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Whoever Said Jealousy Was A Sin Didn't Know The End Result

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It was alright when it had been just words. When it had been nothing more than ‘had to do all of the fucking in Juvie’, that hadn’t bothered him, because it had been paired with, “I missed you”. He hadn’t given it more than a thought. And then there had been that thing with Angie, Ian had resented it, had been angry, but Angie was a girl so that still hadn’t really counted.

This though, this was different. This made something foul and angry burn in Ian’s chest. It crawled up his throat and threatened to choke him, threatened to pull him down and drown him under a sudden wave of emotion that he wasn’t used to feeling. Of course he’d always known in theory, he’d always known it would be possible for him to get jealous over Mickey, but he’d never expected it to feel like this. He’d never thought that it would make him feel anything more than possessive. He’d thought that jealousy would just make him want to fuck Mickey all the harder, to pin him down and make him fucking keen. Make him beg. But no, that wasn’t what this felt like.

This was an ache that settled down deep into his bones, burning there as he watched the guy.

He wondered if this was what Mickey had felt like when he’d seen Ian with Lloyd.

The guy had walked in while Mickey had been out back having a piss. He’d sauntered in and looked the place up and down before asking all too bluntly where the hell Mickey was. He was just slightly taller than Mickey, thin in a lean sort of way, with dark brown hair and eyes. He was dangerous looking, a half sleeve on both of his arms. He looked like the sort of person Mickey would generally be seen associating with, he wouldn’t look out of place standing beside Mickey. Nobody could ever have suspected a thing.

Hell, this was the sort of guy that Mickey’s dad would probably approve of hanging around his son. If he’d given a shit to make judgements about that sort of thing that was. This guy was the kind of person who would fit right in with the Milkovichs, not like Ian did. Ian stuck out like a sore thumb, with his red hair shining like a beacon and a kindness in his eyes that very few people in this neighbourhood seemed to have.

At first, Ian thought this guy was just another one of Mickey’s clients, looking to buy some coke or whatever the fuck else Mickey was selling nowadays. But no, that became pretty clear all too quickly. “He’s taking a piss,” Ian told the guy, not trusting the way that the guy sized the place up, obviously wondering what he could steal.

“I’ll just wait then,” the guy said, gruff, not paying Ian much mind as he settled against one of the freezers.

“Isn’t Mickey’s rule usually that you have to buy something?” Ian asked, frowning at the guy, who as half turned towards the back of the store, direction that it was obvious Mickey was going to come from. He looked oddly expectant and almost anxious, but the Ian just thought that maybe the guy was overdue a hit.

The guy looked at him, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Ian sat there behind the counter. The look on his face said that he obviously didn’t think very much of what he saw; but Ian really couldn’t have cared less. “The fuck you talking about?” he asked, his frown melting into a scowl.

Ian just shook his head, this guy obviously wasn’t going to buy anything, so he didn’t have to be polite and make conversation. And honestly, that seemed to suit the guy just fine as well. “Hey Firecrotch!” Mickey’s voice came from the back of the store and Ian could hear him kicking a door open, “When we going to have our break?”

That almost made Ian smile before he caught sight of the expression on Mickey’s face when he finally came into view. Mickey’s expression looked conflicted, but more than anything he just looked confused and a little bit annoyed. “The fuck you doing here?” he asked the guy, who by this point had pushed off of the freezer he was leaning against and grinned at Mickey, slow and easy.

“Got out of Juvie early,” the guy replied, “Good behaviour, thought I’d come see you.”

Mickey scowled, his eyes flickering towards Ian just briefly, but if he thought that Ian didn’t notice then he was wrong. “And why the fuck would you think that was a good idea?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest and when he sensed the guy’s obvious hesitation to answer he snorted, “You can say what the fuck ever, Firecrotch ain’t gonna say jack shit.”

“Makes you so sure?” the guy asked, looking back at Ian and frowning, his expression openly distrustful.

Mickey snorted out a laugh, “Just trust me on this one.”

“Okay then,” the guy said, looking at Ian again before grinning at Mickey once more, “Thought we could maybe celebrate my getting out and all that, this place must have a backroom or something, right?”

And that was when it clicked in Ian’s head. That was what this guy was here for. He’d been one of the guys that Mickey had fucked in Juvie. He didn’t like that that very thought made him see red, that it made him feel like he was about to be sick. But he blamed that for the reason why he didn’t even know he was moving until he was around the other side of the counter.

He grabbed the guy by the collar of his jacket, jerking him backwards and smirking as he slammed into the door. He didn’t have the courage to turn around to face Mickey, he didn’t want to see the expression on his face, the anger in his eyes. He just wanted to be able to pretend for just a moment that his actions weren’t stupid, that maybe he was in the right to be reacting like this. No doubt Mickey would probably punch him in the side of the head later or something, but right then Ian didn’t care.

“Get the fuck out,” Ian told him, eyes narrowing and his arms crossing over his chest. He rose up to his full height, trying to seem as intimidating as possible. He knew it didn’t work when the guy just stood and stared right back at him. But still, in theory, he knew he was more than capable of beating this guy in a fight.

A fair fight, that was. This guy had just come out of Juvie, he wouldn’t put it past him to be carrying something on his person.

The guy smirked, his mouth twisting unattractively. “What’s the matter?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and sneering, a wild look in his eyes that made him remind Ian of a wild animal that had been caged for just a little too long, “You really think you had him all to yourself or something?”

For just a moment Ian wondered just how many of his emotions must have been written on his face, because he hadn’t thought his reasons behind pushing this guy around would have been that obvious. Not to him anyway. Sure, Mickey would know, because despite popular belief Mickey wasn’t actually anything close to stupid. But he didn’t like the idea of this guy being in Ian’s head in any way.

“Get out,” Ian repeated in a low voice, taking a step closer to the guy and then before he even knew what was coming, punched him in the throat. And it was exactly the same move that he had used on Mickey not even a week ago and he smirked as the guy toppled backwards through the Kash and Grab’s door, eyes open wide in an almost comical expression of shock.

Ian bared his teeth at him and kicked his feet out of the way of the door, slamming it closed and flipping the lock. He stuck the Back in five minutes sign back up onto the glass, but not before drawing a line next to the five in black marker. This was definitely going to take a whole lot longer than five minutes.

If Mickey didn’t bolt that was.

He almost felt like bolting himself as he took a deep breath and turned around to face the ex-con he’d for some reason decided he was more than a little bit in love with. What he didn’t expect when he turned around was to see Mickey leaning against the counter, one corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. Well okay, maybe he did expect that, but it was more the fact that Mickey was standing there with a hand blatantly rubbing himself through his jeans and his head cocked to the side like he was studying Ian.

Mickey had only gotten that look in his eye once before, when Ian had thrown out a shoplifter whilst Mickey was preoccupied flicking through a girl on girl porn magazine that really he’d glued gay porn pictures inside. And it was that expression on his face, the one that Ian had associated with sex from that first time that had Ian lurching across the distance between them and pressing Mickey against the counter with his body.

Linda was out somewhere that Ian couldn’t remember and she didn’t check the camera footage anymore so long as the shoplifting stayed down. Which it did, because Mickey left everyone too terrified to even dare. So neither of them even thought about moving this to the back room for even a second.

Ian had Mickey’s belt undone and his trousers and underwear pushed down before the ex-con could so much as blink and Mickey kicked them away and turned around almost instantly, pliant in Ian’s hands despite the cocky smirk on his face. He braced himself against the counter, only to be pulled back upright when Ian grabbed his shoulders and pulled the security jacket off of them, dragging Mickey’s shirt over his head straight afterwards.

Ian bit roughly at Mickey’s neck, sucking up a mark onto Mickey’s pale flesh as he smoothed his hands down over the ex-con’s skin. And for once, Mickey didn’t try to move away or yell at him to get a move on, he just took it, even seeming to press into Ian’s rough touches and moaned when Ian reached around to tweak at his nipples.

It filled Ian was a weird sort of glee to know that Mickey was standing there naked and bent over the counter and he was fully dressed and he intended to keep it that way. He was going to take Mickey like this and he was going to enjoy it more than he had ever enjoyed anything, because there was an anger still burning its way through his veins. But more than that, there was a raw need to claim, to own.

And maybe Mickey would never really belong to anybody, but Ian wanted him to.

Fuck,” Mickey ground out, dropping to rest his forehead on his folded arms when Ian sucked on two fingers quickly before pushing them into Mickey’s ass. Mickey bucked forwards erratically, no doubt trying to find some sort of friction and whined deep down in his chest. He swore again as Ian roughly fucked him with his fingers, scissoring them and stretching him, ready to take his cock.

When his fingers slid over that spot inside of Mickey that made his nerve endings light on fire, the ex-con actually let out a fully-fledged grown, pressing back into Ian’s fingers and his breath stopping in his throat for a moment when all Ian did in response was remove them.

Ian didn’t bother with a condom because he made a point to get checked and Mickey was almost near fanatical when it came to being clean. Normally they wore one for the purpose of cleanliness, but this time Ian wanted to own Mickey inside out. He wanted the ex-con to be able to feel a part of Ian dribbling down the backs of his thighs when they were done, wanted him to be able to smell Ian on his skin, inside of him.     

Mickey was pushing back against him almost immediately when Ian undid his belt and drew his fly down just enough to pull himself from his underwear and push just the head of his cock into Mickey’s hole. Ian stopped him from moving with a firm hand on the ex-con’s hip though, gripping hard enough to bruise and making Mickey groan lowly. He teased him with just the head for a while, pushing in just enough for Mickey to really feel it, maybe easing in a little more and then pulling out completely.

He knew he was driving Mickey mad and that was exactly what he wanted. He knew he had to be driving him insane, especially when he eased almost half in before pulling out and sliding between Mickey’s cheeks, palming the firm, pale globes and then nudging Mickey’s feet further apart as he leant over him completely. Ian mouthed at the back of Mickey’s neck, breathed in scent from the bottom of his hair and bit harshly down on Mickey’s shoulder. All of it made Mickey buck and squirm, but he was biting down on his forearm and didn’t say a word, his cock painfully hard where it was left neglected between his legs.

Ian knew that Mickey could feel the scratch of denim against the backs of his thighs and he knew Mickey wouldn’t ever admit how much he loved the feel of flesh on flesh. And that was what he was denying him right then, just that simple thing.

“You want me to fuck you so badly, don’t you,” Ian said, his voice lower than usual, huskier and the words breathed right into Mickey’s ear as he plastered himself against the ex-con’s back. He could feel Mickey’s shiver underneath him, the way that he pushed back against Ian, trying to get something in him, that was enough of an answer to the question that had never really been anything more than a statement of known fact. “You look like my bitch like this,” he continued, straightening up and smoothing a hand down Mickey’s spine again before gripping his cock by the base and moving it back to Mickey’s hole, “You’re so desperate for it, Mick, so fucking desperate.”

Mickey moaned low and needy when Ian finally pressed into him fully in one slow slide. And once he was in, Ian just stilled, let Mickey squirm on his cock, trying to press back or forwards, trying to do something against the iron grip Ian had on his hips.

Mickey’s skin was flushed pink, bruises already blooming on his hips right underneath Ian’s hands and it was easily one of the best things that Ian had ever seen.

“Did you think of this when you were fucking him?” Ian asked, his fingers flexing on Mickey’s skin, fingernails biting in and Mickey made a sound like it had been punched out of him when Ian slowly rotated his hips. “Did you crave this, want this when you were fucking him?”

He punctuated his words with a sudden slam into Mickey, pulling Mickey’s hips back to meet his forcefully as he pushed in again. Mickey barked out a noise that Ian had never heard him make before, biting down on his forearm again almost immediately.

“Tell me you thought of this, Mick,” Ian instructed, not really expecting any sort of verbal answer. But then he’d gotten all too good at reading Mickey’s body language. “Tell me you had to think of my cock inside you to get off.”

He barely heard the ground out, “Yes,” that Mickey mumbled into his own flesh, but it was like it opened up the floodgates inside of Ian, because the moment he heard just that one word his hips were moving. He fucked into Mickey hard enough that ever thrust sent them both jolting forwards, but Mickey met him thrust for thrust, just like he always did, eagerly pushing backwards to meet each one.

Ian bit at Mickey’s shoulder, sucked more marks to the surface on his skin before finally just pressed his forehead into the back of Mickey’s sweaty neck and resting there as his lower half jackhammered into Mickey with more force than Ian knew he was capable of.

Neither of them lasted long really. How could they have done; but still it was a surprise when they came, both toppling over the edge almost simultaneously. Ian’s orgasm seemed to creep up on him and then slam into him with the force of a truck, making his hips stutter even as Mickey’s internal muscles gripped him tight. The ex-con came untouched, both of their low groans seeming to merge into one sound.

Both of them sagged forwards like puppets with their strings cut, slumping against the counter with Ian’s softening cock still buried inside of Mickey’s ass and the rest of his body still plastered against Mickey’s bare back. He didn’t have the energy to move right then and honestly it didn’t seem like Mickey had the energy to tell him to fuck off.

Mickey was the first one to make a sound, laughing deep in his throat in a way that sounded so completely fucked out and sexy that Ian’s cock made a valiant attempt to get interested. “Damn Firecrotch,” he breathed out on a laugh, turning his head slightly to look at Ian out of the corner of one eye, a lazy smirk twisting his lips, “You need to get jealous more fucking often.”