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Their journey to make new, gay friends begins with a fight, like most things in their lives do. Ian insists they need gay friends, Mickey feels slightly hurt that he isn’t enough for his husband. It seems to be a recurring theme in their relationship. But he doesn’t mention that, of course he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to throw their past in Ian’s face, even if he does think about it every now and then. Particularly when his husband tries to make him do something he doesn’t want, or need, and Mickey knows there’s someone else behind it. Ian, for all his ginger hotness and controlled softness, is Southside through and through. He is strong and a little bit rough, and he wouldn’t even think about learning about ‘gay culture’ on his own, whatever that’s supposed to be. He dipped his toes into it when he was younger and manic, but it was more about wanting to be something more than just a poor gay kid from the Southside and making money, rather than joining the culture.
But as they fight, Ian tells him about the importance of spending time around ‘their’ people and being a part of the movement. Mickey looks at his husband’s moving lips, but it’s not Ian he hears. It’s probably one of the guys his husband dated. They never talked about them, because Mickey doesn’t need to know anything about them, the mere fact they exist is painful enough.
Still, he can tell that someone convinced Ian he should be doing more as a gay man. It’s surprising he waited this long to mention it. Mickey ends up agreeing, not because he wants more friends, but because he won’t let Ian’s ex best him.
“I still don’t get why I need more friends. Sandy...” he grumbles, squeezing into a pair of black skinny jeans. They are definitely his, since they are short enough for his legs, but they seem to be extra tight around his ass.
“Is family.”
“And family can’t be your friends?”
“They… It’s different, alright? We need gay friends.”
“I hope you realize how ridiculous it is to be looking for gay friends only. They’re going to think you’re a weird-ass motherfucker.”
Ian ignores him, probably because he knows Mickey is right.
Lip would be equal parts hurt and furious if he heard Ian’s new theory about family and friendships, and Mickey is almost tempted to tell him. Maybe he will if Ian annoys him even more.
He expects Ian to take him to a gay club or at least a bar. Instead, he finds himself standing in front of a nice looking building in the Northside, the neighborhood unsettlingly peaceful. His dumbass husband is going to get them murdered.
“What the fuck, Ian?”
“I already found someone for us. I joined a Facebook group and they seemed very welcoming, you know? I sent them our pictures, and they invited us to hang out.”
They aren’t getting murdered then. They are getting fucked. Or, more likely, Ian is getting fucked while Mickey sulks in the corner. Suddenly, he would rather go to the club to get completely smashed while watching twinks try to shake their nonexistent asses.
“Should have told me you wanted an orgy.”
“It’s not like that,” Ian snaps at him annoyed, like it’s Mickey who is being unreasonable. “I told them we’re married and looking for friends. Try to be nice, alright?”
“Mhm.”
The guys are welcoming, so much that one of them squeezes Mickey’s butt cheek when he turns to follow a tall, black dude called Travis. Mickey glares at him, but the guy – Brendan? - smiles at him like his hand hasn’t been on Mickey’s ass seconds ago.
Ian is a fucking idiot.
The house is even nicer on the inside and, if Mickey had money, he definitely wouldn’t mind living in a place like this. Not in the Northside, but maybe close enough that no one would try to rob them every time they left the house. Mickey might be poor, but he knows nice things when he sees them. He almost wants to slip something into the pocket of his jacket.
There’s food he doesn’t recognize, but he is fine with that. Growing up with Terry Milkovich made him an opportunist eater, and he won’t turn his nose up at strawberries wrapped in ham. He does, however, pull a face at the alcohol sitting on the table and the drink that gets forced into his hand.
“Cosmopolitan,” Ian whispers next to him, as if Mickey cares. He downs it like a shot, ignoring Ian’s sharp elbow digging into his ribs.
Someone gives him another drink in a different glass, who needs so many glasses?, and this time he takes a small sip since it looks like wine, even though it’s a very pale shade of pink. He had wine once, it was sour and dry, and he let Mandy have the rest of it, since she was trying to pretend that she was classy at the time. This one is much milder and sweeter, and while he usually isn’t one for sweet alcohols, it isn’t the worst thing he had in his mouth. It’s good enough to sip.
“Not bad,” he mumbles to himself, but someone laughs next to him, sounding incredibly… gay.
“It’s rosé, and I’m Robbie,” the guy touches his arm like they already are friends. “Hold it by the stem, so the wine doesn’t get too warm.”
“Uh, sure, thanks. I’m Mickey.”
“Oh, I know.”
Mickey doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, but Robbie brushes against him as he walks outside to join the other guys. Ian already managed to claim a spot for them while Mickey was deciding if he likes wine or not, so he joins him. His husband is trying hard to impress their hosts, laughing loudly at every little thing they say and joking awkwardly. It seems obviously forced, but maybe it’s because Mickey knows him too well. Or maybe this is how they are supposed to act, how gay guys talk.
So Mickey stays mostly silent, speaking only when directly addressed. He doesn’t want to embarrass Ian by saying something that would betray his true personality. This is why he doesn’t have friends outside of his family. They already know he is an uneducated thug, so he can’t disappoint them if he says something stupid – more often than not they won’t even realize he said something dumb. And he doesn’t have to pretend to have proper manners around them.
Honest, he can be honest around his – and Ian’s – family. He can’t imagine being honest with a single person in this house.
Brendan and Travis stare at him a bit too much. Ian doesn’t seem to notice, but Mickey can feel their eyes on him. They aren’t hiding it either, smiling when their eyes meet. They want to fuck, but Mickey finds it a little confusing that they’re interested in him and not his hunk of a husband. It starts making sense when they go inside again, once it gets too cold to sit on the patio, and he catches them ogling his ass and whispering something to one another. They’re tops then, which explains everything.
Things get a little weird once it gets darker. Some pop song Mickey doesn’t recognize comes on, and the guys immediately start to dance, twerking and trying to look hot without being too obvious about it. Even Ian seems put off by the scene, they share a look and promptly sit down on the nearest couch. Maybe in a dark, dark club Mickey would let himself let loose after few drinks, rub his ass against his husband’s crotch to the rhythm of some generic pop number, or maybe in the privacy of their own house, but not here. Not around people who know his name.
He tries not to show how cringeworthy he finds the whole thing, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what being gay means. Is this how he is supposed to act to be accepted? He isn’t sure that’s what he wants, and they’re going to have a problem if Ian insists on changing him.
After twenty minutes of watching a bunch of overexcited men dance, Mickey is ready to beg Ian to go home.
“Hey guys, we can see that’s not really your vibe. You wanna smoke upstairs? I’ve got some primo kush, but Robbie can’t stand the smell,” a voice says from Mickey’s left, and when he turns he finds Brendan standing a little too close to him. Mickey’s face is at his crotch-level.
“Sure!” Ian readily agrees before Mickey can object.
“They want to bang,” he hisses at his oblivious husband as they follow Brendan, Travis and Will, the other guys still dancing.
“Jesus Christ, Mick, not everyone wants to bang me.”
“Sure. But Brendan definitely wants to bang me. He grabbed my ass!”
“What? When?”
“Right after we came, don’t be surprised if you find bruises there tomorrow.”
Oddly enough, Ian doesn’t say anything else, even when they’re led to the bedroom with a large bed and no chairs to sit on. Will tells them to just sit on the bed, and Mickey watched enough porn to know what’s going to happen. The guys manage to keep up appearances for few minutes, chatting about some lgbt-themed movie they recently watched. It sounds boring as fuck, so Mickey focuses on smoking his joint, secretly impressed by the quality. Preppy assholes must be buying from a legit source, but he is sure they’re overpaying. He would charge them at least twice the price if he was their dealer.
He leans against Ian, briefly closing his eyes. The other guys must notice his relaxed state, because suddenly there’s a hand on his thigh, rubbing it soothingly. It’s too small to be Ian’s, and when he opens his eyes he finds himself looking at Will’s smiling face.
“Do you want to have even more fun?”
Mickey bites his lip, ready to disagree, but when he sneaks a look at Ian, his husband seems unsure. That means he is considering it, and Mickey’s stomach clenches. Their hosts are hot, there’s no denying that, but Mickey’s done with fucking around with random guys.
But apparently Ian is not, because he says, “What do you think, Mick? Could be interesting.”
Mickey wants to tell him that group sex isn’t all that fun since someone always ends up being neglected, but he is powerless against Ian’s puppy eyes, so he nods, pushing down the hurt.
The second he does that, they’re on them like a pack of wolves. At least that’s how it feels to Mickey when two pairs of hands are pulling away his clothes and touching him everywhere. He expected them to be slightly more restrained, but Travis forces his thighs apart and goes to town on his cock, licking and kissing until it gets hard enough to suck. Brendan looks like all of his dreams came true right before he kisses Mickey, shoving his tongue deep inside.
He can hear Ian kiss Will, but he keeps his eyes locked on Brendan’s. If he doesn’t, he might do something stupid, like kick the shit out of Will, the only other bottom in the room. Usually, Mickey would be a little more involved, but Travis and Brendan seem to be happy with manhandling him, so he lets them do whatever they want. He ends up on all fours, Brendan’s dick in his mouth, Travis’ tongue and fingers in his ass.
“You ever had a black dick in you?” Travis asks once he is done stretching him, and Mickey shakes his head as much as he can. He knows it’s a big kink among some white gays, but even he knows it’s kind of fucked up. For him, there just weren’t enough black guys in the Southside that would be willing to fool around with him. “Brace yourself then, I’ll rock your world.”
Ian huffs at that, and Mickey finally looks up to check on his husband. Will is trying to deepthroat him, but he is failing miserably. Amused, and slightly proud of his own skills, he says, “Okay, blondie, let me show you how to handle my man’s cock.” Will scoffs at him, but Ian laughs openly, gently pushing the other guy away and moving closer to Mickey. His cock tastes of someone else’s spit, but it’s quickly replaced by Mickey’s own saliva as he takes it all the way down.
Someone cheers, while Travis says, “You’ve got yourself a nice little slut here, Ian. Wouldn’t have guessed from his attitude that he is such a whore. Is his ass as deep as his throat? Fuck, I bet we could DP him, and he would still beg for more dick.”
“Less talking, more fucking, Trav,” Brendon grumbles from the side. “I wanna fuck that ass too.”
“Hey, no! You can have his mouth,” Ian instructs, mindful of the fact that they already fucked before coming here. Mickey has to agree, three different dicks of different sizes and styles in one day are too much.
“Fine. We will spitroast him, and I’ll come all over him. You probably love taking loads on your pretty little face, huh, sweetheart? Are you daddy’s good whore?”
Mickey wants to tell him off, Ian is the only one who can talk to him like that, but Travis chooses this moment to push into him, and he doesn’t do it gently, shoving all the way in. He is about Ian’s size but thicker, spreading Mickey’s ass wider than it’s used to. The stretch feels incredibly good and he moans obscenely around his husband’s cock, spit running down his chin.
Will, unhappy with being left out, starts to rub his cock against Ian’s ass, kissing his back and shoulders. Mickey closes his eyes again, pretending that it doesn’t bother him. Travis distracts him by fucking into him with so much force that Ian’s balls slap against his chin after every thrust. Mickey raises his ass like a bitch in heat and spreads his legs wider, guiding Travis towards his prostate. But before he can fully enjoy the fucking, Ian pulls out and seconds later Travis’ cock disappears from Mickey’s ass.
“Mine,” Ian snarls, grabbing Mickey by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug.
“What the fuck?” Brendon asks and tries to touch Ian, but the redhead growls at him. “You knew it was going to happen when you accepted our invitation, you can’t just back out now!”
“I just wanted to make friends! It wasn’t… fuck. Fuck off, we’re leaving.”
Will makes an attempt at stopping them, but Ian keeps growling like a rabid dog, so trying to talk to him is hopeless. They get dressed and almost run out of the house, Ian dragging Mickey behind like a rag doll.
Once outside, Mickey shakes his hand off and whisper-shouts, not wanting to attract any attention, “What the fuck, Ian? You’re the one who...”
“You liked it. You liked being railed by someone else, you fucking whore.”
“It’s not my fault you got us invited to a sex party!”
“It wasn’t supposed to be one!”
“Brendon said...”
“Don’t say his name. We were supposed to just hang out, but you had to wear your ‘fuck me pants’, showing off your knees like a slut!”
Mickey bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but it’s impossible. He giggles at his husband’s silliness, earning himself a harsh glare.
He assumes Ian is going to be in a huff for a while, so he is taken aback when his husband drags him towards the closest alley and bends him over a trash can. It’s so dark that Mickey can hardly see his own hands, but he doesn’t need his eyes to know what Ian is doing. His pants are once again pulled down to his knees. It takes Ian only few seconds to unzip his own pants and Mickey lets out a loud yelp when he unceremoniously shoves into Mickey’s ass.
“You’re mine,” Ian growls in his ear, fucking him at a brutal speed. Mickey holds tight onto the trash bin, but it keeps rattling against the wall. But they are already riled up, so they will be gone by the time someone decides to check what the noise was. “Your ass is mine. Say it!”
“I’m yours, daddy,” Mickey whines, clenching his muscles around the thick length, making Ian moan. It feels right, no matter how big Travis’ cock was, it couldn’t compare to his husband’s dick. Mickey’s balls draw up, dick stiffening even more when Ian viciously rubs against his prostate. “Daddy, I’m going to cum, daddy!”
“Good boy,” Ian wraps his hand around Mickey’s throat, squeezing lightly to push him over the edge.
Mickey cums with a loud groan, his whole body shaking with the force of his orgasm. Ian continues to fuck him through it, grinding into his ass like he is trying to crawl into Mickey. It takes few more thrusts before he is coming as well, shooting deep into Mickey’s hole.
They stay like that for a minute, connected both physically and emotionally, Ian’s hand splayed across Mickey’s heart. “Are you mine?”, the older man quietly asks, almost feeling shy for needing affirmation.
“Always.”