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Will always considered his life to be pretty ordinary. He works a boring office job close to home, close enough to walk to and from each day. He spends his evenings cooking simple dinners and watching reruns or movies (sometimes with a glass of wine, if an awful day at the art studio warranted such a treat). He met with friends often enough, a normal social life by anyone’s standards. All in all, his life is decidedly normal. Boring, even.
Except for the one outlier that suddenly made itself the focus of his life the moment he sauntered into it: Mike. Nothing about Mike was normal. Nor was anything about Mike boring.
The first time he'd saw him, this cute little cat that was so dark brown that from afar it looked black, the first thing he noticed was his eyes. A piercing brown, exceptionally beautiful and complimenting the dark fur. It was winter time, the streets blanketed with a thick layer of snow, and he wondered how this poor stray would fare outside alone. His heart sank as he wondered if this cat would freeze to death outside.
So he beckoned it closer. It didn’t matter to him if he would be late to work that chilly morning – how could he, in good conscience, leave the poor little animal to die out here?
Funny enough, the cat was stubborn. It completely ignored him, prancing off to hide behind the fencing of another house. So he continued to walk to work, hoping to find the cat again. Maybe he'd bring it some food, or maybe next time he'd see if he could get closer and bring it inside. He took a few steps forward, and when he glanced around the cat stared at him from a distance, peeking out from the fence it hid behind. The more he walked, the more it followed. What a curious thing, too stubborn to come close but curious enough to follow.
It went on like that for several days. Each time he'd walk to and from work, he'd see this stubborn little cat follow-but-not-follow him, it’s intense eyes stalking him like prey, its body language more or less impassive. The cat acted as if it just happened to be walking the same way he was, as if the cat couldn’t be interested in him in the slightest. After a few days he started to leave out cans of cat food, but they remained untouched. After a few more days of that, he stopped, and decided to leave it alone. A stubborn cat can’t be forced to do something it doesn’t want to do, he figured.
But then one day it was freezing as he walked home. The morning wasn’t so bad, but the temperature dropped suddenly throughout the day. He walked home, doused with a light sprinkling of snow, his arms crossed over his chest as his body shivered and his teeth chattered. He caught sight of the little cat he'd come to see each day. Poor thing looked like a dalmatian with its fur covered in splotches of snow. And for once, the cat came closer to him. As he walked, it stepped in line with him. For a couple of blocks he let it walk side by side with you in silence.
Then he stopped suddenly, and the cat looked up at him curiously.
“Decided you wanted to be friends today?” he asked the feline as he looked down at it. It’s pupils dilated and its tail curled in his direction, ears twitching as each snowflake landed on their surface. It didn’t make a sound.
He crouched down to his knees, and moved his hand up to give the cat a pat on the head. It stood still as he pressed cold fingers to the fur between its ears. Then it hesitantly tilted its head, leaning into his palm. Adorable.
When he touched the cat, it was cold. Poor thing was probably freezing. He asked it, “Why don’t you come inside with me for tonight? You’ll freeze to death out here.”
He didn’t expect an answer, of course, mostly speaking the words out loud to himself. But the cat seemed to understand he meant well, following him the rest of the way home. And when he opened the door to his home he had to suppress a giggle, because the cat practically made itself at home in no time, jumping up and curling into his couch like it owned the place.
The cat kept its distance but was always in eyesight. When he made dinner, it watched from the countertop (despite him telling it to get down. Stubborn thing.) He was surprised that after dinner, the cat allowed him to bathe it in the sink. But it was surprisingly clean for a stray, not that he made much note of it. Although it would let him bathe it, it wouldn’t let him dry it, the cat running off to a corner of his place to lick itself clean for quite some time that evening.
After that the cat kept him company. When he sat on the couch and watched a movie, it sat on the opposite end. And when he went to bed that night, it curled up on the opposite corner of his mattress. It was a nice change of pace, to have this cute little animal follow him around like a little shadow. And it went on for a few days: this cycle of the cat eyeing him from afar but keeping him company.
It was a few days after he invited the cat into his home that he woke up in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. But when he arrived at the kitchen and turned on the lights, he was greeted by the sight of a man.
Naked. Chugging milk directly from the carton.
“What the fuck?!” He exclaimed, his volume way too loud for 3 in the morning. But he didn’t care if he woke the neighbors, too frightened by the sight before him. “Who are you?”
But when the man put down the carton and turned to Will, he noticed he wasn’t a man at all. He had anthropomorphic features: cat ears on his head, a long fluffy black tail, and what seemed to be rather sharp nails (claws?). But otherwise, he was human. All the other body parts were there… not that he needed to see those but he definitely did.
“The cat,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice, wiping away a dribble of milk with the back of his palm.
The cat… the cat?! The cat could talk… and it’s a man…what the fuck…
“Sorry, you weren’t supposed to see,” he spoke as he screwed on the cap to the milk carton, “I thought you were asleep.”
He forced his eyes back up to meet his (his toned and slender body was rather distracting). They were the same milky brown that were prominent features of the little black cat. He couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like something out of a horror film. Or maybe a cartoon, one of those animes his coworkers talked about sometimes. Whatever it was, it was fucking weird. Maybe it was just a nightmare and he was sleepwalking, he wondered.
“Why… what…” he was speechless, truly. How else was he supposed to react to something like this? He's talking to a fucking cat.
To his disgust, he put the carton of milk that he drank straight out of right back into the fridge. He winced at the memory that he had had cereal that morning using that very same milk.
He said, “I can change back if you want.”
Immediately he replied with a resounding "No!"
“I’ll explain later,” he said, eyes pleading with you, “but can I stay? I was freezing my balls off out there.”
Suddenly it clicked. The way some of his food had gone missing. The way his bed was a mess even though he made the sheets each morning. The way he bought a litter box but it went unused. The signs were there, unfortunately.
“So you’re the one who ate my leftover meatballs?” He asked. He blinked at him, his face saying that’s what you’re worried about?
“Maybe.”
"And my leftover salmon the other day?"
"Definitely. It was delicious."
"And my tofu salad?!"
"Unfortunately," he grimaced at the memory. Gross.
"Can you lay off that vegetarian shit, it's gross."
Will scoffed, "That was my food. Hell this is my home! You creep, sneaking into a single man's house."
"I didn't sneak in, you invited me."
Will pointed to his body, "And get dressed, don't walk around naked."
He shrugged, "Didn't bother you before."
"Yeah, when you were a cat!"
"Okay, you've got a point."
Will huffed in annoyance. He was just as stubborn as his cat form. And after he did grab his glass of water, with his eyes trained on him and his head tilted as he silently stood there (exactly like he did as a cat. intriguingly), he moved to follow him back to his room.
"Stay here, kitty," he told him, the kitty slipping out before he could help it. He hadn't thought of a name for him yet, instead referring to him as 'kitty'.
Hell, he didn't even know if the cat was a boy or girl.
But he definitely knew now, for sure.
"But your bed is soft."
“Couch. Now.”
Luckily he obediently listened that night, retiring to the couch while he locked himself away in his bedroom.
The funny part was that, while at first he was quite sure he was ready to kick him to the curb, he couldn’t make himself get rid of him.
The winter was brutal and as he spent time around him, he seemed to be pretty harmless. He was rather quiet and observant, only ever making a comment here or there when you’d ask him questions.
He told him about hybrids, how they usually just blend in with cats, but he couldn’t resist Will's invitation that freezing cold night.
For some reason he humored him– allowed him to share dinner with him, to lounge around the house, even to entertain himself while he was away at work (though he didn’t know much about technology but he could manage to work a TV remote. The nature channel was something he could watch for hours). For the most part he behaved a lot like a cat would: coming to him on his own terms, and being independent when he wanted to be.
Becoming roommates with a half-human half-cat wasn’t so bad. It took a few weeks of getting used to, especially since he couldn’t help but find him unnecessarily attractive. But slowly he learned to tolerate, even enjoy his presence. And slowly but surely, he came to enjoy Wills too.
For several weeks the arrangement was pleasant: Mike (yes, the cat-man had a name) could be a bit of an annoying cat sometimes (knocking things over, ripping papers, and other irritating destructive behaviours), and a lot of times he had quite the attitude and wit about him, but overall he was the definition of clingy.
He’d want to sit in his lap, he’d let him pet him, and definitely wanted Will to scratch his ears. Hell, he’d beg for him to scratch him under the chin too. He knew to an outsider this would seem ridiculous, comical even, the way this 6 foot tall hybrid would ask for his attention, but Mike became quite affectionate quite quickly.
Will would even go as far as to call him a lapcat, with the way he’d wedge his way into his lap as he watched TV, his head placed right on his plush thighs. Mike found himself loving the way Will smelled, vanilla and just slightly woodsy, enjoying how warm he was, the way his hands so gently pet his ears and threaded through his hair. Will swore he felt him purring as he pet him, and as weird as it was, it felt so nice.
And when he asked if he could be let back into his room, he couldn’t muster it in himself to say no.
He ended up cuddling him, despite Mike being larger than him in stature, his head buried into Will's neck and his tail wrapped around his waist. He absentmindedly touched his ears, so silky and fluffy, his purring into his neck growing louder with each passing second. He found yourself scratching him, right where the ears met his scalp, and on instinct Mike's feet tangled themselves with his own, as if he was trying to stop himself from kicking them. For such a big guy, with those toned abs and those long limbs of his, he was really just a big teddy bear, incredibly touch-starved and willing to give ten times the affection he'd give him, nuzzling into his touch and basking in the scent of his skin.
But as spring approached, there was one thing that Mike had yet to tell him about that overpowered his urges to cuddle and cling to him.
His heat cycle.
It started gradually. One day he was complaining that it was too hot (it was the tail-end of winter, mind you). He was practically sweating as he laid curled up in bed beside him. In the days after that he was spending 24/7 shirtless around the house (which was a dangerous image for Will, and in turn, dangerous for Mike because he could smell the effect it had on him). He would catch him spending quite a lot of time in the bathroom, doing god knows what. When he’d come out he’d be naked, claiming he ‘forgot’ about clothing. Perhaps he was teasing him, with a feigned smile of innocence painting his lips as his tail curved behind him in the air.
And when he’d lay in his lap on the couch, he’d started to get just a tad bit handsy, palms rubbing his thighs, face rubbing against his clothed tummy. He'd often find him pawing and sniffing at places that were much more lewd than just his thighs.
Especially in his sleep, cuddled next to him, he’d fondle Will's tits or his fingers would palm over the crotch of his shorts. One night while he slept, he went as far as to rub his clothed arousal right against his ass, just until he released into his shorts. And then he disappeared for the rest of the night, drowning in his shame.
Will knew what he wanted, but Mike would never dare say it verbally. He’d feign ignorance in the morning and hide off in some corner, ripping papers to shreds in frustration. He let him, because if he voiced his attraction to a man who wasn’t entirely human… even the thought sounded insane.
As it got further into the first week of spring, he started to find evidence of his attempts at relieving himself: whether it be missing panties jumbled up in corners, soiled bed sheets, ruined pillowcases. Mike was an absolute mess. But he was too embarrassed to tell him about it, opting to try and take care of his problems on his own out of Will's sight.
Yet tonight, when Will awoke in the middle of the night, he is anything but out of sight. He’s was already naked because he couldn't bare the fabric against his burning skin, coated in a sheen of sweat. He was rutting into the mattress beside him, desperate for friction. He’s just so hard and just so needy. His whining was almost pathetic, the way small mewls escape his lips with each thrust into their bedsheets.
Will had never seen such a pained expression on his face before, and your sympathy combined with his attraction to him pushes him to take that step forward.
He doesn’t even notice Will was awake, and right as Will was about to reach for him,
"Ngh- Will..."
His name leaves his lips in a broken whimper. He needs him. So, so bad.
His back is turned to Will. Will scoots closer, coming up behind him to press his chest against his back.
He freezes, having been caught in such a naughty act, and even his ears flatten and his tail falls flat as he’s overcome with guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, but Will only reaches his arms around his waist. He watches, stunned, as Will takes his cock in one hand and massages his heavy balls with the other. His body’s slick, coated with sweat and precum, and so damn hot, he swears he could see steam if you looked hard enough.
The second his skin made contact with his arousal, a cat-like hiss left Mike's lips, as if he'd doused boiling water with ice. A sigh of relief soon followed as he thumbed over his slit, precum flowing out of his heavy cock like it was ready to burst.
“Mike, 's okay,” he told him sleepily as he leans back into his touch, “I’ll help you.”
But Mike knows that jerking off isn’t enough. It hasn’t been enough for days.
“I don’t think you can,” he says between shallow breaths. “I’ve tried this…it doesn’t h-help,” he stutters as Will brings his fist back down to his base. His tail finds its way to wrap around Will's waist, and he turns his head back to see his expression. He expects him to be impassive, maybe even annoyed with him for his actions on their shared bed, but he’s surprised to see there’s lust in his gaze, hunger written on his face. Does he actually want to help him?
He felt his cock twitch in his palm, the evidence that he’s aroused even at the sight of him, excited at the prospect of him wanting what he wants.
“What.. would help then?” Will asked him. His voice barely above a whisper, staring at his lips, and Mike's not sure if he could control himself in this sorry state of his.
“I want to…” he starts, but his words trail off as he squeezes his eyes shut. Will massaged his balls to the same rhythm as he stroked him, and it’s too much to talk and handle the stimulation at once. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again it comes out as a desperate plea, “I need to be inside you.”
It’s not a surprise to him that he wants to, given the way he’s been touching him recently. Neither of them had expressly given a label to their relationship, despite its gradual increase in physical contact, but now that he was touching him, this was the first time he'd ever reciprocated his advances. It’s because he wants to too. He knows he's wanted to, and seeing him like this just pushes him over the edge.
“Okay,” he tells him, a simple breadth against his lips, but that’s all he needs to hear. He closes the gap, leaning in to kiss him, groaning as Will fists his cock while his lips mould against his. He almost expects his tongue to be rough, maybe even barbed like a real cat, but instead it's as soft as a human’s when it glides over his bottom lip, seeking entrance to his mouth. He allows him, swallowing his whines and sucking on his tongue.
Mike suddenly turns around, forcing Will to let go of his hold on him, and frantically begins to peel off his thin sleeping clothes.
“I can’t wait–” he says as his lips trace his neck and his hands paw at his clothing, “please.”
Will could hear the despair in his voice, the way his arousal physically pains him. When Mike is finally naked before him he can’t wait, not a second longer. He straddles his waist, his body between his legs and his tail tapping loudly against the mattress. He can see him below him, damp with sweat and skin flushed the color of roses. There’s a layer of guilt written on his face: it's unspoken that he wishes he could take his time, but his body wills it naught. With his desperate cock soaked in his precum, he lines it up to his entrance.
Will gives him the reassurance that he needs by telling him, “I want it, Mike, please.”
It's a stretch without the prep, but he sinks down on him slowly, Mike's hands deep in the fat of his thighs as he holds them spread apart. Will mewls to each of his whines, and it’s only when he’s fully sheathed that he feels some relief. The warmth of Will's soft walls envelops his feverish skin like a snug blanket, one he needed so badly. For a moment he just savors the feeling, like a cool gel applied to a burn, the way it soothes him.
“It feels so good,” he says, words breathy, a grin teasing his lips. Will leans down to place a kiss on his lips, “Fuck–so, so good.”
His reverence is endearing. Despite his argumentative nature on a normal day, right now he is nothing like that: he’s vulnerable, putty in Will's hands, just begging to use him like he needs to. And he's ready to let him.
His hands leave his thighs, settling for the dip in his waist. Will's own come up to his ears, and they twitch with sensitivity. He gives them a quick rub over with his fingers, his eyes never leaving Mike's, and as his hands come down to cup around his jaw and throat, he shivers just slightly, chills running up his feverish skin with your cool touch. He’s so sensitive in this state, that each time his skin brushes over his it’s like water poured over a fire. It causes a moan to rise in his throat that he harshly swallows.
He squeezes his eyes shut and groans once more when Will grinds his hips and clamps his walls down on his cock. He begins to move, just a few unsteady bounces on his lap, but it's nowhere near enough friction for what he needs. Mike brings his hands to Will's back and pulls him down so his chest is pressed against his.
“Mike?”
He places his feet flat into the bed and brings his knees up behind him.
"Can I?"
"Ah- okay. You move then."
Mike's an obedient boy. He buries his head into his neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, his perfume, and just the slight scent of his sweaty skin, and he can't help but dart out his tongue, to lap at his skin like a cat would do to their mate. Will doesn't mind, baring his neck slightly, allowing him to nip and lick at the sensitive spot at the base of his neck. It doesn't matter to him what he does with his mouth - because now he's moving.
"Mm, fuck- so tight," he groans, his cock squeezed tight between his walls. It's slow for a moment, as he pulls out and thrusts up back into him, his chest pressed against Will's. With his fingers now deep in his dark tresses at the base of his neck, Will moans,
"Feels s' good Mike, s- , fuck, such a good boy."
And he loves it. He loves when he showers him with praise. When he pets him, babies him, nuzzles him into his chest. Life on the streets is lonely, devoid of affection. And when it gets it from Will? He just wants more, more, more.
"You like this?" He asks, punctuating 'this' with another rut of his hips into him.
"Yes," he tells him, and when he pushes harder, thrusts deeper, he clenches around him with a sob,
"Mph, like that, please. 'S-So fucking good,"
He does exactly as he tells him: Will asks for more, he thrusts just a bit faster. He tells him right there, he hits that spot over and over until he tells him to stop.
The skin on Will's neck is tender from his biting, the flesh of his waist turns red from his harsh grip as he holds him still, but still nothing outweighs the pleasure he gives him.
The otherwise quiet bedroom is filled with the sounds of their harsh gasps and moans, his grunts and whines, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin as his balls, hot and heavy with cum, hit his skin with each thrust. He wants to last longer but he's been needing this for so long, that soon he finds himself lifting Will back off his chest.
"Fuck, so good for me... been waiting so long for this," he says, eyes never lifting from where you're connected. He pushes Will's thighs apart further and begins to move much quicker, short shallow thrusts that have him hammering at his cunt and groaning with the satisfaction of finally having so much friction.
He feels so damn full, like his cock is hitting somewhere deep in his belly, and each time he bounces him on his lap and meets him with a thrust of his hips, he punctuates such a connection with a loud moan. He's close to his peak, but Mike is much closer.
"I'm gonna come," he manages to grunt, the words rushed out of his mouth in the space between two deep groans.
Will gasps into his mouth, "Be a good boy and come for me, Mikey, come inside me-"
"Ah-fuck-" he sputters as he finally comes inside him. And it's so much more than he expected, so much that it drips out after the first stroke, it soaks their bed sheets and covers his thighs and his tight abdomen in slick. His cock is painted white but still it's achingly hard as he continues to push his cum into him with each thrust.
He moves to get off, but Mike quickly flips them both over without separating their bodies. He pushes his thighs down against his chest, eyes determined and breath shaky. He gives him no room to protest.
"Stay."
He pulls out, his body practically vibrating. Purring, he realizes. Then he moves down to Will's pussy, still soaked and dripping, and he says,
"Wanna make sure you cum."
He begins to protest, "But Mike you don't-"
He shuts him down with kitten licks to his clit, short flicks of his tongue over his sensitive bud. His thighs reflexively close around his head, but he pushes them away with his palms.
His tongue slides down, till he reaches Will's entrance and he's tasting himself, but he doesn't care. The sounds are lewd in the still quiet of the early morning hours, slurping and sucking as he alternates between lapping at his cunt and clamping down on his clit.
All the while Will's groaning, grinding his hips into the heat of his mouth. Maybe it's something to do with being part cat, but he's a fiend with his tongue.
He brings a hand down to his head, his fingers gripping into his hair between his ears as he pulls him into his heat. His purring sends vibrations up your skin, making it feel like a vibrator as he sucks and whines against his clit. The sensation is unreal, and any reservations that he may have entertained about indulging in such an act such as fucking a hybrid were all but gone.
"Mh- Mike," he whines his name as the beginnings of his orgasm begin to take shape under his tongue. "Oh, fuck, 's so good."
He looks up at him with those steel brown eyes, pupils blown wide, and the vibrations coming from his body only get stronger as he watches Will's body writhe with the pleasure he gives him. The movement of his tongue only gets sharper with more purpose, teasing his clit until Will feels closer and closer to his release.
He jerks his hips and he understands, flattening his tongue so he can ride it at the rhythm he craves. And once he does, his hips rising and falling from the mattress as he grinds against his face, he cums onto his eager tongue and he hums in satisfaction as he tastes Will and what's left of himself.
He grabs each thigh and pulls him even closer to him, to kiss and lap at his center as if to offer his gratitude for such a meal.
When Will fully comes down from his peak he releases his hold on him. As his chest heaves he sits on his knees, and when he looks up he notices him.
He's still hard, still aching, still flushed and sweating.
One round isn't enough to quell that burning feeling beneath his skin. He needs more.
He's looking up at him with those deep eyes of his, uncharacteristically pouty and desperate.
"So needy for me, kitty?" Will asks him with a smirk and a teasing glint to his eye.
He should be exhausted, it's the early hours of the morning, but instead there's adrenaline rushing through his veins. This is taboo, what he's doing now, something that he'd never tell a soul about, yet when he looks up at Mike all he feels is the desire to keep doing it.
Maybe it's the excitement of something forbidden. Or maybe it's the way they've come to crave each other's warmth and company, that craving having them both reaching out for each other subconsciously. Or perhaps he does quite like him, much more than he's willing to admit.
Whatever the reason, when he leans down and replies, "Fuck, yes. Need you so bad," Will doesn't deny him. He lets him capture his lips in another drawn out kiss, tasting himself and him on his tongue.
Will lets his hands knead at his breasts and his hips grind against his thigh. He lets him sink his fingers into his supple skin, his pointed nails leaving red markings just shy of drawing blood. He continues to kiss him, to trace the insides of his mouth with his tongue, to rub the essence of his cock on his thighs and roll his fingers over his nipples - all until suddenly it all stops. He whines against his lips. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it harshly. And when he lets go, he suddenly asks him,
"If I went rough on you..would that be okay?"
Will blinks out of the daze that his heated kisses put him in, his body still beneath his. Surprised, he says,
"You're asking me for permission."
He nods. "I don't wanna hurt you."
"I can take it, Mike. I'm a big boy."
He laughs, but he doesn't.
"Hands and knees then," he instructs, and Will lifts an eyebrow but complies. He turns around, his palms and knees digging into the sheets, back arched and legs spread, presenting himself to him. But that's not what he wants.
Instead, he reaches for his thighs and closes them together. At first he thinks it's strange, and he moves to look back at him while he voices his name as a question, but just as quickly he reaches towards him and presses a palm down against his shoulder blades, pressing his chest into the sheets. Will can feel his thighs on either side of his, and his whole body follows, his chest hovering just above his back.
He's mounting him.
Will feels the tip of his cock prodding against his ass, slick and still leaking, still so heated and desperate to be inside him. And with how wet he already was, and how hard he is, it slips in his cunt with ease. He groans as his cock slides in between his walls, the sound low and guttural right behind his ear.
"Fuck, so wet," he mumbles as he presses his fists into the sheets on either side of Will's. His body is surrounded by him. He's intoxicated by his smell and his warmth, his breath against his neck, the ends of his long hair brushing against his back. He hasn't yet moved his hips, still inside him as his pussy clenches around him, adjusting to his size.
Even if it's the second time, his girth takes some time getting used to. "So fucking warm," he continues, and he swears his lips brush against his ears,
"Wanna be buried inside forever-fuck."
"Oh-fuck," Will groans as Mike begins to move, thrusting into him with harsh pointed snaps that send his body jolting forward. He can feel him latching onto his shoulder with a soft bite as he moves, in a way that can literally be described as animal fucking.
Perhaps the first time he was just desperate to get off and let him take the reins, but now he wants to claim Will, his body pinned beneath his strong muscles.
Will's name escapes his lips in the form of high pitched whines and he's reduced to the simple noises of moans and grunts against his shoulder.
"Mike-, faster-," he begs, his head thrown back against Mike's shoulder. He's hitting a spot inside him that has him mewling, and he wants more, the angle of his thrusts absolutely mind-altering. He's never been in a position like this and he's staring to wonder why the fuck hasn't he tried it before.
"Shit, yeah, l'll give you more," he says, his words breathy with his exertion. He digs his knees into the mattress, his hands coming to clamp down on Will's shoulders. And suddenly he's absolutely fucking him, maybe fucking is even too light a word. Perhaps aiming to destroy him. Because his hips snap at a manic pace, skin slapping skin so violently he's sure his ass will be flushed and sore by the end of it.
"Fuck, 's this better?" He asks, panting, a hand releasing Will's shoulder to pull him back by his hair instead. He tilts his head back and locks eyes with Mike.
They're almost entirely black, the soft brown completely lost and consumed to desire. If there was ever a time in the last few weeks that Will thought Mike was more animal than human, it had to be right now.
He tries to nod against his hold, unable to even use his throat at this rate, focusing solely on trying to capture each breath that he forces out of him with each impale of his cock.
Each kiss of his cock head to his cervix stung in the best way possible, rendering sobs and staccato breaths Will's only way of vocalizing his pleasure.
He feels him squeezing on him as his breaths get shorter and shorter.
"Gonna cum on my cock? Fuck, I feel it," he groans.
He's so close, milking him now. He squeezes his hand lightly around his throat, and he whines as Will comes apart around him and squeezes his cock oh so tight. Will sobs his name as he cums but he only continues to mercilessly jackhammer into him, chasing his own high. He loses whatever hold he had on human language, relegated to primal grunts and mewls against his shoulder as his thrusts into him become uneven in pace. Each snap of his hips is harder, harder, and then suddenly they're slower, until finally he pauses with a sigh of relief as he cums.
Even though he's already came before, this one somehow is even stronger for him and still loaded with copious amounts of his seed-he continues to lazily thrust into Will even as his release trickles out and down his pressed thighs.
For a moment he stills as his cock still twitches with the last aftershocks of his orgasm. Once he finally pulls out, they both lay back down into the sheets, Will's back flat against the mattress and Mike curled into his side. He's purring and nuzzling against his skin, the vibrations a gentle hum in the otherwise silent room. Neither of them say anything as they both catch their breaths, bodies slicked with sweat and drenched in cum.
That is, until Mike's the first to speak.
"Was that... okay?" He asks, and it sounds uncharacteristically timid.
He feels Will's chest tremble with a fit of giggles. He turns to him and as they lay face to face, an amused smile plastered across his lips, he feels the soft curl of his tail around his waist. His emerald eyes meet the others' steel ones, and they reflect his uncertainty. He quells them with the words, "Yeah, Mike. That was good. Good boy."
His grin matches Will's before he tilts his head in his direction, closer to his hand. He already knows what he's asking for, and he threads his fingers into his hair, finding that spot right behind his ears that he loves when he touches. He nuzzles into him and for the first time since his heat cycle started he feels soothed, relaxed.
He's exactly what he needed.
He even almost drifts off to sleep under his warm touch. Then his hand smoothes over his hair and drifts lower. Out of curiosity, Will's fingers travel to the one spot Mike would never let him touch. His eyes are closed, so it comes as a surprise when Will's fingers run along the base of his tail. He practically jumps out of the bed, jolting away from his hand.
"Fuck," he hissed.
"I just wanna feel it," he pouted.
Mike reasoned in his mind that after what they'd both just done, he could indulge him just this once.
He grumbles, "Fine. But don't scratch-"
Too late. His nails raked along the skin of his tailbone, right above his tail, and instantly his body arched into his own. He grinned mischievously. It really was just like a real cat.
"Oh so you're sensitive there."
"Stop scratching it or-"
"Or what?" His voice says stop but his body leans into his touch like opposite ends of a magnet, following every curl of his nails against his skin.
He replies by pressing his body right against his side, and he can't help but gasp at the hard appendage that he feels rubbing over his thigh.
"Again?"
He playfully rolled his eyes as Mike nuzzled into his chest.
"How long is this heat cycle again?" He asked, as his rigid cock brushed against his leg.
...Two more weeks."
Fuck.