's immediately drawn to Mike to check where it hurts. Mike shakes his head and continues, "And I didn't mean I didn't take you with me because you're weak or anything like that, no, never.’’ he declares heatedly. Will quietly moves the vial of tincture to the nightstand next to the bed. Mike immediately catches his hand in his. Will looks down at their hands. "Will, look at me," Mike asks in a quiet voice. Will looks up at him with glassy eyes. "Forgive me, I beg you. Forgive me, okay? Next time, I'll listen to you in everything."

Will snorts wetly:

"There won't be another time, Mike, you almost died this time," he says quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He's joking, of course, because he has no influence over Mike, much less the Knight Academy, but it's still worth a try, right? "I'll tell Hopper to take you off the field for two months," says Will. Mike, too, stretches his pale lips into a smile.

"Very well, my dear,» Mike breathes out. "Whatever you say." He lifts Mike's injured hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back. Will tilts his head to his shoulder. The earring jingles softly with the movement.

Mike leans back against the pillows and pulls him toward him. Will shakes his head, but still lies down next to him, pressing his side against Mike's chest. He runs a hand through his dirty curls and runs his fingers through them. Mike stirs quietly and exhales, burying his face in Mike's stomach.

"Is Lucas okay?" he asks softly, softened by his own hand. Will hums.

"Yeah, they've patched him up already. I saw him in the hallway with Dustin. You'll have to explain yourself to them, you know?" he asks, shifting slightly on the pillow and bending his knees. Mike shakes his head weakly.

"When did Dustin get back?" "He asks hoarsely, but his voice is distant. His palm rests on Will's bare foot, his thumb now drawing intricate circles under the ankle. Will exhales heavily.

"Last night. You wouldn't have missed his arrival if you'd come back on time." Will chides him slightly. Mike guiltily presses his cheek to Will's stomach, and his palm slides up his leg. Will pauses for a moment, his knees pressed together. "What are you doing?" he whispers. Mike looks up at him, burying his chin in Will's stomach. His shameless hand slides to his knee, lifting his shirt.

"What am I doing?" Mike whispers.

Will snorts.

"Michael," he squints.

"William," Mike purrs.

Will removes his hand from his hair and intercepts it just as Mike's hand slides higher up his thigh. He pulls away, but not for long, and rises to throw his leg over him. Mike immediately presses his fingers into his sides and pulls him closer and tighter.

"Take it off," he begs, pressing his lips under Mike's jaw and tugging at the edges of his shirt. "Please, take it off."

Will snorts.

"I'm practically naked as it is, Michael, have some respect. We're not fucking until the mark is completely gone."

Mike leans back against the pillows, offended.

"Are you asking me to just look at you like this?"

"Like what?"

Mike waves his hand, outlining his silhouette.

"Like this."

Will snorts and kisses him near his ear, on the small, heart-shaped scar. Mike winces like a cat kissed on its wet nose.

"You'll be patient," Will says. Mike groans in frustration. His palms slide up and down his sides, stopping at the crease between his thigh and pelvic bone.

"I can't even make you feel good?" he pouts. "Make up for it?"

Will gasps.

"Mike, no. Can't you wait a couple of hours?"

Mike shifts beneath him.

"I haven't seen you in a week," he complains. "I can't wait another couple of hours. It's worse than death — looking at you but not touching you."

Will closes his eyes for a moment—he really needs a minute to catch his breath, especially because Mike's hand has slipped under his shirt and is now slowly tracing circles on his inner thighs, as if his hands belong there. Then his thumb slides down, to the crease between his thigh and pelvis, and Will jerks forward, meeting his fingers, and then back, because his head is still pounding with the thought that he can't overload Mike, and there are more than two dozen healers and no fewer servants outside the door.

"Mike," Will breathes against his lips. Mike scratches the delicate skin of his thigh with his fingernail. "We can't— not now."

"Why?" he asks stupidly.

"Because I can still see the ink on your veins, and there's half of Saint Asclepius outside the door." Will hisses. Mike's finger presses against his thigh, and he has to spread his legs wider to avoid the touch. That's what Mike wants.

"I don't care. Jane already chased them away," Mike snaps. He pulls the collar of his shirt aside with his other hand, exposing his throat and shoulder. "And as if they don't know," he says, licking a wide stripe from mole to mole along Will's shoulder. Will arches his back. "As if the whole palace doesn't know you're mine."

Will yanks his hair sharply to the side. Mike's hand is now trapped between his legs.

"Not like that," Will exhales hot air. Mike slips his hand between his tightly pressed thighs and touches him with his fingers for real for the first time in a long week. "Mike!"

The touch is hot — Mike's hand is dry but warm, and his fingers are painfully familiar. He's just holding him in his hands, nothing more, but Will's toes are already curling. He rests his hand on Mike's chest and lifts his pelvis, but he's doing Mike a favor — now his hand is free, he can do everything he wants.

Mike's hand slips under his underwear and runs the pad of his finger over the wet head, smearing a white droplet across it. Will trembles in his arms. He lowers himself back onto his hips. It takes Mike a moment to adjust himself so that they're perfectly aligned.

"I'm just going to touch you," Mike murmurs, running his fingers along his hot flesh. "Can I do that?"

Will bends over, his forehead burying into Mike's sharp shoulder. Mike adjusts beneath him slightly, lifting him off of him and pulling him onto himself. He pulls his underwear down completely, shoving it under the pillow, and Will immediately complains:

"These aren't even our rooms," he breathes loudly in Mike's ear. "Get them out before we forget."

Mike snorts, but doesn't move a finger. Instead, he grabs Mike's buttock and pulls it aside, lifting his shirt up to his chest with his palm.

Will exhales hotly into his ear and immediately jerks away:

"Mike!"

Mike freezes. His eyes are wide and pleading, and he's already pursing his lip in a pleading gesture. Will grabs his hand and squeezes his forearm hard. The shirt slides off, no longer bunched up on his chest or stomach, and hides Mike's hand on his erection.

"Please," Mike begs, exhaling. Will's hips are squeezing his body, but he still manages to push up and press himself harder against him. "Please, my dear, let me make you feel good. I know it's been a long week," he says. He turns his head and now his lips, his tongue touches the pointed part of his ear. It makes Will cringe — Mike knows what buttons he should push. "I know how much you missed me. You were thinking about me, right? Say yes, Will." He whispers, his broad palm squeezing the soft part of his ass. Will opens his mouth to answer, but Mike's thumb slips from the wet head and pulls the skin down. And now Will just presses his open mouth to his shoulders, drooling. Mike opens his filthy mouth again: "Because I missed you. So much. Want me to show you how?" he mumbles, licking his ear again, and when the four-pointed star earring is in his mouth, Will gives in. He lowers himself onto Mike's palm, and Mike shamelessly squeezes his flesh even harder. "Yes, just like that, angel, just like that."

Will turns his head slightly, and the earring slips from Mike's lips. He feels the air blow over his wet earlobe and immediately reaches for Mike's sweaty neck, where the prominent black veins have almost faded to their usual pale blue. He licks the muscle under Mike's jaw, and Mike presses his head deeper into the pillow. His fingers on Will's ass tighten, and Will, startled, closes his lips on his skin, harder than he intended, leaving a mark.

Okay, he guesses, he missed Mike too, and he decides that if Mike gets sick, they'll stop immediately. He immediately says this out loud, while his brain can still function:

"We'll stop if you get sick," he says sternly, pulling away from Mike's neck. Mike licks his lips and nods immediately, too vigorously for someone who was writhing in excruciating pain less than half an hour ago. Will snorts and lowers his face, pressing his chest against his and finally kissing his beloved lips. Mike accepts the kiss with such reverence, as if Will hadn't just laid his lips on his, but had personally crowned him.

"The Gods don't know how I've missed your lips," Mike mumbles into his mouth. He sticks out his tongue, and Will licks it to push it inside, just the way Mike likes it. He knows everything Mike likes because they learned it together — they were each other's firsts in everything: first friend, first vow, first love, first kiss, first time. Mike moans into his mouth and bites his lip, catching it between his teeth and tugging. Will pulls back slightly to pull his pants down, but Mike catches his fingers and pulls them up, toward his face and lips. "Wait," he says, pulling him toward him. "You first."

Will lets out a shy breath when his fingertips find their way into Mike's mouth, but he quickly pulls them out carefully, lest his nails scratch them. Mike grunts in protest, and his free hand goes to Will's waist to hold him in place. 

Will exhales:

 "Let me," he asks, already reaching back to tug his pants down again. Mike gives in, because of course he does. He's been waiting for a week, and Will is right there in front of him — nearly naked and hungry for touch, eager to please him, and Mike is a weakling when it comes to his Cleric. Mike reluctantly releases him, and Will slides down his legs, along with his pants, and Mike rises slightly off the bed, helping him with his clothes. He immediately wraps his arm around himself as Will rises, returning to his place on top of him, only now he's sitting on Mike's lap. Mike exhales convulsively — the cool air touches his heated flesh, and he can't help the quiet, whistling sound through his teeth.

"Come here," he croaks, slapping his chest. Will blinks in confusion.

"What?" he breathes.

Mike bites his lip, and Will watches his eyes roll back in his head as he struggles to control himself.

"Sit down," he breathes out heavily. The veins in his hand — already pale blue around his wrist, but still black closer to his shoulders — pop as he squeezes his fingers. "It's okay, come on," he says softly, noticing the confusion on Mike's face. Will shakes his head and bites his lip. Oh, fuck, he knows what Mike wanted to do, but definitely not today, because no matter how aroused Mike is, he's still hurt, and Will doubts he has the strength with the extra weight on his chest.

"Some other time," Will promises, leaning over Mike's fist. He takes Mike's hand in his own and moves their intertwined fingers up and down a couple of times until he finally removes Mike's hand completely. Mike hisses as his hot breath fans over the head of his cock. He twitches in his fingers, and when Will looks up, Mike has already pressed his head back into the pillow, covering his eyes with his hand, as if still trying to control himself. "Mike," Will calls quietly. Mike immediately lifts his hand from his face and fixes his dark eyes on him. Will sticks out his tongue to lick the head just then, and Mike groans into his fist. His hips jerk, but Will pins him to the bed and envelops him with his lips.

"Fuck," Mike breathes loudly as he completely envelops the head with his lips and licks a white drop from the tip. His throat twitches, and he shifts back to better envelop Mike with his lips. He drools lightly over the head and pulls back, widening the thread of saliva from the tip to his lips. Mike looks at him with wide eyes and immediately pulls him in for a kiss, but Will leans over him again, kissing the skin just below the head. “Oh my God, angel, yes, just like that,” Mike whispers, falling back onto the pillows. His hips tremble. Will sticks out his tongue, running it along the entire length and closes his lips again on the wet head. He swallows slightly, he takes more this time, licking the slit with his tongue and pressing it. Mike rewards him with a hand in his hair: his fingers tuck the loose curls behind his pointed ear and now play with the earring. Will swallows a little more when Mike scrapes his fingernail along the shell of his ear, and then chokes. His throat closes and he releases the wet cock from his flushed lips to catch his breath. “Everything alright?” Mike asks hoarsely, abruptly removing his hand from his ear, but Will whimpers at the loss, pressing his lips to the flushed head again and licking away a drop of the protruding pre-ejaculate. “Should I give it back?” he asks awkwardly. Will swallows a little more, closes his eyes, and Mike takes that as a yes. His fingers trace the earlobe where the earring is threaded, and he scrapes his nail again, making Will whine around his cock and drool. "Okay?" he asks, tugging on the earring.

Will swallows, his throat twitching, and drool from around his lips begins to trickle down his chin. He lowers himself even lower, holding Mike with his hand and helping himself. His own cock drips onto Mike's lap, and he feels his shirt clinging between his shoulder blades and to his lower abdomen. He pulls away with a wet pop and immediately pulls it off. Mike's cock hits his stomach, but he ignores it, immediately reaching out with an open palm, helping him pull the shirt over his head. He traces Mike's ribs, the moles on his sides, his hard nipples, and finally rests his fingers under Mike's jaw, pulling him closer to his face. Will grunts discontentedly: he's not finished yet, actually.

"Let me," Mike whispers against his lips, his gaze darting downwards, and Will's stomach tightens at the sight: hungry and piercing. Every time they make love, Mike's gaze always takes on this expression, and it seems neither years nor time can faze him.

Mike immediately pushes him down, so that he sits on his stomach, and Will gives in — well, if he wants Will to sit on his stomach so much, then let him suffer, he decides. But Mike doesn't suffer at all; on the contrary, he enthusiastically accepts Will's weight and moves him closer to his chest. His hands dart over Will's body, unsure where to stop: he gently runs his fingers over the scar just above his hipbone; he counts his ribs and the constellations on them; He scratches his flushed chest with his thumbs, pressing into his nipples with a soft, languid motion that makes Will arch his back, feeling pleasure shoot through the area. Then his hands move to Will's forearms, tracing the magic tattoos with particular tenderness, and he pulls him down by the elbows, bending him over to kiss between his breasts. Will braces himself with his hands on either side of Mike's head and exhales with pleasure at the touch of Mike's wet lips on his skin. Oh, he's missed those lips so much. Mike runs his tongue along the hollow between his collarbones, down to his throat, and nibbles just below his Adam's apple. Will shifts on his stomach, smearing the pre-eclampsia between them.

"Am I heavy?" he asks, his voice slurred, as Mike tugs at his hair, pushing it aside slightly to expose his neck. He closes his jaw beneath two birthmarks resembling the Second Star and the Never Star, and sucks the skin into his mouth, leaving a mark and drool. Will presses his lips together and groans, throwing his head back.

"What nonsense," Mike whispers, looking up from his work. "You are the most precious weight to me, my soul; you cannot be heavy."

Will snorts and puts his hand on Mike's face, momentarily avoiding his shameful gaze.

"How come you weren't accepted into the Academy of Art?" Will mutters irritably, lovingly pinching his cheek. Mike bites his thumb. "Such talent is wasted."

"It's not wasted," Mike says cheerfully. "I'm wasting it on you."

Will lowers himself to kiss his nose, embarrassed beyond belief.

"Asshole," he mutters, kissing the birthmark near his ear. Mike lifts his hand to tangle his fingers in his hair, squeezing the back of his neck lightly in a protective gesture. Will immediately yields to his hand, leaning down to his lips.

"You like it," Mike whispers, licking his lower lip.

"Yeah, I'm crazy about it," Will breathes out, straightening up as Mike leans up behind him and winces. Will immediately pushes him back down onto the pillows. "Lie down, my God, where are you going? Have you forgotten you were writhing in pain less than an hour ago?"

Mike rolls his eyes in displeasure.

"Gods, if I'd known I couldn't make love to you because of this, I would have gone the other way."

Will shakes his head and purses his lips.

"Shall we stop?" he asks awkwardly. He's hot and flowing, and he can feel Mike pressing into his lower back, but that can wait if Mike isn't feeling well. Either way, they have all the time in the universe; they can make up for those hours apart anytime.

Mike immediately digs his fingers into Will's lower back, pressing them into the hollows and shaking his head.

"No way," he breathes, pulling him closer, as if Will is actually going to run away. No, not in this universe. But Mike's health is still his top priority, so he gently cups Mike's palms where they rest on his lower back and quietly tries:

"Mike, please don't play the hero in bed," he begs, his voice touching. "I know you miss me, but can we really put this off until at least the morning?"

Mike purses his lips.

"You don't want to?" he whispers, frustrated. Will snorts and shifts on his stomach to prove it.

"Mike," he rolls his eyes. "I LOVE you, I'm not using you. I want you to enjoy it too."

Mike raises an eyebrow, and his expression takes on a guilty look.

"I always enjoy being with you, my dear. I just don't want to leave you alone, you've waited so long."

Will pulls away from him, shifting his weight slightly from Mike's stomach to his hips. Mike exhales softly, and Will feels tense and heavy, but at the same time, he doesn't want Mike to force himself, even if his body is reacting this way because of longing. Mike purses his lips guiltily.

"Are you leaving?" he asks, sounding disappointed and defeated. Will gives him his most tender smile and gently strokes his chest and stomach.

"No, I'll just get some oil," he says. Mike's shoulders relax. The veins in his chest are already starting to pale, and he can take deep breaths without wheezing.

Will rises from his hips, tosses his hair out of his face, and walks over to the table with the healing vials.

Mike leans back slightly against the pillows, watching his figure.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, as Will fiddles with the colorful vials. His ears are turning red.

A cool breeze brushes against his heated skin, and he feels his legs buckle from overstimulation, though he hadn't felt it all this time, perhaps because Mike's strong arms had been supporting him the whole time. Jane left a couple of oils and an herbalist, and he takes the simplest kind, the kind usually used to warm up muscles after workouts. Mike immediately tugs his hand, returning him to his previous position as he approaches the bed again.

"Hi," Mike whispers, immediately kissing him on the cheek. "I missed you."

Will snorts and unscrews the wooden cap from the bottle with a pop.

"Hi,» Will mutters, reaching back and cupping Mike's still-warm flesh with his now oil-greased fingers. ‘’I missed you too.’’ He makes a few experimental up-and-down movements, letting the oil soak into his skin and ease his movements, and Mike immediately exhales loudly into his face. His fingers grip Will's magically tattooed shoulder and squeeze gently.

«Are you teasing me?» Mike inhales mid-exhale.

"No," Will says quietly, brushing his lips over Mike's cheekbone. He gently squeezes the flesh just below the head and feels Mike still beneath him.

"Will you take me…?» Mike breathes out hopefully.

"No," Will answers again. His thumb traces the protruding vein, then slides down to the base.

Mike arches his back and purses his lips.

"Why not?"

Will leans back slightly, his ass slamming into Mike's cock, which he's squeezing with his hand. His stomach trembles, and his toes curl. Mike freezes with him. Will lifts his pelvis slightly, shifting over Mike's hand and releasing Mike's erection from his fist—Mike immediately lets out a remorseful sigh.

"You're tormenting me," he complains. His face is covered in red blotches, a bead of sweat glistens above his upper lip, his hair is stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and his eyes are dark, with dilated pupils. Will tenderly runs his splayed fingers from Mike's stomach to his chest again and bends down to kiss the spot where his heart is, where the black veins around it gleam. They're almost back to normal, but Will needs some more time to be sure the blood has worked properly and they won't come back, so he's stalling for time.

"A little," he says, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. He shifts slightly on Mike, so that his cock is now trapped between his thighs, touching his own erection and lower abdomen. They exhale simultaneously—Mike relaxed and ecstatic, and Will with painful pleasure and trepidation. He shifts his hips slightly, squeezing Mike's oil-slicked cock, and Mike immediately throws his head back against the pillows, his hand digging into Will's thigh, and he hisses.

"Oh, angel..." he moans.

Will exhales sharply, shifts a little more, allowing his cock to rub against his inner thighs and his painfully leaking cock, and finally squeezes it between his thighs so that only the head remains visible. Mike immediately looks down, and his face becomes even redder and wetter than before. He licks his lips.

"You're going to kill me," he mutters.

"You're doing just fine yourself— Ah—"

Will abruptly falls silent, choking on his own saliva as Mike thrusts upward, his cock sliding between his thighs, brushing against his wet cock. Then he lowers, and she disappears between his thighs, leaving a glistening trail of oil and a cloudy trail of precum. Will nearly shakes at the sight. He arches his back as Mike lifts his hips again, his skin slapping against Will's ass, the loudest sound in the room, making Will freeze. Sparks shoot up his spine, and he can't help but let out a wet moan, giving in to Mike's hips.

Mike exhales defeatedly and slaps his thigh.

"Okay?" he asks, pleased as punch. Will's vision is blurry and his head is empty, so he licks his drooling lips and nods his head weakly. His body suddenly feels heavy and weak. Mike gently strokes the crease between his hip and pelvic bone, and then his hands grasp Will's hips and he lifts him over his cock as if he weighs nothing.

He barely manages to utter a strangled, "Mike!"

As Mike lowers him forcefully onto his hips, sliding his cock between Will's wet thighs to watch the red head appear and disappear between his pale thighs.

"Oh my God, you really are an angel," Mike mutters under his breath, lifting him again. Will grabs his shoulder with a trembling hand and scrapes it with short nails, because Mike makes a quick movement between his buttocks with his slippery cock, and he no longer has time to think about how he could come from the way Mike rubs against his thighs, when Mike is already grabbing his buttocks and spreading them apart to push his hot cock between them. Will leans forward and now he is lying on Mike’s chest, pressing his chest against his stomach, and he is drooling again, because Mike is squeezing his flesh too hard, pressing too hard between his buttocks, too much for a man who has endured for a week and not even touched himself with his fingers. “Are you with me?” Mike whispers in his ear. His lips touch his sharpened cartilage and this is the end and the beginning – this is the trigger and Will chokes on his own saliva and moans into Mike’s shoulder, leaving a wet trail. His cock is squeezed between their stomachs, and he feels Mike pressing against him in two places, and he's about to cum, and Mike hasn't even really touched him. "Will?" Mac frowns. He removes his hand from one cheek, causing it to grip his cock tighter and hotter, because now Mike is trapped between his cheeks, pressed against the pulsing heat. He groans, biting Mike's shoulder, and Mike breathes out with him, "Fuck."

Will can't remember what happened last night anymore, when Mike barely moves his hips, and his cock moves up and down between his cheeks, brushing against the muscle. It makes his stomach and toes clench, and he squirms against Mike, trying to pull away. He has to answer.

"I'm here," Will whispers slurredly, his gaze not focusing on the dark eyes for the first time. Mike stops rubbing against him and gently cups his face.

"Will, turn around? I want to see," he asks in a broken voice.

Will whines and pulls his hand back to tug his buttock to the side.

"Mike, it's been a week," he complains. Mike shakes his head and licks his lip.

"All the better, I'll stretch you out," he says hoarsely, as if nothing had happened. Will looks down, noticing that he's already left a puddle on Mike's toned stomach and purses his lips in shame.

"I won't last long," he whispers. His hips tremble. His cock is wet, dripping with a sticky thread, all wet and red, and Mike wants to pull it out until the very end.

"Cum on my tongue," Mike exhales admiringly, squeezing Mike's ass with his palms. This squeezes his cock even tighter between his ass cheeks, and Will whimpers from the pressure on his hot core.

Fuck, they're not even halfway there yet.

Mike pats his ass cheek:

"Come on, angel, turn over, I want to see you."

Will swallows the sticky saliva and lifts his pelvis. His cock slips between his ass cheeks with a wet sound, and Mike hisses at the loss. He awkwardly swings his leg over his stomach again, and now Will finds himself face to face with Mike's red cock. Mike presses between his shoulder blades, forcing him to rest his chest on his stomach and lift his hips, and Will squeaks in embarrassment: he really doesn't like this position, especially when Mike is hurt, like now. Mike is already spreading his buttocks, slick from the previous contact, and lovingly kisses his birthmark near his tailbone.

"Perfect for me," he murmurs, lifting Mike's hips a little higher. Will lowers himself onto his elbows and arches his back to get more comfortable, but his knees are shaking. Mike kisses him right between the cheeks, a trembling warmth tingles, and Will cries out. He swallows, and his head suddenly goes blank. Mike sucks on the edge, pressing his tongue, lightly slobbering on his hole, and Will gasps into Mike's thigh, unsure what to do with himself. "Relax." "Mike asks him, pressing his finger near the muscle, forcing him to relax. Will feels his stomach flutter and twitch with every breath against his hole. He runs a hand through his own hair and rests his forehead against Mike's sharp hipbone.

"Mike," he whines, meaning nothing in particular. Just a name. Just a sound.

Mike hums and sticks out his tongue, licking widely between his ass cheeks along the entire length.

"Come on, angel, relax," he mumbles again, pressing his finger into the rim. Will groans in agony and sways his hips. "Let me make you feel good."

Will swallows again and tries to take a deep breath. Then he exhales and immediately chokes on a moan — Mike pushes a finger inside him, then presses his wet lips against it, pushing his tongue in, and Will's whole body twists — he leans back, pressing into Mike's face, then forward to avoid the touch, but Mike's hands on his hips press him back into his face, and Will simply buries his forehead against Mike's thigh, exhausted. He can't think of anything right now. His thumb pulls the edge of his mouth aside, making it easier for his tongue to enter, and Will tightens his stomach, exhaling fearfully. He's slick and hot, and Mike tries not to bite, but he bites anyway, his finger pressing soft circles into his hot wall.

Will reaches back and, finding Mike's face in the blind spot, pulls him away, but Mike grunts in displeasure and swirls his tongue deeper, spreading his warmth.

He's shaking. “Mike!” he gasps, pulling Mike’s face away from him again. “Mike! Ah-n! I’m going to cum, Mike, stop!”

Mike adds another thumb, and now he spreads Mike with two fingers and his tongue, making his job easier. His saliva collects on his chin, and it stains the delicate skin below.

Will feels his stomach pulsate and sobs, thrusting forward. His eyes water. His cock rubs against Mike’s chest.

Mike smacks his lips, and Will explodes: tears stream from his eyes and he finally gives in, his knees weakening, he sinks completely onto Mike’s chest, sobbing, drooling uncontrollably.

“Come on, angel,” Mike says enthusiastically, pulling away with such a lewd sound that Will starts to cum again. “Cum on my tongue, come on. You’re a so pretty.”

He returns to his work, pushing both fingers inside him now, fully inserting them, and widening them further. Will inhales sharply, Mike swirls his tongue inside him, and he cums before he can even reach out, spilling all over Mike's chest, right on his tongue. He's shaking, his legs numb, his ears squealing, and Mike pulls back with his tongue, but continues to thrust his fingers inside him until his skin becomes swollen and oversensitive.

He rests his forehead on Mike's stomach and takes sharp breaths, trying to restore sensation to his body. Mike tries not to pull his fingers out abruptly, but it still comes out abruptly because his body is insanely sensitive.

"Beautiful," Mike murmurs, pressing his lips just below the irritated skin, his tongue catching the mess he's made with his mouth. "You look amazing when you cum."

Will licks his suddenly dry lips and hums into his skin. Mike runs his hand down his trembling thighs, tugs at the skin on his buttocks, and inserts his finger again — not his thumb, but his ring finger — and gently pulls it out, kissing his ravaged entrance. Will exhales sharply, his stomach tightening again, and he arches at the waist, trying to avoid the touch. He's insanely sensitive, and Mike knows it.

"Can you take me one more time?" he asks, pulling his finger out. He lifts Will's lower back with his other hand, and it takes him a moment to rise up onto his elbows, causing Will to slide off his chest, awkwardly spreading his legs and looking up at him wearily.

"Give me a minute," Will asks, his voice breaking, sniffling. His face is starting to dry from tears, but Mike again objects, his finger against the irritated skin around the muscle, and he feels tears pooling in the corners of his eyes from the sensitivity. He stirs, wincing at the burning sensation of irritation, and swings his leg over again, now facing Mike. Mike immediately leans down, kissing him on the lips and Will's mouth opens wearily, allowing Mike to lick his tongue.

"Tired?" Mike asks quietly, stroking his wet back. Will rests his temple against Mike's and hums. "Want to lie down?" he asks immediately. Will shakes his head.

He feels drool and oil pooling between his thighs, and he shudders at how irritated his skin is. Mike hasn't even entered him yet.

"Next time," Mike mumbles, still stroking his lower back. "Just sit on my face, okay?"

"Mike," Will snorts. "Next time, you'll shave before you ask that question."

Mike freezes stupidly, his face immediately turning red.

"Oh," he mumbles sheepishly, touching his face. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Did that sting a lot?"

Will's mouth twitches:

"No, but next time, before you ask me to sit on your face, it won't be after the hike."

Mike nods vigorously and wraps his hand around his waist:

"Of course, my dear."

Will giggles and rests his face on Mike's shoulder. He rocks slightly. Mike pulls away from him slightly, rustling the sheets, and Will hears the vial being opened again, the scent of something fresh and earthy filling the room. Mike warms the oil between his fingers. Will lifts his hips slightly as Mike slides his hand down his back. He pulls his buttock back, and Mike closes his eyes for a moment, brushing his index finger against Mike's flushed entrance.

He kisses his shoulder:

"If you want to stop, tell me," he whispers. Will presses his cheek against Mike's shoulder and bites the inside of his cheek. He takes a deep breath when he feels a long finger pressing against him. His stomach tightens, and his lower back and pelvis ache from the stretch he's been unused to for a long week. He exhales, and Mike kisses his chest and inserts a finger at the same time, trying to distract him.

Will convulsively clenches around him, momentarily forgetting how to breathe: Mike has long, dry fingers, seasoned by battle and swordplay. He tries to breathe through his nose. Mike catches his every breath with his mouth, and Will eventually simply presses his lips against Mike's, trying to stay conscious.

Mike makes an experimental thrust and immediately pulls his finger out two knuckles, leaving only the tip. Will hiccups.

"It's okay," Mike whispers into his throat. "I've got you, angel, relax."

Will tightens his stomach and digs his fingers into Mike's shoulder blade. He hums, not quite sure what he's responding to, and exhales deeply. The oil is warm and smells pleasant, foaming slightly as Mike slides his finger in and out, and Will focuses on that. He's just come, so he can forgive this slight hesitation.

He presses his cheek against the boy's shoulder and rubs it against him, just as he's impaling his ass on the finger.

"Does it hurt?" Mike looks into his eyes, searchingly.

Will shakes his head and lets out a barely audible breath.

"More."

Mike pulls his fingers out with a wet slurp, dips his middle finger into the vial, and inserts both at once. Will twitches, but immediately lowers himself, almost to his knuckles, and moans shamelessly.

"Fuck me," he asks, throwing my head back. "Mike, now, come on, come on..." He hooks his fingers around his shoulder and scratches the skin just below the scar. The veins on his shoulders and chest are already blue. He breathes out in relief: "I've been waiting for you for a week, I haven't touched myself once, Mike..."

Mike exhales loudly through his nose and leans forward, pressing his lips to Mike's chest.

"I know," he whispers softly. "I know you've been waiting for me for so long." He kisses his shoulder, then the hollow between his collarbones, then sticks out his tongue and licks his reddened nipple. Will sobs and presses his mouth harder against Mike's. "It's been a week and you're so damn tight, Will, the Gods will never forgive me if I hurt you."

Will groans as Mike pushes two fingers deeper into him, making a squelching sound as his palm hits his flushed skin.

Then he adds a third finger, and Will is already sobbing: this overstimulation, and he feels his hole swelling, but Mike still can't ease his suffering, and he needs to come — his wet cock rubs against Mike's stomach, and his toes and stomach curl from how much he's leaking.

"Now, Will," Mike whispers, brushing his lips against his cheek. "Let me stretch you out, okay? I'll make you feel good, you don't have to try anymore, you've done everything perfectly. Relax, my darling, trust me, I'll take care of you."

His hips are shaking, and he's about to come, but Mike is still not inside him, and it's driving him crazy. He reaches down with his palms, spreading his buttocks and arching his back, and Mike freezes for a moment. Will throws his head back, his hair falling into his eyes, but his hands are too busy to brush it out of his face.

Mike's eyes darken — Will sees his pupil fill almost his entire iris — and with a low sound, he pulls his fingers out of him and forcefully inserts them again, deeper, changing their position, throwing both of Will's legs over his shoulder, and Will shakes from this possessive gesture.

"Hold it like this," Mike mutters to him in a heavy voice, not taking his eyes off him. 

Sliding fingers that pull his buttocks apart, spreading them. "Hold it like this, my dear, yes, be good."

Will writhes, his arms numb, his cock pressed against his own stomach, aching, and Mike leans down to brush the hair from his eyes and licks the tears from his cheek as he smears oil over his entire length.

"Mike…" Will groans needily, trying to spread his legs, but Mike catches his ankles with his palm and presses them harder against his shoulder, and Will finally feels the head of his cock lodge between his buttocks, pressing against his flushed entrance. He trembles and almost sucks Mike in when Will arches his back, wanting Mike to enter him faster.

Mike reads his mind — of course he does — and it takes him an instant to push the head over the edge with a pop, and Will convulses: he gasps for air and grunts, letting out ragged breaths.

"Everything okay?" Mike mumbles. His face is also red, and his hair is sweaty, and he's trying very hard to go slowly, and it all shows on him — he's trying very hard to control himself, but his hips are jerking back and forth impatiently, and it still creates friction.

Will nods vigorously, blinking tears from his eyelashes. He grabs Mike's forearm and stutters, whispering:

"You can... you don't have to hold back, I'll take it all." He pulls him down to kiss him, his tongue slurring, and Mike slips inside him another couple of centimeters, and Will groans, arching. His cock hits his stomach.

Mike bends over him again, kissing his shoulder, tracing the hieroglyphs enveloping his hand with his tongue, and then moves back up to his face, licking his ear. He swallows hard as he speaks in a low voice,

"You're so good to me, my dear," he says, burying his face between Will's neck and shoulder, his breath wet and hot. Will looks down at their joined bodies just as Mike thrusts his hips forward too hard, entering him halfway. Will sucks in his stomach and turns away from Mike, biting his lip. He feels his thighs burn and how hot Mike is, pressed against him down there. Mike groans discontentedly into his shoulder and reaches up to touch Will's face with his fingers, "Look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, please," he whispers softly, his voice broken. His eyebrows arch and he hisses, glancing down.

Will presses his lips to his cheek and lets out a wet sob.

"It's okay," he says hoarsely. "You can go all the way in."

Mike shakes his head, looking up at him, his eyes the most tender in the world.

"I can handle this. I don't want to hurt you."

Will rolls his eyes tenderly and kisses his nose.

"Mike, I'm not made of glass," he says, sniffling. Mike rubs his cheek against his shoulder, leaving a wet mark of his lips on the magic tattoo. "Come on, you won't break me."

Mike snorts and his hand disappears between their bodies, and the next moment a pain shoots through Will's spine—he arches off the mattress, eyes wide and gasping for air.

Mike kisses his chest tenderly and presses his fingers into the stretched, reddened muscle.

"You're sensitive." he mutters. "How could I hurt you when you're like this?"

Will can't utter a single word: his hips are shaking, and he can't focus on anything — colored spots are swimming before his eyes. Mike runs his knuckle over the irritated skin and pushes a couple more centimeters inside. Then he freezes and slaps his thigh. He takes a pillow and lifts Will's soft body at the waist to slide the pillow under him, and Will groans at this: now his body is arching, his legs are spreading, and Mike has to spread his legs over his shoulders to accommodate it all. He turns his face to Will's right ankle and kisses the birthmark just above the ankle.

"Are you with me?" he asks quietly. Will looks away from the ceiling and swallows, nodding. Mike rewards him with a gentle kiss on the foot. Will snorts and immediately cringes from the tickling. Mike groans softly.

"Darling," he says hoarsely, his fingers squeezing his ankle and thigh. "You're pinching me."

Will snorts.

"You're tickling."

Mike snorts too and kisses his bone again.

Then he lifts Will's knees with his palms and moves him closer, throwing his knees over his shoulders. This presses Will's hips against his sweaty chest, and his heels press against his shoulder blades. Mike glances down for a moment, then leans down to his face.

"Ready?" he asks quietly, tucking damp strands of hair behind Will's ears. Then he lowers his hand, and Will feels the edge of it press into his buttock as he adjusts his cock. "Almost there."

Will nods weakly: his body is already limp and shapeless, all he can feel are the burning marks on his neck and the place where they meet. He raises his hand, sliding it down the boy's chest, tracing the long scar on his shoulder, grazing a hard nipple with his fingernail, and throws his arm around his neck.

"I can handle this," he whispers. Mike rewards him He kisses his ear lightly, then pulls away: his gaze darts down again, his palms slide from his hips to his waist, and with one powerful movement, he locks their bodies together. With a dull pop, his buttocks press against Mike's thighs, and now there's not a centimeter of space between them. Will exhales a terrified breath of hot air toward the ceiling and covers his mouth with his free hand. Mike immediately buries his forehead in his shoulder, but doesn't take his eyes off them:

"Perfect," Mike whispers admiringly, thrusting his hips back experimentally, then thrusting back in forcefully. Their skin slaps against each other, Will bounces slightly on the pillows, and he removes his hand from his mouth to brace his palm against the bed frame. Mike breathes into his shoulder: "You're so perfect, Will, I feel so good inside you."

He shifts slightly, shifting his position, and Will realizes his thighs have been a little stiff for a while, but now his new position forces him to press against Will with greater force, and Will feels his balls press against his tailbone. Mike exhales heavily and leans back again, holding onto his waist to keep Will from being dragged too much across the mattress, but the force of the next movement still causes his palm to press against the bed frame and his lower back to arch. Mike's lips find his reddened nipple and press against it, a sign of reassurance. Will hooks the fingers of his bandaged hand into Will's hair, trying to focus on the springy curls between his fingers as Mike slips out of him again, only to slam his hips hard against his ass.

Mike drools on his chest as he pulls away, a string of drool trailing behind his lips.

"Okay?"

Will blinks the blur before his eyes and nods weakly.

Mike gently squeezes his side and pulls away from his nipple to move to the other. The cool air sends goosebumps down his wet chest. Will bites his fingers, not caring that his head might hit the bed frame with his next thrust. Mike looks up at him and notices, of course he always does. He lifts and pulls away from his chest, rising, bending Will in half, driving him deeper into him. He lifts his head off the pillow, resting it vertically so that Will is now lying entirely on the mattress, except for his lower back.

Will freezes and suddenly gasps: Mike is too deep inside him, and his head is pressing right into his bundle of nerves. He immediately grabs Mike's hair with his hand and pulls him hard to the side.

"Mike," Will gasps, "Mi—Ah! Too... much!"

Mike blinks slowly, pulling away slightly, and his hands tug Will along with him, cupping his buttocks in a possessive gesture.

Then understanding dawns on his face and he softens, thrusting his hips even harder, even deeper.

"Here? Here, my dear?" he asks, his voice hoarse. He looks down and his hand slides behind him, kneading his thigh, and then, without thinking, he pulls his buttock to the side and kneads that too. "Like that, okay? Feel me?"

Will hiccups and shakes his head, unable to form two words: Mike is pressing directly against his prostate and doing nothing.

"Mike," he tries, his voice slurring. "I need..." He removes his fingers from his wet mouth and reaches for his stomach. "Harder..." He exhales hot air and closes his eyes. His fingers clench and unclench just below Mike's navel. "Here, Mike, please..."

Mike exhales in shock, intercepting his shaking fingers and looking up at Mike's exhausted face.

"Right here?" He thrusts his hips forward, and Will groans, throwing his head back. Mike groans too. He squeezes Will's fingers in his palm, moving them away from his lower abdomen, noticing the emerging outline. "Fuck," he breathes out, stunned. Will turns his head to the side and only then realizes drool is trickling down his cheek. Mike leans toward him, and Will presses his heels harder against Mike's shoulder blades, pressing him into him. "Can you feel me right here, angel?" he whispers softly, his voice vulnerable. His eyes glitter. He places his palm on Mike's lower abdomen and presses lightly. 

Will's eyes widen, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. 

"Mike-ah! Mike, Mike!" he cries, clenching and unclenching on Mike's cock. Mike sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. His palm presses a little harder against the ridge of skin. "So deep... too... much!"

Mike kisses his ear, thrusting his hips back, then thrusts hard inside, and Will is thrown up, his head hitting the pillow, his lower back sliding off the pillow beneath him. He tries to pull his hand out of Mike's grip to touch himself, but Mike abruptly pins it to the mattress and intertwines their fingers. With his other hand, he lifts Mike's knees off his shoulders, placing them on his waist. Will immediately wraps his legs around him, crossing their legs over Mike's lower back to feel him closer. Mike straightens up, hovering over him, causing Will's hand in his hair to slip and he, too, pins it to the mattress near his head.

"Will you cum on me a second time?" he suddenly asked. Mike slams his head down, folding him in half. Will sobs, his eyes sting, his back swaying back and forth on the mattress, and he feels nothing but Mike Mike Mike. "Come on, angel, cum on me."

Will gasps, arches his back so hard his vertebrae crack, and reaches out to Mike, wanting Mike to press closer, closer, deeper. And Mike does.

Will breathes hard, his eyes rolling back in his head, digging his nails into the back of Mike's hand, trying to hold on. The candles go out all at once, and he arches off the bed, his eyes rolling back in his head, squeezing Mike so hard that Mike lets out a strangled gasp and buries his face in his chest. His magic traces flare up suddenly, and all Will hears is a squeal in his ears as he spills, a sticky mass all the way to his chin.

Mike freezes in awe.

"Will," he breathes in. "Gods, you're beautiful." His eyes glitter as he looks down at Will, the swirling hieroglyphs on his forearms. He thrusts his hips forward, pressing into him, then back, creating a slow, steady rhythm as Will continues to cum onto his trembling stomach. These movements, into his sensitive entrance, make Will's vision darken, and he whimpers, squeezing Mike's fingers tighter in their intertwined palms. "I know, I know..." Mike breathes loudly into his shoulder, thrusting his hips into him in a sharp movement. Will cries out and arches from the movement. Oh, how Mike loved fucking him after he came, it was something else. "Now, my darling, give me..." He thrusts forward sharply, and Will feels a burning sensation in his lower abdomen, but Mike suddenly disentangles his hand from their intertwined fingers and grabs his face, pressing his lips to his. Will moans into his mouth, lips parted wide, still breathless from the experience, and Mike thrusts into him, hitting his prostate.

Will clings to Mike's forearm with his fingers and claws when he gasps for air: Mike is trying to lick his mouth, as if trying to suck the soul out of him. He buries his tongue against the roof of Will's mouth, and his eyes roll back, arching his spine again when Mike's movements suddenly become erratic and he loses his grip on the bundle of nerves. He tries to pull away from Mike's wet mouth, exhaling sharply:

"Not inside."

But Mike suddenly grabs him by the waist, pressing his fingers firmly into him, and practically impales him. Will's eyes roll back as a third orgasm hits him like an avalanche, but nothing comes out of him; he just feels a sharp pain in his lower abdomen and everything goes black before his eyes. Mike ejaculates hotly inside him and immediately winces guiltily, kissing his wet cheek.

"Sorry, sorry," he whispers in a high voice, licking the saliva and tears from Will's cheek. "I'll help."

Will sobs as hot cum trickles down his irritated walls and brushes against the reddened muscle. Mike pulls out of him and immediately reaches out to pull him toward him, pressing his lips to the used entrance. His hips twitch, and the entrance pulsates, causing streams of cum to roll onto the sheets.

Will groans:

"Mike, no, that's it— that's enough! he begs, his voice breaking. "Michael!"

Mike presses his lips to the muscle, licking up the dripping fluid, and suddenly makes a smacking sound that makes Will's stomach turn. He immediately reaches for Mike's face to push him away, but Mike suddenly flips him over, pressing his chest into the wet sheets and apologetically kissing the tender stripe between his balls and his entrance:

"I'm sorry, I know, it's just..." He kisses the mole between his buttocks and gently squeezes his fingers around Will's waist: "Just let me, okay? I'll clean it up."

"Mike," Will groans, pressing his face into the pillow. "You fucked the life out of me!" His hips shake as Mike pulls him even closer and presses his nose between his ass cheeks. He breathes loudly: "Give me...just a minute—Oh, fuck, Michael!"

Mike makes a sucking motion that makes Will jerk his leg, pressing his face and chest into the sheets.

"I'm almost there, my darling," Mike purrs, running his splayed hand along Will's spine. Will says nothing, swallowing back tears from the overstimulation. "You did so well for me," Mike continues, his hand tangling in the wet hair at the back of Will's head. "I can still feel you squeezing me; you were so kind, Will, everything for me."

Will sobs. He realizes, shamefully, that he's come three times, one of them dry. And Mike keeps trying to squeeze him dry.

Will buries his forehead in the sheets and whines,

"Mike," he begs. "Stop."

Mike nibbles the soft crease of his thigh with his hip and buttock, leaving a mark, and licks the flushed entrance one last time.

Then he gently lowers him onto the pillow and leans over him to press his lips to the back of his head:

"Are you okay?" he asks hoarsely. His fingers gently stroke his wet back. "Did I hurt you?"

Will turns his tear-stained, red face toward him, and Mike exhales softly, kissing his nose.

"Too much?" he asks cheerfully.

Will reaches out a trembling hand and pushes him away.

"You're a monster," Will croaks, rolling onto his side. His lower back aches. His arms are shaking, and he can't even support himself with his elbows to get water. Mike does it for him. He greedily drinks half of it before collapsing onto the wet sheets.

"I missed you," Mike shrugs, finishing the water from the goblet that Will left unfinished.

Will grunts discontentedly into his pillow.

Mike suddenly becomes clingy, his wet chest pressing against his shoulder as he tenderly kisses his ear.

"Didn't you miss me?" he asks, now openly mocking.

Will nudges him with his elbow.

"I won't be able to walk for a week," he complains. His eyes close, too heavy with exhaustion. Mike snorts and places his broad palm on the small of his back, gently kneading.

"Good, because then I won't need an excuse to pick you up," he jokes. Will snorts too. He's such a jerk. They fall silent. Will takes small sips of air until his chest relaxes, no longer aching. Mike pulls the blanket up and covers his hot body from the cool air. His hand is still on the small of his back.

When Will opens his tear-streaked eyelashes, Mike is already looking at him with big, tender eyes. He leans down to kiss the skin under his left eye and calls out to him in a low voice.

"Will," he whispers. Will focuses his gaze on him, humming in response that he's still there and can hear him. His gaze slides lower, down his neck, then his chest, and he relaxes completely when he can't find a single black vein on his skin. "I'm sorry."

Will stares at him, his hand frozen between their bodies. He frowns.

"For what?" he asks, confused.

Mike presses his cheek against his palm, his eyes now drenched in longing and devotion.

"For making you worry." He kisses the bandage, which is slightly stained with blood, and doesn't look up at him, as if afraid to look him in the face. "I don't want you to worry about me. Not like this," he says, his voice very low. Will moves closer. It takes all his strength to prop himself up on his elbow and cup the boy's face in his hands, and he sees a tear dripping from his eyelashes. He immediately runs his thumb gently over Mike's cheekbone, soothing him. Mike exhales shakily, "I love you, I don't want you to cry because of me, okay?"

Will leans toward him, pressing his forehead to his and asking in the same quiet voice, "Where did that come from?"

Mike draws his eyebrows together in a touching gesture and closes his eyes.

"I just thought, what if I hadn't come back?" he whispers. Another tear rolls down his cheek. "Or if I had died in front of your eyes?"

Will's heart clenches at this. He purses his lips.

"Mike..."

"I'm not afraid of death," Mike says immediately, opening his tear-filled eyes. "I mean, I don't want to die," he immediately corrects. "I just don't want to leave you, you know? I'm so afraid of losing you, but the worst thing would be if I left you. Alone."

Will sniffles. He exhales shakily and gently tucks the boy's hair behind his ears.

"I'll always be with you," Will says, pressing a kiss to Mike's wet cheekbone. "And you'll always be with me." He turns Mike's face and kisses his other cheek, and Mike pouts, realizing his kissing direction is about to change. But Will pulls back and looks into his eyes. "We swore, remember?"

Mike suddenly exhales sharply, his eyes filling with tears, and he pulls Mike closer, gently wrapping his arms around Mike's cold body. Will groans in displeasure as Mike pulls him onto himself, and now they roll over the damp sheets, quiet and touching. Mike throws his head back against the pillows, his eyes shining as he says,

"Would you like..." he falters. Will settles on his chest, resting his head on his bent arms, resting them on his collarbones. Their legs are intertwined, and Mike's hand gently presses circles into the small of his back, tracing a sunlit spiral between the hollows. He doesn't even have to look at the pattern, because he knows every line left by magic on his body. "Would you like us... Well," he continues awkwardly. Will cocks his head to one side. "Together? I mean..."

Will snorts.

"Mike, I take back what I said about the Art Academy," he smiles. Mike blushes and frowns.

"No, no, wait, I'll get ready in a minute." Mike promises, licking his lower lip nervously. Will giggles and begins tracing lines on his shoulder with his finger. "Damn, how can I say…Uhm… Remember," he says, awkwardly looking away from his fingers. "Four years ago, I promised something?"

He suddenly shifted under Will, gently patting his thigh, forcing him off him. Mike sat up in bed, licking his lips nervously, and Will sat up, frowning Mike was starting to get on his nerves. The blanket had slipped off his shoulders and fallen to his hips, and he had to pull it up to his shoulders to shield his irritated skin from the cool air. Mike bent down to pick up his clothes, but ultimately just threw Will's robe over himself.

Will tried to recall, but the sight of Mike in his robe and his battered brain wouldn't let him, so he blurted out,

"That you'll become a traveling poet and the Party will be able to leave here?"

Mike froze for a moment, and Will had to strain his vision to see him rummaging through his travel bag. Oh, he hadn't noticed it before.

"No, that's not it," Mike shrugged. His hair looked disheveled, and Will licked his bottom lip, realizing it was because of him. Mike turned to him, hiding his hands behind his back. "It was just about you and me."

Will froze. Mike slid onto the bed next to him, tucking his leg under him. He leaned toward him so their faces were level and gently prompted,

"The night before All the Spirits, remember?" he asked, his voice dripping with tenderness and memory. He extended an open palm and took his unbandaged hand in his own. He gently traced a small star coiled around his sunken vein. "I said I wanted to tie my life to you. Forever," he continued in a quiet, touching voice. "And you agreed."

Will froze.

"Mike?" he asked, confused. Something inside him screamed that Mike was about to do something either terribly stupid, or, conversely, terribly, foolishly romantic.

Mike looked into his eyes for just a second and then looked down at their intertwined hands. Will waited patiently.

"William," Mike began, placing his other hand in front of them. "Are you still willing to share your life with me?"

Will nodded slowly. His eyes searched Mike's face for answers, but Mike, waiting for his nod, licked his lips and whispered,

"Say it out loud, please."

Will didn't hesitate for a second.

"I want to share my life with you. All my life. In every universe. Only you."

A goofy smile spread across Mike's face and he immediately rushed to plant a warm kiss on Will's lips. Will reached out to deepen the kiss, but Mike had already pulled away, holding up his other hand, fingers spread. Will froze.

On his palm lay two thin metal rings.

Mike quickly explained:

"These are ordinary ones," he said, noticing the confusion on Will's face. "So, we can enchant them later, you know? I mean, if you want. If you still want. We could... make them part of the Oath of the Interlinked," he finished. "What do you..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "What do you think about that?"

Will, with stiff fingers, took the ring from Mike's open palm and stared at it as if it were the Never Star Mike had plucked from the sky.

"Is this... for me?" Will whispered brokenly, looking up at Mike's flushed face. Mike bit his lip and nodded. Will blinked, as if trying to shake off the feeling and decide if he'd dreamed it. He blinked again and only now realized his eyelashes were wet.

"Hey," Mike called weakly. His own ring lay on the sheet as he reached out to embrace Will. Will rested his head on his shoulder, pressing his cheek against his chest, and couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle.

"So that's why you were delayed for a day," he breathed out, stunned. Mike breathed into his hair, squeezing his fingers just below his shoulder blades. "You came back through Eldera?"

Will felt Mike nod, and he suddenly wanted to laugh, but it didn't come.

"You were planning to give me the Oath upon your return?"

They both froze: Will, because it had slipped from his lips, and Mike, because Will had seen through him so quickly.

Then Mike pulled away.

"If you'd agreed?" he whispered awkwardly. Will immediately rushed to him, pressing her lips to his, and Mike instantly relaxed his whole body. He was so tense, as if Will would ever say no to him. Now Will was kissing his face with quick, small kisses, touching his eyes, cheeks, forehead, and chin with aching tenderness and emotion, and Mike laughed, squeezing him in his arms and leaning on him.

Now they were lying down again, and Mike leaned his whole body on him, hugging him under the shoulder blades while Will kissed his cheek.

"So that's a 'yes'?" Mike asked, suddenly shy again. Will touched his lips with a piercing tenderness and rested his forehead on his.

"Always a 'yes.'"

Mike licked his lips and glanced down at Will's lips, and Will leaned in to press them first. Mike's lips were warm and wrinkled from all their kisses that evening, and Will happily pressed them again, allowing Mike to tug at his bottom lip.

"I could have waited until morning," Will remarked, pulling away. "We're both naked and I hurt all over."

Mike suddenly laughed:

"Sorry," he said, completely unrepentant. "I barely held back. I promise I'll give you the Oath clothed."

Will nudged him in the shoulder, but immediately pulled him in for a quick kiss.

The sun began to fade, and the first red rays appeared in the distance, dragging the heavy sun behind them.

Mike reached under the tangled pillows and pulled out Will's underwear.

"I think these are yours," he joked. Will stared at him, dumbfounded, dumbfounded by his audacity. He leaned down to bite Mike's chin, but Mike had already shoved him off, flipping them over and then swapping them again. Will rolled his eyes, slapped him on the chest, and rolled off him, standing up. In a couple of hours, people would start trickling into the chapel, and he still needed to freshen up. He snatched the underwear from the playful hands and tugged at the sleeve of his robe.

"Take it off, I need to get to my chambers and take a bath," he said sternly, pulling the underwear on. Mike intercepted his hand and pulled him close. He gently intercepted his hand, and when he let go, a ring was already glittering on Will's pinky.

Will froze, overwhelmed by the tenderness that engulfed him. Mike stood up and suddenly stared at him.

"Wait, were you wearing that?" He pointed to the shirt, which was now lying on the floor while he was pulling off his robe, and Will was distracted from examining the flat metal on his wrist.

Will took his rumpled robe from his hands, lifted the shirt, pulling it over his head, and shrugged.

"Mike, they told me something happened to you. Do you think I had time to put on my cassock?"

Mike watched him tie the laces of his robe at his waist and reached out, grabbing the ruffles.

Will intercepted his hand.

"What?" " he asked, more of a groan.

Mike extended his hand toward his face and bent it to kiss the star in the spiral.

"I love you," he said simply.

Will's gaze softened even more.

"I love you too."

"In every universe, yeah?» Mike groaned into his hand.

Will snorted, running his hand through Mike's hair and whispering on an exhale.

"In every universe, Mike."