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Ian ran his finger lightly down Mickey's crease and over the tightly furled muscle. He could feel the tiny bumps and ridges under his finger and he moved closer to get a better look. He'd never taken the time to really explore this part of Mickey—or any guy—before. It had always just been about getting in and out as fast as possible to get off without being caught.

Not that he'd ever done a very good job of not getting caught.

"I'm not going to fucking break," Mickey said, looking down the length of his body to meet Ian's eyes. "I can take a fucking finger without all this." He let go of one of his knees and gestured at the economy-sized bottle of lube and towels that Ian had laid out.

Ian ran his free hand up Mickey's thigh—he really did have great legs—and made sure he stayed spread now that he wasn't holding his own legs apart. "This isn't about one finger, though. If you want me to fist you, we're doing it my way."

"Fine, whatever, but get on with it already. You don't have to sit there admiring my fucking asshole," Mickey muttered and dropped his eyes, red staining his cheeks. It was amazing that after everything they'd done together this was what made Mickey blush. Ian thought it was cute that his tough, badass boyfriend could stammer and blush about something sex related. Not that he'd ever call Mickey cute to his face.

Not when he wanted to get laid at least.

Despite his desire to take things slow, Ian did pick up the pace, rubbing more firmly on the bud beneath his fingers until he felt the muscle begin to give a little. As soon as he felt it loosening he pushed down just enough for the tip of his finger to slip inside Mickey's body.

Mickey gasped at the penetration, his eyes slipping closed for a moment before opening and locking with Ian's. Ian held the eye contact as he carefully slid his finger in deeper, amazed by the silky warmth inside. Mickey usually prepared himself for sex and so Ian rarely had the pleasure of feeling Mickey's heat on anything but his dick, although that was pretty fucking amazing too.

Ian pulled his finger out most of the way and poured more lube onto it before sliding back in, this time managing to make it further. He let Mickey adjust for a moment before he crooked his finger, feeling for that hypersensitive bundle of nerves that gave Mickey so much pleasure.

Mickey grunted and his head fell back against the pillow when Ian found his prostate and rubbed his finger across it. Mickey's hand moved to grasp his hard, leaking cock, but Ian pushed it away. "Not yet."

Any protest Mickey might have made was cut off by Ian pulling the rim of his sphincter down, making way for a second finger. Mickey let out a low moan as Ian slowly pressed inside him with two fingers and the sound went straight to Ian's dick.

He couldn't believe that he'd ever thought playing with Mickey like this wouldn't be pleasurable for him, but Ian had quickly learned that making Mickey happy made him happy too. Seeing Mickey so open and exposed and getting to touch him in ways that no one else ever had—or ever would if Ian had it his way—was a major turn on for Ian, but right now was about Mickey's pleasure and so he ignored his growing erection to focus on the tight muscle squeezing his fingers. "Bear down."

"I've done this before," Mickey muttered even as he pressed down, easing the pressure on Ian's fingers. "Don't have to tell me what the fuck to do."

Mickey always feigned annoyance when Ian gave him direction, but it was mostly for show. That didn't stop Ian from turning his head and biting the soft skin of Mickey's inner thigh just a little harder than pleasurable. Of course pain and pleasure had always gone hand in hand for them so instead of being properly chastised, Mickey's dick actually throbbed and precome trickled onto his stomach.


"Not the best insult right now," Ian said. He pressed a kiss to the bruise already forming on the pale skin and turned his attention back to the job at hand. He scissored his fingers slowly, trying to loosen the canal enough so that Mickey could take a third finger without pain. Mickey was used to taking large things—Ian's cock wasn't small—but Ian knew that Mickey usually skipped a few steps, just dealing with the initial pain instead of preparing himself the way he should. That wasn't going to fly this time.

"Not an insult," Mickey said, choking back a moan as Ian's fingers grazed his prostate again. "Trying to get you back on track."

Ian laughed hard enough that he had to pause what he was doing which didn't make Mickey happy. Mickey shoved back onto Ian's fingers. "Just fucking put another one in."

"Yes sir," Ian said, barely resisting the urge to salute. Mickey responded by flipping him off, but there was a smile on his face and Ian was suddenly overwhelmed by how fucking happy he was. He and Mickey had never had the time to just enjoy each other like this before. They'd always been hiding from somebody, but now it was just the two of them in their own bed in a room that was for them and them alone.

Sex was a lot more fun when it was about more than a hurried race to get off.

Trying to hide his sappy thoughts, Ian busied himself with the lube making sure that everything was as slick as possible before he slipped the pointer finger of his other hand in and hooked it just inside the ring of muscle so that he could stretch the hole out enough for his ring finger to join the other two.

He wiped his free hand on a towel to remove the lube and then gave Mickey's leg a gentle caress. "How's that?"

"Feels good," Mickey sighed. He pressed back and his body almost sucked Ian's fingers in until they slid all the way into the silky heat and Mickey's ass rested on his palm. "Full."

"You're going to be so much fuller," Ian whispered. He continued to caress Mickey's leg, letting Mickey adjust to three fingers. Three fingers was still not quite as wide as Ian's cock or the Ben Wa beads, but the next step was going to get trickier and he wanted Mickey completely relaxed before he tried to take the entire width of Ian's hand. "So fucking full."

Mickey moaned and flexed his muscles, squeezing Ian's fingers tight for a moment before relaxing again. "More."

Ian moved his fingers, spreading them as far as he could to prepare Mickey's passage. He made sure to brush Mickey's prostate often enough to keep him aroused and kept a close eye on his face. There wasn't any sign of pain though, just a sort of slack jawed pleasure that looked so out of place on Mickey's face. Normally he was so careful to guard his expressions and not give away anything that he didn't want to, but this was Mickey letting loose. This was Mickey trusting Ian.

When he was sure that Mickey was comfortable with three fingers he pulled out just enough that he could curl his hand so that the pinky and thumb were underneath the other fingers. He pushed back in carefully, pausing once he reached line of knuckles at the base of his fingers.

This was it.

Ian took a deep breath and pushed until Mickey's sphincter gave way around the width of his hand. Mickey winced as the widest part of Ian's hand entered his body, but Ian kept the pressure steady until his entire hand was inside and Mickey's rim was tight around his wrist.

"Fuck Mickey," Ian's voice was rough as he stared in amazement at his hand. "My entire hand is in you."

Mickey lifted his head up to look between his legs with heavy lidded eyes. "Fucking hell, Gallagher."

He dropped his head back onto the pillow as if just raising it had been too much effort, and maybe it had been. Ian couldn't even imagine how it must feel to have an entire hand up your ass. It had to be overwhelming.

"I'm going to make a fist now," Ian said once he finally got over the shock of seeing his hand inside of Mickey. "Is that okay?"

"That's the whole fucking point," Mickey replied. His voice was a bit strained and his erection had flagged slightly, so Ian used his free hand to gently stroke Mickey's dick.

Once he'd coaxed Mickey back to full hardness, Ian slowly spread his fingers out so that he could clench them into a fist.

"Oh fuck," Mickey yelled as soon as Ian formed a fist. "Oh fuck, your knuckle is on my fucking prostate."

Ian tried to rock his hand back, to relieve the pressure on Mickey's prostate, but all it did was bring another knuckle in contact with it. "Do you want me to pull out—"

"Don't you fucking dare," Mickey gasped out and Ian realized that for all his pained-sounding protests, Mickey was leaking so much precome that he had a puddle in the dip of his stomach. Mickey tried to scoot back to get more of Ian's arm into him. "Fuck me."

Ian pulled his arm back and then punched forward—gently of course—and Mickey actually wailed. It was a good thing that no one else was at home or they would have surely heard that. Not that Ian cared if they alerted the entire fucking neighborhood to what they were doing. All he cared about at the moment was getting Mickey to make that sound again.

He twisted his arm, his knuckles caressing the clinging walls of Mickey's body and Mickey came. His passage clenched around Ian's arm, spasming wildly as his cock erupted, thick ropes of come streaking his chest.

Mickey came so hard that he actually passed out and Ian stamped down his own nearly overwhelming arousal so that he could carefully pull his arm out of Mickey and check him for damage.

Fuck. Mickey's rim was puffy and his hole was actually gaping wide enough that Ian could see the shiny red flesh of his insides. It was almost like Mickey had a fucking pussy. Or at least Ian assumed that was an appropriate metaphor—he tended to look away when Lip turned on his porn. Mickey didn't seem to be torn or bleeding, though, and that was the important thing.

"Ian?" Mickey asked, his voice raw. He was blinking at Ian in confusion as he came back to consciousness.

"I'm here," Ian replied. He hastily wiped the lube off of his hands and climbed up the bed to give Mickey a gentle kiss. "I'm right here."

Mickey rolled onto his side and pressed closer to Ian, seeking out his lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. Ian returned the kiss and rocked forward, sliding his aching dick along the side of Mickey's thigh, desperate for friction now that he wasn't having to suppress his own pleasure any more.

"You're still hard," Mickey said, surprised.

Streaks of precome glistened on the milky white skin of Mickey's thigh as Ian thrust forward. "Won't be for long."

"Wait." It was all Ian could do to stop the rocking of his hips as Mickey shifted onto his back. Mickey let his legs fall open. "Fuck me."

Ian's eyes widened. "We shouldn't—"

"Just get on me, Gallagher."

Mickey sounded tired but determined and Ian didn't have to be told twice. He took just enough time to put the pillow back under Mickey's hips for support before lining up his dick with Mickey's gaping hole. He sunk forward slowly, awed by how easy it was. Mickey was still full of lube and his muscles were so loose that Ian practically glided forward.

"Fuck, you're so loose," Ian said. He'd never experienced anything like this before. It was closer to the feeling of fucking into Mickey's mouth than his ass, but this way he still got to kiss Mickey.

Mickey clenched his ass and Ian felt the muscles tighten around him, hugging his dick, and after all of the build-up and foreplay and fucking fisting, that was all that it took to send him over. He collapsed on top of Mickey, buried deep inside his body as he released in hot waves.

Ian pressed open mouth kisses to Mickey's shoulder, murmuring incoherent endearments against the skin. He was sex drunk and too overwhelmed by the whole fucking experience to hold back the words that they never said. "I love you."

Mickey's entire body went still and Ian froze afraid that he'd screwed up the moment. He knew what he meant to Mickey—what they meant to each other—but neither of them ever put it into words.

After a moment of silence that felt like an eternity, Mickey's arms tentatively came up around Ian's back, holding him. "Me too."

Ian let out his breath in a rush and smiled against Mickey's shoulder. "Does that mean that you love yourself too? Or that you love me?"

Mickey smacked Ian's ass none too gently. "Fuck off."

Ian laughed. He carefully slipped out of Mickey's abused body and curled up next to him. Mickey rolled onto his side and slotted his body against Ian's as if it was made to be there, sliding his arm around Ian's waist and tangling their legs together.

"Go to sleep smartass."