Nickovich (pt 9) - NSFW
They strip quietly, quickly, not throwing their clothes but simply discarding them. Mickey always used to go silent during this process unless Ian managed to undress him during a play fight, distracting him from the action until it was done. Nakedness is something that bothers Mickey a little and Ian, who is not bothered in the slightest by it, never fully understood why especially considering just how wonderful he looks.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Mickey.”
He murmurs, lightly plucking away the blanket Mickey has draped over his lap.
“Yeah?”
The tone is sarcastic but the accompanying look is hopeful and Ian nods firmly.
“Yes.”
“You look good too, Red. Got a little more hair on your chest these days.”
Mickey runs his fingers down his own chest, lean and hairless, marked here and there with scars and the occasional beauty mark or freckle. Ian smirks and tucks a finger under Mickey’s chin.
“Ready?”
Mickey nods, his mouth suddenly dry. It took years for him to accept compliments from Ian but once he learned how to, they became important to Mickey, maybe more so that he was willing to admit. No one had ever given him compliments before, or not on anything outside of his ability to shoot straight and hit well and whether Ian knows it or not, they are now a key component in Mickey’s willingness so hand over control.
“Stand up. Face me. Keep your hands by your side.”
Ian hasn’t given commands like this in a long time but it doesn’t feel awkward, it feels right. The control and the eventual nurture of dominating someone sexually has always fitted him, even when he was a gawky teenager and he has missed it more than he realised.
Mickey once teased him that it was because he was such a brat and needed to get his own damn way over every little thing. At the time Ian had denied it and been a little offended but actually, he doesn’t really think Mickey was too far from the mark at all.
He squeezes lube onto his fingers and Mickey spreads his legs but Ian doesn’t move behind him. Instead he steps in close and smooths a small, trace of clear gel over each of Mickey’s nipples making the brunette shudder deliciously as goosebumps scatter across his chest.
Ian slicks both their dicks with the rest and cups his hand around the hot, heavy weight of Mickey’s balls. The finger tips of his free hand pinch and lightly massage each of Mickey’s nipples in turn, eliciting sharp, keening breaths from delicately parted pink lips, bite indentations clear in the soft skin.
“You really are beautiful, Mickey. The most beautiful man …”
Ian glances up from Mickey’s chest to meet his eyes and nods as if agreeing with his own statement
“And you’re good. You’re so good. Don’t move.”
His voice is barely above a whisper but it roars in Mickey’s ears and he shivers, clenching his butt as Ian sinks to his knees and slides his hand between Mickey’s legs, slicking his inner thighs with a light films of lube as his fingers delve into the warm crevice of his ass, working him gently, almost reverently.
“Ian …”
Ian takes Mickey into his mouth and groans. He is meant to be the stoic Top but the taste of his lover is almost too much to bear. It is the same, the same heady scent, the same slightly sweet tang at the back of his throat as he relaxes his tongue and takes him deeper.
“Fuck! I missed you …”
Mickey rises onto his tiptoes as one finger becomes three and the walls of his body clench around the broad knuckles.
Ian stops when Mickey’s breathing begins to get ragged and stands, sliding himself up the length of Mickey’s body, pressing close.
“Get onto the bed.”
“Fuck that!”
Mickey scoffs and bites Ian’s lip lightly before dropping to his knees and sucking and biting his way up the long thighs. Ian tips his head back, gripping Mickey’s hair tightly. He’s getting carried away and needs to focus but Mickey has taken over and isn’t releasing him just yet. Ian can feel his orgasm building and makes an urgent noise, trying to pull his hips back but Mickey just grabs his ass and pulls him closer. Ian tries to resist but he wants it too badly and Mickey knows he does. Before he can help himself, Ian is fucking into Mickey’s mouth, his hips slamming forward over and over until stars explode behind his eyes.
“Jesus, Mickey.”
Ian shudders, his head tipped back
“That was amazing …”
“Yeah well you were bein’ a bossy prick.”
Mickey picks up the beads from the bed and drapes himself over the mattress. He is warmed up and eager now and knows what he wants.
“You remember what to do with these?”
“Yeah.”
Ian blinks trying to get his head on straight and Mickey smirks over his shoulder at him.
“The get the fuck on with it, Gallagher.”
Ian smooths his hand lightly up and down the length of Mickey’s back and around his hips to lightly rub his dick, gripping lightly as his fingertips trail over the fine dark hair at its base.
“I love you.”
“Fuck you, Gallagher”
“Seriously? You’re not gonna say it back?”
“No.”
“But … you do? Even though you won’t say it?”
The word ‘brat’ floats to Ian’s mind and he blushes slightly in the three heartbeats it takes for Mickey to answer.
“… Yes.”
Ian’s bated breath leaves him in a soft rush and he smiles happily down at the back of Mickey’s resolutely turned head.
“Okay.”
*
Mickey collapses across the bed as the last bead leaves his body, the final shudders of his orgasm making the relaxed flesh of his thighs quiver.
Ian is stroking him, gentling him, his hands large and warm, making small circles between Mickey’s shoulder blades.
“You took that so well, you did really good, Mickey”
He murmurs and Mickey smiles drowsily,
“They make you do some motivational speaking course to get that EMT licence?”
“No, I just like telling you when you’re a good…”
“Finish that sentence with ‘boy’ and I’ll rip your tongue out.”
Mickey doesn’t open his eyes but his eyebrows twitch upwards and Ian hastily occupies his tongue while he still has it, laying down nose to nose with his lover and kissing him thoroughly. There was a time when he could say such things to Mickey and feel him swell with satisfaction but such liberties must be built back up from the ashes of their former romance and Ian knows it well.
“Mmm. You ready to get on me, Gallagher?”
Mickey cracks one eye and props himself up on one elbow.
“If that’s what you want?”
“Ain’t it what you want?”
Ian grins and ducks his head at the surprised look Mickey is giving him
“Yeah but you know … I’m meant to be making some stuff up to you …”
“Well you can get that fuckin’ idea out of your head right now. I’m pissed at you and I’m gonna be pissed at you no matter how well you fuck me.”
“Yeah but …”
“No buts. I don’t want you thinking this shit is some sort of trade off.”
“Okay,”
Ian nods a little abashed at the stern tone of Mickey’s voice. It is a new and slightly exciting thing for Ian, Mickey being stern with him and it quells any argument he might have tried to put forward to the contrary.
“Right. So with that very firmly in fuckin’ mind, what do you want? I can eat your ass, suck you off, gargle your balls, or just let you fuck me however you want it?”
Mickey lists the options on his fingers as casually as nice middle class ladies list of herbal tea options to house guests and Ian rolls onto his back, grinning broadly up at the ceiling.
“I missed you so much!”
Mickey gives him a slightly goofy grin back before rolling his lips inwards and resuming his neutral expression
“So? What’s your pleasure?
“I do wanna eat that ass but I think maybe … slow cowboy?”
Ian asks tentatively but Mickey simply nods and straddles Ian’s prone body, reaching for the roll of condoms.
“’iiight.”
For some reason that strangely drawn out, street slang way of saying ‘alright’ nearly makes Ian cry and he realises that out of all the people Ian knows, it is something that only Mickey really does and yet to Ian it has become synonymous with home. Like so many things that Mickey does.
Mickey makes Ian free in a way that he just isn’t with anyone else. He forces Ian to be himself and he seems to genuinely like who that person is. Mickey doesn’t make Ian filter himself, he never did.
There is a grunt of discomfort as Mickey takes a little too much of Ian in at once and Ian instinctively reaches around to gently massage the joining of their flesh. He does it almost without thought and then remembers the first time he did so.
It had been a lazy summer afternoon, they had both been almost too exhausted to go for another round, the air hot and humid in the quiet of Ian’s bedroom lolling them both toward sleep but Ian had cajoled him and they had ended up entwined once again, Ian on top, Mickey’s heel resting lightly on his shoulder. Mickey had been approaching climax, his eyes shut tight and teeth set firmly in his lip and Ian had reached between them on impulse to touch the taut joining, slick and warm between them. It was beyond intimate and Ian had half-expected a blow or a sharp word but his touch had elicited a response that neither boy had been prepared for. Mickey had opened his eyes and grabbed Ian’s forearm hard, staring at him with completely open adoration.
“I fucking love you.”
The words,, snatched from the humid air in the split second before Mickey’s orgasm, had formed one of the best memories of Ian Gallagehr’s life.
Now, in a room unfamiliar to both of them, blue eyes lock onto green and hold. Mickey is remembering it too and although Ian expects a gruff instruction to move, no such order comes. Mickey bites his lip and trails his fingers roughly through the smattering of red-gold curls on Ian’s chest. His hips find a rhythm and Ian curls upwards as the sensation becomes almost painfully good.
“Oh God … Mick … MICK!”
Ian tips his head back against the mattress, his free hand gripping the flesh of Mickey’s hip hard enough to leave deep red blotches on the pale skin.
“You’re mine, Gallagher.”
“I am…. I am …”
Ian pants, he would probably agree to anything but this statement is so patently true that it doesn’t even require consideration.
“Tell me what you want …”
“I … Shit … I …”
“Tell me, Ian…”
“Cum on me, please … just…”
Mickey strokes himself firmly and the sight of the word ‘FUCK’ pumping up and down, aiming over his chest is the final straw for Ian. He bucks and twists beneath Mickey who is prepared for the sharp movements and simply travels with him, gripping with his thighs.
“I fucking love you.”
Ian gasps and Mickey allows himself a small satisfied smirk, then, looking down at Ian who is desperately trying to get his breath back and streaked in the evidence of Mickey’s ardour, Mickey allows himself to surrender. It might fuck up, it probably will but what the Hell? It wouldn’t be the first time Gallagher ruined his resolve and God willing it won’t be the last.
“I love you too.”
*