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It's Just Family Business

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It’s Just Family Business
A Shameless (Gallavich) & Red Canyon’s Mac
Chapter 1-Busted

Mickey paced around the Milkovich house in full panic mode. Normally he didn’t panic, he didn’t get stressed out about much, save for one thing; Ian Gallagher. The red headed, green eyed, 9 inch cock wielding bastard had him freaking the fuck out. It wasn’t Ian’s fault someone gave him up to Chicago ATF, someone narked on him on his last meth run and it was only a matter of time before they were knocking at his door.

Doing the time was no problem, thanks to the legend that was Terry Milkovich, lock up was a non issue. They had protection for years in that place, high ranking status that extended to all members of the Milkovich clan, Mandy included. They had a kick ass lawyer on retainer, so his time would get cut nearly in half, a few months at minimum. The nark would also get taken care of, as was demanded and required of all pussy ass narks. Snitches got stiches.

The only problem he had was Ian. There was no way he could leave him alone for months. They had been through some rough shit, him being in the closet, marrying a whore and having a kid. Then Ian’s Army stint which fucked up his life and Ian was currently hiding from the MP's. Added the bipolar disorder and it was a full on shit show, one he wouldn’t leave Ian to drown in alone. When it came to the ginger, he trusted no one. Not even his closest family.

Mickey knew who he needed to call. There was one person that could offer him full protection and actually fuckin mean it. But this call was only made in emergency situations; like now. Mickey tapped his cell on the side of his thigh, preparing for that damned call. One that would leave him rattled, pissed off but calm, he wouldn’t have to worry. Now if he could only find the balls to call.

“Mick?” Ian said his name softly.

Mickey looked up to see his whole world perched on the side of a busted, rotting couch. Looking all perfect like, like their lives weren’t about to be upturned in an instant when shit went down. Ian still had the most confidence he’d ever seen in a person. Such high hopes and good ideas, even if they didn’t make sense at the time. Ian was always positive, too positive…. until he wasn’t.

“What is it my little cherry?” Mickey controlled the worry in his voice. No reason to bust Ian’s happy bubble.

But Ian didn’t even know what to say. What to offer. Or even why he said his boyfriends name in the first place. He just wanted to let Mickey know he was here. Ian opened his mouth, but nothing came out and from Mickey’s look, he understood completely.

Mickey smiled, maybe for the first time that whole day and walked to Ian. He pulled him close to his body, red head laying on his chest. Ian turned his face into his neck to smell him like he always did. He kissed the top of Ian’s head and smoothed a gentle hand up and down his side.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll work out.” Mickey promised and meant it. It would all work out because it had to. There was no other choice.

“Will he be mad if you call him?”

“Dunno, been awhile since anyone asked him for anything. With good reason too. He can be mean as a damn snake.”

He felt Ian shiver at his words and held him tighter, his hand moving up to grip his blazing hair, pulling it lightly. “Don’t you worry about it. I’ll handle shit okay?”

Ian nodded but wormed his way closer until his arms hugged Mickey close, the couch squeaked under the weight. “I’m not worried about him being mean. I’m just gonna miss you so fuckin much.”

Mickey’s heart clenched tightly, swelling from the amount of love and joy Ian provided him with. Love really did hurt. No one had ever been so worried over him, no one missed him like this.
No one except Ian.

“M' gonna miss you too little cherry. But it won’t be for long okay?” Ian nodded quickly. “We’ll get you settled, and you’ll find something wonderful to pass the time and I’ll be out before you know it.”


Mickey pulled his hair until he could see those green eyes. “Of fuckin course Ian. You’ll hardly know I’m gone.” He offered his best smile, both knowing it was bullshit and he stepped away from Ian, grabbing his smokes and headed outside to make the damn call. He sat on the steps, lit a smoke and dialed the damn number.

He waited until the fake answering machine kicked on and hung up the phone, as was required. Seconds later, his phone rang and handled his shit like a Milkovich would.

“The fuck is this?” a pissed off grumbled voice barked into the phone.

Mickey smiled as he shook his head. Mean as a damn snake. “It’s Mick.”

The laughing on the other end was a decent sign. “Been awhile since ya called Mick. How the fuck you been?”

“Been doin good. Doin my damn job if that’s what you’re getting at.” He barked back, he needed to hold his own.

“Calm the fuck down Mick. I know you been doin yer job. I’m your fuckin boss remember? All shit goes through me.”

And it did too, all shit went through him. Mickey only pushed the meth around, sold to a list of high up dealers, suppliers that extended their reach in Chicago. Meth Kings as Iggy would say and nothing, nothing went unnoticed around HIM. He knew everything good and bad before it happened.

“Not this shit Uncle Mac.” Mickey blew out the smoke in his lungs, trying to find some sort of control. He was going to start losin hair if he kept stressin this much.

“What I tell ya about that Uncle Mac shit Mick?” He growled into the phone. “Sounds like some special at McDonald’s or some shit. Don’t fuckin call me that.”

Despite his shit mood, Mickey laughed into the phone. His uncle Mac was one of a kind. His mothers only brother, the one person who went out of his way to be apart of their lives because they were his sisters kids and Mac loved his sister more than anything. It wasn’t until after she died that Mac went off the deep end in the worst ways. Drugs, organized crime, assault with deadly weapons, were only naming a few. He had a rap sheet as long as he was tall.

Mac was something else now, something dangerous. Dangerous in a way that even the Milkovich clan treaded lightly while workin for him. It wasn’t like it was with Terry. Mac knew what the hell he was doing and after Terry died, Mac told them they were done with that school yard bullshit. If they were gonna do illegal shit, it was gonna be HIS shit and Mickey was his favorite.

His most recent crime, last 15 years recent, he was the Meth King. Based out of bum fuck Utah, middle of fuckin nowhere but Mac insisted it be in Utah. No one argued with Mac. Ever.

“Always gonna call you Uncle Mac. We been through this shit for years.” Mickey grinned when Mac grunted into the phone.

“Don’t fuckin like it.”

“I seem to remember how well you liked it when I was riding that dick.” Mickey grinned at Mac's sharp intake of breath, he’d surprised him. “Ain’t that right…Uncle Mac?”

Mac let out a menacing growl. “Listen here you little cock slut, I told ya about that “uncle Mac” shit and if ya ain’t got my dick up your ass I don’t wanna fuckin hear it.”

Mickey couldn’t help the way his body reacted. Shit hadn’t always been this way with Mac. But something changed between them and they hadn’t questioned it. They’d been fuckin for years now. Whenever the time was right for both of them, they fucked like there was no tomorrow. But it had been a long ass time since he had a dose of Uncle Mac and his body was very aware of this little fact.

He was due for a fix soon. Mac calling him a cock slut nearly caused him to nut his boxers in an instant. He missed the brutal sex between them. Damn near deadly but so fucking good. It hurt in the best ways and always left him needy for more. Cock slut was the perfect word for him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mickey said after a moment of Mac fucking him inside his mind. “I fuckin heard you.”

“Good. Now why the fuck are you callin me? Hmm? You know I don’t have time for this shit.”

“I know Mac, but I need a favor. Someone narked on me on that last run.” He admitted with shame. Failing Mac was unacceptable to him.

“God fucking damn it!” Mac growled.

Mickey could hear shit banging around over the phone and could imagine Mac kickin shit around, embracing his inner tornado. Out of all the Milkovich family, Mickey was the only who never got caught. Never. Because Mac taught him personally and he wouldn’t waste those skills. Only reason for him getting caught was someone didn’t do their job.

“The fuck happened?”

“Look out didn’t do his fuckin job and some prick saw me at the exchange.”

“Those motherfuckers!” Mac yelled at everyone and no one. “How long ya get?”

“Fuck if I know. They aint got me yet but it’s only a matter of time. Heard talk down the vine they are comin tomorrow at the latest.”

“They are so fuckin dead for this shit Mick.”

Mickey grinned. Mac was a badass fucker, but he had a soft spot; him. Mac wasn’t an emotional guy by any means, but he got murderous when people messed with his nephew. “I’ll know more tomorrow but Mallory said she could guarantee a month at least. No more than two.”

“Still took fuckin long. I need your ass out there pushin my shit not holed up for a month.”

“Best she can do. Better than a few years. And I can still work it inside while the others take over for me.”

“The fuck it’s the best she can do! For what I pay that cunt she should be able to fuck whoever needs ta be fucked and get your ass out of there by the end of the week.”

Another shiver took ahold of him. It shouldn’t please him so much how Mac was acting. But fuck if it wasn’t sexy. It had him hard and aching just thinking about it. He really wished he could tell Mac in person and be the brunt of his rage and anger…he’d walked crooked for a month.

“Fuck…tone that shit down Uncle Mac.” He tried to sound irritated, but it didn’t come out that way and Mac caught on quick.

“Someone needs a dick, don’t ya?” Mac chuckled, something only Mickey could bring out of him. “Is that the favor Mick? Ya need to get dicked before ya go inside?”

“Fuck you is what the favor is!” He bit back, sexually frustrated and stressed to the max. “No, that aint the fuckin favor. I’m sendin ya somethin to keep safe for me while I’m gone.”

“Safe, me? Since when the fuck am I safe Mick?” Mac huffed. “What’s so damn important that your crew can’t manage?”

Mickey stood and started to pace the front walkway. Talking to Mac did too many things to his body, he couldn’t handle it. “Don't got time to get into it. Just know it’s important and you need to keep it safe.”

He watched a stolen car pull up outside and Mandy and Iggy walked towards him. He offered them only a nod and wiggled the phone. Mandy's mouth parted in shock, and Iggy just stood there stone faced as all hell. Even they knew better than to talk to Mac directly. Their Uncle didn’t do that shit with them. Only with him.

“And what the fuck do I get outta this, hmm?”

Mickey grinned. He didn’t wan to tell Mac that he was sending an actual person, a person that even killer Mac couldn’t say no to. Ian was just Mac's type. He had a thing for red haired little twinks and Ian was just that. The sexiest guy he’d ever laid eyes on.

Ian had heard the Mac stories over the years. Mostly bad ones from his siblings, only good ones came from him. Ian even knew of their little fucked up sexual relationship. The only one who knew about it. He figured the moment Ian knew about him fucking his meth cookin uncle that he would dip out, leave them. He didn’t expect Ian to ask about details and shit. Ian got off on it. Like he REALLY did.

“The prize I’m sending is for your pleasure of course. What’s mine is yours, but I’m warning you Mac, take good care of my shit.”

Mac laughed, a dangerous sound. “This better be good for ya to threaten me Mikhailo. If it was anyone else, your guts would be all over my cave.”

The Cave…one of Mickey’s favorite places in the whole fucking world.

“It is important Uncle Mac. I’ll send it tonight, it’ll arrive at the Luna Mesa for you with a big red bow.” He grinned as said bow opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “I’ll message you the info and shit.”

“Fuckin fine. I’ll take care of your cryptic ass shit. Just handle this shit Mick. They got nothin on ya without a damn witness. Make sure they don’t have one.”

Ian smiled down at him, such a sweet loving smile that heated Mickey up to the point he would boil over. No one had ever looked at him the way Ian did. Not even Mac. Mickey smiled back and held a finger out, just one minute.

“It’s being handled. Just countin down the time. Thanks again for this.”

“Didn’t gimme a choice ya little shit.”

Mickey grinned. “Nope, I sure didn’t.”

He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Those conversations always went different than they shit he concocted in his mind. Mandy and Iggy gave him hopeful looks to which he only nodded. They didn’t need the details because they already knew.

“Mac's on board.”

Iggy whistled. “Don’t know how you do that Mick. Uncle Mac never answers for us.”

Mickey shared a smile with Ian. “I don’t do shit Igg, it’s just the way it’s always been. You guys handle the little nark yet?”

Mandy nodded and linked arms with her brother. Just because they had shit handled didn’t mean it didn’t take its toll on them all. “Jaime and Joey, have it handled. Didn’t take much muscle to figure out who squealed. They are takin care of it as we speak.”

If anyone knew how to handle snitches it was Jaime and Joey. They would get that shit handled before it got too bad. Keep that little pussy from getting Mickey on serious charges instead of just hearsay. Like Mac said, no witness no crime.

“You okay?”

Mickey walked up the steps and pulled Ian down by the back of his neck, leaning their heads together. Calm is what Ian brought him. Just touching him made everything seem less bad. “M' okay. Just tryin to get shit squared away.” He heard Mandy and Iggy shift behind him, obviously uncomfortable with his PDA but he didn't care at the moment. He needed to be close to Ian.

Ian nodded and pulled Mickey closer by his hips, slowly rubbing his thumb against soft skin as his shirt shifted. “Mac really okay with me stayin there?”

Mickey pulled back and interlaced their hands as he lead them to the door, away from Iggy and Mandy. “C’mon.” Ian followed him into his room and shut the door. “I didn’t exactly tell him you were coming. I said I needed him to keep something safe for me.”

“Why not just tell him?” Ian asked and leaned back on Mickey’s bed.

“Because Mac isn’t a people person Ian. He’d say no in a damn heartbeat and I need him to do this for me.” He ran a hand through his hair as he paced the floor. “I can’t leave you here with all this ATF shit goin on. Last thing I want is for them to use you to get to me.”

Ian scuffed. “I’m not a rat Mick.”

“I know that, okay?” he grumbled, trying hard no to get worked up but fuck this was stressful. “I know but those fuckers threaten people using other people and you got a whole clan worth of Gallagher fuck-ups at home.”

Ian chuckled. “You might be right about that. I just don’t want him to freak out on me the whole time.”

Mickey groaned. Mac would freak out alright. He would be a flaming ball of pissed the fuck off. Having to babysit Ian for lack of a better word. At least for a month Ian would be under Mac's protection and control. He would be under Mac literally, within a day, no doubt and Mickey did not like to share what was his, Mac was the only exception.

“He’s probably gonna be workin the whole time. You’ll have the place to yourself, nice little town too.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Town? I’m a city boy Mick. I’ll go crazy with nothing to do.”

“Just work with me Ian. I’m not gonna be at club Fed either. I’ll be in an ugly yellow jumpsuit in that shit hole. You get to have the run of the town lookin the way you do.”

Ian would no doubt be the highlight of Caineville, Utah. A sexy thing like Ian in a town like that… everyone would want a piece. He could have anything he wanted. But wouldn’t if Mac was actually gonna be around.

Ian smiled. “I guess it won’t be too bad.”

“No, it won’t. You leave tonight though. Don’t want to wait around for those fuckers to show up. Mandy will get a plane ticket and a bus ride to Caineville.”

Ian pouted. He didn’t want to leave tonight. It was too soon. But Mickey was right. He needed to get out before shit went down. With a huff, Ian sat up and swung his legs off the bed, pulling Mickey by his belt loops until he was able to touch him.

“Fine. Tonight it is.” He slid his hands up Mickey’s shirt to touch all that smooth skin. “Goin to bum fuck nowhere.”

“Won’t be so bad. Just meet Mac at Luna Mesa, the only bar in that shithole.” he sighed happily at Ian’s touch.

Ian nodded and yanked on the shirt which Mickey took the hint and shrugged it off. He kissed over the lean muscles of Mickey’s body, trying to memorize every dip and curve. “Do I get to know what he looks like?”

Mickey groaned eagerly as Ian’s mouth moved against him. Biting lightly and sucking at his skin. Those large hands he loved moved up his back, scraping nails against his skin and moving down to squeeze his ass.

“He will be easy to see.” He replied distracted.

“Tell me again about when he fucked you for the first time.” Ian said between kisses, going lower with each one. He licked a line from hip to hip and grinned at Mickey’s reaction.

“I’ve told you a million times…” he threaded his hands through Ian’s hair and pulled his face closer to his dick.

Ian quickly unbuckled Mickey’s belt, popped the button and slid his jeans and boxers to the floor. Mickey’s cock sprang out, rubbing wetly across his lips. “Tell me while I suck you off.”

There was no way he could say no as Ian’s tongue lapped at him. He closed his eyes as Ian’s mouth opened wide and sucked him down. If Ian wanted to hear about his uncle fucking him within an inch of his life as he sucked his dick…who was he to say no?

Chapter Text

Ian dropped his rucksack on the floor of the airport with a heavy thud. A month plus worth of clothes and shit to keep him occupied…for about an hour. He would need a dump truck of shit to last an entire month in the middle of nowhere with the Milkovich Uncle’s attitude. Great, just great. The only reason he was doing this, stood nervously in front of him.

Mickey was quieter than his usual grumpy self. And Ian knew he was stressed. Not about jail though. That never scared him. Mickey was afraid for him. The thought that this drug pushing, law breaking thug of a man was afraid for him, made his heart pound so fast he thought it might pull a Bugs Bunny and thump right out of his chest.

“You have your ticket?” Mickey asked as he ran his hair through his hair for the millionth time. “Meds, phone, wallet?” he asked rapidly, not pausing for Ian to answer.

Ian smiled fondly and put both hands on Mickey’s shoulders, squeezing until his shoulders sagged. “Baby, I got everything I need. Except you.”

Mickey looked at him with big doe eyes, like Ian hung the moon and stars and told the sun to rise every day just for him. In ten words or less, Ian managed to take away most of his anxiety, allowing him to take a deep breath. “M' okay. Just hate this shit.”

Ian pulled Mickey close, wrapping his long arms around Mickey’s body, hugging him close. One hand moved to his dark hair and Ian buries his nose in it, taking a deep breath. “Me too baby.
Me too.”

“Just follow his lead okay? Mac's a good…. well, he’s Mac. Not gonna lie and say he’s a good guy but he’s family.” That word explained just about everything for Ian. “Just keep out of trouble.”

“South Side, remember?”

Mickey huffed out a nervous laugh as his hands smoothed up Ian’s back, trying to calm himself. “Mac is more extreme then any South Side hood rat Ian. Don’t try to compare cuz you won’t find anything worse.”

Mickey wasn’t trying to freak him out on purpose, but it was working. The stories of Uncle Mac were legendary. Like horror stories passed down from one generation to the next around a big campfire. Mac being the Boogie Man, not the hero who saves people. Mickey knew Mac better than anyone and if he was warning him what to do or not to do, Ian would listen.

“I’ll follow his lead Mick. Don’t worry about me.” He pulled back and rested their heads together. His hands moved to cup Mickey’s face, smoothing out the lines of worry. “Just handle this shit so I can come home to you.”

The words had Mickey surging up for a kiss, locking their lips as if the kiss was their last. Ian groaned and angled Mickey’s head for a better angle while Mickey probed Ian’s lips with his tongue. They knew each other so well by this point, their bodies didn’t need direction, they just flowed together.

“Flight 180 to Salt Lake City now boarding…”

The kiss broke apart, leaving them needy, moaning messes. Ian kissed him once more, savoring the taste of his boyfriend before he grabbed his bag and slung it around his back. “Be good in there Mick. Don’t get anymore time.”

Mickey looked like a lost puppy. Eyes moist and sad, that beautiful smile no longer present and it literally felt like Ian’s heart was being stepped on.

“I’ll be good Gallagher. You gotta be good too. Keep outta trouble and take your fuckin meds.” Mickey warned with heat in his voice but sadness in his eyes as Ian dethatched their laced hands after kissing each tattoo on his fingers.

“I will Mick. I love you.” Ian smiled as he back peddled towards security and check in. He would miss those blue eyes more and more each day.

“Love you too Cherry.” Mickey replied in a choked up voice.

The moment he saw a tear escape one blue eye, Ian had to turn away. The need to pack up and leave with Mickey would only get stronger the more he was forced to watch him cry. Mandy always said beautiful people shouldn’t cry…she was right.

So, he walked away. On full autopilot. Bag check, security body check, ticket check. One foot in front of the other until the flight attendant lead him to his first class seat; Mickey’s non negotiable requirement. The flight itself was background noise. Buckle up, a little turbulence, the starry sky all around him. Why care about such a beautiful sight if you had no one to share it with?

He drank when it was offered, not caring one bit about his meds. The last thing he needed to worry about was his mental health. What about his actual health? Could people die from separation? He was sure they could. He didn’t touch the food placed in front of him and the only time he smiled was when he looked at pictures of them on his phone.

The flight was over in a flash. Ian marched along like a soldier, off the plane, grabbed his bag and looked for the nearest bus line. Caineville was about 4 hours from Salt Lake City, longer since he had to take a bus but what was the hurry? It’s not like Ian was excited to arrive, maybe if Mickey was with him. The bus arrived within the hour and Ian tossed his bag under the belly of the bus and stepped on.

Surprisingly, the bus was nearly full. It seemed as if each seat was already taken. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and slugged down the isle, dodging feet and bags, looking for a seat. The only one open had a rainbow backpack sitting it in. He looked at the woman leaned against the window wearing a pink tutu with black fishnet leggings, combat boots and a tight halter top that barely covered her chest.

To say she was pretty was like saying Mickey was pretty. That word wasn’t strong enough to describe either of them. She was like Mickey; beautiful. Ian cleared his throat and the women glanced over, her eyes moving from his feet, then up the length of his body like fire. He blushed and gave a sweet smile.

“You mind?” he pointed to the seat. “S' the only one left.”

She smiled big and bright at him, tossing her bag to the floor and kicking it under the seat as she watched with hungry eyes. “Not at all gingerbread.”

Ian blushed again and took a seat. He was used to everyone hitting on him but there was something about her that made it different. Made his skin crawl in the best of ways. She almost reminded him of Mandy. Bold and beautiful and unashamed of what she wanted. Which was clearly him.

Ian had to spread his legs into the isle as the bus started their journey, too long to tuck between the seats. He tried to relax into the seat and try to get some rest, but he could feel her eyes on him. He opened his eyes and looked at her, a devious smile on her face.

“So, don’t see too many models like you out here. City boy for sure.”

Ian laughed for the first time since leaving the Milkovich house. “Right you are. From Chicago.”

“Big city. You must get lots of attention there huh?”

Ian shrugged, not one to brag. “I get enough. Not used to all this quiet for sure.”

“I’d like to say you’ll get used to it, but you won’t.” she winked at him. Unafraid to check out how utterly sexy this man was. “What brings you away from the Windy City?”

“Family drama.”

“But of course, what else is there.” She watched him shift in his seat and her eyes were drawn to his toned thighs. “I’m not gonna waste any time here, but fuck if you aren’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ian barked out a nervous laugh. Not uncomfortable like he normally would be with someone, a woman no less, hitting on him but she was so open and honest he couldn’t feel oddly about it. “Thank you.” He said quickly.

"You're gay, aren't you?" She smiled but shook her head. "All the good ones are gay."

Ian smiled as he got comfortable. "Bisexual actually."

She snorted next to him. “Oh yeah? Me too. Just passing along the compliment.” She held her hand out. “I’m Sammie by the way.”

He took her hand and gave her a warm smile. “Sammie, nice to meet you. I’m Ian. And since we are sharing, you are very beautiful as well.”

Sammie blushed a wonderfully pink color, almost the same shade as Mickey. Why did this woman remind him so much of Mickey and Mandy? It made it, so he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Something funny?”

He shook his head. “Nah, you just remind me of my boyfriend Mickey. He turns pink like that when he blushes too.”

“He sounds like a doll.” Sammie smiled.

“Oh, if only he could hear you call him that.” Ian snickered and could imagine Mickey’s pissed off face.

“Not a fan of pet names?”

“Not at all. He refuses to admit he likes it. He was neck deep in the closet for years but came out for me.” Ian’s heart skipped a beat at the memory from the Alibi. He’d never been more in love with that man until that night.

“Oh wow, he sounds like a keeper.”

“I plan on keepin him forever.”

Forever. That was a long ass time in the scheme of things. So what’s a month apart? Only one month and it would all blow away and he could go back home, back to Mickey.

“All the good ones are taken and gay.” Sammie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. “First ginger I see is taken. My luck is such a bitch.”

Ian chuckled. She was adorable. Little pouter. Maybe she was a Milkovich sibling after all. “You gonna be in the Caineville area at all?”

“Dunno yet. I kinda drift all over. Why?”

He shrugged. “New to the area and you seem cool. Maybe we could get together sometime.” He offered with a smile. A genuine smile.

Her smile brightened like a Christmas tree. “I would love that.”

From the way she shifted her eyes as he asked her that, he knew she wss running from something or someone. She just had that look. Maybe she was just like him. Trying to ghost something until the coast was cleared for her to come back. Maybe she had someone waiting for her as well. Either way, he already felt at home around her.

He handed her his phone and watched her smile and type her number into it before she passed it back. “I would too. Guess this place isn’t as bad as I thought.” He winked just to see the smile.

Sammie laughed and leaned her head onto Ian’s shoulder like they’d been besties since childhood. He just smiled and closed his eyes, letting his head lean on hers as he drifted off. It was fate to find that one person who reminded him of home, he wasn’t gonna let her go that easily. Their friendship was already a powerful one. One that might help him get through without Mickey.

Ian was jolted awake as the bus came to its very last stop of the night. After his newly acquired friend left, he had fallen asleep knowing his stop was the last one. He blinked slowly and nodded his thanks to the grouchy bus driver as he received his bag and took a look around.

Caineville, Utah… not much to say about it really. Desert, middle of nowhere. Too much dirt, not enough sounds. No rumbling of the L at all hours, no cars whizzing by at warp speed either. It was just quiet and dusty with a bar in the back drop like someone assembled the damn thing over night.

It looked more like a barn, beaten up with broken boards. A few shattered windows, peeling pain, the smell of wood rot and mildew filled the clean air around him. Beer signs that only glowed halfway and a surprisingly busy parking lot for it being so late.

Mickey did say there wasn’t much to do here, he didn’t say this was the ONLY thing to do and the town’s population lived there. He could almost guess there wasn’t any hotels, because really, who’d wanna stay here? Mac had a house or course, but he just felt odd staying there without knowing the guy.

The only thing he could do was hitch his bag tighter across his shoulder and make his way over to the bar. The noise was immediate, playing decent music that seemed to die down instantly when he walked inside. Music down and all unfocused eyes drifted towards him. He shifted at the door before walking towards the bar and took a seat.

An older man behind the bar, with curious but dangerous eyes looked him over before approaching. He could tell right off the bat that this place didn’t get new customers.

“Ain’t see you before boy.”

“Just got here.” Ian replied just as calm as the man had been.


Ian nodded and pulled out a ten dollar bill and set it down on the sticky bar top, hoping the stick was just food and alcohol. “Whiskey please.”

The man smiled and took the money as he made the drink without looking away. “What brings a pretty boy like you to town?” He set the drink down and cocked an eyebrow at him.

Ian swallowed the entire drink in one shot, letting it burn it’s way down his throat and the creepy man gave him a respectful smile. “Family business.”

“Family huh? I think I’d remember if someone that looked like you had family around here.”

What was this guys problem? He knew how bartenders were, but this guy was creepin him out. “Got a name?”

“Walter. You?”

“Ian Gallagher.”

Walter shook his head. “No Gallagher’s here of any kind.”

“No, there wouldn’t be.” Ian replied mostly to himself and after a moment, Walter helped another patron, leaving him alone to scope out the scene. Mickey said Mac would be here, but he didn’t give a description. Said he’d know when he saw him. Like he’d have a neon sign saying, “I’m Mac!” Not likely.

It was a typical bar filled with typical people. Most looked like older men, dressed in dirty jeans and heavy jackets, work boots scuffed and worn. Tired eyes, eyes that had seen too much.
Even the women looked the same. No slinky outfits or heels. But nothing stood out to him. He turned back in his seat and put both elbows on the bar, rubbing his tired eyes. Maybe he could ask the creepy fuck Walter.

Ian glanced down the bar to see Walter staring at him again. Just as he was about to raise his hand or call out, the drunk next to him moved and suddenly there were a blazing pair of blue eyes looking at him. Milkovich eyes. A little darker than Mickey’s but intense all the same. So intense that only looking into them for a minute sent waves of pleasure down his body, nailing him in his lower back. Ian was suddenly very close to orgasm.

He gasped and crossed his legs to ward it off and take a deep breath. If that was Mac, he was in deep shit. Ian glanced back but immediately looked away. Dark shaggy hair framed his dirty face, smeared with dirt and sweat, wearing a pair of dirty coveralls, work boots, a wife beater showing off his amazing shoulders and arms. This was Mac. Most definitely.

Chapter Text

Mac couldn’t tear his eyes away. Never had he stared at something so hard before that his brain hurt from too much concentration. Mick had said his package would arrive with a big red bow…the little fucker didn’t mention the bow was a head full of bright red hair attached to the sexiest thing he’d ever seen before.

Walter put another shot in front of him and Mac downed it without looking away from the red head. If he looked away, there was a chance he might not be there when he looked back. He was going to kill Mickey for damn sure. Who was this kid to Mickey? Friend, lover? And how the fuck did red warrant him for private security?

Growling at everything, Mac dug into his overalls for his cell and dialed Mickey. The red head hadn’t looked away, meeting his stare without fear because red had no idea who the fuck he was and why it was a bad idea to stare at him. The phone rang three times and when Mickey picked it up, he railroaded right over him.

“Are you out of yer god damned mind?!” He barked and took another shot.

Mickey laughed maniacally. “Don’t be salty Uncle Mac. I know you like him.”

“Take that Uncle Mac shit and go fuck yourself! Why the fuck didn’t you mention you were sending a whole fuckin person for me to watch? I ain’t a damn babysitter.”

“Because you’d have said no.”

“Fuckin right I would have! I got a business to run Mick. I can’t keep an eye on this asshole too.”

Mac dug back into his pocket for his little tin and rubbed a wet finger through it before applying it right on his gums, letting the meth soak into his body. He groaned as his anger recessed a little, but those green eyes were still looking at him, challenging him.

“You don’t gotta babysit Mac. He’s a big boy. Just let him crash with you and leave him be.”

“The fuck? Why can’t he stay at the hotel?”

Mickey scuffed. “Cuz that place is a dump and the opposite of safe. Just give him a damn room and he can take care of his own shit.”

There was no fucking way it was that simple. A whole month of his green eyed hussy lookin at him like this? Kid didn’t know shit about shit. He was too clean. He knew this kid was going to piss him off and be a fuck load of trouble. Not to mention he’d get in the way of his business, seeing shit he didn’t have any business seeing or hearing about. He didn’t need some asshole lookin over his shoulder.

“Yer an asshole Mick!”

Mickey laughed because he knew he’d won. “Thanks Mac. Don’t act like you aren’t already thinkin so much dirty shit though. I know he’s just your fuckin type, only way outta your league.” Mick knew him so fuckin well it was scary. From the moment he saw that hair and how little he was, Mac wanted to defile every inch of that pale skin. To put his mark all over him, to claim him as only he could. To see him broken and twisted for his pleasure only. He wanted to take this kid apart. And that fuckin scared him. Shit like that could get his ass into trouble.

But he needed to lock that needy shit down. This wasn’t him. Never had been, never would be. He didn’t pine over pretty fucks like this. He took people when he needed to get his dick wet or to feed his murderous appetite. He didn’t do the needy fuck thing. Only reason he was actin like this was because Mick had surprised him. That and the meth in his system was on low supply for his liking.

“Go fuck yourself Mick. I got work to do. Don’t need your boyfriend causin me trouble.” He glared at Walter until another shot magically appeared in front of him and lite a cigarette to help keep his hands busy.

“He won’t! He was born South Side Mac, none of that pussy shit. He knows how to handle shit like I do. Just fuckin take care of him for me.”

Oh, the things he did for his asshole of a nephew. “Fine bitch, I’ll keep his ass safe. But just so we are clear, I’m gonna be all over that cherry soon Mick.” It shouldn’t have made him growl when Mickey gave that sexual laugh only, he brought out of him but the power trip it made him feel was just as good as his meth was. Maybe better.

“Big ass push over. Uncle Mac, you’re goin soft on me.” Mickey teased. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Damn right it is and ya owe me. When yer out, yer comin to get him and that ass is mine.” He growled and gripped the phone hard. “Understand?”
Mickey groaned, his confidence flagged as he knew Mac wasn’t playing around one bit. “I understand perfectly Uncle Mac.”

“Don’t think just cuz he’s pretty and yer my nephew that I won’t fuckin end him if I see the need to. I won’t hesitate to take him out if he becomes too much trouble."

Mac ended the call and tossed the shot back. Between the meth running in his blood and the alcohol and the way those green eyes looked at him, he could barely remember where he was. As much as he wanted to turn red out, he needed to keep his shit together. There was something about this kid that scared him a little…something dangerous and unexplainable behind those seemingly interested eyes.

He stood up from the bar and realized he was hard and ready to fuck, pushing against the front of his clothes like a teenage boy and pushed his way past the others, growling and cursing like the asshole he was until he was facing to face with his latest victim.

Ian didn’t stand up as Mac approached him. It would leave him towering over the other man and Mac was already on edge, no need to push him over it with a seemingly innocent gesture that would no doubt turn violent within moments. He turned in his chair as Mac stopped in front of him, looking more menacing then he across the bar. If it weren’t for those blue eyes, Ian would call him heartless. But like his Mickey, something lurked within the oceans of their eyes, hiding some special part of themselves away for that certain person. He had unlocked Mickey’s, but he didn’t even know how to reach Mac's.

For whatever reason, Ian thought they’d talk. Share names and some sort of pleasantries. Just as Mickey did with Mac over the phone. They seemed friendly to an extent. That’s why when blue eyes glared at him like he was the anti-Christ and shoved past him, knocking into his shoulder so hard his bag dislodged from is arm, Ian was surprised. Did he follow? Did he stay and find a hotel? He knew Mickey must have spilled the beans because Mac had agreed to look after him, without knowing he was a person.

“Get a fuckin move on red!” Mac barked and kicked open the front door, not waiting if he came willingly or not.

Ian smirked for some reason, maybe the smile was from Mac acknowledging him, which was stupid. If he was looking for Mac's approval of him, he’d die waiting as Mandy had said. Mac didn’t approve of anyone or anything. The smirk dropped after Mandy appeared in his mind and he scrambled to follow Mac outside. It took him less than a second to spot Mac's beat up red truck, already pulling away. Seconds from hitting the dirt road.

Ian held onto the strap of his bag and took off, dodging potholes as Mac's truck started to roll off. That bastard was going to leave him! “Asshole.” He muttered before running full speed at the truck. His long legs ate up the distance and as Mac took off, he barely had enough time to toss his bag inside the bed of the truck before pulling himself in. Mac stepped on the gas, sending him head first into the dirty truck.

The road didn’t even out one bit as they pulled further away from the bar. Ian managed to kick aside an axe, sledgehammer and a dirty gas mask so he could lean against the side of the truck. He rubbed the sore spot on his head and one on his hip, he could already feel the bruises forming. Such a bitch move, taking off like that. Only it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. It was a very Mickey thing to do, only taken up a notch.

The drive was quiet, peaceful and he fucking hated it. Not enough sounds made him feel like he was the only one around. How did people live out here? Ian knew for sure if he didn’t find something to do, something would find him. It was very easy for him to get into trouble by himself, in the middle of nowhere and without Mickey as the buffer to protect him, to protect others against him. It was a nightmare.

He was jostled out of his darker thoughts as the truck came to a halting stop, throwing him forward once again. This time, his mouth hit the edge of the truck and he tasted blood. The moment his lip split, Ian was out of the truck before Mac could even open his door. He grabbed a fist full of dirty coveralls and used his height to his advantage and pushed Mac against the door of the truck, getting in his face, all 6 foot 1 of him.

“The fuck is your problem?!” Ian shouted into his face.

His blood was boiling over, and it didn’t help that Mac was smirking. It also didn’t take long for Mac to grab his wrist, twist it around his back as he kicked his legs out from under him. Ian hissed and fell hard into the truck, only giving him one arm to grab the window before he could fall to his knees.

Ian expected the rage inside Mac, Mickey, Many and Iggy said it was a guarantee. But what he didn’t expect was to feel Mac rock hard and pushed into his ass. His groan of pleasure was overtaken by one of pain as his arm was pushed between his shoulders at a sharp angle. Mac was hard, you couldn’t fake that. But pointing it out wasn’t smart either. He knew Mac fucked guys, Mickey especially but that didn’t mean Mac was gay.

“Only gonna say this one time you little bitch,” Mac growled into his ear, putting all his strength to keep reds giant ass pinned down. “The last thing you wanna do is fuck with me.”

“Fuck you!” Ian snarled back, half tempted to swing his free hand back and punch him right in the face. He would have too if that hand wasn’t the only thing keeping him standing.

Mac smirked, red was a feisty one, both a blessing and a curse. He gripped red hair and yanked it back hard. “If I decide to fuck ya, you won’t have a damn choice! I take what I want, from whoever I want and there is fuck all you can do about it.”

Ian knew that was true. But fuck, did it have to turn him on so much? What was with him liking violent, anger management ridden guys? He breathed deeply, trying to refrain from pushing his ass back, he wasn’t a bottom. Not even close. But the urge was there. Maybe it was just Mac.

“Go fuck yourself Mac.” Ian said calmly. He was South Side, he wouldn’t be threatened or conned into obedience by anyone. “I don’t need this shit. Mick aint my fuckin keeper and I’d rather stay in some flea bag motel then deal with your shit.”

It took Mac a minute to comprehend the words. People didn’t speak to him like that. No one. He’d never heard that shit before. It should have pissed him off and it did, to a point but the tone the kid used was absolute. He could either do three things; send his ass back to Chicago, beat the fuck of him or stay away.

Ian was released so fast he fell right to his knees, pain rippling up his thighs as rocks cut into his legs. The hit was expected, but never came. Instead, Ian could hear Mac retreating into the house and let out a deep breath if relief. He could hold his own, ROTC and being South Side assured that. But Mac was too extreme, Ian needed to feel him out first, test his limits. If he had any.

After a moment, he gripped the side of the truck and stood on aching legs. Ian grabbed his bag from the bed of the truck and touched his lip, his fingers coated in blood as he looked at them. It didn’t hurt, not really. He was used to fighting and bleeding, it felt normal. In fact, this moment, fighting with Mac was the most normal he’d felt since he left Chicago. He felt high, giddy. Like his insides were buzzing, shooting sparks down his body.

The grin stayed in place as he walked towards the house. It was an absolute piece of shit. Worse than Luna Mesa was. This place looked like a tornado blasted through it and this is what was left. The siding on the house was nearly gone. Wood rot was a definite, insulation poked out on some spots, the roof had a human sized hole, covered up with a blue tarp being held down by bricks. The fence around the shitty yard was made from barbed wire, making it look extra trashy. The gate barely held on by a hinge when he opened it.

But still, he felt right at home. It was worse than both the Gallagher house and the Milkovich house, but it reminded him of home. There was a shed halfway behind the house that looked better than the actual house. A broken down car laid in a heap to the side of it, parts strewn about. Ian could only imagine what the inside must look like.

The gate opened with a loud screech and he barely made it one step before a loud growling sound echoed around him. The flash of white teeth and dirty paws was all he could see as he cleared the rest of the broken, busted steps and yanked open the door. He pushed inside and slammed it behind him just as the massive dog used it’s body as a battering ram, jolting him against the door.

Ian plopped to the ground, hands in his hair as he breathed deeply. Of course Mac would have a dog just as mean as he is. A Gallagher could outrun anything. Loud footsteps stomped towards came towards him and Mac was looking down at him with a smirk. Figures, the one time Mac comes close to smiling is when his dog attacks someone. Viscous bastard…not the dog.

“Pussy.” Mac mumbled as he licked the grease from his fingers and looked down at the redhead. He looked a little worked over. Split lip, dirty hands and face. Tired eyes. Fucking pussy was what he was. No way he was from the South Side.

Ian knew Mac was trying to get a rise out of him. To piss him off. It wouldn’t work. A dog attack? Seriously? That was supposed to scare him? He had to live through a crazy mom, drunk dad/uncle, a dad that didn’t want him, 5 sibling/cousins which was fucking gross and weird. Not to mention all the shit Terry Milkovich put him and Mickey through. A little dog attack was like getting free ice cream.

Ian looked up into blue eyes and smiled. The smile lead to a giggle, then a full blown laugh within moments. His body ached, he had a splitting migraine and he was laughing his ass off. Mac stood above him and that nasty smirk fell into a confused scowl. Good. Mac needed to be kept on his toes.

“The fuck ya laughin at?” Mac barked, more pissed off than he’d been all day. This guy was fucking crazy.

Ian didn’t answer. He didn’t have the strength. He kicked off his scuffed shoes and tossed his heavy bag to the side so hard it bounced off the window sill. He rose up and stepped into Mac’s personal space and smirked at him. He didn’t miss the mean, surprised look on Mac’s face and didn’t stay to decipher it. He knocked his shoulder into Mac’s and walked off.

The first room was locked, probably Mac’s. Not that he didn’t want to see it, but not right now. The bathroom was what he was looking for. It was streaked with red clay and mud, dirty clothes stuffed behind the door. It didn’t bother him. Ian stepped in, kicked enough shit to be able to close the door and started the shower. It sputtered like it hadn’t been used in weeks, muddy water pouring out before it turned clear.

While it cleared and heated itself up, Ian leaned against the cluttered sink and dug into his jeans to find his phone. He’d missed a call from Mickey. Just his name flashing on the screen made him smile. It had only been 6 hours since he saw him but fuck, it felt like years. He quickly dialed the number after he pulled his shirt off and waited.

“Ian.” Mickey said his name in an exhale of relief. Just one word was everything.

Ian smiled because of hit, because he understood it. How someone saying just your name could mean so much. “Hey Mick.”

“I fuckin miss you.”

Ian’s heart pounded and a grin that was all for Mickey took over his face. Mickey never said shit like this. He just didn’t. “Miss you so fucking much.”

Mickey sighed heavily, a little less tense now. “Make it there okay?”

“Yeah, slept on the plane. Short bus trip but I met someone interesting.” He smirked, baiting his jealous boyfriend was a bad idea but he loved how Mickey responded.

“Fuckin really? 4 hours apart and you can’t control that ginger dick?” Mickey barked. “MY ginger dick I might add?!”

Ian felt his body heat up at Mickey’s claiming words. Mickey Milkovich had swooped in with those tattooed knuckles and baby blue eyes and claimed his ginger ass. “Jealous?” Ian asked as he popped the button on his jeans.

“What the fuck gave you that impression?” he barked sarcastically. “Nah, some asshole wants my mans dick but nope, not pissed or jealous.”


The words caressed his body in the best ways. Fuck, he needed to make Mickey jealous more often. “Easy grumpy face, it was a woman.”

Mickey snorted. “Wow, great! That makes it so much better.”

“Calm the fuck down.” Ian laughed. “She was nice, said I was hot, and she knows I’m taken.”

Mickey scuffed, less annoyed. “Don’t like it.”

“Not askin ya to. She was just nice Mick. That’s all. Reminded me of Mandy.”

Now Mickey chuckled. “Those words don’t work together Ian. Nice and Mandy?”

“True. But she was cool. That’s not what I’m having trouble with though.”

“Please don’t tell me those pricks at Luna Mesa are givin you shit.”

“Only one in particular.” Ian hinted and pulled his jeans all the way off. “He’s a prick.”

Mickey sighed, half in relief that it was only Mac givin him trouble, but sighed half in worry because it was Mac. “Yes, he is. It’ll get better. Not easier but you’ll learn to work around him.”

Yeah right, Ian thought as he put Mickey on speaker phone and stepped into the shower. It was clear and scalding hot, just what he needed. Let lag, plus cramped legs on the bus, then rough housing with Mac left him sore. He groaned deeply as the water relaxed his body.

“Ian, what are you doing?”

Ian smiled. “Takin a shower. M' body hurts.”

Mickey whispered fuck, so Ian could hear it. “Call me back then.”

He loved the way Mickey’s voice sounded just then. Trying so hard not to ask for what he wanted, what they both wanted. Because he was already hard. Mickey’s sexy jealousy got him every time. He leaned back against the wall, one foot planted on the side and ran a steady hand down his slick body.

“Don’t wanna call back.” He groaned lightly when he gripped his dick. “Wanna talk right now baby…”

Mickey groaned in response to Ian’s groan. “Ian, don’t fuckin tease me with this shit. You know how worked up I get.”

“M' not teasin Mick.” He hissed as he smeared pre-come down the length of his dick, making it glide perfectly into his fist. “Workin my dick right now, just remembering the way you taste.”

“Fuckk…” Mickey worked himself, trying to time it with Ian’s pants and moans. He could hear the sound of slick skin and pouring water. “Wanna fuckin be there.”

“Would ya get on your knees for me Mick?” Ian lowered his voice, so it sounded deeper, just how Mickey liked it.

“Oh yeah, only for you.” He closed his eyes and pumped faster. He could of practically feel Ian’s thick cock in his mouth, taking up all the space for him to breathe.

Ian panted heavily as he worked himself faster, up and down faster and harder with every word out of Mickey’s mouth, he got closer to that edge. “On your knees, lookin up at me with those pretty, pretty eyes.”

“Open my mouth wide to take that dick. Fuck Ian, your dick is huge!” Mickey closed his eyes and tried to pretend he could see it. His imagination was better than he thought because his body was desperate for it.

“Fuck, it’s all for your pleasure baby.” He panted hard. Hearing Mickey’s dirty talk was what pushed him close. “I feel it Mick. Gotta come with me!” he begged and fought it off as long as he could, but Mickey was close too, he could hear it.

“Shit, my fingers aren’t long enough!” Mickey barked into the phone. His fingers weren’t as long as Ian’s. He could barely hit his prostate.

Heat washed over him like the sun. Scorching his body where skin met skin. He could already picture Mickey stretched out on his bed, sheets a mess, those thick thighs spread as wide as possible for his fingers to search for that special area, the one that made his back arch, toes curl and that incredible sound burst from his chest.

“You can do it baby, just spread those legs so wide for me.” Ian bucked into his fist, his arm bulging and starting to ache. “Do it for me Mick, I wanna fill you up.”

Mickey panted heavily as he spread his legs wide like Ian said and his fingers slipped in deeper, rubbing over his prostate fully instead of tiny strokes. His head fell back as he nearly screamed, rocking down onto his fingers and up into his fist. Picturing Ian railing him from behind, those powerful hips snapping into him hard.

“Oh God…fuck Ian…right there!!”

Ian closed his eyes and listened to Mickey falling apart. He would come at any second, the minute Mickey was ready, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Mac grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top and leaned onto the counter. He tossed the top onto the floor and watched it bounce away. It was too loud. His house. Having someone around. Way too damn loud and all the fucker was doing was taking the longest shower known to man. He never let anyone stay here. Not whores from the bar, family, if you include Walter and Mickey. Mick normally stayed at the hotel in the next town, so he never had people lurking around. He didn’t like it.

He felt like he should be doing something besides just standing around. Meth wasn’t going to cook itself. He needed to get back to the Cave and get to work. But red couldn’t be trusted alone. Who knows what type of shit he could get into alone. Mac wasn’t blind. He saw the way those fuckers eyed him at the bar. He was prime real estate. Top notch dick.

As soon as he was outta the damn bathroom, Mac was gonna set him straight. Tell him to stay the fuck inside. He didn’t want red at the bar. He did half his business there. Didn’t need him sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

Mac growled and headed towards the bedroom for his mask. He heard a deep noise as he passed the bathroom and nearly tripped when he recognized what it was. He leaned in close to the door and tried to quiet his breathing.

“Fuck Mick….”

Came a husky, moaning sound. Mac’s eyes widened as the moaning and groaning got faster. His head felt hot, dizzy and he would deny it later, if only to himself, but red groaning like that made the crotch of his pants tight.

“Faster baby…”

Mac knew it was fucked up, but he was fucked up. He could nearly picture that slim body all slick, jerking himself fast. He gripped the door frame and resisted the urge to barge in there and fuck his smart little mouth. Wanted to see red choke on his dick, gag around it. Wanted to see eyes filled with tears as he came down his throat.

“Yes!! Yes!!”

Mac heard the grand finale and curled his fists until the frame creaked. He heard some laughing, a few garbled 'good byes' then the water shut off. He needed to leave, to not lurk like the creep he was. Mac barely had time to take two steps away from the door before it opened and red came out with only a small towel slung around slim hips.

Mac buried all those nasty thoughts and scrunched his face up in mock annoyance as that stupid redhead smiled at him, that knowing look in his eyes. “Put some fucking clothes on!!”

Ian quirked an eyebrow and looked down where he see blue eyes lingering. “Forgot my shit out here.”

Mac growled as red moved past him. And fuck him, he stared at that ass as it shifted under his towel. Nice and tight and so easy to take. He knew red would fight him, would punch and claw and bite trying to get away but that’s what Mac wanted. He wanted an all out fuck-fight fest. He wanted them both bruised and bloodied as he buried his dick in deep.

“Don’t fuckin forget then!” He growled and stomped forward. He had to get mad to hide the other shit. “Don’t wanna fuckin see your naked ass out here.”

“Sure Mac, keep tellin yourself that.” He chuckled and bent down to get some clothes. He could feel that stare. Mickey had one just like it.

Mac was halfway to his room when red hit him with that comment and he whirled back, hands clenched beside him as he towered down over him. “The fuck you sayin huh? You callin me gay you little bitch?”

Ian stood up slowly, clothes tucked under one arm. Like this, he towered over the older man but somehow felt smaller. Smaller didn’t mean he would back down. “I think you fuck anything with two legs. Men and women. Guess that makes you bisexual.”

Mac grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall. Red didn’t react or flinch and pull away. He left himself get slammed back. No fear. “I fuck who I fuck and they fuckin like it! That don’t make nothin but me.”

Ian suppressed a shiver at the heat in Mac's rough hands. It was a force of nature, he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. “And YOU, are bisexual. Don’t gotta be a bitch about it.”

Mac’s eyes widened, he was the first to admit his surprise. Brave little fucker. He simply smiled up at the red head and brought his fist forward hard, connecting solidly with his stomach. Red punched out a breath and doubled over. He gripped the back of his neck and talked directly into his ear.

Ian sputtered for a breath but with each inhale, pain scattered around his abdomen. He clenched his stomach and focused on small breaths. The hit hurt but it was hardly the worst he’d had. Hell, when Mickey kicked him in the face hurt 10 times worse than this. What was with him and abusive ass men?

“Liking what I like don’t make me a bitch.” He growled and pushed him down onto his knees. Deep breath so he didn’t wreck that pretty face. Mickey would be pissed. “Do yerself a favor red, keep your head down and your mouth shut. I’ll let you know when I want ya to open it.”

Mac moved away, blood pumping fast and all headed South. He stormed into his room, grabbed the mask off the foot of his bed and hauled ass outside. He didn’t stop when red got to his feet, he didn’t miss that smile, he didn’t say one word. He hopped in his truck and peeled out. He needed to stay far away from that redhead before he broke his promise to Mickey.

Mickey tossed his phone down with sticky fingers and grinned up at the ceiling. Getting yourself off like that shouldn’t feel so damn good. He’d jerked off any times in his life since he was 11, but nothing ever felt as good as when he did it with Ian. Something about that ginger got him whipped, everything maybe. Ian had gotten under his skin, latched onto him like a damn octopus and refused to let go. And he was fine with that.

Only draw back of wanting someone that intensely, was needing them around always. Ian made shit better. Not just some things, everything. He gave shit a new light, a new outlook. Made everything seem worth it. So now that he was gone, the world was back to being a gray, undesirable place. Mickey didn’t want a world like that.

It was his own fault though. High risk job and look at that…the risks where high. Because of one fuck up, he was away from Ian and likely on his way to lock up. He figured it would be ASAP, but he was still at home, waiting. No need to give them an excuse to hunt him down or give them a reason to stick their noses in his business. That’s why it was smart to meet them on neural ground; The Milkovich House.

It was hard to come to terms with that little fact. Terry Milkovich's house was a drug free, gun free and overall crime free zone. They kept this shit clean for that reason. Just family living together, no hidden places for guns or drugs. That’s why they’d been so successful pushing Mac’s product.

He could hear Mandy and Iggy laughing just beyond the door, probably playing Call of Duty with her kickin his ass. The thought made him smile. Normally Ian would be in there too, laughing along with them. And because of him, he wasn’t.

Grabbing for his boxers, Mickey pulled them up his hips and grabbed a cigarette and lit it. By the first deep inhale, a knock sounded at his door. If it was Iggy, the fucker would have pounded his door down. It was Mandy and the laughing had stopped outside. It was time. He got up and unlocked the door and opened it to see Mandy standing there with a scared face, arms holding onto herself.

“Hey Mands.” He said softly, and her face only crumbed more.

“Mick…” she choked up a little. “They’re here.”

He nodded. They knew it would happen. Maybe the longer amount of time had them fooled. They all knew the drill. He’d be locked up and questioned until they realized they had no witness, no crime, then he’d be let out. It happened to everyone. Mandy, Iggy and the rest of the Milkovich clan but not him. He was the center, their center. Maybe that’s why this time seemed harder.

Mandy slammed into him, her arms linking behind his head in a death grip, her head pressed into his neck. He smiled sadly and held her tight, letting them be brother and sister for just a moment. “I’ll be fine Mandy.”

She nodded quickly but still clung to him. “I know. They have nothing. We made damn sure of it.”

He looked at Iggy who also seemed a little put off. He wasn’t smiling or confident anymore. He looked afraid. Mickey nodded at him and got one in return. “That’s right, they don’t have shit.” He pulled back and his heart remembered it was capable of breaking when he saw the tears. He wiped them away with shaky, tattooed fingers. “Just routine shit. They ask, I lie. They get pissed and give up. I’ll back before you know it.”

“Mickey…” Iggy started but failed short of finishing the sentence because he knew it was weak to say it. But fuck, he was nervous.

Mickey knew already because he shook his head, looking down at Mandy. If Iggy said he was scared, she would be also, more than she was now. “Just lay low. They’ll be watching us like hawks. But if we don’t do shit, they don’t have shit. All business is on hold til I’m back.”

“Did Mac say…” Iggy gave him wide eyes.

“I told him already. All on hold until I get back. Mandy, go to work, go out with your asshole boyfriend. Iggy, just stay the fuck out of trouble.”
Iggy laughed, lightening the mood.

“Just make sure you keep your dumb heads down. If you call me, you know what to say and how to say it.” They both nodded. Being bugged and listened to was nothing new. They had their own code when it came to being locked up. “Mandy, keep my phone when Ian calls but give it to Igg if it’s Mac.”

Mac liked Mandy as much as the rest of them. But she was a woman. Plain and simple and Mac was a simple guy. He wasn’t trying to be a dick, it was just how he was raised. Business would go through Iggy, Ian would go to Mandy.

“And you said the snitch was handled, right? I don’t want that shit hanging over my head when I have other shit to deal with.”

Iggy looked away and Mickey already knew something was wrong. “Jamie said there was a problem but that he had it under control.”

“I fuckin should have handled it my damn self...” Iggy flinched, and Mickey automatically felt bad. “What was the problem?”

“All he said was the witness was a chick and he was having a hard time finding her. Not like where she lives or anything but where ATF would keep her and how he would be able to get to her without drawing attention.”

Mickey nodded. A chick? That was odd. Most of the time they got snitched on by other dealers, mostly guys, pissed that they got more business than them. And how hard was it to track someone down and sit on them until they could get their point across? This is why Mickey hardly had Colin or Jaime do anything. Unreliable.

“Just keep me updated and handle it Iggy. The only way I’m out in a month is if she doesn’t talk. We need to find her and make that shit happen. Threaten her, pay her off, I don’t really give a shit. But fuckin fix it.”

Iggy nodded. “Don’t worry man. I’ll hand it.”

The knock on the door was louder this time and Mandy flinched. “Chicago PD, Mickey Milkovich, please come to the door.”

He groaned. Those polite assholes. He handed over the phone, his heavy set of keys and his wallet. No need for any of that there and he didn’t trust those dirty cops at lock up. He tossed on his boots and a shirt, grabbed Ian’s large hoodie and tossed it on. Of course, it still smelt like him. He looked to see them both grinning and flipped them off.

“Call you when they let me. Okay?” They nodded back at him. “Be smart.”

He kissed Mandy's cheek and squeezed Iggy's shoulder before he walked to the door and opened it. Nearly every cop in Chicago huddled around the front of his house. Cars parked on the street at an angle, like he’d try to run for it. He scuffed and showed them his hands. There was no way this would go very well. Immediately he was grabbed tightly, hands jerked around to the small of his back and pressed face first into the wall.

“Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich, we have a warrant for your arrest.”

Mickey snorted at the large guy who cuffed him. “I could have worn you were supposed to say that before touching me.”

The cuffs tightened, and he only laughed. “Yeah, guess I should know better than to think Chicago PD does shit by the book.” He spat, literally at their feet in disrespect.

They were supposed to give him the warrant first, then normally the option of walking or doing it the hard way. Not arresting him at the door before paperwork exchanged hands. Stupid pigs. He also expected a few more sentences that were required by law for them to say upon arrest. Nothing. And he grinned. Loop hole.

“We also have a warrant to search your house.” Baldy said smugly and tossed the papers to the woman.

Mandy caught it and crumpled it up in her fist without looking at it. She grinned and swept her hand aside knowing they wouldn’t find shit.

Mickey grinned, proud of his sister for once. “Good luck finding dick in this house.”

Iggy spoke up, unable to help it. “Well, you might find dick in Mick's bottom drawer.”

The cops gave each other odd looks and Mickey busted into laughter, doubling over. Mandy joined, then Iggy. Fuck it was funny because he was right. The bottom drawer did have a lot of dicks in there.

“Get him out of here!” Baldy snapped and forced their suspect into a pool of arms, watching him be carted out. “I will tear up this whole place til I find something.”

Iggy smiled and pulled a handheld camera from his jeans and started recording. “Oh, please do. I’ll be watching every moment and I’ll be happy to see all the repairs to this place after your precinct is forced to pay for any unnecessary damages.”

His laughter only doubled. Mickey was laughing so hard he was crying. The last thing he saw was a wink from Iggy before he was frog marched to a cop car and tossed inside like a bag of trash. He was finding it harder to be worried about anything. His family had their shit handled, Mac had Ian handled and he had to handle himself.

The Milkovich had a reputation for a reason. Now, it was time to put it into effect.

Chapter Text

3 Weeks Later…

Ian stumbled into the dark, empty house. Tripping over his own shoes and barely managed to catch himself before he went face first to the ground. His head was spinning, or maybe it was the room? He gripped the wall and tried to remember how many drinks he bad at the bar. Patron after patron had been buying him drinks since he first arrived, and he took full advantage. It was easier to get along with the dirty rednecks since Mac had been MIA. He’d been a ghost since Ian’s first night.

He’d long since given up on trying to find him. Looking had been pointless. You could walk the length of town in half a day. Not many places to hide either. No one wanted to share any information either. Every time he brought up Mac’s name, everyone avoided the question. And the Milkovich clan was no help. They refused to tell them where Mac went to cook, his “Cave” as they’d said many times. Need to know only and apparently, he wasn’t needing to know.

Ian burped loudly and leaned against his bedroom door. Not his per say, but Mac’s. 3 weeks was way too long to sleep on that dirty old couch. After the first 4 days of falling off because he was too tall or waking up with a massive back ache, he’d busted the lock on Mac’s door and made himself at home. Just like he would right now. He pushed the door open and smiled.

The bed had to have been the nicest, cleanest and softest thing in the entire house. The entire town probably. Mac didn’t give two shits about the house or furnishings but that bed…epic. Soft and fluffy, clean and too comfortable. He never wanted to get out of it and it smelled like Mac. Win-win.

Leaning against the doorway, he kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt to the side and shimmied out of his jeans without falling. It would be so easy to fall forward and sleep. But it wouldn’t happen. It never did. Every night for the past 21 days, he’d gone drinking at Luna Mesa. He’d long forgotten his meds by the first week. Why take them when he felt so good? Seemed like a waste. Each night at the bar, drinking and dancing…only to come home to an empty house.

When it was clear Mac wasn’t coming back for awhile, Ian decided to clean up a little. Taken out the trash littered around every room. Made use of the decent washer and drier to clean all Mac’s dirty ass clothes. They now hung in a closet. All the broken furniture was carted away, he even replaced some stuff too. Newer kitchen table. Newer recliner with no cigarette burns. He’d mopped and swept, coated the entire place in bleach and now it was livable.

But clean or not, it was still empty. Not even that epic bed could make him forget. Ian flopped down face first onto the bed and took a deep breath. Even washing the sheets couldn’t get ride of that Mac smell and he didn’t want it to go away. Smelling him tricked Ian into thinking he wasn’t alone. He hated being alone.

Mandy had called two days after the fight with Mac and said Chicago PD had picked up her brother. Arrested him so it was official. Mandy and Iggy were pretty mum over the phone and he knew they were being listened too. Iggy even went as far to address him as Aunt Ginger. Har har…funny…

The only person he did have was Sammie. Ian turned over in bed and smiled. He’d called her a week after Mac had up and left and since then, they were thick as thieves. Met for coffee and dinner, gotten high and drunk together. She even went as far as getting a job at Luna Mesa. It was incredible. If it wasn’t for her, he’d probably would have cracked before now.

They’d met over the weeks since Mac was gone. It was nice to have someone like her. She was around when he wanted or needed her, just to hang out or to fuck if they both felt like it. Best friends with benefits maybe the best term for what they had.

Along the way between smoking and fucking, he’d come to know a little more about her. She was actually from Chicago like him. Not his neighborhood but definitely South Side so she knew him better than most people. Ian had also learned that she was on the run from something back in Chicago. Almost like he was but a different context. The more he pushed to find out more, the more she clammed up. He was anything if not a patient guy so he would wait for her to come to him.

As Ian looked at the ceiling, he thought about Mickey. He had so many plans and ideas for them. Maybe even moving to no-where Utah and living here instead. Chicago only brought them pain. He didn’t even care that his family was there, that both their families were there. Only Mickey mattered to him. He had an entire plan thought out for this, drawn up in a hardly used notebook he found in Mac’s room. He wanted them to move to Utah and start over. They could get a place together, start a job and a family maybe. They could get a new start.

The thoughts were so alive inside of him, it felt like they were another person. A living being. Talking to him. Telling him all the secrets to the world and how to get everything he always dreamed of. It was too bad Mandy didn’t agree. She hated the idea of moving from day one. Closed minded bitch that she was. Wanted to keep Mickey to herself even though Mickey was HIS. Had been for nearly 13 years. Would always be. How come she still refused to accept that?

Ian had considered forgiving her after he talked with Mickey about it. Only issue was, in 3 weeks he hadn’t talked to his boyfriend. Not once. Not a message relayed from Mandy or Iggy, no letters or calls. Nothing. Mickey had ghosted him, and Ian was pissed. Murderous. Mickey was the reason he was in the middle of nowhere, living alone in a shitty house.

With everyday that went by without that phone call, Ian’s plans went from Mickey and him moving, to only him. Leaving Mickey in jail at home in Chicago. He didn’t need him anyways. Mickey didn’t care about him. It was obvious. Mandy even went so far to tell him that the witness their stupid brothers were supposed to take care of wasn’t there anymore. Now he had to wait longer to go home because they fucked up.

With an irritated groan, Ian grabbed the heavy blanket and tossed it over his body and half his face. Unlike most nights, sleep actually took him quickly and his dreams were just as chaotic as his thoughts when he was awake. Endless torment from blue eyes, two sets. Mac’s and Mickey’s. The only two men in the world who didn’t want him. Images of broken down houses and vicious dogs raced a million miles a minute. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, hours maybe or only seconds trapped in his alcohol induced hell.

He heard the deep rumblings of a truck outside. He barely had time to wipe the sleep from his eyes and check his phone, he’d been asleep for 2 hours, when the front door was slammed against the back wall and that vicious barking was near. Ian rose up and braced for impact when an 8p pound dog jumped face first on the bed, snooted around his legs before he took its place at the foot of the bed.

Mac’s dog used to hate him. Barked and chased him all over the yard. It wasn’t until the dog, that Ian named Sushi, realized Mac wasn’t coming back. Ian had to feed it and make sure it had water. Even gave Sushi a bath when flakes of red clay fell off his fur. Since then, that barking didn’t scare him so much.

Ian blinked slowly at the dog and waited for Mac. Who never came in. No foot steps or Mac’s growling voice. Nothing. Maybe a false alarm? Ian rubbed Sushi with his foot before lying back down. After while, the heat at his feet dissipated when Sushi moved and that’s when he heard the boots. He couldn’t even move, couldn’t be bothered to.
Mac slammed the front door shut harder than he thought. The fresh round of drugs made everything seem like it was under water, delayed and distant. The moment he parked, that damn dog broke the rope and hauled ass inside. Something he’d never seen before. It had been weeks since he was home but with Mick out of commission, he had to work twice as hard and it showed.

The moment he walked out of his truck, shit wasn’t right. No trash around the yard. No junk and half the car parts had been neatly set against the house. The fence was fixed too. He snarled at it and walked in to see more of the same. No trash, no clothes or old food stinking up the place. It actually smelled decent. Clean. Livable.

He fucking hated it. He gazed around and saw the new furniture, clean floors. He stormed to the kitchen and saw actual eatable food in the cupboards. In the fridge too. Red had taken the fuck over…in the worst way. Mac grabbed one of the beers from the row of neatly lined bottles and chugged it quickly. He was about to close the door when he pushed the bottles all around, making it so they weren’t nice and neat. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

The couch was empty. Red wasn’t sleeping on it. Maybe he was out. Or maybe he fucked off for good. Not caring one way or another, Mac kicked his dirty boots off and mud trickled off them, making him feel triumphant once again. He tossed his mask on the table, along with the empty beer bottle, and stomped tiredly towards his room. It was cleaner, smelled better but at least that fucker didn’t touch his bed. Blankets were still a mess and everything.

Mac shrugged out of his wife beater, let his jeans fall to the ground and climbed onto the right side of the bed. He wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable and jerked on the blankets. A soft groan came from next to him and Mac tore the blankets back to find red sleeping in his bed, in just a pair of tight gray boxer briefs.

His body loved the sight. Long legs, tight little ass, impressive shoulders. Mac watched him shift, seeing the muscles of his back shift as well before tearing his eyes away. His dick was already hard from the drugs and alcohol, no sex for 3 weeks didn’t help either but none of that mattered. He didn’t let anyone sleep in his bed.

Mac put his foot against red's side and pushed hard, easily knocking his lanky ass off the side of the bed with a loud thud. Red shot up, eyes sleepy but awake a cursing up a damn storm.

“What the fuck!?” Ian yelled and watched Mac settle into the middle of the bed.

“Get the fuck out red.” He mumbled back but didn’t give him a second glance.

“You get out!” Ian jerked on the blanket. “Been a damn ghost for 3 weeks.”

“Ain’t yer business.” Mac growled back, losing his ability to sleep the longer this conversation went on. “My fuckin bed. Don’t know why yer in here.”

“Cuz you haven’t been here you asshole and that couch is a piece of shit. I ain’t stayin in there.”

Ian crossed his arms and stood his ground by the bed. He was not giving this bed up. He’d fight to the death for this damn thing.

Mac turned away from him and flipped him off. Smiling darkly as he pushed red out of his mind and settled more on his favorite side of the bed. The ability to sleep was there, but seeing him stretched out like that, then mad with those angry eyes and fire red hair, his dick was pushing against the mattress.

No the hell he wasn’t. Ian gaped at Mac, who just turned over and wasn’t moving. No way was that asshole just gonna ignore him and take over. Ian waited until he heard soft snoring before he crawled on the other side of the bed and pulled the blanket back, as much as he could because Mac was apparently a blanket hog. It didn’t take long to match Mac’s breathing and having a warm body next to him must have been what he needed, because he was out like a light.

Ian woke up to the most amazing feeling. In 3 weeks, he had never felt something so good. He purred and scooted closer to the warm body that lay next to him. He radiated heat like a furnace and Ian was drawn like a moth to a flame. He wrapped his arms around the body like an octopus and buried his face in between the persons shoulder blades.

It took less than half a cuddle before Ian realized two things instantly. One; he was hard. Pressing against someone’s nice, round ass. And two; this person was not Mickey. The body was all wrong. He didn’t have Mickey’s thick, juicy thighs or that pale skin, his hair was too shaggy and the smell the wrong.

That first good thought of Mickey, the one second, he let himself go there in his mind, was shattered when it all came back. Fuck Mickey. The last thing on his mind was his asshole boyfriend. Especially when he was pressed up against Mac’s ass, eager to peel off his boxers and rock his hips forward. He had been wanting this for weeks now. Putting Mickey behind him and focusing on Mac.

It was dangerous. Mac hated it. But Ian was needy for it. He was so sexed up from being away from Mickey, that he and Sammie had started a friendly circle jerk, so to speak. They had been high and drunk, and he was so horny he didn’t care who he fucked. He just needed his dick wet as soon as fucking possible. Sammie was like that too. She needed human contact, so bad that she ignored the fact that he was taken and they worked all their frustration out on each other.

But now, he had the pleasure of having a very male body against him. He loved every curve Sammie had, soft skin and accepting body, but it was nothing like a male body. Hard lines and tough skin, deep rumbling moans. He leaned towards the male body more than women, but either would do.

Mac’s body was rough in every way. Like his attitude. His hair longer than the last time he saw him. After their fight, when he stormed out. Ian had carried bruised ribs for weeks after that. A constant reminder. But being alone wasn’t a good thing. His mind began to wander, wanting to know how tight Mac would be. If he would be able to fuck him or if Ian would lose his Gold Star Top status. How would those deep moans sounds, how bloodied would they have to get before the sex? Ian shivered, he really wanted to know.

The moment Ian let his hips rock forward, Mac elbowed him hard in the chest, making him cough, and he bolted out if bed so fast he looked like a blur you’d see from a cartoon. He rested on his elbows, watching Mac get up and puff around the room. Blue eyes wide, looking more than angry but fuck if it didn’t make him harder. The second Mac growled down at him, his dick twitched.

“The fuck you think yer doin?!” Mac bellowed, running a hand through his hair.

Ian shrugged. “Woke up hard, had an ass against my dick. You know how the rest works.”

“Try that shit again and I’ll cut it off and feed it to you.” He barked, glaring down at him. He refused to acknowledge how good red looked. Bare chest, long legs spread wide with that smirk on his face.

Ian licked his lips. “I’d rather you feed me yours.” He arched an eyebrow, challenging him. He wanted that bad, to see how Mac tasted, to hear the sounds he made when he came. He missed having a dick in his mouth.

Mac wasn’t sure if red was baiting him or serious and he didn’t really give a fuck. He was hard and reds mouth did look inviting in the best way. He pushed a hand in his boxers and roughly jerked himself.

“Ya want it red?”

Ian groaned, eyes wide as he jerked himself. “Fuck yeah I want it. And my name isn’t red.”

“Don’t give a fuck what yer name is.”

“It’s Ian.” He offered for some reason as he sat up and slid to the bottom of the bed, so his feet could touch the ground.

“Shut up!” He barked and pulled his boxers down below his ass, loving the blissed out look Ian gave him. “Don’t need yer name for this.”

Ian grinned and slide off the bed quickly, not minding how hard the ground bit into his knees. He ran his nose up the length of his cock, smelling him, making himself harder before licking from the base all the way to the leaking tip. He groaned, Mac tasted fucking amazing. Ian expected the hand in his hair, pulling until he gasped from the pain, but he loved it and bobbed his head up and down Mac’s dick.

“Fuck, yer mouth…” Mac praised for half a second before grabbing Ian by his jaw and stopping his movements.

Ian paused and looked up, loving how full his mouth was and it he hadn’t been holding onto Mac’s ass, he would have fallen over. He arched an eyebrow, silently asking.

“Gonna fuck this mouth red.” He groaned as Ian’s eyes fluttered closed. Fucking bitch loved it. “You bite me, Ima break all those teeth.”

Ian opened his mouth wide, sheathing his teeth behind his lips and wiggling his tongue to signal Mac for more. He had never met anyone as rough as Mac was. Someone who didn’t give him an option. And the longer Mac fucked into his mouth, the harder it was not to come.

“Fuck!” Mac groaned and slammed into Ian’s mouth. It was hot, wet and the kid used his tongue perfectly. He had a firm grip on his jaw and pumped his hips back and forth, hard and fast, hitting the back of his throat over and over again.

But Ian took it. He dug his nails into Mac’s ass and took the punishing pace. He was waiting for Mac to get desperate enough to get to the actual fucking and for once, he wouldn’t mind getting on all fours for someone. The longer it went on, the better it was. Spit and pre-come dripped down his face, unable to properly swallow around a dick. He moaned, letting the deep vibrations travel up Mac’s dick.

“Fuck yeah!!” Mac groaned and fisted his hair, pushing in harder. He had to close his eyes. The moment he looked down at Ian’s slutty face slicked up with spit, mouth wide open, he would come.

Mac was close, he could taste it. But as he tried to move, to suggest them fucking, Mac only held him tighter and forced his cock down his throat. Ian gagged…he never gagged. But Mac was relentless. He fucked his mouth hard and fast and before he knew what happened, Mac was coming hard down his throat. Ian moaned and swallowed all his come, loving the way it stuck stickily between his lips.

Mac groaned deep and pushed Ian back. His legs were weak, he didn’t realize how much he needed to bust. A smile played on his lips at the way Ian looked.

“Could have warned me.” Ian smirked and wiped his mouth. Running a soothing hand around the hinge in his jaw. “My turn.”

Mac scuffed and pushed Ian away, so he could crawl back into bed. “Yeah, your turn. Go find someone.”

Ian blinked slowly, getting angrier with each breath he took. His dick was so hard he thought it might break off and Mac wasn’t even going to return the favor? “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“This aint tit for tat bitch, I take what I want. You wanna nut? Better get ta jerkin.” He chuckled and closed his eyes. He acted like he was asleep and fully expected Ian to start jerkin it. But he didn’t.

Ian clenched his jaw and quickly stuffed hid long legs into his jeans, found his shirt and shoes and grabbed whatever jacket was closest. “Fuck you Mac. I’ll go get my dick wet with someone who actually knows what they’re doin.”

The words sobered him up. Ian was questioning his skills? Dangerous. He turned over, a finger already lifted to bitch him out, but Ian wasn’t there. The kid couldn’t be serious right? It was in the middle of the damn night. The rumbling of his truck let him know that Ian was serious. Mac stood up and barely managed to see Ian blasting down the road in his truck.

Ian grinned and hit the gas. This would bite him in the ass. Possibly earn him another one on one showdown with Mac. But he didn’t care. He was pissed at Mac, probably less than he should be but it was easily fixed. He needed to find someone willing and all would be good again.

Chapter Text

Ian surged forward, fucking into what's-his-face from Luna Mesa with so much desperation it was dripping off him. He gripped his hips, bent the guy forward until his head pressed against the filthy bathroom mirror and pounded hard and fast. He didn’t know who this was, he didn’t care. The only thing he knew was how good it felt to be buried in a nice, tight ass. He was losing himself fast, using this faceless guy as a sex toy, meant only to get himself off. Just like Mac has used him.

“Fuck!! Harder!”

The man whined, and Ian rolled his eyes, he was going hard, too hard. He knew for sure this guys ass would be sore tomorrow and his dick would be a little raw. A spit ride only got them so far. He put his fist into the guys hair and jerked his head back.

“Stop talking!”

The guy quickly shut his mouth as Ian picked up his pace. One hand moved to bend his front half back down, the other went to the small of his back and pounded in hard. He could feel him squeezing him tightly and Ian knew the kid was close.

“Right there!!” the kid moaned and pushed back.

Ian rolled his eyes and felt him come, felt his body sag forward but he didn’t stop. He doubled his efforts. Chasing Mac and Mickey from his mind. He was vaguely aware of the kid bitching about being too sensitive, but he couldn’t care less. Ian pushed in one more time and came hard, filling him up with his come, no raincoat.

Ian pulled out and grabbed a napkin to wipe himself off and looked into the mirror, completely ignoring the whines from the other guy about not pulling out. He didn’t care. He didn’t question if the kid was clean or not because he didn’t give a shit, he wanted to come, and he did. After wiping off and fixing his hair, Ian turned to exit only for the guy to grab his shoulder.

“That was amazing.” He said in a blissed out voice.

Ian rolled his eyes. Hardly amazing for him. Hardly even a decent fuck. Nothing compared to what he was used to. “Yeah, sure.” He went to leave when the kid spoke again.

“Can I get your number? Maybe we can do this again.”

The kid looked so hopeful he wanted to be sick and punch his ugly face. “Nah man, one and done for me. Thanks.”

The kids face fell but he nodded and left the bathroom first. Ian took a moment to catch his breath. Despite drinking before leading that kid into the bathroom, he could still taste Mac on his tongue. More alcohol would fix that. He left the bathroom and hoped he didn’t see that kid outside. What he did see was Walter smirking at him for some reason.

Ian noticed he was the only one in the bar and realized they were closing. He tossed a hundred dollar bill on the bar for his drinks and went for the door. Something outside caught his attention and he looked out the dusty window. Mac’s truck was on, lights blaring red in the dark. He checked his pocket, no keys.

He slipped out the door quickly and saw Mac man handling someone. Ian knew it was Mac but what was he doing here? How the fuck did he even get here if he had the truck? Walking would have taken forever. Whoever the someone was, got punched in the face and tossed into the bed of the truck. Was this really happening? Was Mac actually kidnapping someone from the bar?

He didn’t get an answer, but he was going to. There was one other car in the lot and Ian quickly opened the door, thanking whoever he needed to because it was unlocked, and the keys were in it. He started it up and ignored the shaking in his hands. Mac’s truck was moving quickly, and Ian followed closely behind. Lights off so he didn’t attract his attention.

Where the hell were, they going? It was in the opposite direction of Mac’s house and out in the middle of nowhere. Buildings got less and less frequent the further out they drove. No street lights or cars. Nothing but dunes and darkness. Wherever they were going had him keyed up, high in the best way possible.

Mac’s truck turned, and Ian backed off a little, watching as Mac parked by a large dusty mountain. He shut the car off and did his best to see in the dark. Mac got out and tossed the guy over his shoulder and stomped away. Was Mac going to just leave some random guy out there? He opened the door as soon as Mac was out of sight and watched Mickey’s uncle walk to the opening of a cave.

The Cave?

He’d heard so much shit about this place. Mac’s home away from home. His sanctuary. A place that only Mickey had visited one time. Ian smiled and stepped carefully until he was at the mouth of the Cave and looked inside.

Pitch black…just like Mac’s soul.
Mickey knew something was wrong the moment the guard said he had a visitor. 3 weeks they had him, asking questions about all things to do with the drug trade. Who he was selling to, who his supplier was. He was currently staying at Cook County Jail, just waiting it out, hoping everything was okay on the outside. The fact that he had a visitor told him it wasn’t as okay as he’d hoped.

The cuffs weren’t necessary. He hadn’t be violent or overly belligerent since his arrival 3 weeks ago. He didn’t want any more time inside. The cuffs made his wrists ache, damn guard had gotten them too tight. He walked his happy, orange plated ass towards the visitation room. Not open. He’d have to sit behind a glass and talk to whoever it was.
The head of dark hair let him know who it was before he sat down. Despite telling everyone not to visit, he was happy to see her. It had only been 3 weeks but inside that felt like 3 months instead. Mickey sat at the window and smiled as he picked up the germ ridden phone.


Mickey huffed a laugh. “Skank.” He let himself enjoy Mandy's carefree smile for just a moment before the shit hit the fan. “Thought I told you not to come here.” He glared at the other residents, they were looking at her like she was a meal.

“I know and I’m sorry.” Her shoulders sagged. Her brother might be the one on the wrong side of the glass, but she felt like the helpless prisoner. “But I’m freaking out here.”

He looked around and more than half the officers were looking at him, trying to get answers any way possible. Meeting was too risky. Talking on the phone was too but at least they couldn’t gauge their facial expressions through the phone.

“What’s going on?” he tapped his ear subtlety, but she caught it and noticed they were being watched.

“Uh, I’m worried about Aunt Ginger.”

Mickey was on high alert immediately. They hadn’t mentioned Ian at all when spoke and Mickey did his best not to contact him directly. It would only lead them to Ian and a shit load of questions he didn’t know how to answer. If there had been an issue, Mac would have called Iggy. He hadn’t, so Mickey assumed there wasn’t a problem.

“Why? Did you hear from her nurse?” AKA Mac.

“No. Not a peep. But that’s why I’m worried. Ginger hasn’t called in 3 days Mick. She calls every day.”

That was bad news. Ian never messed around with shit like that. If he said he was going to call, he’d call. Something had to be wrong. “Did Iggy call her nurse?” he evened out his voice, so they didn’t notice the sudden anxiety.

“The nurse didn’t say one way or another. And I’m worried about that too. What if Ginger needs her meds?” Mandy's eyes were wide, scared.

“Fuck!” He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “What did Ginger sound like last time you talked to her?”

Mandy huddled closer to the phone, hunching her shoulders to try for some privacy. “Ginger was a little hard to follow. Kept talking about you moving to live with her. Like leaving Chicago.”

That was not good. Fear and worry washed over him equally. Ian was off his meds. There was no one to regulate them for him. No one to make him want to take them without prompt. No one to give him a reason to stay better. It was just Mac. Mac didn’t know or care about that shit. He said as much but Ian had been living with his bipolar for years. But he’d never been isolated like he was now.

“Mandy…” his voice cracked a little before he cleared it but by the look on her face, she heard it. “You have to get ahold of Ginger, or that damn nurse. I can’t do shit from in here.”

“I know that Mick.” She snapped. “But I can’t make either of them answer the damn phone. I don’t know what to do!”

“What else did she say?”

“Just that she’s pissed you haven’t called.” She glared at him. “You know how pissy she can get if YOU don’t call.”

Mickey did know. Ian was a brat sometimes. He told Ian why he wouldn’t call, why they’d have to go through Mandy. It was too dangerous. But Ian off his meds was dangerous as well and Mickey didn’t want to know what kind of shit Ian was doing behind his back…the cheating is what weighed heavily on him. He could forgive a lot, everything even, but the cheating…some shit you just can’t get past.

Just imagining Ian with someone else made him want to vomit. That someone, a person that didn’t appreciate all of Ian’s complicated layers, was touching him, giving him pleasure, being pleasured and touched by him, Mickey wanted to fucking die. He knew what Ian was capable of during sex. So many emotions, feelings. Having sex with Ian just once changed him forever. Now he could be with someone else.

“Mandy, you both know why I can’t fucking call her!!” he shouted but took a deep breath as one of the officers took a step forward. “I have one more week before I can do anything.”

Mandy rubbed the tears from her eyes. “I know but it’s Ginger, Mickey.”

He knew. Boy, did he know. But there was nothing he could do. “Look, I will try and call but can’t promise anything.”

Her smile peeked like the sun from behind dark clouds. “Thanks Mick.”

He smiled and shook his head to brush it off. “Anything for you and Aunt Ginger. Just keep tryin and I’ll be out soon.”

Mandy nodded. “Love you jerk face.”

“Love you too bitch.” He watched her smiled widen and then she was gone. Leaving like the brightest light in pitch black darkness. Leaving him alone. He put the phone back when he was pulled up out of the chair and pushed out of the room.

He wasn’t lead back to his cell. He was marched to an interrogation room. He smiled. So they had been listening, watching them. Bunch of pricks. Mickey took a seat at the table and his cuffs were removed. Before he could rub them, the door opened, and the bane of his existence was strolling in. A heavy file under his arm.

ATF Agent Nick Maddox was a fuck of a guy. About early 40’s, 6 foot tall and well muscled and extremely attractive for such a douche bag. This was the agent assigned to “his case”. Which meant he was someone big in the law enforcement world. This case was top priority. A career maker, or killer if it wasn’t closed. Unfortunately for this hulk of a man, it would end in a career killer. He almost felt bad, almost.

Maddox had been decent to him. Hadn’t talked to him like everyone else had before. Maddox didn’t look down on him because he was South Side or because of the vulgar tattoos on his knuckles, not even the circumstances in which he’d been arrested where tossed into his face. No. Maddox had treated him with respect, was friendly even. Those are the people you watch out for. Especially because Maddox was so nice, Mickey didn’t like him, and he didn’t trust him.

“Evening Mikhailo, enjoy the visit with your sister?” Maddox asked as he placed the folder on the table and took a seat, fingers clasped in front of him.

Mickey scuffed. Maddox had these brown eyes that saw into his bullshit somehow. Only one person had been able to do that, and he didn’t have brown eyes. “I’d enjoy it a lot more if you feebs were lurking about.”

Maddox didn’t deny it. “Part of our job Mikhailo. We are trying to sort this stuff out before it goes too far.”

“Can you not call me that, please?” Mickey blurted out after a moment of silence between them. “Fuckin hate it.”

“I think it’s very interesting and full of character but if you'd prefer Mickey…” he held his hands out and shrugged.

“Mickey is fine. Now what do you want?”

Maddox smiled. “In a hurry Mikhai—uh, Mickey? Can’t take 10 minutes of your precious time to talk?” he quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Fuck yourself is what I have time for.” He barked and tried not to each over and grab Maddox' tie and slam that pretty face into the steel table. “Don’t know if you guys are consistent or just stupid. You really think I, a guy from South Side Chicago, son of “Terrible” Terry Milkovich, is going to rat?”

Maddox shook his head. “I know you won’t and that’s not what I’m asking Mickey. I’m not asking for king of the damn castle, just a pawn. A scape goat.”

Mickey leaned back, laughing until dark eyebrows narrowed in on him. “Now I know the consistent part wasn’t it, you are stupid. I’m not gonna give you shit, not even a pawn. You’d use the RICO act as soon as my mouth opened, and I’d be dead inside within a week.”

Maddox sighed heavily. “Well, you got me there Mickey.” He smiled in respect. “But we can’t let you leave til you roll on someone.”

“Better get my new room ready then cuz that’ll never happen.” Mickey smiled, trying and succeeding in pissing off Maddox. “Don’t even try with that witness shit either. I know you fucks lost her.”

“We may not be able to get you to talk, but we can extend our warrant to the other Milkovich family and get one of them to roll. Your choice.” Maddox didn’t rise to the bait. He wasn’t sure how they got that information, but he was right all the same. “And who said it was a her, in the first place?”

“We all have connections around Chicago man, not just pigs like you. I know it’s a chick and I know you fucking lost her. The only reason I’m even talkin to you is because I know you don’t have shit. You need me more than I need you.”

When Maddox didn’t confirm or deny his accusation, Mickey knew it was the truth. He hadn’t heard anything from Iggy about the witness yet, but he knew it wasn’t good.

“Like I said, your choice Milkovich. Let me know when you wanna talk.”

Mickey clenched his jaw until it popped. He needed out of here like now. If Ian was as bad as he thought, he couldn’t waste any more time. Maddox grabbed the file and walked to the door before he spoke up.

“Damn it, wait.”

Maddox turned in his heels with a smile. “Yes?”

“Turn the camera off.” He pointed to the large glass wall.

“I can’t do that Mickey.” He tilted his head. “But if I could…”

“Which you can.” Mickey pointed out.

“Which I can…why would I?”

This guy…this fucking guy. Too damn confident, too sure of himself. But Mickey would expect nothing less than perfect when dealing with him. “Cuz I got somethin for you.”

Maddox smirked and held up a finger. Mickey watched him exit the room, then come back moments later. He didn’t know how he knew, but the camera was indeed off. The mic too. It was just that feeling he got. The door shut, and Maddox leaned back against it, smug smile firmly in place.

“Camera is off. This better be good.”

Mickey nodded, cracking his knuckles over and over in a nervous gesture. “I need to get out of here Maddox. Like tonight.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Maddox asked hesitantly. “This can’t be the reason for the cameras off.”

“And if it was?” He challenged back, leaning forward on the cool table. The sound was unbearable, for both of them. “I need to handle something, family emergency.”

“Aunt Ginger, right?” Maddox asked. “She aint takin her meds?”

“No, she isn’t, and I need to take care of it.” He gritted his teeth. Maddox was one more snarky comment away from getting punched in the throat. “Maybe we can help each other. I have something you want, you have something I need.”

“Freedom for you. But do I need from you?” Maddox adjusted his legs.

“Me.” He said simply. And he was not wrong. The only thing he had to offer, is the one thing Maddox wanted; him. This was not something he liked to do but it wasn’t below him. He needed to get to Ian and this was is only card to play.

Maddox smiled, looking at Mickey intently. “I’m listening.”

“Simple really. We fuck, you get me out of here by tomorrow.” He simmered with confidence, fake confidence but still. This would work. He just wasn’t sure one fuck is all he would have to do.

Maddox pushed away from the door and tossed the folder onto the table as he slowly made his way around the room. When he was directly behind Mickey, he gripped the back of his chair and towered over him. “You think one fuck will do the trick?”

“Yes.” He swallowed when be felt the hot air against his neck.

“Are you just that cocky or are you really that good?” Maddox leaned down and lightly bit the back of his neck.

Mickey shivered, not out of lust or want. But if the literal power Maddox had over him. Actual power. “Both.”

“I know you’re a bottom Mickey. Anyone with a brain could see that.” He trailed a finger over smooth skin. “And I normally don’t bottom but I have a feeling you won’t be getting on your knees for me.”

“I’m a top Maddox.” He lied easily. “You want me to fuck you, I will. Then I’m out tomorrow morning.” He didn’t ask, it was promised.

“Deal.” Maddox moved away from him and snatched the file back. “Short on time here, but I’ll be paying you a visit after hours.”

Mickey let out a breath as Maddox winked once and left him alone. His body, which had been coiled tightly like a snake, was now unclenching and trying to relax. Of course, the adrenaline in his system wasn’t going easy on him. He bolted from the table, barely making it into the trash can before throwing up. He wasn’t sure if it was the stress about the charges against him, or the fact that Ian was off his meds, or if it was because he had to fuck his way to freedom, but whatever it was, was not sitting well with him.

Chapter Text

By the time Mandy walked out of the jail, her tears had dried up. Mickey had seemed so sure she would be able to fix it because he couldn’t. But how was she supposed to fix this? She couldn’t fly to Utah and make Ian take his meds. She had people watching her. Even now she could feel their eyes. She couldn’t lead them to Mac, and definitely not to Ian. And even if they didn’t follow her, Ian was a fighter when he was off his meds. No way could she get him to take them.

She had no other choice right now. She would have to try and get ahold of Mac or Ian and trust that they could fix it. She felt the eyes on her back and turned to flip off whoever it was before heading towards Iggy's car. She jumped in the passenger seat and he tore away from the building.

“What did Mick say?” Iggy asked and passed her the cigarette.

“He thinks Ian’s off his meds again. He was going to try and call but even if Ian answers, he can’t say much with those assholes listening.” She exhaled a cloud of smoke, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “And he’s pissed that you can’t find the damn snitch.”

“Fuck, that’s not good. So much for Mac’s promise to take care of him.” Iggy scuffed. “And I’ve been lookin. It’s not like they make that shit easy ya know.”

“Like that was going to happen. I don’t know why Mick trusts that asshole. He doesn’t give a shit about Ian.” She chewed on her thumb, trying to come up with an idea. “Mick wants me to fix it and he wants you to do what he told you.”

Iggy scuffed. “How? We’ve both been present for this shit. Ian won’t just take his damn meds. We can’t go out there and force him either.” Iggy didn’t bother commenting on the snitch again. It was clear that he would need more than a little luck to find her.

She nodded. It helped that she wasn’t the only one who understood the rules at this point. “Let me see the prepaid phone.” She held her hand out and Iggy dug into his pocket for it.

“Calling Ian?”

She shook her head. “He hasn’t answered me in three days. I’m calling Mac.”

Iggy tried to snatch the phone back, panicking a little. “Mandy, Mick said…”

“Fuck what he said! He told me to fix and so I am.” She growled and dialed Mac’s number. It rang three times like usual and she hung up. Immediately it rang, and she answered it. Normally she would be afraid of that deep voice but not when Ian was concerned.

“The fuck you want?” came Mac’s growling question.

“Mac, it’s Mandy.”

“Mandy who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your niece you dumb shit.”

Mac laughed. “Calm down sugar tits. What the fuck you callin me for? I’m busy workin.”

“I can’t get ahold of Ian.”

“That’s my problem how?” Mac accuses.

“Cuz he’s there with you fuck head. And he’s supposed to be taking his meds.” She growls, beyond pissed at him.

“Don’t see how that’s my fuckin problem. Not a damn baby sitter.”

“That’s exactly what you are, you useless fuck.”

Iggy was staring at her with his mouth hanging wide open. Even Mickey didn’t talk to Mac that way, certainly not Mandy. But she was pissed, out of her fucking mind mad.

“Ya better watch it girl.” Mac threatens.

As he spoke, Mandy could hear muffled crying in the background. It wasn’t Ian, that much she knew for sure, but someone was definitely with Mac, and in the worst way. There would only be two reasons for Mac to have company. Sex, which made her want to gag. Or his extracurricular activities, that gave her nightmares. Legends of Mac were those exactly, legends. She didn’t want to know what Mac was doing. Not at all.

Mandy laughs. “The fuck you gonna do about it, huh? You hurt me, and you can kiss your little meth plant goodbye.”

“Don’t threaten me bitch! I will fucking end you!”

“Think so? Don’t think any of my brothers would let that happen. So, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna get Ian to take his damn meds and fucking call me.”

Mac scuffed. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, I’ll hand ATF all your books.” She smiled as Iggy choked on smoke and started coughing. “They can see just who your shit goes to and where it comes from.”

“You don’t have access to that shit.”

“Don’t I? I’ve been doin the books since we got in business with your drugged out ass. You think my dumb as shit brothers do it? Nope, I do, and I know more than they ever will.”

“You won’t rat.” Mac was certain.

“Normally I’d say you’re right. But you’re fucking with my best friend and putting him in danger. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

She waited a moment, letting the seriousness of her words sink in. Ratting when you were South Side was unheard of. Snitches get stiches and all that shit. Killed in jail and prison. But she would do it and make it like it wasn’t her fault. And she knew Mickey would back her up.

“Stupid cunt!” He barked, ready to tell her to go fuck herself but she sounded serious. Really serious. “What the fuck I gotta do?”

Her smile of victory made Iggy shake his head, but Mandy could see his smile. “It’s not rocket science Mac. He takes the pills twice a day, 6 am and 6 pm. He needs to eat and get enough sleep, exercise too.”

“He’s a grown ass man. If he don’t wanna take them, I’m not gonna make him.”

“Yes the fuck you will. Mickey said to take care of him. You think he’s gonna be happy when he finds out?” She failed to mention that Mickey already knew, but she needed the added threat.

“I fucking hate you.”

Mandy grinned. “Mutual asshole. Make him take the damn meds. Hold his twink ass down and force that shit. If he doesn’t call me by tomorrow, we are going to have a problem.”

“Fine bitch. Eat me.”

Mandy ended the call after he hung up and handed it back to Iggy who looked a little green around the edges. She knew what she just did was extreme. Way too risky. Mickey would be pissed if he knew she would actually do it. And she would for Ian. But Mac’s anger didn’t scare her nearly as bad as when Ian was off his meds. That was a fucking nightmare.

“What? Mick told me to fix it.”

“Threatening to rat Mac out is fixing it?” Iggy quoted her but was beyond mad. “Mickey is gonna kill you.”

The car parked in front of the Milkovich house. “Maybe. But he’d kill Mac if anything bad happens to Ian. You know he would side with me because it’s Ian.”

Iggy nodded. “I’d have your back too Mandy. But it was risky.”

“Yeah, I know. But if anyone can make Ian takes his meds, it’ll be Mac. And it will be worth it.” She rubbed her eyes, so beyond tired of this shit. "Igg, we need to find that snitch. Call Colin and Jamie, we need to fix this so Mick can get out. I don't trust Mac for shit."

Iggy nodded. "Don't worry Mands, we'll fix it."

Chapter Text

It's Just Family Business
Chapter 8- Mac's A Jealous Bitch

(Mac POV)

Mac didn’t take a step back as the blood slowly dripped from the edge of the dirty table and slowly dripped down in a sticky line until he began to pool against the dirty floor. The ground soaked up the majority of it, but he purposely cut the femoral artery and blood was gushing out of the body at a blinding speed. He watched with a sardonic smile as the pool of blood lapped against his blood splattered boots.

It was a fucking masterpiece. Even by his standards. Normally, he wouldn’t risk killing someone like this man unless it was important to his work. Too risky. Even where he lived. Too small a town for people, locals and tourists aside to go missing. The town knew who done it, but they never gave him up. Part fear, some respect but probably how he kept the town floating. They didn’t want to make waves and he didn’t either.

But this guy…he warranted death. Okay, maybe not death for just fucking some random in the bar full of meth addicts, but it was different when the random was Red. He was off limits to everyone, including himself. Especially himself. Mac had warned the bar regulars to keep their hands and dicks off. And he believed they stayed away. This kid, may be younger than Ian, was a tourist for sure.

After Ian had stolen his truck and bolted, there was really only one place he would go; Luna Mesa. Mac had to hotwire the old ladies car next door and get there as soon as he could. He hadn’t been fast enough.

Mac gazed down at the body in front of him, practically dethatched from every inch of skin from his scalp line to the tops of his thighs. A masterpiece. He heard this fuckers moans from outside the bathroom. Heard him demand more from the redhead, instead of enjoying the pounding he was clearly getting. Greedy fuck. You can’t appease some people.

The boy had died long before Mac peeled the rest of his skin off, like a rubber glove but he had taken pleasure in the screams he got in return. Much like the screams Ian pulled out of him. He dropped the scalpel, yes scalpel, he needed a small blade to separate the skin from the muscle tissue and it worked. It clattered against the ground and he took a step back, breathing deeply.

The coppery taste in the air, combined with his sticky body had him hard. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck Ian. To make him beg and scream and cry. He wanted to bruise his untouched skin until Ian craved the harsh touches. Mac stumbled back and leaned against the dirt wall, trying to calm himself. He took his tin from his shirt pocket and rubbed way more than his usual onto his stained gums, letting his tongue follow the movements. The high was instant and it both helped level him out and amp him up.

When the drug took full effect, his higher functions became heightened. He could see clearer, smell, sound…especially sound. And he was not as alone as he thought. There was a harsh, but soft breathing sound. Labored, nearly ragged. The boy on the table was long dead. And Mac knew who it was. Ian had followed him, took that risk and entered the cave.

The sound was coming from the entrance and his head turned slowly, blazing eyes searching the dark corners of the cave when a flash of green landed on him. A green like he’d never seen before. He should be pissed off that Ian had followed him. Had stolen his truck. But he couldn’t be with those eyes on him. Eyes that searched him from head to toe and back again.

“Get out here.” He tried to growl but his throat was dry, and it came out less intimidating as he wanted.

Ian moved from the doorway, slow steps forward as if the ground would collapse from beneath him if he stepped wrong. He wasn’t scared. Not at all. Maybe because Mac wasn’t mad at him. His face was unreadable. He stopped walking when he was a foot away from Mac. His eyes kept darting to the broken, skinless body to his right and yet, he wasn’t afraid.

“You enjoy the show?” Mac asked and nodded towards his work. Ian didn’t reply. Of course he wouldn’t. But green eyes kept darting to the table, over and over again.

“You killed him.” Ian said lowly, almost a whisper. Still no fear. “The guy I fucked.”

Mac nodded once. He really wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He imagined Ian in total freak out mode. Angry maybe, horrified like anyone in their right mind should be.

“Why?” Ian asked.

Mac shrugged. “Would ya believe I was over due for a kill?” He was lying. They both knew it but fuck, he had to try. No way did he want Ian to think this was some sort of romantic or jealousy act over him…even if it was.

Ian found himself smirking. Who knew Mac could be cute? “Not even a little bit.”

Mac watched Ian walk towards the body, eyes wide as he side stepped the pool of blood. He was curious to see what Ian would do. So far, he hadn’t bolted but he hasn’t see the kid up close yet. There was plenty of time for a freak out. Curious green eyes took in the scene, and Mac noticed how calm he was. Even standing so close. He’d never seen anyone so calm before. Not even Mickey, who had been apart of some of his first kills.

“So?” Ian looked back. “Gonna tell me why?”

“Simple. He’s an example.” Mac walked closer to the table and to Ian, not bothering to walk around the blood pool. “I warned those fucks at the bar. Shit, I warned the damn town.”

He looked down at the bloody hole where the kids face used to be. “He didn’t listen.”

“Warned them about me?” Ian asked, surprised. Mac didn’t see to be the territorial type. Especially nor over him. Or anyone maybe.

Mac nodded and noticed Ian’s eyes shyly darting back to the table. Almost like he couldn’t look away, like a train wreck. He could see sweat gathering on his head, hands clenched into fists as his sides…and the undeniable bulge in his jeans.

Red was hard.


“Hmm?” he asked and looked away from his groin.

“I know why you killed him.” Ian smirked. “You were jealous of him, weren’t you?” Ian full out grinned as blue eyes looked away.

It all came crashing down. The feel of another life slipping away at his hands, the drugs coursing through his blood, the sexual tension that was swallowing them down together, the way Ian looked at that dead body like he wanted to know what it felt like. All of it. He snapped and grabbed Ian around the throat, squeezing hard enough for Ian to moan and sway towards him.

“Don’t get jealous red.” He pulled him until their bodies touched from chest to toe. “No need ta be jealous. I take what I want, who I want, whenever the fuck I want.”

Ian let a whisper of a moan out. That was all the room he had from Mac squeezing his neck. His hands should have clawed at the hands choking him, not going to Mac’s hips and pulling their groins closer.

“Why aren’t you scared?” Mac asked, actually curious. He didn’t let go of Ian’s neck but started to growl as Ian rolled against his body. Pushing his cock against his own, that hot friction washing over his body.

Ian couldn’t reply. He was too worked up and Mac still made it so couldn’t speak too loudly. He only hoped his actions spoke louder than the words he wanted to say. “S' fuckin hot…” he gasped out and quickly undid the zipper on his blood stained coveralls.

Mac growled and yanked each arm out of the sleeves, still squeezing his neck. “Liked that, did ya?” Ian nodded, and Mac felt his fingers digging into his skin. “Why don’t ya show me how much you like it.” He kicked his leg out and pushed Ian’s legs further apart until he was forced onto his knees or risk falling.

Ian knelt right in the blood and felt it soaking into his jeans but that just made it hotter for some reason. He wasted no time yanking the material down Mac’s body until it too fell into the puddle. Mac only had boxers on under them and he grinned wickedly up at him.

“Easy access Mac?” he winked and palmed his cock, feeling just hot hard he was.

Mac groaned and fisted red hair, yanking it hard until Ian looked at him. “Use yer mouth for something useful.” He grabbed his dick from his boxers and rubbed the head against Ian’s pink lips.

“I always use it just how I need to.” He grinned before licking from the base, running a sloppy wet tongue up his length until it could swirl around the head. Ian groaned as he tasted him, heady and thick, almost sweet. Which was so unlike his personality.

His eyes slipped closed as soon as Ian unhinged his jaw like a snake and took him all the way down. He didn’t even gag, which was his favorite part and a personal challenge now. He still couldn’t believe Ian was on his knees because he watched him off some asshole. Was Mandy, right? Was the kid that fucked up? He had no fucking idea but if this was Ian off his meds, he fuckin wanted him to stay this way.

“Teach me?” Ian asked breathless, his voice more than a little raw from inhaling Mac’s dick.

“What?” he barked and drew his dick back into Ian’s mouth. He batted Ian’s hands away when he tried to stroke him and grabbed his jaw instead, pushing in as deep as possible until Ian gagged for him. He grinned and let Ian pull off.

He coughed, a sinfully wet sound but his eyes winkled in amusement. “Teach me?” He nodded back and up at the body.

This kid was going to kill him. So much eager than Mickey every had been. It should not have pleased him so much either. “S' possible. By ya gotta earn it cherry.”

Ian slowly licked the puddle on the tip of his dick and gave innocent eyes. “I’ll do anything you want Mac.”

“Anything?” He lifted his eyebrows high.

It made Ian think of mickey. “Anything.” He groaned and palmed his own cock, rubbing himself just a little. “Please Mac…”

Mac wanted to test this. He didn’t share this part with just anyone. And even though Ian was Mickey’s, it didn’t give him any more rights then the next person. He needed to push Ian, to see if he would crack and break. He grabbed the tin out of his tossed out coveralls and opened it to show Ian the white powder inside.

“Hit it.”

Ian didn’t hesitate. Mac watched him scoop out a hefty amount into one of his nails and snort it like it was nothing. No pinching the bridge of his nose, no watering eyes and no questions. Just that smirk he was growing to like. He nodded his approval and patted the side of his face.

“Strip.” He ordered roughly and watched.

Ian kicked off his shoes, tossed away his shirt and wiggled out of his jeans faster than ever. It could have been the drugs taking effect, but he didn’t want to over analyze, so he didn’t. He didn’t even ask if he needed his boxer briefs off, he just pulled them down and kicked then aside. He saw Mac’s eyes widen when his dick twitched, and Ian smirked. He knew he was hung, and now so did Mac.

“Now I see why Mick keeps ya around.” He silently appreciated his dick and how quick he followed directions. Mick could learn a thing or two. “Since ya aint squeamish,” they both chuckled. “Bend over that table.”

Ian’s eyes widened. Not because of the body or the mess but the bending over part. Of course Mac wouldn’t settle for anything less than a bottom. Unfortunately, he had never done it before. But Mac was in a relatively decent mood towards him and fuck if he was going to ruin in over this. The drugs helped it along, he turned and leaned his forearms against the table, resting stickily in cold blood.

Mac hummed his approval. Obedience had to be the best fucking thing. Better than the tightest ass or pussy, better than his meth or any amount of killing could bring him. But that ass didn’t disappoint either. It was nice and round, tight and damn those long legs.

He quickly kicked off his boots and the rest of his clothes and sauntered cockily over to him. He could see Ian shaking. No fear, anticipation maybe. Or the fact that he knew Ian didn’t bend over. He marveled at the untouched, smooth, pale skin and had to mark him up. I was a need, driven and powerful.

“Mac…” Ian whispered.

“Too late to back down.” Mac grumbled and gave a harsh slap to Ian’s ass.

Ian gasped, letting the smack roll up his body. “Wasn’t gonna back down.” He breathed deep, letting his arms rest fully on the table and they rubbed against the body. Slick and cold.

“What then?” He smacked his ass again, harder this time until the skin was red, and he could see his hand print.

Ian wasn’t sure what he needed or why he bothered to open his mouth. He wanted everything, all of it. His eyes quickly scanned the table, trying to calm himself down when he spotted the assortment of blades on the far corner of the table. He didn’t speak, he couldn’t. His body did it for him.

Mac watched his body tremble and followed Ian’s line of sight and when he spotted what he was focused on, he nearly bent him in half and took him right that second. Instead, he put a rough hand on Ian's lower back and bent him forward. Red hair was touching the body in front of them and with a swift push, Mac watched it fall to the other side, landing in a sickening flop.

He pushed hand past Ian’s face and watched the redhead swiftly lick his wrist. He shook his head at the disgustingly sexy, filthy gesture and grabbed the blade closest to him. He made sure to show Ian the blade and chuckled darkly when he moaned and shivered.

Ian had no idea what was happening. He was never like this before. Never. Not even off his meds. But there was something about all this, the danger and blood, Mac and those knives that had him panting for it. Aching for it. He watched the dim light dance over the blade and pushed back against Mac, feeling how hard he was.

“Yes…” he groaned.

Mac shook the stupid smile from his face and turned the blade, so the serrated edge was up and the dull side scrape against his skin. Ian arched and let out the deepest, pornographic moan he’d ever heard. He drug the blade over his neck, down between his shoulders and down the length of his spine. Goosebumps broke, and Mac pushed his hips forward, letting Ian feel his cock against his naked ass.

“Afraid?” Mac asked and it in harder, not breaking the skin.

“Turned the fuck on.” Ian shot back, clawing at the table until blood seeped under his nails.

“Good. Now, let’s pop this cherry.” He chuckled and turned the knife around and slashed a cut right into the meat of Ian’s ass. He flinched but moaned and Mac watched the red blood coat his white skin. He put the blade in his left hand, while the other fingered the wound, coating his fingers.

Ian was so tight, virginal. Mac nearly growled when he touched his hole. So tight and untouched. With a bloody finger, he circled it, getting it nice and wet and feeling Ian tremble.

“Gonna finger me with blood?” Ian asked in a blissed out voice but found himself rocking against the circling finger.

He pushed his finger in deep, relishing the sharp, painful sound as he pushed in deep. He didn’t care about Ian adjusting. He wanted him open and ready to take his cock. “Gonna fuck you with blood.”

“God!!” Ian moaned finally as the burn past but hissed again as Mac added another finger. It hurt, burned but he pushed back greedily.

“Yer ass takes it well.” Mac said without thinking. But fuck if it wasn’t true. Ian’s ass adapted like a fish to water. He pulled his fingers out and added more blood, which was currently dripping down those long legs to add to the mess on the floor.

“Fuck, you talk to much.” Ian barked but grinned when Mac got pissed and slapped his ass again. This is what he wanted. He laughed.

Mac couldn’t stop the fucking smile. He hated it. But fuck if Ian wasn’t after his damn soul. Being a bitch just to get it a little rougher. “Jus for that shit, yer ass only gets two.” He pulled his fingers out and slapped his ass again.

“Fuck…” he looked back and watched as Mac fingered the cut on his ass and coated his thick cock with it before nudging it between his ass. This was gonna hurt.

Mac gripped his hair in a tight hold and forced him face down onto the sticky table. He kicked his legs apart and pushed against the small of his back as he pushed inside. Not stopping to let his virgin ass adjust or to breathe past the need to come, he pushed all the way in.

“Shit...fuck, holy God!” Ian screamed, yes, he screamed. It was too much. All pain, the burn was going to eat him alive and the stretch…he couldn’t. He gripped the opposite edge of the table, scrambling to get away. Is this what Mickey felt every time they fucked? Each time he pounded that sweet ass of his, this is what he went through?

“No ya don’t!” He gripped Ian tighter and started to thrust in and out, feeling Ian shake under him. He leaned forward and roughly bit into his shoulder, hearing a moaning gasp.

“Jus take it cherry.”

Ian bit his lip and let Mac fuck him. With each brutal, fast thrust, the pain melted away into ecstasy. He gripped the table for another reason entirely. It helped brace him from the harsh slap of Mac’s hips as his cock tried to split him in two.

“Fuck yes…” Ian moaned as Mac fucked him harder. He was pushing back, fucking himself on Mac’s dick and moaning like a bitch. It went from awful to mind blowing and wondered why the fuck he hadn’t done this before. “Harder! Please!” He begged and turned to look at Mac pounding away.

There were no gentle touched. No caressing each other’s bodies. No sweet words, or hardly any talk. No 'I love yous'. Just plain old, hard fucking. Using each other to get off.

Mac growled and forced Ian to brace his leg on the bottom of the table leg, changing the angle so he went deeper. “Now who won’t shut the fuck up?” He laughed and watched his cock get swallowed into his body.

He was about to snap back at him when Mac brushed against his prostate, silencing the words before they even came out. This is the part he loved about fucking Mickey. Hitting that spot over and over, reducing him to a blubbering mess. Only thing was, he was that mess. His hand came back and gripped Mac’s thigh, pulling him closer, digging his nails in.

“Need it harder Mac.” He begged and panted. Everything was hot. Their bodies slick with sweat, his hair plastered to his face and his fingers slipped on slick skin. But he was close, so close to that edge.

Mac moved the blade until it rested against Ian’s throat, digging in enough to nick his skin. “You only come after me!” He growled and fucked harder. Feeling Ian shake under him, hear those desperate cries. The begging and panting. “Shit!!” He groaned and came hard, panting ruggedly into Ian’s neck as he filled him up.

Ian’s eyes crossed when he was filled with Mac’s come, hearing him pant and chuckle against his back. “Mac please, please let me come.”

Mac kept thrusting and dropped the knife to squeeze Ian’s neck hard. “Come for me cherry.”

“Oh fuckk!!” He moaned as he came hard. Not once had his cock been touched. Just the blade to his neck and Mac pounding inside him made him come. He watched the milky white come mix with the dark red blood and chuckled. “Holy fuck.”

Mac shook his head and pulled out. Grabbing the first rag he saw to wipe his dick off and flung it at Ian. The kid had been good, way better than any whore at the bar, man or woman. He took a moment to watch his come drip out and mix with the blood coating Ian’s legs before he dressed quickly and leaned against the wall, lighting a smoke.

Ian stood up. His lower back was stiff, ass was sore but fuck it was good. He used the rag Mac tossed him to clean between his cheeks and do his best to get the wound on his ass to stop bleeding. He turned and dressed quickly, keeping his eyes on Mac.

“Good?” Ian asked and snagged the cigarette from him. He was only able to take one drag before Mac grabbed it and pushed him aside.

“Had better.” He lied, and Ian knew it from that smile. “Still wanna learn?”

Ian nodded eagerly. “Now?”

Mac shook his head and turned down the path quickly before dragging a metal horse troth into the center of the room. “Too late. Already got this fuck head to take apart. Which yer helpin with by the way.”

Ian nodded. “Fine. How about another hit?”

Mac grinned and tossed Ian the tin, watching again as he snorted a fair amount and tossed it back. “No more til we get rid of this fucker.” He turned to a table filled with chemicals and started mixing them into the troth. “Get his feet.”

Ian followed Mac around the table and they carried the body towards the tub before dumping him in. “That shit gonna work? Don’t need the come I dumped into his ass to find its way back to me.”

Mac snorted at his crude talk as he stood up, moving away from the harsh chemical smell. “Course it’ll work asshole. Won’t be shit left of him after. Come included.”

“Good.” Ian watched interested as the chemicals began to eat away at the body. He grinned as Mac shook his head. “Home after?” Fuck, he sounded like a house wife.

“Home after.” He offered Ian the smoke. “Then yer gonna take yer meds.”

Ian’s head snapped to his, surprised first, then pissed. He shook his head, about to say fuck off before Mac held up a dirty hand.

“Yer gonna take em. Or I’ll hold your twinky ass down and force feed them to ya.” he pointed a finger at him. “Your choice.”

“The fuck Mac? Why the fuck to you care?” Ian snarled.

“I don’t. But Mick and his twat of a sister do, and I can’t have them pissed. So, yer gonna take em to or no dick, drugs or playthings for you.”

Ian looked like he wanted to argue. And he did, so bad. But he wanted more of all those choices. And he also knew Mac was serious. No more fun without takin his damn meds. Mandy and Mickey would have to fuckin ruin shit from hundreds of miles away. It was a talent they shared. One he hated. He hated them.

“Fucking asshole.” Mac only shrugged. “They got you, so dick whipped.” He shook his head, unbelievable.

Mac grinned. “Takes one to know one fuck face.”