#pupspace

//☁️

he’s stumbling a little, already a drink or two in and holding a joint they’ve been passing back and forth. they find a good spot, and will leans in, lips knocking against mike’s ear, to loudly say over the noise, “if it gets too much we can go to the outskirts, okay?”

mike shakes his head, a bit embarrassed. “i’m good!”

will eyes him, then says, “okay. tell me, though!”

mike shrugs, nodding.

twenty minutes go by, the joint slowly dwindling to nothing. will taps him, and mike accepts the plastic cup will hands over, putting it in his big side pocket to join mike’s own empty cup — he always drinks a lot faster than will.

“d’you like it?” will asks, jutting his chin to the stage, where the last song is wrapping up.

mike blinks, nodding. “yeah! ‘course!”

“your face is just very…” he swipes a hand across his own exaggeratedly dull face. “bleh!”

“my face is always like that!” mike laughs.

will giggles and nudges him. “no it’s not!”

will’s insisted several times over the years that mike’s resting face when he’s interested in something is apparently pretty smiley. mike’s not sure he buys it, but will swears it’s ‘cute’.

mike shrugs, hiding a smile as the opener thanks the audience.

ten minutes pass, mike swaying side to side as his joints complain about the standing and the cramped space. and then someone comes out of the shadows on stage, messing around with the drums. mike points. “is that—?”

will’s hair bounces as he nods, a grin huge on his face. his eyes sparkle in the dim light as he glances at his boyfriend. “you still doing okay?”

mike sighs. “willllll… i’m fine. you don’t have to babysit me.”

“okay, okay! sorry! i just—” he bites his lip nervously. “i know how you get.”

discomfort prickles in mike’s chest. he doesn’t want to ruin this for will, and he didn’t even do anything! he’s having a good time! yeah, it’s loud, and pretty packed, and he’s a bit overheated. and yeah, his spine already hurts like a bitch from standing… but that’d be the same no matter where they are.

and yeah, he does feel a little dizzy from the weed, maybe more than usual, but… he blinks, realising he’s been staring at will’s flushed face and gleaming eyes and cute teeth nervously nibbling at his plump bottom lip.

will looks guilty for pushing, and mike feels like a piece of shit. “sorry,” he says, lips pressed to will’s ear. “i swear i’m fine!”

will nods, and mike can tell he’s trying not to worry. jesus, maybe mike looks more out of it than he feels. a hot flash runs through him.

mike’s torn between pretending he feels more normal than he does, and letting will know he’s starting to feel a bit off. will’s furrowed brow as he looks back to the stage settles him — if he lets it get real bad, it’ll be more of a fuss than just dealing with it now. “will!”

“yeah?” will’s attention is fixed on him in an instant.

he leans on will’s shoulder, dragging his lips across his cheekbone in a subtle kiss on the way to his ear. “i’m alright, but i’m gonna crouch next to you for a minute, while i still can. okay?”

will nods, and mike drops to the ground, groaning in relief as he finally stops holding his stupid spine up straight. he sways, off balance, and will’s hand finds his hair, ruffling it sweetly. mike leans against his boyfriend’s leg. it’s nice, to sit at will’s feet like this.

above him, the crowd presses in, but down here he feels like he’s discovered a world of extra, secret space — it’s nowhere near as claustrophobic as standing. will keeps petting his hair, the comfort somehow making his head spin even more.

he can feel himself cooling down, the pads of his fingers digging into the dirt as he sits like a dog on the ground. he still feels hazy, like his head started drifting away a while ago, far from the noise and claustrophobia-inducing crowd. the warmth of will’s leg grounds him.

he hears a sudden surge in applause, and will tugs at his hair. mike whines at the sharp yank sending sparks down his spine — an intoxicated will doesn’t have the best motor control — looking up to see will, glowing in the flashing concert lights, mouth, “it’s starting!”

mike nods, wrapping an arm around will’s leg and pressing his face to his thigh. it’s so dark, and everyone is pressed so close, he’s not sure anyone can even see him. he shuffles closer, turning his body to face will more than the stage he can’t see.

distantly, he knows he should stand, but the thought makes him whine, eyebrows knitted unhappily. he’s so relaxed down here, it’s where he belongs. a glance up confirms will is looking at him, and every time the lights go white mike can see the flush on his face for an instant.

he nuzzles will’s thigh, rough denim against his nose, and peers up at him hopefully. he sees will mouth “fuck”, quietly, to himself. another tug at his hair. “michael.” he recognizes that face, those two syllables, even in the darkness. a rush of heat courses through him.

will glances around nervously, but everyone is focused on screaming along to the first song, pounding drums sending vibrations through mike’s chest. his mouth waters, cheek pressed to will’s thigh, and his gut twists hotly. a ribbon of need winds its way through his hazy mind.

he licks his lips, brushing against the bulge in will’s jeans. will’s fingers tense in his hair, and mike feels a whine escape him, lost in the crush of sound. his head feels full of cotton, fuzzy, distant. will nods shakily, reaching with a clumsy hand to unzip his jeans.

drool trails unnoticed down mike’s chin, slipping down the column of his throat. he shuffles closer, mouth hanging open, lips shining with spit. will’s eyes dart from side to side, catching the flashing lights, but nobody is paying attention and mike’s gaze is fixed only on will.

reaching up, he tugs him out of his boxers, nuzzling into the soft fabric and feeling his warm skin press against his cheek. he mouths at the side of will’s cock, and feels him shiver. someone stumbles, bumping into mike’s leg, but he doesn’t even glance.

the drums pound as he licks a long stripe along the underside of will’s cock, lapping at the top before finally taking him in his mouth. he sees will’s hand shoot up to cover his mouth, stifling a whimper that would’ve been lost in the noise anyway.

the concert fades to nothing and all mike knows is the weight and taste of will on his tongue, the stretch as he pushes closer, takes him down his throat. the wailing guitar is dull and melded with the hum of the crowd, and will starts to gently, clumsily thrust into his mouth.

a satisfied hum slips from mike’s throat, and will’s hips stutter at the vibration. mike’s head is in the clouds, eyes drifting closed and hips rocking idly against nothing. someone brushes against him, and he lets his body sink closer to will, shuffling in.

will pushes his boot closer to mike, and mike’s cock brushes against the leather through his jeans, a spark of pleasure zipping through his hazy mind. he whimpers, thrusting into will’s boot, the salty-sweet taste of will’s precum slipping down his throat.

his nose smushes against will’s skin, buried in his pubes, and he can smell sweat and precum and the soap they share in their little apartment, and it makes his head spin. his throat is so full, spit dribbling down his chin, he can hardly breathe.

he welcomes it and begs for more, shoving as close as humanly possible. he feels will twitch, hand grasping mike’s hair tightly as he rocks into him. he pulls out an inch and mike whines, until will slams into him, yanking a choking gasp from mike’s lips.

will pulls him back and guides his head in a merciless rhythm, not so far gone that he’d continue to lose himself in fucking mike’s face the way he did for a moment there, when it was so obvious what he was doing.

now he stands still and grips mike’s hair, sliding him up and down will’s cock. tears stream down mike’s cheeks as he chokes on it, pushing into the tight hole of his throat easier each time, head empty in a rush of white noise and hazy pleasure.

will finally cums, dripping down mike’s throat, and mike mindlessly laps at him, swallowing it all and licking him clean where cum and spit smeared his skin. his hips roll dreamily against will’s worn leather boot, and he finishes to the smell of salty sweat and cum.

his face is buried between will’s thighs, rough denim and soft boxers and his softening cock warm against his skin, mike’s jeans sticky and damp. he breathes him in, head still far away, and will tucks himself back in his pants but lets mike sit there for the rest of the song. he’s not sure what one they’re on now — he can’t tell how much time has passed.

when he finally stands, legs wobbly, he leans against will, settling his full weight against him. will stumbles, but then loops his arm around mike’s waist, gripping his chain. mike’s head finds its home on will’s shoulder, curls brushing will’s soft brown hair.

૮ ･ ﻌ･ა ⠀pupcomfortic

PupComfortic: a term for when you enjoy the nickname "pup" or "puppy" in a comforting/soothing way. made with pet regressors in mind!