Chapter Text
Mike got bored easily. Not in his relationship- he would never be bored with Will- but in just about everything else, his attention span was as flighty and fast-paced as an anxious hummingbird. Today was no exception to the rule. Will was on the couch next to him, sketching peacefully, and Mike was bored. His movie had ended almost five whole minutes ago, and Will wasn’t paying him any attention at all.
Mike slumped his shoulders and slid down until his ass hung off the couch and his legs extended all the way under the scratched coffee table. He sighed, running his hands through his hair and scrubbing them down his face. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and then watched the way it made the ceiling spin with stars. He turned over, dropping his chin onto the back of his arm, the rest of him falling almost all the way off the couch, and pouted at Will.
“What is it, Mike,” Will asked placidly. He didn’t even look up, moving his pencil in smooth, short arcs.
“Nothing,” Mike said. He kept staring up at his boyfriend, and Will sighed under his breath, somewhere between annoyance and affection.
He drew silently for a beat.
“Let's do something,” Mike said, “anything. Do you wanna walk to the lake?”
“Mike, you said you were going to let me draw,” Will reminded him. “Why don’t you put on another movie?”
Mike chewed at his lip, before rolling the rest of the way off the couch and onto his feet. “Yeah, ok.” He rifled around for his A New Hope VHS- the whole Party had just finished a full trilogy rewatch last night, but you could never have too much Star Wars, at least in his book.
As the yellow text rolled, he approached the ugly couch, with its muddy floral print and clashing primary-colored throw blanket. “Can I at least sit with you?” he asked. He wasn’t upset- he had told Will that he would give him time to draw. But he also wanted cuddles.
Will glanced up, breaking into a small, soft smile. “Yeah, ‘course,” he said. “Can you fit behind me?”
Mike nodded quickly and, once Will scooted forward, squeezed himself into the space between his boyfriend and the back of the couch. He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and tucked his chin over his shoulder.
Will settled into place and focused on drawing. Mike watched the movie, tapping his finger against his own elbow as C-3PO hustled into an escape pod; he dropped a kiss onto the exposed skin next to Will’s shoulder as he hummed along to Binary Sunset.
He pressed his face into Will’s neck and peeked over his shoulder. Will was drawing hands, and arms, dozens of them; what looked like anatomy practice, but upon closer inspection, Mike realized that Will was drawing him. He added the top half of a torso, and trapezius muscles leading up to an undefined head, and Mike could recognize his own curls falling around the corner of his own jaw.
And Will was holding the sketchbook out against his thighs, rather than putting it directly in his lap, because he was hard. Mike ducked his head again, hiding a smile in Will’s sweater.
“That’s not for school, right?” Mike asked, trying to sound like he hadn't already looked.
“No,” Will responded, oblivious, “just needed some practice.”
Mike hummed again. On screen, Luke rolled desperately away from the sand people.
Slowly, casually, he placed another kiss against Will’s throat, the skin visible around his collar, and pulled his shirt out of the way to trail them across his shoulder. He pressed harder, kisses growing from gentle pecks to languid, open-mouthed affections. He left wet spots up the side of Will’s neck, and Will tilted his head with a shaky breath, closing his eyes briefly. His hands stalled against the paper, then started up again, a little less fluid than before.
Mike took that as permission to continue. He scraped his teeth down the artery; he latched his lips onto the junction of his shoulder and teased, with his teeth and his tongue and the barest hint of suction, before moving half an inch to the left and biting hard.
Will jolted with a harsh breath. He didn’t say a word. Luke and Obi-Wan stepped into the cantina.
Mike kept lavishing the spot, pinching it between his teeth and tugging it away, then hinging his jaw and sucking hard before it soothing over with his tongue. When he pulled away, there was a shining bruise, red with undertones of deep purple. He dropped a gentle kiss atop it and chose another spot.
He drew bruises with his tongue, up and down, biting and sucking, and Will groaned, squirming weakly. His hands clenched around the pencil as he drew a new line.
Mike went back to dropping soft kisses along his neck. Will relaxed slightly.
“Michael,” he finally said, only a little sarcastic, “my love. You are-” Mike’s hand dropped to palm his dick through his pants, dragging up the side of it and pressing on the head, and Will hissed a quick breath in through his teeth, “-Distracting.”
Mike just hummed, sucking lightly on his fresh bruises. He slid his hand up the length of his clothed cock one more time, then made speedy, fumbling work of his zipper. He slipped under the band of his briefs, but paused there, framing Will’s tidy thatch of pubic hair with his fingers. “Are you saying you want me to stop?”
“No,” Will said, like it was obvious. He sighed, then closed his pencil into his sketchbook and tossed it onto the table. His legs stretched out as he leaned back into Mike’s chest. His hips bucked into Mike’s grip, forcing him to shift his fingers. “You better not.”
He started pumping Will’s dick, and Will’s hand reached to find the back of his head. Mike smiled and leaned forward to give him a real kiss.