Day One: Trying to get myself back into writing! I’ve been struggling, hoping I’ll stick with it, all I know is I miss writing but my attention span has not been cooperating enough to focus on any of my WIPs. So here this 380 word ficlet and I hope y’all enjoy :)
Ian was addicted to this. The way his body moved behind Mickey’s. His big hand wrapped around Mickey’s throat, the other splayed across his stomach holding them together tightly. Soft breathy whimpers falling from his lips and mixing with Ian’s grunts.
Mickey was grinding back against him. Their sweat slick bodies sliding together. A tattooed hand reaching back to tangle in red hair, the other gripping Ian’s forearm for dear life.
“F-fuck, I’m close,” Mickey moans, turning his face to seek out Ian’s mouth.
Ian happily obliged, tongue meeting Mickey’s before their lips ever touched. Ian pulled them closer together with a roll of his hips and Mickey gasped into his mouth.
“So good, baby, so fuckin good,” Ian breathed against Mickey’s lips, nipping at the bottom one.
His hand starts slipping lower, he desperately wants to jerk Mickey off but his hand stops when it reaches Mickey’s lower belly. Fuck. He thinks as he drops his face to Mickey's sweaty neck and breathes him in.
He knew it was coming before the word actually cuts through the air. Ian instantly lets go of Mickey and stops but that doesn’t stop their bodies from resting together for a moment as they pant through heavy breaths.
Theo, their director, is talking to them animatedly, his hands waving around wildly but Ian’s not paying attention to the his passionate triad about their improvs this scene, not with all of the blood in his body still located in his cock that was pulsing in his cock-sock between his thighs directly under Mickey’s ass—his thick, round, beautiful ass.
Ian blinks back to reality when Mickey shifts and goes to move off the bed. Ian wants to grab him, pull him back, keep him right here. But he doesn’t. He’s not allowed to keep him when other people are around.
Blue eyes catch his and pink lips are parting in a wicked grin. “Good scene, Gallagher. Can’t wait to finish after break.” And with a filthy wink he turns away from Ian.
He watches Mickey go, heading in the direction of his manager who is waiting for him with a robe, when a hand clamps onto his shoulder.
“Man, you are so fucked,” Jackson chuckles. Ian groans and drops his head down, shrugging Jackson off of him which only make his best friend—and manager, laugh harder.
snowghoul
kaledo-art
germansingergirl
