Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10362804.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich, Lip_Gallagher/Mandy_Milkovich
  Character:
      Ian_Gallagher, Mickey_Milkovich, Lip_Gallagher, Mandy_Milkovich
  Additional Tags:
      Group_Home, Sneaking_Out, Fluff, Smut, Fluff_and_Smut, Blow_Jobs, First
      Time_Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Friends_With_Benefits, Closeted_Character,
      Pizza_Rolls, because_that_needs_to_be_a_tag, Sleepovers, video_games_-
      Freeform, Boyfriends, Bonding, Domesticity, domestic!Mickey
  Series:
      Part 5 of Words_I_Never_Said
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-19 Words: 6197
****** Silent In Sin ******
by MCRmyGeneral
Summary
     "Was I just invited to a sleepover?"
     Domestic Gallavich sleepover from 3x6, MINUS THE SCENE THAT SHALL NOT
     BE NAMED.
Notes
     Title is from Basic Instinct by The Acid (BONUS POINTS IF ANYONE
     KNOWS WHERE THE SONG IS FROM!)
See the end of the work for more notes
“Jacobs.”
“Here.”
“And Weston. Weston!”
Ian rolled his eyes. How fucking hard was it to answer when your name was
called?
“Here.”
“All right, good night, you shits of Chicago! Pricks of Illinois! Have fun.”
The light was turned off and the room was plunged into darkness. Ian waited
impatiently, shaking his foot as the minutes dragged on.
Finally, after when felt like a literal eternity, he saw Lip peek his head over
the edge of the bed above him.
“Good to go?” He whispered.
Ian smiled. “For about an hour,” He quipped, and Lip chuckled. He hopped down
from his bunk, landing next to Ian. Ian stood, pulling on his hoodie and
backpack and followed Lip out the door and down a back stairwell, where an
older kid was guarding a door. Lip slipped him some money, and he gave him a
nod in return, turning and walking back to the bunks.
Ian cocked an eyebrow when Lip didn't leave with him.
“You sneaking out, too?”
Lip rolled his eyes. “You don't think you're the only one sticking his dick in
a Milkovich around here, do you?”
Ian tried to shoot Lip a dirty look, but his mouth betrayed him, and he ended
up half-smiling, half-scowling at his brother.
Lip opened the door and Ian saw that Mandy was outside, leaning against a
mailbox.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Lip said, walking his eyes up and down her frame. She smiled
sinfully and flicked her cigarette butt into the street like a greaser from the
old days. Then she noticed Ian.
“Sneaking off to meet a Grindr hookup?” She teased, walking past Ian and into
Lip’s arms.
“Yeah, looks like you're doing the same,” Ian rebutted with a raised eyebrow.
Lip chuckled, and Mandy smiled. “You're kind of a bitch.”
“Takes one to know one. Have fun,” He called over his shoulder as he walked
away, heading to the L.
****
Ian knocked on the Milkovich’s front door, biting his tongue to keep from
smiling too wide.
The door opened, but all Ian saw was Mickey’s retreating form. He waited for a
second, until Mickey turned around.
“Are you comin’ in, or do you wanna sleep on the fuckin’ porch?”
Ian smiled that lopsided smile of his, stepping over the threshold to the house
and closing the door behind him, cutting the two boys off in their own little
world, if only for the night.
“You can toss your shit wherever,” Mickey instructed as he walked toward the
kitchen.
Ian set his backpack on a chair and threw his sweatshirt over it. Something was
different about this place since he’d been here last, a couple months ago to
work on his History final with Mandy.
The Milkovich house usually had a distinct smell, like cigarette smoke, stale
beer, marijuana, and the artificial store-brand air freshener they sprayed to
cover it all. It wasn’t bad, just strong and very distinct. But as Ian took a
deep breath, he noticed that it smelled different today, kind of citrusy, like
oranges and lemons. He looked around discreetly while Mickey had his head
buried in the fridge, noticing that the beer cans usually littering the floor
were gone. The dozens of cellophane wrappers from cigarette packs that were
usually on every table and shelf were also gone. Even the table looked like it
had been wiped down, devoid of the layer of cigarette ash and spilled beer it
usually had. It was still cluttered, a cigarette pack here, a couple pens
there, some scraps of paper, a pile of unopened mail balanced almost expertly
in the corner of the coffee table. But it was definitely cleaner that Ian had
ever seen it before, which made him blush. He wasn’t gonna make the jump and
assume that Mickey had picked the place up specifically for him, but he liked
the thought.
“Beer?” Mickey asked, suddenly right beside Ian. Ian jumped when the cold
bottle was pressed against his bare neck.
“Jesus!” He hissed, wriggling away from the cold. Mickey giggled, honest to god
giggled and it made Ian smile.
“You’re an ass,” He threw at Mickey, rubbing his neck to warm it back up.
He grinned and shrugged, and Ian snatched the bottle from him, twisting it open
and taking a long pull.
“It looks nice in here,” He noted after he swallowed.
Mickey blushed, and if Ian wasn’t already absolutely smitten with the boy, that
would’ve sealed the deal right then and there.
“Yeah,” He explained, scratching a hand through his hair. “I picked up a
little.”
Ian cocked an eyebrow. “You clean?”
Mickey pushed his shoulder, but it was playful instead of forceful. It was
always a toss-up with Mickey. “Fuck you, man.”
“I’m kidding! It looks nice. Smells good, too.”
Mickey’s cheeks went even redder. “It’s Mandy’s stupid room spray. She’s got
like, a whole fucking shelf of that shit in her bedroom. She lifts it from Bath
& Body Works by the fuckin’ case. How someone so skinny can hide all those
bottles, I’ll never know.”
Ian chuckled. “You taught her well. Would you be offended if I said she had the
perfect criminal tutor?”
“Nope,” Mickey said with a smile. “Come on,” He nodded, and Ian just then
realized that they were still standing right in front of the door. Ian followed
him into the living room.
“Hungry?” Mickey asked over his shoulder.
Ian shrugged. “Sure.”
“I got pizza rolls in the oven,” He explained, handing Ian the cigarette from
his mouth and as if on cue, the oven beeped. “Toss in a movie,” He instructed,
and walked into the kitchen. Ian went over to the TV, rifling through a stack
of DVDs. He smiled when he saw the same name above more than half of the
titles. “Someone in this house got a boner for Steven Seagal?” He called over
to Mickey.
Mickey smirked. “Mandy likes him, you dick. But you gotta admit, he’s a fuckin’
badass.”
Ian made a face, though Mickey couldn’t see it. “Please,” He scoffed. “Jason
Statham is a bigger badass than Steven Seagal. Now if we’re talkin’ about
action stars, Jean Claude Van Damme is king.”
“You are out of your mind,” Mickey said with a roll of his eyes, grabbing the
pan of pizza rolls and kicking the oven closed, “Have you seen that ponytail?
That is a powerful ponytail, man. That’s bullshit. Seagal could totally kick
Van Damme’s ass.”
“Oh, unless, unless,” Ian countered, taking a drag from the cigarette and
blowing out the smoke as he watched Mickey walk into the living room, “It’s
Double Impact Van Damme. Cuz that is some Van Double-Damme!” Ian said with a
laugh. Mickey cocked an eyebrow and chuckled at the boy, who came and settled
next to him, mimicking his posture, setting one foot on the edge of the coffee
table and the other on the floor. He took the cigarette from his mouth and
passed it back to Mickey, who took a long pull and handed it back. When Ian
brought it to his mouth again, he could almost swear that he taste Mickey’s
lips on it.
“Fuck Van Damme,” Mickey muttered, always needing to have the last word.
They sat in silence for a bit, both swigging their beers and occasionally
chuckling at the movie’s terrible dialogue. Ian noticed that Mickey’s eyes kept
falling on him, only to quickly look away whenever he tried to meet them. It
was harder for Ian to sneak looks at Mickey given where he was sitting, but he
managed a few. He oogled the boy’s arms, the sleeveless shirt he was wearing
showing off the muscles that got bigger and harder with every stint in juvie.
Ian noticed that Mickey’s hand was laid on his thigh, nearly touching his own.
Ian fought against the powerful urge to reach out and lace his hand with
Mickey’s, to see the words broken up by his own fingers. His fingers twitched
involuntarily, and Ian decided it was best to busy his idle hand, so he started
picking at the label on his beer bottle. He looked over one more time, and this
time he actually caught Mickey’s eye and held it for a second. He saw something
in Mickey’s face, something that looked almost like affection. The thought
brought Ian back to a conversation he’d had with Mandy weeks ago.
”How do you know if a guy you’ve been hanging out with likes you?”
“Does he get that look in his eye when he’s with you?”
“What look?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
Ian’s mouth fell open slightly, and he turned back toward the television,
blinking slowly.
Holy shit, he thought to himself, his heart speeding up. That’s it. That’s the
look.
He chuckled once, breathlessly, and Mickey cocked an eyebrow.
“What’s your problem?”
Ian smirked at himself. “Nothing,” He said, covering his ass, “This movie is
just really fucking bad.”
Mickey smiled. “Yeah, it kind of is.” He leaned forward to grab the remote,
changing the input to the HDMI. “Seagal’s not fine enough to sit through any
more of that plastic acting,” He joked.
“Thank you,” Ian sighed, finishing off his beer. He surprised himself with how
easy it was to be with Mickey, though it was really no different than the long,
slow hours they spent together at the store. He had to admit that as much as he
enjoyed fucking the kid, Mickey was fun to actually hang out with, too.
“Want another beer?”
“Sure.”
“Well, you know where the kitchen is; I’m not your bitch,” Mickey teased,
getting up to change this disc in the PlayStation.
Ian rolled his eyes and smiled, heading into the kitchen for two more beers,
one for him and one for Mickey.
“If I remember correctly, you’re fucking terrible at Halo,” Mickey joked,
tossing Ian a controller as he walked back into the living room. Ian caught it
deftly with one hand, which sent Mickey’s eyebrows toward his hairline in
impressed awe.
“I don’t think you’re remembering correctly,” He insisted, moving to sit on the
couch, and Mickey went to stand next to him.
“Oh? Wanna make it interesting?” He asked, looming over Ian. Ian looked up at
Mickey through his eyelashes, quickly moving his eyes down to the boy’s belt
and back up. Mickey thought that he could certainly get used to this sight,
looking down at Ian like this. His cock stiffened a bit at the thought, but he
sat down before Ian noticed.
“What did you have in mind?” Ian asked.
“We’ll start with a pack of smokes, and go from there.”
“Bring it on, Sergeant Slaughter,” Ian teased, adopting Lip’s nickname for the
boy, which made him chuckle.
“Try not to cry when I’m wiping the floor with you, Firecrotch,” Mickey threw
back with a raised eyebrow and a sexy lick of his lips.
Ian puckered his lips and proceeded to kick Mickey’s ass three times over in
Halo.
“How the fuck?” Mickey muttered to himself, cigarette hanging from his lips.
Ian reached over and plucked it from the boy’s mouth, taking a long drag and
sticking it back between his lips. He looked over at Ian, who smirked and
feigned a yawn.
“So when’s the part where you wipe the floor with me?”
Mickey scowled, but there was a playfulness behind it.
“I’m changin’ the fuckin’ game,” He announced, all but jumping from the couch
and switching the discs.
Ian laughed and shoved a pizza roll in his mouth.
“Okay, now you’re on. Nobody beats me in Call of Duty.”
Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the three years of ROTC sharpshooting will only
hurt me here.”
Mickey frowned and scratched his head. “Shit. I forgot about that. I’m putting
in Guitar Hero!” He yelled, standing up again.
Ian grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down to the couch. “I don’t think so.
You made your bed, now lie in it.”
Mickey exhaled forcefully as the game started up. Ian smiled, and Mickey caught
his eye.
“What’s that fuckin’ grin for?”
Ian shrugged. “It’s nice to actually hang out. Like normal friends.”
Mickey thought for a second. “You think we’re friends?”
The words could’ve been harsh and condescending, like Mickey did so well. But
instead, they were sentimental and a little sad. It didn’t take Ian long after
starting this thing with Mickey to realize that he didn’t have many friends,
aside from his brothers and sister. And even they sometimes hated each other.
He knew that calling this a friendship meant something significant to Mickey,
even if he denied it.
Ian shrugged again. “I think we’re something.”
The very tips of Mickey’s lips turned up into a smile. “Yeah,” He nodded, voice
soft and almost inaudible, “We’re definitely something,” He agreed, sinking
back into the couch.
He started up the game, no other words needed.
Ian held back initially, letting Mickey and his team of bots kick his ass in
two consecutive rounds of Capture the Flag. But Mickey got cocky fast, cracking
jokes and taunting Ian, which made the redhead’s conscience fly out the window,
and he bounced back, coming from behind and winning the match in the upset of
the century.
Mickey threw an accusatory glance at him. “Don’t you be lettin’ me win,
Gallagher. I can win on my own. Be a man and lose gracefully.”
Ian scoffed, and threw a grenade clear across the map, landing it perfectly in
front of Mickey, who was soon splattered all over the pavement.
“Fucker!” The boy yelled, dropping his controller to the floor and launching
himself at Ian.
Ian laughed as Mickey landed on him. “Ow, those are my ribs, you fuck!”
Mickey lifted himself off of Ian just slightly, just enough to pull back and
look him in the eye.
Ian noticed that Mickey's breathing was already heavier, the look in his eyes
already changing from playful to lusty. The boys stilled for a moment, each one
looking at the others eyes and then lips, then back to their eyes.
Mickey was the one that closed the distance, much to Ian's extreme surprise. He
crashed his mouth against Ian's, almost like he was hungry for the boy's lips.
Ian could get used to that. He suddenly wasn’t concerned with the game or the
two packs of cigarettes and ten bucks Mickey owed him.
Ian slid a hand around Mickey's side to rest on his hip, setting the other on
the back of his neck. Mickey slowly lowered himself, settling against Ian, and
the weight on top of him made Ian sigh. He liked this feeling.
Mickey made a noise in his throat when Ian finally opened his mouth, halfway
between a sigh and a gasp. Mickey's tongue tasted like cigarette smoke, but it
wasn't unpleasant. Ian grabbed one of Mickey's lips between his teeth, digging
his teeth into the plump flesh lightly. The moan that followed shook Mickey's
entire frame, making him essentially vibrate against Ian, which lit every
single nerve in the boy's body on fire.
Ian swiped his tongue along Mickey's swollen lip before he released it, moving
immediately to kiss him again, and he would swear he almost saw Mickey's eyes
roll back in his head. He moved his knee between Mickey's, rubbing his thigh
gently against the lump that was already forming in the front of Mickey's
jeans.
Mickey broke the kiss, panting like he hadn't breathed in years.
Ian rolled his hips, pushing his thigh even harder against Mickey's hard-on.
“Shit,” Mickey swore, lowering his head to let it hang between his shoulders.
Ian kneaded his fingers against Mickey's skull for a moment before pushing him
away gently.
Mickey crawled off of him and settled back into the couch, his head thrown
back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath.
Ian leaned over to kiss the tendons in Mickey's neck, stretched taut and so
fucking pale that they were practically asking to be bitten and marked. He
scraped his teeth over the soft skin, and Mickey gasped, bucking his hips when
Ian started sucking.
“I have an idea,” Ian said when he finally leaned back to admire his handiwork.
The mark wasn't big, but it was dark and deep, and in a spot where Mickey
couldn't hide it if he tried. The thought of Mickey walking around town with
Ian's mark sitting proudly in his skin made Ian smile. It was Ian's mark, and
even if nobody knew it, everybody would see it.
“Oh?” Mickey asked, raising his head and cocking an eyebrow. “You've got an
idea, huh?”
Ian smirked. “I've only done it a couple times, so don't laugh at me,” He
instructed, and Mickey nodded.
“And don't gag me,” He added, sliding off the couch and onto the floor.
Mickey's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. Ian knelt in front of Mickey,
placing a hand on either knee and spreading them slightly.
Mickey looked uncertain, but he was as hard as Ian had ever seen him. Ian
grabbed his belt loops and pulled, sliding his hips forward, and Mickey gasped
shakily.
Ian pushed Mickey's shirt up toward his chest, dipping his head, kissing and
dragging his tongue in long lines across Mickey's stomach.
“Fuck,” Mickey breathed above him, his chest heaving.
Ian settled his lips on the soft spot right above where Mickey's jeans sat,
tasting the veins that strained against his pale skin. Mickey had unconsciously
laid a hand on the back of Ian's head, which made Ian almost proud. He pressed
kiss after kiss to the sensitive spot below Mickey's navel as he unbuckled
Mickey's belt and teasingly, agonizingly slowly, unzipped his jeans, the
zipper’s noise almost lost in Mickey's heavy breathing.
Ian looked up to see Mickey not looking up at the ceiling like he'd expected,
but instead staring down at him. His eyes were fixed on Ian intently, watching
his every movement like he couldn't bear to look away, and it made Ian's cock
stiffen in his jeans.
He went to start tugging Mickey's jeans down his thighs, but a horn sounded on
the street, and Mickey jumped. He laid his hands over Ian's to stop them.
“Maybe, uh,” He panted, “Maybe we shouldn't do this.”
Ian's face fell for a second, and embarrassment came coursing through his
veins. Until he saw that Mickey's eyes kept darting from Ian's to the door. Ian
noticed a sheen of sweat on Mickey's forehead, and as much as he'd love to take
the credit, he knew it wasn't sex sweat.
It all came crashing into Ian, causing a horrible ache in his stomach. Mickey
was as terrified as he was horny, petrified that Terry would come storming
through the door at any time and catch them. Ian never hated the man more than
he did right now. This had been a good night, both boys had been happy hanging
out and having fun, and Terry was ruining it without even being here. He knew
Mickey well enough to know that he was only scared of one thing, and that was
his father. And for someone like Mickey, who wasn't scared of anything, to be
so afraid of his father, told Ian everything he needed to know about Mickey's
life in the Milkovich home.
Ian blew out an angry breath, which Mickey misinterpreted.
“I'm sorry,” He said softly.
Ian shook his head, leaning up to catch Mickey's head between his hands.
“He's gone, Mickey.”
Mickey furrowed his brow. “The fuck are you-”
“Your dad's not here,” He cut Mickey off, and Mickey's face went pale. Ian had
just done something that nobody had ever done before. He had read him,
understood his feelings without Mickey having to say a word. Mickey was a
master at keeping all those gooey feelings under his shell; affection, fear,
worry, love. But Ian knew him well enough to see right through him. He had
mixed feelings about Ian knowing him so well, but for the most part, it made
his heart feel warm.
“He's gone, okay? He's not gonna come busting through the door. It's just you
and me,” He said soothingly, watching as the tension in Mickey's face slowly
dissolved. He was getting through to him. “You're safe. I promise.”
The way Mickey looked at Ian was almost too much. He wanted to look away, but
at the same time, he knew he couldn't. Mickey looked vulnerable for a moment,
like Ian had never seen him before. He trusted Ian, and that meant more to him
than any sexual encounter they had. Before he could stop himself, Ian leaned in
and kissed Mickey sweetly. He half-expected Mickey to push him away, but he
just set a hand on the side of Ian's neck and kissed him back, not necessarily
softly, but passionately. This kiss was unlike any other they'd shared so far.
When Ian pulled back, Mickey's cheeks were flushed.
“I'll stop if you want,” He whispered, moving to get off his knees.
Mickey took a breath and stopped Ian with a hand on his chest. Ian smiled at
him, which he returned.
“I mean, you're already down there,” Mickey teased, back to his cocky old self
again.
Ian smirked and sank back between Mickey's knees. He was pleased to see that
Mickey's dick was still standing hard and proud, tenting his jeans. Mickey sat
back against the couch, his hips sliding closer to Ian as he did so.
Ian smiled up at Mickey through his lashes before leaning down to kiss his hip
bones. He tugged Mickey's jeans down so that the only thing separating them was
the thin cotton of Mickey's boxers. Ian ran the very tip of his tongue over the
outline of Mickey's dick, leaving a wet trail in the fabric.
“Jesus Christ,” Mickey panted. He stuck one hand behind his head to prop
himself up, getting a better angle to watch everything Ian was doing. He tipped
his hips toward Ian, and Ian knew exactly what that meant. He pulled Mickey's
boxers down to meet his jeans, his cock now standing proudly, unsheathed.
Ian went right to it, keeping his lips tight as he sank onto Mickey's cock.
“Ooh, fuck,” Mickey moaned.
Ian couldn't stop the smile, grinning as he bobbed his head. He honestly loved
giving head, but Kash always felt weird about it because Ian was still so young
when they were together, and Ned, nine times out of ten, was the one going down
on him. But Mickey.... Mickey seemed like he was having the time of his life,
which made Ian's ego swell with pride. He loved the weight of Mickey's cock on
his tongue, the mild saltiness at the tip. But the noises, dear God, the noises
were the best part, had Ian close to cumming in his pants.
Mickey made the absolute best sex noises, grunting deeply and groaning and
sometimes, when Ian hit just the right spot, Mickey would lose his carefully
composed facade, and he'd actually whimper. Like he was coming apart at the
seams, all because of Ian. It kinda made his ego inflate, but mostly it just
made his cock ache with arousal.
Mickey didn't know when he'd set his hand on the back of Ian's head, but he
held it there loosely, letting it rise and fall as Ian moved. He was lost in
this sight, watching his dick disappear into Ian's mouth again and again. He
wished he could record this to watch over and over. Ian looked downright
pornographic, his lips red, his face flushed, his cheeks hollowed with spit
dribbling down his chin. Mickey had gotten sucked off before, but never like
this. Jesus, why was the kid so good at sucking cock?
As if to emphasize his skills, Ian pulled off nearly all the way, until just
the head of Mickey's dick was in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the
head, and it made Mickey's leg shake. Then Ian dipped his tongue into the slit,
licking up the spit and precum that had gathered there.
Mickey's stomach convulsed when he realized what Ian had done.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Ian!” He panted.
Ian pulled off, letting Mickey's cock run along his cheek, leaving a wet trail
over his skin, which made Mickey bite his lip.
“What's wrong?” Ian asked breathlessly. It made Mickey smile to know that Ian
was having just as much fun as he was.
Mickey needed a moment to catch his breath before he could speak. “Nothing.
Holy fuck, nothing's wrong. Just… you take dick like a fuckin’ champ,” He
laughed.
Ian chuckled, too. “Better than you, almost.”
Mickey glared down at the boy, but before he could get too angry, Ian sucked
him down again, curling his tongue around the underside of Mickey's dick. He
took Mickey as deep as he could, the head of his cock brushing the back of his
throat, and swallowed, the suction making a sort of vacuum in his mouth. Mickey
gasped and bucked his hips at the sensation, so much that Ian needed to
restrain him with an arm across his hips.
“I thought I said don't gag me,” Ian chastised, pulling off again.
“I thought you said you'd only done this a couple times,” Mickey panted.
Ian smiled. “I have.”
“Then why are you so good at it?”
Ian smiled sinfully, sinking back onto Mickey's cock without answering. Mickey
scrubbed a hand over his face, his heart beating faster and faster as his
orgasm came closer.
“Ian, I'm… I'm,” He panted.
Ian stopped for a second, looking up at Mickey through his lashes. Mickey
moaned at sight, Ian looking well and thoroughly fucked just from sucking cock.
God, he looked amazing, and Mickey didn't even care how gay that sounded. He'd
never seen anything as absolutely tantalizing as Ian's lips wrapped around his
dick.
Ian pushed Mickey all the way down his throat, his nose nestled against
Mickey's skin, and ran his tongue against Mickey's erection.
Mickey felt his balls draw up and his stomach tighten. He squirmed underneath
Ian's skilled mouth.
“Ian,” He warned, panting. He dug his fingertips into Ian's scalp, wishing that
his hair was still long so he'd have something to pull. “Ian. Ian!” He warned,
his voice pitching higher and higher.
Ian smiled when he felt Mickey's dick twitch. He looked up and watched as
Mickey's orgasm crept up on him. He'd never seen Mickey's face during an orgasm
before, but it was amazing, and it took his breath away. His eyes fluttered
closed, he bit into his lip, his face turned red and a sweat broke out over his
forehead. Ian could look at that face every day and never get sick of it.
He focused on not gagging as Mickey shot hard against the back of his throat,
nearly convulsing, his whole body shaking as he came. Ian kept moving his head,
milking every last drop he could from the boy, then swallowing it down happily.
He normally thought swallowing was a little gross, but for some reason, he
didn't mind Mickey cumming in his mouth. It actually really turned him on, way
more than when Kash or Ned had done it.
Ian waited to pull off until Mickey was finished shaking, until he was only
panting like he'd just run a marathon.
Ian sat back on his heels, wiping his chin and admiring Mickey's relaxed
posture. He looked as thoroughly fucked as Ian had ever seen him. He lifted his
head to look down at the boy between his knees.
“Oh my fucking god, Ian,” He praised, and it made Ian blush. He looked like a
porn star, his face red, his lips slick with spit and cum, breathing heavily.
Ian smirked at Mickey's words. He sat up, going to stand.
“I'm not gonna try to ki-”
Mickey didn't let him finish, grabbing him harshly by the back of the neck and
cutting off his words with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Ian was surprised to
say the least. He didn't think Mickey would let him kiss him after blowing him,
figuring that would be way too intimate for him. But Mickey was full of
surprises.
Mickey moaned at the taste of Ian's lips. He knew how disgusting it was,
knowing that it was his own cum he was tasting on Ian's tongue, but it drove
him crazy.
He was still trying to catch his breath when they parted.
“I don't even have anything to say,” He admitted with a shy smile. “Goddamn,
Gallagher, that was the most amazing thing I've ever felt.”
Ian smirked proudly. “I didn't know if you would be okay with it,” He admitted,
and Mickey laughed.
“Blowing my load like that? Yeah, I'm okay with it.”
Ian laughed and moved to sit on the couch next to Mickey, their shoulders
pressed together and their arms touching more than was necessary. Mickey's skin
was red hot everywhere it touched Ian.
“Need help with that?” Mickey teased, looking down to where Ian's jeans were
standing at attention.
Ian laughed. “That an offer?”
Mickey smirked. “Least I could do.”
He took his hand from where it was sitting on his knee to run up the length of
Ian's thigh. Ian tilted his head back, that simple touch enough to make his
dick twitch.
“Mick…” Ian whispered when Mickey splayed his hand over the lump and ground
down. He did this twice before he leaned over to whisper in Ian's ear.
“Lose the belt,” he instructed, and Ian moved like the Flash, unbuckling his
belt and ripping it off, tossing it onto the floor. Mickey laughed at his
enthusiasm.
“Eager?” He asked with a smile.
Ian sighed. “You would be too if you just experienced the greatest blow job in
the world.”
“But you were the one doing the blowing.”
Ian shrugged with a smile. “Still hot as fuck. You make the best noises, Mick.”
Mickey grinned and shoved Ian's jeans and boxers down just enough to get his
hand around Ian's erection. He stroked him slowly for a second, savoring the
little gasps he was pulling from the boy’s throat. But after a second, Mickey's
body started itching, like he needed to cum as much as Ian did. He sped up his
pace, jerking Ian off like he would himself, twisting his hand when he got to
the head before moving back down. Every few strokes, he'd swipe his thumb over
the head, digging it slightly into Ian's slit and wiping the precum over his
overheated skin. Every time he did, Ian would buck his hips into Mickey's hand.
“Fuck, Mick,” Ian breathed heavily, his eyes slipping closed and his head
falling back against the couch. Mickey kept the pace that had Ian rocking his
hips, taking note of how Ian's jaw clenched harder and harder the closer he got
to climaxing. Mickey couldn't decide what he wanted to watch more; Ian's face
or his cock.
Ian wrapped his hand around Mickey's forearm, feeling the tendons at work,
moving underneath Ian's fingertips.
Ian's eyebrows furrowed and he almost grimaced like he was in pain. He dug his
nails into Mickey's skin and before he even had time to warn Mickey, he was
cumming, shooting over Mickey's hand and his jeans.
Mickey licked his lips at the sight of his hand wrapped around Ian's cock, both
glistening wet and sticky. Fuck, why did that turn him on so bad?
Ian finally opened his eyes, staring at Mickey's hand.
“That's fuckin’ hot, Mick,” he nodded toward his crotch.
Mickey smiled. “Yeah, it kinda is,” He agreed, finally releasing Ian's dick and
grabbing a paper towel to wipe his hand on. He tossed it on the floor and sat
back next to Ian, both boys still breathing heavily. The silence was kind of
comforting, the boys enjoying the companionship the other brought.
Finally after a long moment, Mickey spoke.
“Do me a favor,” He said, and Ian turned his head.
“Of course.”
Mickey sighed. “Stop bangin’ that old guy.”
Ian scoffed in amusement. “Ned?”
“Yeah. Ned,” Mickey sneered, and Ian laughed.
“Why?”
Mickey licked his lower lip, finally turning his head to look Ian in the eye.
He knew asking Ian to stop seeing Ned was unfair and selfish, especially since
he refused to put a label on their relationship. He really had wanted to give
their relationship some kind of structure, but he wasn't sure how to.
In a second, his demeanor changed back into ‘Mickey the street rat’. His body
tensed, and his eyes turned hard. “Cause I don't wanna be gettin’ his sloppy
seconds,” He said angrily, and he knew immediately that it was the wrong thing
to say. It wasn't even true, but it was a lot less faggoty than his real
reasonings. He wasn't sure why ‘asshole’ was his default mode when he was
struggling to form sentences, but he really needed to work on it.
Instantly, Ian's smile fell. He curled his lips into as shitty a look as Mickey
had ever seen on him, shaking his head. “Fuck you, Mickey,” He spat, standing
and zipping his jeans back up. Mickey tucked himself back into his own jeans
and jumped up after him, following him into the front hall where he was
throwing on his sweatshirt.
“‘Ey, come on. I didn't mean that.”
“You're damn right, you didn't!” Ian snapped, and Mickey flinched.
“Listen, I just…” He stumbled, looking for the words.
Ian looked at him expectantly. “You just what?”
“You know what I mean,” Mickey sighed. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
Ian zipped up his hoodie, his face unreadable.
“You're an ass,” Mickey said, turning his eyes skyward, then returning them to
the redhead across the hall. “I want you to stop banging him because I don't
want you having sex with anyone else. I wanna be the only person you fuck.”
Ian's stoic face softened, and he smiled softly. That was a start. Maybe Mickey
wasn't ready to admit that he loved Ian, but at least now Ian knew that he was
important to him. He nodded slowly. “Okay. I'll stop seeing Ned.”
Mickey furrowed his brow. “You will?” He asked, taken aback.
Ian stepped closer to Mickey and set a hand on his neck. “Of course. On one
condition,” He whispered, leaning in until he and Mickey were merely inches
from touching. They both started breathing hard.
“What?”
“Stop fucking Angie,” Ian smirked.
“You fuck,” Mickey swore with a smile, pushing Ian away playfully.
Ian laughed as he unzipped his sweatshirt and tossed it back on the chair his
backpack was sitting on. He followed Mickey back into the living room where
they sat back down on the couch, a little closer than was necessary.
“By the way,” Ian said, “The word you're looking for is ‘exclusive’.”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “That's a girl word.”
“Doesn't change anything,” Ian teased with a smirk.
Mickey pursed his lips and looked over at the smiling redhead.
“I'm glad you came tonight, Ian,” He said softly.
Ian smiled, a warmth spreading through his body when Mickey said his name.
Usually if Ian wasn't balls-deep in Mickey, he called him ‘Gallagher’. The only
time he actually called him Ian was when he was too drunk on lust to care. But
now, there wasn't any trace of lust or arousal in Mickey's voice. No, this
wasn't the Mickey that he pretended to be in front of everyone else. This was
actual, uncensored Mickey, and Ian couldn't have been happier to see it.
Ian leaned forward to kiss him softly, his lips moving slowly against Mickey's.
He set a gently hand on his neck, still shocked every time Mickey didn't flinch
away from the intimate touching they'd progressed to in the past week. He
leaned his forehead against Mickey's when they parted, still close enough to
share the breath between them.
“I am, too, Mickey.”
Mickey smiled softly. “Are you down for round two, or do you need some time to
recover?” He taunted Ian.
Ian sucked his teeth, something he'd picked up from Mickey. He stood quickly,
stripping off his shirt and then nearly ripping Mickey's off, too. Mickey stood
and kicked his jeans off, turning and kneeling on the cushion, leaning over the
back of the couch without needing any instruction.
“End table drawer,” Mickey said, and Ian opened the drawer to find a half-empty
bottle of lube waiting patiently. He smiled as he grabbed it and dribbled it
over his fingers.
Ian shoved his jeans down and laid himself over Mickey, his dick already hard
again and pressing persistently against Mickey's ass.
“I hope the neighbors don't mind,” He whispered in Mickey's ear. He pressed one
lube-coated finger against Mickey's entrance, and the brunette arched his back
into Ian. “This is gonna get loud,” He warned, pressing the finger into Mickey.
Mickey hung his head between his shoulders and moaned, loud and low.
Ian smiled. If this was how his night was gonna go, he needed to come to
sleepovers more often.
End Notes
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