“Sometimes you make me so fucking scared,” Ian lets out in one breath, like he can’t wrap his mind around it. His tongue rolls around the words as he gets that slightly higher tone that he does when he is talking faster that he can think. Usually, Mickey watches for it, knowing that’s when the most meaningful things will come out. He doesn’t like those words, though. He does not like them the slightest.
Mickey is laid out in Ian’s bed. His back to the wall, against old crumbled posters of fucking military motes. He thinks about his own posters back at his abandoned room, the angry writings over the walls, and tokes at the blow they got for tonight. The weather is kind of cold but he is not wearing a shirt – his own is stinking bad and he probably should get to wash it soon, and he doesn’t feel too comfortable getting one of Ian’s. Mickey doesn’t touch most of Ian’s stuff. There is a unspoken question of whether the things are really Ian’s for a start, the boy living in the crowded room with so many siblings. But even if he was sure, if it was something Mickey had seen in Ian before, he doesn’t feel like he would just get it and throw it on like it’s his business.
Mickey’s right leg is spread out, and the other is folded under it, his foot at the back of his knee. Ian is sitting on the bedside table, eyeing the street and waiting for his turn to smoke the joint. Mickey drinks on the sight, slender body curved forward, pale skin in the yellow low light of the room. The door is wide open and every once in a while someone comes up there. Mickey flinched the first couple of times but Ian never even seemed to notice, so he was slowly starting to ignore that too.
He wonders how much he could get used to if Ian kept him around.
And yet, chilling with Ian like this, like they are allowed to, it gets something boiling up in his lower stomach. His heart thumping stronger each time. He keeps smoking the joint, making too much smoke and knowing he is monopolizing it, but only just trying to chase it away. The feeling there’s something waiting for them – something terrible and painful – just around the corner.
“What’s on your mind?” Ian asks without looking at him, fingers tumbling on the glass of the window, a little fidgety.
Mickey leans forward for half a second to hand him the blunt and sighs. As if Ian Gallagher didn’t know what was on his mind. As if it wasn’t obvious.
“I keep thinking about it too,” Ian continues. “Sometimes, when I feel good – like I felt that day.”
Of course Ian knows.
“Do you want to go downstairs and watch me beat your ass in Mortal Kombat?”
Mickey is stoned. He shifted on the bed to be laying on his back and he keeps picturing the stains in Ian’s ceiling to be animals. Predators destroying everything around them.
“The only way you can try, right” he points out.
Weeks later, everyone is out somewhere. The Gallagher’s house feels so much bigger without all the noise – like a fucking palace. He used to get the same feeling at his house. But now, he doesn’t really miss the over crowded space. Mickey feels safer in way.
Again he is resting up against Ian’s wall, laid out on the boy’s bed. They are used to have these breaks now, just sitting in silence in the boys room smoking weed or just tobacco. It’s Marlboro this time, like they are fucking rich all of a sudden. Mickey doesn’t mind wearing the clothes he finds in Ian’s drawer anymore. Time is passing so fast lately.
Ian is sitting on the bed close to him, enough that there is no space to properly spread his legs, so he has one folded and the other resting over Ian’s thighs. He is used to touching him all the time now, much more than he used to be, and that thought gets him a feeling so funny in his chest he can’t help but smile a little.
“‘s up?” Ian questions him without turning his head from his phone sensing Mickey’s smile in the air.
“Just thinking,” Mickey offers hoping Ian will leave it at that. He never does so why the fuck Mickey still hopes is a mystery.
“About?..” He singsongs.
“About you. About me… when I’m around you.” He doesn’t choke on his words anymore when he opens up like this. There is still a line he won’t cross but it is surprising to him how further down the line has moved.
Ian seems to be surprised too, finally looking up from his phone to scan Mickey’s expression. He pulls out his best poker one right then, and he knows for a fact Ian gets nothing for a couple seconds. Then he breaks it in a grin and feels Ian easing with it.
“Sometimes I think I broke you,” Ian points out with a eyebrow crooked up. “All the talking and shit.”
“Don’t give yourself that much credit, man. I am just – as they say… evolving?” Mickey offers unsure.
He knows Ian has all the credit for everything, of course, because Ian shifted all the basis in his life the minute he walked in. At the same time, he knows Ian will probably take that as a bad thing and he’s been very determined to not let anything ruin their good days.
That seems to do the trick because Ian smiles a little and teases him.
“Mickey Milkovich 2.0 – Open Feelings and whatnot.”
They keep in silence for a minute, Mickey taking slow drags of his cigarrette He waits for the whole thing to die out but Ian doesn’t reach for his phone again. He is looking past Mickey, mind wandering elsewhere.
“But really, with me leaving and everything. I worry that I’m forcing you into this, that you are giving what I want because you think that if you don’t, I will bolt.”
The thought is not a complete lie. Mickey is afraid, yes, every minute if he has to be honest. He is afraid of being left and of leaving. He is afraid that even if the wind shifts it will mess with what they are trying to build here. He feels safer than he had ever felt but he is still holding his breath the whole time. Mickey guesses it says a lot about his life.
But that is not what the changes are about. His 2.0 is nothing from fear, it is the complete opposite of that.
“You know when I changed?” Mickey asks and he can’t force himself to look at Ian. “When it all started transforming inside of me?”
Ian is listening attentively. He can feel his hand start sweating where it is holding Mickey’s ankle. Still, Mickey takes his time, he waits for the right words before speaking, like he never had before, so careful to keep everything steady.
“That night at my place.”
They both spend too much time talking about that night for Mickey’s liking. Not really talking, more hinting at it and feeling shattered about what came after. This time, though, Mickey doesn’t want to go to the after, he only needs to dwell on the good things. And fuck, has he not dwelled in it more times than he could count?
“First night we spend together, right?”
Ian hums in response, clearly unsatisfied with what Mickey is offering him, his anxiety visible to Mickey like black ink in white paper. He is not trying to make the boy sweat, but he has to keep pacing himself when he opens up. He has learned it now.
“You showed me something that I didn’t believe was possible, then, just by being with you, talking to you.” Mickey feels the ash fall on Ian’s dirty sheet and bats it away, his smoke pretty much dead on his fingers.
It takes him a while to look for the pack, get another one and light it up. Ian eyeing him the whole time, clearly with a lot he wants to say as well, but he appreciates the boy’s effort to keep quiet, giving the floor to Mickey and his new acquired taste for fessing up what is inside. Not much a taste, a necessity. It finally rubbed on him after all the instructional videos on mental health he has started to watch because of Ian.
“I don’t think it was really a change even.. Just learning that I could be this, that I could be me.” He finishes.
Mickey hopes it is enough because it was a lot getting this out in something that more or less makes sense. Ian keeps his eyes on him and it is a little unsettling but it gives him room to study Ian too. To see the anxiety easing off him, a little smile growing on his pressed lips.
“So you’re saying this was you all along, a sappy queen in the Southside disguised as a bad element?”
Mickey chuckles and shrugs. “Man, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel half as bad as I think it would if I wasn’t prone to this, right? Talking, being here… Feels good.”
“That day changed things for me to,” Ian says.
Mickey scuffs at that. “You were a sappy queen all along, don’t throw me that, Ian.”
“Yeah, yeah, right.” Ian moves to get the pack and shifts everything on the bed with him. He is so muscular now, so big. Mickey loves how much space he takes, loves cuddling up next to him in whatever space is left. He never says it though. Instead, he teases Ian for how much he eats and his insane working out sessions. That’s the dynamic, though.
Ian lights one up fetching the cigarrette Mickey’s smoking instead of using the lighter. So entitled to everything around him, Mickey doesn’t even have the heart to waive him off.
In a sense, Ian is right. Mickey is fucking eager to deliver any and everything Ian asks from him. It should make him feel weak. It does not.
“Is not that, though. There was a moment there, I keep replaying it in my head all the time, even after all these years. It just stuck with me.”
That gets Mickey’s eyebrows up. He can’t help but smile teasingly, eyes flickering with a little lust right there. “Yea? What is it?”
Ian chuckles. “’s not like that, Mick… I mean, kind of? I don’t know. I did get off to that a couple times.”
If Ian wanted Mickey’s undivided attention, now he had it. They did have the house for themselves for a while and now that seemed like something Mickey should be more focused on than getting all emotional and shit.
He runs his foot up Ian’s thigh, Ian’s hand not letting go of his ankle all the way, until he wiggles his toes in Ian’s groin getting a laugh out of him.
“No, really,” Ian pulls his foot away and starts massaging it.
“You talking about the movie, then? I knew you had the hots for Seagal.” Mickey teases but he leans back a bit more, his legs spreading more and more and trying to get Ian closer.
Ian looks at him tantalizingly, almost getting lost in his thoughts before he takes a deep breath and focus again. “I want to tell you this…”
Mickey tilts his head, rubs his ear against his shoulder. He knows he has been smoking too much when he wants to reach for a new smoke but the stale in his mouth keeps him from it. He sighs. “Then do.”
“You were on all fours for me, and I looked down at you,” he starts. Well, if he wants Mickey to be focused on it he shouldn’t be so sexual about it. “You were mostly always with your back to me back then, remember? Would barely let me touch you.”
“Except for the obvious dick in my ass-“
“You definitely wanted to keep the gay to a minimum.” Ian teases and laughs.
Mickey can’t help but roll his eyes. Not at Ian, at himself really, at all the times he tried to push away from something that felt good because he thought he was supposed to. Well, that was then.
“Ok, but listen, Mick.” Ian licks his lips to speak and Mickey knows it is only because he is thinking hard but it is not helping Mickey listen much. “You made a sound, there. A moan that got away from you and it made me think that maybe that mattered to you, more than just the sex, you know? Like I mattered to you.”
“You got all that from a sound I made?” Mickey frowns. “Damn, Gallagher, you some moaning expert now? Do they even have a study on that?”
Ian pulls at his ankle and tickles his foot a little, not enough to make Mickey pull away.
“I certainly would be granted a degree on it if they did. I spend way too much time analizying all the sounds you make in bed.” Ian confesses. “You don’t make much, hell, back then you were almost completely mum.”
Mickey shrugs. “I like to keep quiet.”
“No, you really don’t,” Ian tries. “Sometimes you let go a bit and you get all these little whimpers out, it’s insanely hot.”
“But what about that, then? Why was it special?” Mickey ignores Ian’s latest statement the best he can.
He keeps thinking he has all the walls down for Ian and then the boy will point out yet another one Mickey has left standing without noticing. He considers the times Ian’s referring to, when he’s too drunk or too high to keep himself in check, and he knows Ian’s got a point. Hell, maybe Ian’s got a point all along and he is just pushing himself to please the boy from fear of being left behind. Somehow, it feels far from the truth. He takes a mental note to try it out next time they have sex, which he hopes will be in a couple minutes.
“I don’t know…” Ian says softly. “I just know it made me shiver and I almost told you I loved you right there. Because I did, I loved you so much.”
That catches Mickey out of guard. His jaw falls slack, lips parted as he tries to catch a breath. He is mumbling for a second and it’s not like Ian hasn’t told him he loves him already. He has, they both have, a couple times even. But knowing for how long Ian had these feelings for him, knowing the second it was clear to him. He doesn’t even know what to say but when the words come out, Mickey knows he means them with every fiber of his being.
“I loved you then too” is what he says. He feels out of breath. “Damn, I loved you so much and I didn’t even know.”
Ian leans forward and hides his face in Mickey’s knee for a second. He can feel Ian’s giggle on his skin and it’s so lame, even lamer is how it makes him shiver, how the blood runs up his neck and Mickey blushes like a chick.
“God, Mick.” Ian rests his chin in Mickey’s knee and reaches out to him, his right hand touching the side of his face before Ian intwines his fingers on the hair behind Mickey’s ear.
Mickey should probably get a haircut, the hair is starting to grow out of shape and he hates how it feels when it touches his neck. Still, he loves the feeling of Ian pulling slightly on his locks, forcing Mickey to lean in the touch. Maybe he will wait a couple more days.
They keep looking at each other’s eyes and Mickey feels so full, so warm under Ian’s gaze. He is so glad they are doing this, that they are trying day after day after day. Right at that moment, the way Ian is looking at him and is so heavy with meaning, he doesn’t even feel scared of the bad days. He is sure they will handle those too.
There had been a long way, and there is still many things they have to figure out, eventually move from the twin bed to have their own room. Ian’s meds balancing out and Mickey getting some help for his fucked up mind too. He feels strangely excited about it. Growing, evolving. It can all be so good if Ian keeps looking at him like that.
“If I had to go back,” Mickey says under his breath, his eyes are princkling a bit and he blinks it away. “If I had to, I would do it all over.”
Ian bites his lower lip and his eyes are shining a lot, Mickey is afraid that he is going to cry but Ian is not so far from that either.
“I don’t want you to-“ Because Ian knows what Mickey is talking about. He said he wouldn’t but there’s always the morning after incripted in his brain. Mickey can’t run away from it like he tried so many times and he is kind of tired of trying, to be honest.
“I know, I’m saying I would.” Mickey’s voice is shaking and he feels stupid but only a little. “I’m saying I don’t care for hell if I get to keep you. You, Ian. You are all I need.”
Ian nods and moves, finally lets go of his ankle. He is spreading Mickey’s legs and is moving over him, pulling him down so Mickey is laid out on the bed, all muscles and heavy weight but with that look that’s confusing, like Ian is just that kid Mickey met years ago. When Mickey tries to blink the feeling away again, he knows he is too far gone and a tear runs down the side of his face, but Ian is kissing it away and his own face is wet too.
“Mick…” Ian whispers against his lips. “You are all I need too.”
Mickey lets him kiss him slowly, lets him lie over him like he doesn’t weight a ton, and he doesn’t even care for feeling smothered. He takes small breaths and it all smells like Ian, fills him up way better than oxygen would, is more than enough.
Ian’s tongue is touching his own very lightly, everything is so wet from their tears and the want in their kiss. It truly is perfection.
Ian holds himself up with a hand to lighten the pressure in Mickey’s body, but Mickey is holding him down hard, fingernails caught in the fabric of Ian’s shirt. He only lets Ian go when the boy rolls his hips alluringly, and Mickey bites his own lower lip holding back something-
“You gonna make noise for me, right?” Ian teases. “You gonna let go for me.”
Ian is not asking, it is a statement. Mickey looks at him confused at first but when Ian rolls his hips again and he feels the same urge to bite down on his lower lip he sees it. The wall right there. It should not feel this easy to hammer it down, but it does. The sound comes out and he sees Ian’s eyes going dark.
Mickey chuckles slightly. “You gonna remodel me into whatever you please, aren’t you?”
Ian stops. Honest to god freezes mid thrust, the friction fixed on their hips. Mickey realizes what he just said and is ready to take it back, ready to have Ian second guessing everything.
And maybe that’s when he understimates how much they have changed. How much work they are putting into this, because instead of going back to his fears and pain, Ian looks at him very seriously, determined, and says calmly.
“No, I won’t. I will let you be you.”
Mickey smiles so fondly, breathes so easily. God, yes, he will be himself.
“You said it yourself, Mick. Like a minute ago.”
“I know, Gallagher. I’m just glad you were paying attention.” Mickey says and moves up to kiss Ian.
“I’m always paying attention.” Ian says against his mouth.
Mickey just opens up to him, tongue out first like he is craving for it. When Ian allows him to take his mouth, truly take it, he takes the opportunity to push Ian around and climb over him. He sets the pace then, rolling their hips together, savouring every second of their grinding. Mickey only has to pay attention a little bit to every time he feels like biting back sounds. He makes sure to let them out. Soft vibrations against Ian’s tongue.
The effect that it has on Ian is quiet obvious. His grip is strong on Mickeys sides, and he is so hard under Mickey it’s making his mouth water. It seems so stupid that he didn’t do this before now that Ian is losing it under him. If he knew…
Well, he probably wouldn’t do shit. Too thick in his skull all along.
He stops the kiss to stare down at Ian as they grind. He knows his shorts are already a bit wet from where his dick is leaking but Ian is wearing underwear under his own shorts and he can’t know for sure what is his state without looking. So he starts to move down to undress him, and Ian stops him holding his biceps.
“Wait, let me-“ Ian fidgets a little appearing to be unsure on how to move. “I wanna suck you off,” he seems to be asking Mickey for permission but Mickey is pretty sure they are way past that.
There was a time, though, Ian had asked him that. He bit his lip in hesitation as the words blurted out, and Mickey could see him sweating, all nerves like he was sure Mickey would snap at him. He is pretty sure he didn’t, he pretty sure he let Ian have his way with like always. He might be wrong, though.
This time, he doesn’t even batter an eye as he moves out of Ian’s lap and takes off his short. His eagerness so clear it makes Ian laugh a little and Mickey just joins him with a chuckle.
“Lie down,” Ian gestures to the bed and he is moving out of it too, taking his shirt off with one hand pulling on the back, the tease.
Mickey obliges. He still has his shirt on when he does but Ian just pulls it up to reveal his torso as he moves in, kisses his nipples with tender. It is all so sweet with him, Ian was sweet since the beginning. It is probably what made Mickey so into him, the way Ian always touched him like he was special. He had never felt special before Ian. Now it is all he has, every moment is like an ode to him. Mickey loves the attention.
Ian kisses down his body but what really makes Mickey shiver is the warm breath touching his skin. He doesn’t tease Mickey much, and it is clear that it’s because of his own need, too. Soon, Ian has his on his mouth and it feels better than it looks – and that’s saying something because it looks sinful in all the right ways.
“God, I lov-“ Mickey tries but right there Ian licks the head of his cock and Mickey loses the word in a moan. It’s long and low and feels right in his lips, but mostly feels right the way Ian’s eyes close at that, long lashes trembling as Ian hums around him.
If he didn’t know why Ian insisted on sucking him, now he knows, because Ian seems very dedicated in making Mickey moan for him. Everytime Mickey lets out a sound, Ian repeats the movement to hear it again, and it works like he’s playing Mickey as an instrument. He can have all the symphonies he wants for what Mickey is concerned. Mickey delivers it tone after tone, until he is shaking so much he has to beg Ian to stop by pulling at his hair.
“Come on, you can hold it more than that,” Ian says with a smirk.
“Give me a fucking minute, alright,” Mickey blurts out of breath.
He closes his eyes and tilts his head up, trying to focus on something that is not the man he is crazy about in between his legs. It is hard but he manages a bit and then Ian is moving out of the bed again and he opens his eyes questioningly.
Ian opens the drawer and Mickey knows. He doesn’t have to answer but still, Ian does. “Not even close.”
Mickey takes the opportunity to sit up a bit and remove his shirt. He watches as Ian shuffles around the messy drawer looking for the tube of lube and then as Ian undresses. The redhaired takes his shorts off first, always the stripper, and Mickey dwells on the wet patch in his red boxers at the tip of his outlined cock. He moves forward without thinking and catches it in his mouth, licking the wet spot into a bigger one, and he feels Ian’s cock moving involuntary under the fabric.
He moves back to let Ian take off his boxers and then moves back in, tasting the salty precum, and then moving along the shaft with his tongue until he’s under, mouthing Ian’s balls.
“God, you know you give good head Mick,” Ian seems to be aiming to ask that but it gets out all wrong.
“I do?” Mickey stops and asks looking up.
“Yea,” Ian uses his free hand to pull on the hair at his nape a bit, keeping him away from his cock teasingly. “Never wondered why I always cut you back on it? I feel like coming the moment you put your mouth in me.”
Mickey smiles with the praise. He never really noticed it but it’s probably true. Mickey is always so eager to be fucked he probably didn’t notice Ian trying to cut the blowjobs short.
“You can, if you want,” he says. “You have an impressive recovery time, I don’t mind.”
Ian lets him get close enough to lick on his head again and Mickey does very, very gently, letting the wetness smear on his lips and then sucking at the tip lightly.
“Gonna let me come in your mouth?”
It gets Mickey’s skin on fire and he sucks more eagerly. Ian takes the hint pretty fast.
“Gonna let me come in your face? Make a mess?”
He doesn’t even notice he is nodding, but he is, finally taking Ian all in his mouth. The position is all wrong, he is half laying in the bed, propped up on his elbow. He tries to stead himself by reaching around Ian’s thigh, just right under his ass.
Ian pulls back too fast and his cock falls out of Mickey’s mouth with a loud pop.
“Not today, no,” Ian seems to regain the control. “Today I don’t want your mouth full, I want to hear every sound you make for me.”
Mickey honest to god blushes. He is not really embarrassed – the wall truly is weak and being hammered down very fast – but still, it makes him hot and he blushes. It seems to be all the indication Ian needs because he is moving back to the bed and in between Mickeys legs in less than a second.
He kneels in front of Mickey and Mickey watches his torso, the movement as Ian breaths, his muscles flexing slightly as he opens the lube and squirts it in his palm.
If Mickey hadn’t done this a thousand times, he probably would be embarrassed of how his hips perks up with that, how open his body gets to the hint that Ian is going to prep him. The nostalgia kind of reminds him of a time that he was embarrassed of it. There is no room for that now, not when Ian is taking him back in his mouth and touching his hole with lube coated fingers.
Mickey can still taste Ian’s in his mouth and he licks him lips for it, missing having the boy in there. As if Ian reads his mind, he soon is invaded with fingers and he sucks on them eagerly, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Ian,” he moans. He knows it is vibrating on Ian’s fingers, the way his voice is hoarse with want. Ian moves his fingers away and then pull on his nipples wetting them with Mickey’s own saliva.
When Ian gets one finger inside of him Mickey is already seeing stars. He knows the amount of precum coming out is obscene but Ian doesn’t bat an eyelash at it, sucks on him and drinks on it like it is his favorite thing in the world. Mickey is shaking again, and he wonders how many times he can be this close to come and hold back.
If it felt like too much before, what Ian does next gets Mickey’s heart racing. Ian props Mickey up by holding his ass, with both hands. He stops sucking on Mickey’s cock and moves down and it looks exactly like he is going to eat Mickey. His eyes are even darker somehow, focused on Mickey’s groin and he takes a breath before diving in. The high pitched sound that gets out of Mickey then is pathetic. Ian is moving down, licking at his perineum, and then he licks at his hole and it’s the most wonderful and disgusting thing Mickey has ever seen.
Ian had gone there before, he even fucked Mickey with his tongue a few times. It never fails to get Mickey completely out of himself and this time, watching it – well, not it per se, since the anatomy has its limits, but he watches Ian’s back muscles, and he sees his head disappearing under his cock – makes Mickey wonder why he’d ever get on all fours again.
When Ian comes up, his face is shining wet and Mickey decides that is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.
“You gonna fuck me or what?” Mickey says because he has to say something.
“Chill,” Ian says and lets go of his ass, his body slumping on the bed a bit. “Hand me the lube.”
Mickey shifts around looking for the tube a bit and then hands it to Ian who squirts some more on his palm and then drops it again. He coats the fingers on his right hand, the one he had put in Mickey’s mouth not long ago, but there is so much of it it’s dripping everywhere. He starts fingering Mickey again, one finger in for like two thrusts and then two fingers scissoring a bit. Mickey feels the warmth spreading up on his body. His cock is hard and up, abandoned, leaking along the shaft. Ian looks at it for a second seeming to be considering something and then he starts touching himself, spreading the rest of the lube on his own cock.
Mickey nods pleased and relaxes around Ian’s fingers, even rocks his hips a bit to sinalize he is ready.
“I love you,” Ian says pointedly and for a second Mickey takes it in.
He doesn’t know why Ian loves him. There was a time Mickey even thought Ian didn’t really love him, just the idea he had of him. He doesn’t think like that anymore but he doesn’t know why. Something in his chest loosens up a bit there, like a knot he didn’t know he had, and he is so glad that they are in a stage in their lives that the bad things that were hidden from them are just dissolving effortlessly.
Because Mickey doesn’t need to know the reason. He is spread out in Ian’s bed, a bed he will sleep this night and the next and how many more it takes until they move. Ian is standing in between his legs, spreading him apart and jerking himself. And he looks down at Mickey’s body, he drinks on all the sounds Mickey’s making, sees his sweaty torso moving up and down as he breathes, and Ian sees something that he loves.
Knowing that is enough.
“Love you,” Mickey responds and loses his patience. He is pulling Ian down and over him and kissing his face clumsy and shivering. The fingers are gone but he has something better in mind. “Love you, love you, now fuck me,” he pleads and gets a chuckle from Ian.
“Yea, I will,” Ian says against the skin of his neck and he lines himself up with one hand.
When he starts sliding inside of Mickey it burns just a bit, for like half a heartbeat, and Mickey doesn’t mind it. Ian waits and waits for what feels like eternity and when Mickey’s ready to usher him to move, Ian starts thrusting.
They pick up a pace pretty quickly and Mickey is biting on Ian’s neck the whole time, licking his sweat and running his hands on his back. Ian holds himself up with one hand and the other moves to the back of Mickey’s thigh, getting him to lock his feet at Ian’s lower back and giving him more room to move inside Mickey.
Ian finds his spot so easily now. Mickey swallows down and presses his eyes closed and then Ian just stops.
“What?” Mickey manages to get out.
“You holding back,” Ian points and the way his voice shakes makes it obvious it is as hard for him to stay still as it is for Mickey.
Mickey holds his gaze. The red locks are falling over his forehead and he is shining with sweat. His eyes are like two paths of sin Mickey wants to follow. Mickey tries to move, thrusting up, and Ian holds him with a hand at his hipbone.
“Mick, I want you-“ Ian starts and puts more strength when Mickey tries to move again. “I want all of you, I want you to lose it with me.”
“Well, fuckhead, can you go back to fucking me again so I can scream my lungs out like I want to,” Mickey snaps but there is no heat in it. And because Ian’s smile is a little confused he completes, “You have me.”
He kisses Ian’s mouth for a minute, lets Ian breath in the kiss and then Ian is moving again and Mickey has his mind set in just letting it all go through him. He looks down on where they are joined both to savour it and to hide his face when the first moans start to form in his lips but soon he is laying back again, his eyes closed as he focus on feeling everything.
Mickey falls and falls and falls in a never ending abyss of pleasure, his breath coming out in the most dirty sounds he has ever heard himself make. The only sounds. He doesn’t mind. He feels another knot loosening up, feels his skin electrifying as Ian hits his spot again, and then again, and then it is all too much. Ian lets go of his hipbone to jerk him off and it barely takes him a couple of thrusts and Mickey is coming so hard he feels his whole body exploding in pieces. All he sees is white and his throat hurting and he doesn’t know why until he notices he still kind of screaming out his moan.
Ian collapses over him, then, and Mickey’s body will never stop shaking again, he knows that for a fact.
When he finally recovers a tiny bit of his sense he tries to ask but his voice doesn’t sound right, “Did you come?”.
Ian is almost passed out on top of him but something about it makes him laugh so hard he seems to come back to life. He only rolls to the side, smothered in the little space between Mickey’s lump body and the wall.
Mickey clears his throat before he tries to speak again and when he does his voice is a bit better. Fuck, how much noise did he really make?
“What?!” he says impatiently. Ian has a hand holding his stomach and he is trying to hide his laughing face in Mickey’s shoulder but Mickey is having none of that.
“What the fuck, Gallagher? What is it?!” Mickey shoves Ian off.
“You-“ Ian tries but he can’t stop. He kisses Mickey’s shoulder with the smile never leaving his lips. “You are perfect,” he manages.
Mickey stares at him the best he can. He is not strong enough to turn his body around but he can prop his eyebrows up and look unamused.
“I told you I was coming like a thousand times, Mick,” Ian says then, actually managing to stop laughing this time. “You were so out of it I got worried for a minute there, that’s just it.”
Mickey puffs and shakes his head slightly. “Well, thought you asked for it.”
He is not really upset. In fact, Mickey can’t feel anything but the lightning that ran through his body. He is even afraid to move a millimeter and have the sheet running on his skin because he is pretty sure he will spontaneously combust. Still, it’s a little unsettling to let go like that and have Ian laughing at him for it.
“Mick, from now on, that’s the only thing I ever want,” Ian says suddenly very serious. “You can’t even imagine, I- Well, I’m pretty sure you’ll have an idea once you get up.”
Ian eyes down and Mickey makes a face but it lasts only a second. God, barebacking was great, he was really happy they had taken this step the past few months, but the aftermath- Not his finest hour. Still, he smiles with Ian’s confession of how much he liked it.
“I want to take you apart like that everyday, forever.” Ian completes as he tries to cuddle him. Mickey bats his hand away.
“Don’t touch me,” he sneers.
Ian tightens up at that and gulps. “You mad at me?”
Mickey takes a deep sigh. “No fuck, I really can’t right now, like I will die or something if anything touches me.”
He turns his head to face Ian again and he has the dorkest smile Mickey’s seen. “Mickey… You saying I broke you?”
Mickey rolls his eyes and then very carefully tries to stand up. His legs are weak and he was right about how he would catch fire if he touched anything because he is pretty sure he is dying. He powers through it to get a cigarrette and light it up but before he can take a drag he feels it and he runs off.
Ian’s roaring laughter is loud around the house.
“Fuck you!” Mickey screams from the toilet but he smiles too, and then notices he brought the smoke with him and takes a long drag.
“Told you!” Ian yells back.