Chapter Text
Mickey stared at Ian in shock as he spoke, his eyes wide.
“What the fuck is that asshole’s problem?” he growled once Ian had finished. “I’m gonna kick his ass.”
Ian had hopped on the L and headed down to the Southside after school to meet up with Mickey, who picked him up at the station. Mickey had said that he had a lot of work to do that day, but had clearly picked up on Ian’s nervousness as he had said that Ian could tag along. That was how ended up in Mickey’s car, driving along to a deal. He simply couldn’t have told Mickey all over that by text or even over the phone.
“You can’t,” Ian replied. “If I thought that wouldn’t end with me going back to England, I’d happily join you.”
Mickey sighed. “That asshole should be grateful he doesn’t know who I am or I’d have reason to kick his ass anyway,” he paused before adding menacingly. “Or worse.”
The idea that Mickey would happily throw Ian under the bus like that sat badly with him, but he knew that there was no point in saying anything about it. Mickey wasn’t going to change his mind about any of it, Ian knew that.
“Do you think he’ll tell on me?” Ian asked nervously. “I know you’re ok but I’m still in the shit.”
“Nah, he likes you, right? He knows you might have to go back or get moved to a different place or something if he does,” he replied.
“You think?” he sighed. “But still, I don’t want him fucking…after me all the time.”
Mickey narrowed his eyes a little. “Why not? It’d be convenient, wouldn’t it? Same house and everything.”
“Don’t you remember the whole conversation I had with you yesterday?” Ian retorted.
“Yeah, I’m just saying is all,” he replied, shrugging.
“It’s not going to happen,” he said resolutely.
Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck off with that shit. I don’t care what you do.”
“Yeah,” Ian muttered, “you’ve said.”
Mickey didn’t bother replying to that, instead, changing the topic. “Wanna fuck?”
The redhead blinked in shock. “Uh, don’t you have a deal to do?”
“After that, idiot,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“Of course,” Ian said before he could think better of it and try to play it cool.
Thankfully, Mickey didn’t tease him about it. In fact, he didn’t reply at all as his ‘client’ came and Ian was left alone in the car. He didn’t want to watch the deal too closely, but he couldn’t help but find it interesting to see how Mickey’s entire demeanour changed. He stood taller and his gait became an exaggerated swagger. Watching it from afar as Ian was, he would have found it funny if it wasn’t also weirdly hot. The idea that he got to bend someone so obviously intimidating over on a regular basis did something for him. The fact that he’d be doing it again in not too long only added to it, and Ian soon found himself shifting in his seat in anticipation.
It didn’t take Mickey long to finish up with his deal, and Ian watched him walk back to the car with an eagerness that he hoped didn’t show on his face.
“All good?” Ian asked.
Mickey shrugged perfunctorily. “Got my money.”
“That’s the main thing,” he replied, feeling a little awkward.
“Come on,” the drug dealer replied, starting up the car.
They settled into that familiar wait as Mickey drove around to find somewhere secluded to park. Ian struggled not to let his leg jig up and down. There should be no reason for him to feel nervous given how many times they’d done this before, but he still felt it. The constant need to measure up to some shadowy ideal had not yet left him.
Mickey didn’t bother speaking to him, and so Ian didn’t break the silence either - not wanting to look desperate. The only noise to be heard was the radio and the sound of the Southside going about its business outside. Ian looked out at the sprawling cityscape again, imagining a life where he had grown up there. Would it have been very different to his life? Would he have ended up as a very different person as a result? Thoughts on that topic kept him occupied until Mickey finally reached his destination, one that they had used the very first time that they had fucked in his car.
“You waiting for a fucking invitation or what?” Mickey huffed.
Ian rolled his eyes slightly but dutifully climbed into the back of the car, beginning to strip while he waited for Mickey to follow. They never got out of the car to get to the back, as if leaving the vehicle would break the delicate spell between them. So Mickey followed behind him, and they met in the back seat. By now, their bodies had grown accustomed to each other, and even in the cramped space, they had no trouble with getting things started.
He shoved his hand into Mickey’s trousers, not even able to wait until the drug dealer had taken them off. Mickey was hard already and gasped against him when Ian began to stroke him. Lazily, Ian ground down onto Mickey’s hip, dull pleasure coursing through him as he mouthed at Mickey’s shoulder.
“Jeez,” the American panted, “lemme get these off.”
Ian grunted. “Can’t wait that long.”
“Fuck,” Mickey whined. “Need you to fuck me. Can’t handle this teasing shit.”
“Need it, huh?” he couldn’t help but reply teasingly.
“Shut up,” he grunted, and Ian could make out a blush colouring his cheeks.
Ian decided not to press the issue, instead focusing on getting things moving. Mickey had taken to keeping a bottle of lube in the back for convenience, which Ian was forever grateful for. He squeezed a decent amount onto his fingers, rubbing them together a little to warm them up so Mickey didn’t curse him out.
While Ian felt a lot more confident with what he was doing and his ability to make Mickey feel good, he still felt his heart racing with nerves as he began to work him open with his fingers. Mickey was panting lightly, a noise that Ian was certain the American wouldn’t have let him hear when they had first started this. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to himself to make Mickey really moan, and he felt almost dizzy with even the small progress.
“You ready?” Ian asked though it was hardly necessary.
Mickey writhed impatiently under him. “You know I am, asshole! The fuck are you waiting around for?”
He chuckled. “Just wanted to be sure.”
The American growled under his breath but didn’t reply.
Despite his love of teasing Mickey, Ian wasted no time pushing into him. He had been waiting for this since he had seen the new side to Mickey. Idly, he wondered what Mickey’s ‘clients’ would think if they knew that he was being bent practically double and fucked right now.
“Better?” Ian asked rhetorically, his lips pressed against Mickey’s ear.
“F-fuck,” he groaned, gripping Ian’s shoulders tightly.
He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
The car rocked slightly under them as Ian really let himself go. At long last, he wasn’t worrying about anything. Not Grayson, not his family’s financial situation, not his ill-fated feelings for Mickey - none of it. He pressed his lips to Mickey’s collarbone, running his tongue over the skin and Mickey writhed under him.
“Do it,” Mickey gasped.
“Do what?” Ian asked, genuinely confused as he slowed his thrusts to a slow grind.
“You know what!” he growled, digging his fingers into the muscle of Ian’s back.
“No, I don’t,” he replied before pushing it just that bit further. “Use your words.”
Mickey growled and Ian was just about to drop the subject and get back to it when he finally spoke. “Want you to…fuck! Just mark me, bite me - whatever!”
Ian’s heart skipped in his chest at the admission. “You want my lips on you?”
“Don’t put it like that,” he huffed, but when Ian made no move, he continued. “Yes, I want it.”
Ian didn’t press the issue further, not wanting to make Mickey back down entirely. Mickey let out a moan, arching up into him ever so slightly. Ian revelled in it, holding his hips that much tighter as he pounded into him.
He sealed his lips onto Mickey’s neck a little more cruelly than he should have, perhaps, but Ian was taking the opportunity for what it was worth. Mickey didn’t seem to mind it either thankfully, washing away any guilt that he might have felt about it. Ian didn’t spare a thought for whether Mickey would be able to cover it or not. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he didn’t care.
“Oh, fuck!” Mickey cried out, writhing under him desperately. “I can’t-”
“What do you need?” Ian asked, lavishing kisses along Mickey’s neck and shoulder - taking what he could get greedily. “Tell me.”
“I’m so close. Gotta come,” he replied breathily.
“I can do that for you,” the redhead assured him, the grip on Mickey’s thighs tight.
Mickey always wanted it rough and Ian was happy to give it to him. Somewhere deep inside him, there was the urge to be gentle, to make Mickey feel good from caresses, but he pushed that aside. Now wasn’t the time. Mickey was practically trembling under him and the threat of his own orgasm wasn’t something that he could hold back for too much longer. He was simply too worked up to keep it up.
“Touch me,” Mickey begged and Ian was all too happy to oblige.
It took a little adjustment to get his hand around Mickey’s cock again. When he did, Ian could feel just how hard and straining he was against his palm. Like he was ready to explode at any moment. Thankfully for Ian, it didn’t take Mickey long to come so he was able to follow behind with no guilt.
He shook violently as he came, his hips stuttering against Mickey’s as he made sure to keep stroking until the American writhed at the overstimulation as he wanted to make that he had wrung out Mickey’s orgasm as much as possible.
“Fuck!” Ian grunted, dipping his head against Mickey’s for a moment.
Ian ached to kiss him. It was simple, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. Nervously slow, he leaned down to kiss him. There wasn’t much distance between them, but clearly, Mickey’s reflexes were good as he had time to slap a hand over Ian’s mouth roughly.
“The fuck are you thinking?” he admonished roughly.
Ian sat back, heart pounding with embarrassment. “Sorry!”
Mickey let out a long breath, sitting up on his elbows to look at him. “Did I tire you out?” he teased, seeming almost pathological in his need to brush over what had just happened.
Ian huffed, struggling not to let the hurt show on his face. “Fuck off. I’m fine.”
“Well, ya look pretty done,” Mickey retorted.
The redhead rolled his eyes. “Well, you weren’t doing anything.”
“Don’t need to,” Mickey replied, sitting up properly and making a grab for his clothes.
Ian followed suit reluctantly, knowing that his time with Mickey was coming to an end. He might be able to convince the American to get some food afterwards, but that was it. The worst part of all of this was that he couldn’t even hang out with Mickey like a friend. Whatever it was that they were, they weren’t friends.
“You hungry?” Mickey asked once they had both gotten back in the front, the windows down to dispel the smell of sex in the car.
Ian smiled to himself. “What’s it the Americans say? Oh yeah, I could eat.”
Mickey snorted as he turned the ignition key. “Dumbass.”
“What? I’m hungry,” he replied.
“Well, you’re paying for it,” the drug dealer said.
“Sure, I’ve got money now,” Ian said easily. “Babysitting rich kids is a good side hustle.”
“Not as good as slinging drugs,” Mickey pointed out.
“Well, I know that but I don’t think you want me working with you,” he joked.
“I’d wanna see you fucking try,” the drug dealer laughed.
“You know I used to help my brother sell weed,” Ian protested. “So I have done it before, you know.”
Mickey chuckled. “Damn, I really wish I coulda seen that!”
Ian rolled his eyes. “I was fine.”
Ian neglected to mention that he had barely done anything and had mostly been extra hands to carry the weed. It would have ruined the point that he was trying to make anyway. He hadn’t even been there was extra muscle since Lip had always been more than capable of handling himself.
“Hey,” Ian continued, “all I care about is having enough money to send some back to my family.”
Mickey nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”
They continued to chat about random topics as Mickey drove to the, by now, familiar McDonald’s. Ian wanted to bring up Grayson again, though he wasn’t even sure himself what he wanted to say. Maybe all he wanted was for Mickey to have the reaction to everything that had happened that he had expected him to.
He had to admit, at least to himself, that he had wanted Mickey to be jealous. It was a ridiculous thought because of course because it was obvious that he didn’t give a fuck who Ian slept with. That much was clear with how disgusting he seemed to find the thought of even kissing him. The logic of it all was more than a bit ridiculous to Ian. He’d let Ian’s dick inside of him but wouldn’t kiss him? How did that make sense?
“What are you going to do after this?” Ian asked once they had pulled through the drive-through.
“Sell more drugs,” Mickey said, the ‘obviously’ was implied.
Ian nodded to himself. “I am sorry about everything Grayson.”
“Nah,” he snorted, “that shit’s your problem, not mine.”
He winced. “Yeah, of course.”