As much as he picks on Ian Gallagher, Mickey has to admit – the boy’s a damn good fuck.
He’s on his hands and knees on the ginger’s bed, the camo-print sheets bunched up in his fists and dipping under his knees while Ian pounds into him from behind, his hips slapping into his ass cheeks hard. The bed – just a pile of mattresses, like his – thuds against the wall with each movement and the pillows look as though they’re going to slide off of it. His aim is fucking perfect and on every thrust his cock is dragging across his sweet spot and making spots appear in Mickey’s periphery. It’s a good thing that nobody’s home right now because the noise they’re making would probably wake the dead.
“Fuck!” Mickey grunts, his dick leaking over Ian’s hand where the younger boy’s just grabbed it and squeezed. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck—“ He pants desperately, before letting out a choked gasp and then a long, blissful moan as his orgasm melts out of him, seemingly from bone-deep within him. It feels perfect; the kind of orgasm which he could feel in seemingly every cell of his body, filling every nook and cranny and putting him in a good mood for the rest of the day. Mickey’s been getting a lot of those lately. Even Mandy’s noticed that his mood’s been up as of late.
Ian isn’t far behind and just when Mickey thinks it can’t get any better, he feels the weird sensation of Ian coming inside of him. The redhead squeezes his hips and pulls his ass right against his hips, holding him still while his hips jerk and his balls quiver. “Shit, Mickey—“ He groans, and Mickey knows the face he’s making: eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flared and lips parted while the arch of one eyebrow twitches up towards his hairline. He can remember it clear as day, the first time he saw Ian Gallagher’s weird orgasmic eyebrow twitch. He would’ve laughed had he not come all over himself and some of the crates below him barely a second later.
After a few moments, they’ve caught their breaths, and Ian is pulling away from him where he’d slumped over Mickey’s back and was leaving damp kisses on his shoulder blades. Mickey lets it slide and slowly pulls away from the other boy while he’s gently pulling out of him, being careful not to irritate his oversensitive dick. Goosebumps erupt over both of them, their flesh oversensitive and flushed in the cold air of Ian’s room.
When they’re separated, they share a warm, private grin and Mickey stands up on his knees, shuffles towards the younger boy and kneels flush against him. Ian wraps his arms around his waist and strokes his back gently, tilts his head and kisses him. Mickey strokes the back of his head and places his other hand on his chest to return it. It’s a slow, affectionate kiss and Mickey surprises himself by letting Ian bump his nose against his playfully when it ends.
“Fuck,” Mickey grunts, somewhat spoiling the moment as a painful cramp erupts over his knee and up his thigh. He pulls away to collapse on his back on Ian’s bed to take the pressure off his knees.
Ian chuckles and squeezes into the space between Mickey and the edge of the bed, lying on his side and resting his head on the pillow beside him while he arranges the blanket over their shivering bodies. He likes to press close to Mickey after rounds of sex, especially when they’re in one of their beds like this, or when they’re in the van. Sex at the store is usually quick and hurried, apart from when they stay late for “inventory”, and plus - the back room doesn’t have a bed and really isn’t the most comfortable of places. He’d probably kill him for it if he told him, but he loves to feel like he’s protecting Mickey; protecting him from his dad, from his brothers and uncles, from their shitty neighbourhood and maybe, in a sense, from his own bullshit. Protecting him from all that so he doesn’t bolt, terrified, away from this tentatively blossoming thing they have between them like he’s been burned.
Mickey leans over him to swipe a cigarette from Ian’s pack on the nightstand, lights it with his shitty lighter and lays back to take a deep drag. Ian is still lying beside him, watching the smoke curl as it rises away from them and out of the window.
“Are you busy tonight?” He asks, after glancing down at his watch. 2.15.
Mickey blows the smoke in his throat out and turns to face him on the mattress. “I’m not busy now.” He says, flicking ash into the empty beer can behind Ian and smirking flirtatiously.
Ian rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? Already?” He asks, taking the offered cigarette and taking a drag.
“Come on, Gallagher, you’re younger than I am.” He says teasingly.
“Answer my question, douchebag.” He laughs, placing the cigarette in between Mickey’s lips again.
Mickey laughs back and seems to think. “I got a few collections to make after this and then I have to pick the car up from Manny. But I guess I could go for another few rounds tonight.” He says. “Where were you thinkin’ of hosting this party? Baseball field?”
“No…” Ian says, idly uncapping and recapping the lube which has ended up between them on the mattress. “It’s something different. I think you’ll like it.”
“It’s fucking cold out. I don’t feel like freezing my ass off.” Mickey warns.
Ian rolls his eyes. “Just trust me, alright?”
Mickey furrows his brow and drops the spent cigarette into the beer can. “Whatever.” He says, and then sits up to straddle the other boy’s hips. “Guess I ought to do my share of the work if you’re that tired then, big boy.” He says, looking down at the redhead with a wicked grin and rubbing the cleft of his ass over the length of Ian’s cock.
Ian groans and laughs, bucking his hips up and rubbing his dick. “Damn straight, you lazy fuck.”
February has crept up on them, and the snow doesn’t show any signs of letting up. From where Ian’s standing though, it’s not quite so bad. He’s waiting under the El for Mickey to show up and as usual, the older boy is late. Ian contemplates leaving and going home, but just as he sighs and turns to leave, he spots him. Mickey is making his way down beneath the L, walking quickly. Ian chuckles to himself. He can hardly see his face, but he’d recognise Mickey’s slightly bow-legged stride anywhere.
He holds his arms out at his sides in a “what fucking time do you call this” gesture.
Mickey doesn’t need to ask him what he means. “Quit your bitching, Gallagher, Jesus.” He says, flicking his cigarette to the ground.
“Should I buy you a watch?” Ian laughs.
“You buy me a damn thing and I’ll shove it right up your ass.” Mickey replies, but his words don’t have any real venom and there’s a smirk playing on his lips. Ian can’t afford that shit and he knows he stopped fucking around with the old dude weeks ago.
Ian laughs. “Kinky.”
“Nah, sorry I’m late, man. Manny fucked up the repair on the car again and that Maguire kid is a slippery fucker. I ain’t dealing to him again.” Mickey explains, and pauses with a smirk. “Plus I had to douche it out before I came—“
“Oh, fuck, sorry I asked.” Ian replies, furrowing his brow.
“Don’t be a little bitch then.” Mickey cackles. “Anyway. What is it you’re so excited about showing me?”
Ian gives him a lurid grin as he wraps one arm around Mickey’s waist and begins walking them towards a parked truck.
“Oh, that’s it?” Mickey asks, furrowing his brow. He should really nip Ian’s new hip-grabbing thing in the bud, but he just hasn’t got round to it yet.
Ian frowns at him. “You sound disappointed! Mickey Milkovich, disappointed by my dick. I never thought I’d see the day…”
“Well obviously I’m not, I mean, I’m always happy to see your dick, Gallagher, you gotta know that by now.” Mickey says, rolling his eyes. “I just thought—“
Ian stops in front of the truck and stands on the bumper to climb over the hood and up the windscreen, the soles of his boots squeaking as they slide over the glass and leaving footprints in his wake.
“The fuck you doing?” Mickey asks, grinning.
Ian stops to stand on top of the truck’s cab. “Do you need a hand?”
“Fuck you, I got it.” Mickey replies before Ian can make a stab about his short legs.
Ian watches him affectionately. It takes him a little longer to join him. When he’s next to him, Ian gets on one knee and holds his hands out, his fingers intertwined.
“Um. What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey asks, dumbfounded.
“Stand on my hand to climb on top of the trailer, idiot.” Ian says.
“Fuck you, I can get up there myself.” Mickey says. He then proceeds to jump, grapple with the slippery metal and slide right off again.
Ian fights the urge to laugh as Mickey slides off and almost down the between the cab and the trailer. When he jumps again, Ian wraps his arm around his middle and lifts him until he gets on top of it. He chuckles as he pushes him up by his ass and Mickey grunts until he’s fully on top of it. When he’s there, he lays down on his stomach and looks down at Ian with one eyebrow raised.
“So how you plannin’ on getting’ up here too, asshole?” He says smugly.
Ian only smirks and leaps, gracefully, onto the trailer, wriggles around a little bit and then pulls himself up on it with his upper body strength alone. When he’s done, he sits cross-legged beside the older boy and brushes the dirt off his hands. “ROTC, bitch.” He says with a grin.
Mickey rolls his eyes. “Douchebag.”
Ian laughs and pulls off his backpack and rummages through it to pull out a couple of checked blankets.
“Oh jeez.” Mickey says, frowning.
Ian glares at him and then pulls out a six pack of beer and a plastic bag of junk food. When he’s done, he spreads the blanket out on a dry-ish patch, lays down on it and cracks open a beer. Mickey gives him a weird look, and after a few moments of awkwardness and Ian staring at him expectantly, he snorts out a “whatever”, grabs a beer for himself and sits next to him.
They drink in silence for a few moments before Ian sighs from where he’s laying propped up on one elbow. “Do I have to spell it out?” He says.
“What the fuck you whinin’ about now?” Mickey says.
“Come here, you little wiener.” Ian replies affectionately.
Mickey sighs and finally shuffles until he’s lying alongside the other boy. Ian is still propped up beside him and is looking down at him.
“What, we sharin’ clothes now?” Ian asks with a grin.
“That’s my beanie.” He says. Mickey’s wearing the grey beanie he left at his house a couple of weeks ago. It makes him look younger than he is.
“Fuck off, no it’s not.” Mickey says, glaring at him when the redhead raises an eyebrow. “Accusing me of stealin’ your shit… I’m your boyfriend; I’m allowed to wear your clothes.”
Ian’s eyes widen and he looks down at the older boy who is, predictably, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not like you never steal any of my shit…” He mumbles after a few tense moments, sniffing once.
Ian can’t keep the grin off his face, but he doesn’t want to rock the boat, so he says nothing about Mickey’s little declaration. “It suits you. Keep it.” He says quietly, and then takes a sip of his beer before laying back. His heart is in his ears and he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t.
Mickey bites his lip as he tries to hide a smile and looks at Ian from under his lashes. Ian doesn’t catch him looking, but Mickey thinks to himself, not for the first time, that Ian Gallagher is probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. His stomach flip-flops as his heart rate comes down and he fights the urge to kiss him as he realises that Ian Gallagher really is his boyfriend - a fact; not a question anymore. He never thought he’d be okay with it – always thought the word would sting him, that he’d have to drop everything between them and cut Ian out of his life the second the word came up between them. Ian doesn’t look affronted, like Mickey had feared he might. He’d been afraid that Ian would laugh at him and tell him there’s no way that he’s good enough to be anything more than a fuck-buddy. Who’d be stupid enough to seriously date a Milkovich, after all?
“I think I can hear it…” Ian says, shaking Mickey out of his thoughts. Mickey vaguely hears the train approaching them overhead, the piercing whistle and rumble getting louder and louder. “Here it comes..!” Ian says excitedly, grinning wide.
The train passes over them loudly, the lights flashing and making the truck rattle violently below them. Ian is laughing loudly beside him and Mickey can’t believe he’s never done this before. He laughs right along with him and finds himself gripping the redhead’s wrist tightly because he feels like he’s going to fall right off the truck. Ian grasps his hand and then a few seconds later it’s whistling away, leaving them in darkness and the smell of burning gasoline and steel.
“Holy shit!” Mickey says, laughing freely.
“Fun, right?” Ian asks, laughing.
“I can’t believe I’ve never done that before. My heart’s in my throat…”
“Me and Lip used to come here as kids and do it all the time.” Ian explains, reaching behind him for a bag of Skittles. He shoves a handful in his mouth and hands the bag of junk food to the other boy. Belatedly, Mickey realises that he hasn’t eaten for hours, so he grabs a Snickers bar and eats half of it in a few seconds.
“I shouldn’t be as turned on by watching you eat as I am.” Ian says quietly.
Mickey washes the Snickers bar down with a few swigs of beer and grins. “So you’re finally ready to get on me, huh Skittles?”
Ian laughs and grabs the other blanket, laying it over them both before rolling on top of his boyfriend. “I’m always ready, asshole.” Ian says. He smiles into the kiss Mickey pulls him into and runs his gloved hands down the older boy’s sides. He tastes like beer and candy and Ian feels like he did after their first kiss all over again – like he wants to taste nothing but Mickey’s beer and candy-tinged saliva for the rest of his life. He snakes his hands up under the many layers of clothing to brush his bare fingertips against his smooth, warm flesh softly.
Mickey shivers and sighs before reaching down to do the same to Ian. Sliding his tongue into the redhead’s mouth, he reaches up to unzip his coat and then pushes his sweater and shirt up over his abdomen and chest. His legs are hooked over Ian’s thighs and the younger boy pulls away from the kiss to pull his gloves off with his teeth and toss them to the side. Now bare, one hand finds its way up underneath the brunet’s clothes again, and Ian kisses down his neck while the other dips into his pants to stroke his rapidly filling dick firmly.
“Mmh, fuck, Ian, I’m not getting naked, alright? S’too fuckin’ cold…” Mickey says, burying one hand in his hair and groaning at the ministrations.
“I’ll work around it,” Ian says, his voice hot in Mickey’s ear and sending shivers down his spine.
“What, they teach you how to fuck in extreme conditions in ROTC too?” He sighs, grinning as Ian undoes his coat and pushes his t-shirt up to lick over each nipple and blow on them until they’re hard in the freezing air.
“What was that?” Ian says with a grin as he teases the now oversensitive nubs.
Mickey hisses harshly in response, his back arching as he writhes on the blanket. “Argh, fuck—“
“S’what I thought…” Ian chuckles, and reaches down to pull Mickey’s jeans down over his ass roughly.
Mickey groans at the roughness and moans as Ian lifts his legs up higher until they’re over his shoulders. He closes his eyes and vaguely registers the sound of Ian rifling through the plastic bag somewhere above his head until he finds what he’s looking for. Ian places the lube beside them and kisses the older boy deeply while he unbuckles his belt and undoes the buttons on his jeans. As soon as they’re undone, Mickey’s hands are pulling his jeans and boxers down just enough so that he can get his hand inside his pants.
Ian lets out a ragged moan as Mickey jerks him off slowly and he reaches down to mirror his ministrations. Closing his eyes, he pants and groans and Mickey grins up at him as his touches get faster and more intense. He rocks his hips into the older boy’s grasp and moans as he rubs his thumb over the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. “Look at me,” he whispers, and Ian opens his eyes slowly to hold his gaze as his gut coils and his cock leaks onto the older boy’s belly. Fuck, Mickey wants to blow him so bad, but their position is too awkward and he’s too hungry for Ian’s dick in his ass to bother. Instead, he stops and grasps out for the lube that Ian left near them, and slides it under the redhead’s fingers where he’s leaning one on hand on the truck below them.
Ian doesn’t waste any time. His fingers are lubed up and his middle finger is pressing into the brunet’s hole in no time at all. Mickey groans and hisses, still a little achy from that afternoon, but he’s not in pain, so he doesn’t tell him to stop. Instead, he pushes back on it and groans as Ian brushes his sweet spot.
The younger boy’s tongue is tracing the shell of his ear and he’s groaning with every hiss and hitch of breath into the tight space between them. He slides in another finger and then another, scissoring them in the tight but pliant hole and leaning back to squirt more lube over Mickey’s ass. A grunt from the boy below him tells him to get on with the show, so he spreads what’s left over his cock and leans forward to press the head of it against his hole. He presses in a few times until he breaches him and then slowly glides the rest of the way in.
With a final thrust, Ian is in to the hilt and Mickey sighs against his face where it’s pressed against his. “Fuck,” Ian sighs, and his hands grip Mickey’s thighs and ass where the flesh is exposed.
“Fuck me.” Mickey whispers back, gripping Ian’s ass tightly and keeping his forehead pressed against him.
Ian groans and begins thrusting slowly, hissing and moving his hands to brace himself on the truck below them and give himself better traction. His thrusts gradually pick up and before long he’s got a rhythm and Mickey’s not wincing anymore. They let out stifled moans and the trailer wobbles a little more every time Ian’s thrusts are particularly hard.
Mickey groans and leans his head back on his beanie – it had fallen off at some point and was now pillowing his head – and he lets out little punched-out moans every time Ian grazes his prostate. Ian is panting above him, his hips slapping against the older boy’s quietly beneath the blanket and he leans down to give Mickey a deep, breathless kiss. Before long, Ian is jack-hammering into him and Mickey is being dangerously loud. Ian can hardly keep his reactions in check as Mickey grabs his ass cheeks and pants his name with every slap against his hips and stab at his prostate.
“Oh, fuck, I’m—” Ian moans out, feeling his balls tighten and his belly coil. Mickey moans out breathlessly and nods, and Ian can feel Mickey’s thighs quivering a little bit. The brunet can barely keep his eyes open below him and his dick is leaking over his belly. In the distance, he can hear the El whistling towards them, but he can’t pay attention to it because he’s coming, letting out a loud moan which dissipates into a series of gasped moans and grunts as his release finally fills the older boy and sparks of pleasure erupt all over his body. Then, just as the train howls overhead, Mickey tightens around him and his fingernails are digging into his ass cheeks as he comes hard, barely even having had to touch himself while the truck rattles below him and the lights flash above him. Ian can hardly hear him and it’s a good thing too, because Mickey lets out a loud moan as his heart pounds against his rib cage and his release coats his belly and chest, his body rippling with pleasure. Eventually, the vibrations of the train fade away and they’re left panting harshly, sweaty and spent between the blankets.
“Fuck, man, that was—that was intense.” Ian says, leaning back a little so the smaller man’s body isn’t quite so harshly bent in half.
“Sure was. You’re too fuckin’ good at that, man, gonna make me pass out one of these days.” Mickey looks a little wrecked below him. His face is sweaty and his belly is glistening with cum, but there’s a blissful expression on his face. Ian feels a little proud of himself.
Ian pulls out with a wet noise and they shuffle around a little until they can pull their pants up. Mickey wipes up his cum with the corner of the blanket, to Ian’s dismay, but he doesn’t say anything. He lays down beside the older boy and he wraps his arm around him, and to his surprise, Mickey turns to face him. With a shared smile, they kiss deeply and Mickey keeps his face pressed against his when they part.
There’s that strange light dancing in Mickey’s eyes again, and Ian wants to tell him that he loves him, because fuck, he does, and he knows that Mickey feels the same. He knows it’s too early though, so he just gazes back and plants a few kisses on Mickey’s mouth gently, his arms wrapped around him tightly. Mickey runs one hands through his hair and nudges his nose against Ian’s gently, feeling high off the redhead’s touch and not having the energy or inclination to save face.
“Hey Mick?” Ian murmurs.
“Hm?” Mickey replies, a little sleepily.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Mickey grins. “Sneaky fucker.”