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Study Buddies and Date Nights

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Three times, Ian had wandered out into the living room three times within the last half hour. Mickey had his eye cocked as he watched his partner shuffle out. Ian had finals in three weeks and he was supposed to be in the quiet of their room studying while Mickey and Mandy watched TV and kept out of his hair. Instead of studying though, Ian kept popping out of the room like a demented jack-in-a-box.

“What are you guys watching?” he asked innocently. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked in place behind the couch.

“‘World’s Dumbest Inventions’,” Mandy giggled, “there’s some of the stupidest shit, Ian. There’s this fake parrot that-” she trailed off at the dirty look Mickey sent her way and clammed up.

Mickey turned and skewered his boyfriend with a look. “How’s the studying going?”

“Okay!” Ian responded cheerfully, “Just came to get a bottle of water. Heading back to the grind now.” He was in his room for a grand total of fifteen minutes before he was back out again.

“For fuck’s sake, Ian!” Mickey burst out when his boyfriend emerged yet again, clearly avoiding his responsibilities.

“What?”

“Have you read a page since you’ve started? You’ve been in and out of that room so much; you’re giving me motion sickness.”

“I was just coming back out for a snack!” Ian snapped defensively, “you don’t need to bite my fucking head off!”

He yanked the fridge door open, grabbed the first thing he spotted—a box of graham crackers—and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

“Fucking drama queen,” Mickey muttered before realizing Mandy was giving him her disapproving face. “What, like I’m fucking wrong here? He’s the one with finals in a few weeks and he’s fucking around.”

Mandy said nothing, just rolled her eyes and pointed to his bedroom door and the fuming boyfriend behind it. Mickey resisted purely on principle. “I’m not wrong!” he grumbled and crossed his arms defiantly while Mandy just continued to look at him accusingly. She always took the brat’s side. He held out a while longer before relenting gracelessly. “Fucking fine! Let me go soothe his royal highness. God forbid we upset the talent this close to show time.”

He found Ian curled on his side in bed, facing away from the door and chomping the crackers as aggressively as one could chomp honey graham crackers. Mickey grinned at his lover’s back in spite of himself; Ian was such an absolute doofus.

“You pouting over there, grumpy?” Mickey dropped heavily into the bed and scooted over to Ian, who simply ignored him in favour of stuffing another cracker in his mouth. Mickey didn’t know why Ian even tried ignoring him sometimes, despite knowing full well how insistently annoying Mickey could be. For his opening salvo, the brunet starting jabbing his partner hard in the back.

“Firecrotch, you mad?!” his devilish grin was firmly in place while he did his little sing-song. He could feel Ian tensing as the jabs edged closer to the redhead’s vulnerable side. “Ian Gallagher?” Mickey plastered himself to Ian’s back and softly sang his name into his ear. Ian twitched a little, automatically responding to the nostalgic teasing. He was playing hardball though, and just reached for another graham cracker of spite. Mickey only shrugged and attacked Ian’s tickle spot and the redhead spewed crumbs everywhere.

He tried to escape, springing off the bed like a rabbit, but Mickey simply caught him around the waist and body slammed him back into the bed. He quickly clambered on top of Ian and resumed the merciless tickling while the redhead laughed, yelled, squirmed and tried his best to buck him off.

“Say ‘uncle’,” Mickey ordered and Ian capitulated immediately. Satisfied Mickey stopped the attack and waited for the inevitable. A red-faced, panting Ian took a few seconds to catch his breath and then flipped them so he straddled the brunet instead.

“You’re such a child,” Ian admonished.

Mickey snorted derisively and rubbed a hand in his boyfriend’s face. “Coming from a guy with crumbs all over his face, that stings.”

Ian bit softly into Mickey’s palm before batting the hand away. He stared at his boyfriend’s annoying smirk for a bit before leaning down and brushing his lips over it. He trailed his tongue along Mickey’s lower lip before biting down gently and pulling. Mickey sighed and parted his lips, granting Ian full access. The redhead slowly stretched out atop his boyfriend and stuck his hand up Mickey’s tank top to caress the warm skin beneath it.

Mickey moaned softly at the touch and ran a hand through Ian’s hair while the other groped his boyfriend’s ass. When Ian eased up to undo the drawstrings of his partner’s track bottoms, however, he was shut down immediately.

“You think I came in here to fuck around with you?” Mickey sniffed and shoved Ian off to the side. “That was just for me snapping at you. Where are your books even?” Mickey asked and Ian guiltily toyed with the hem of Mickey’s tank.

“On the floor next to the bed…” he murmured. He sputtered defensively when Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “I was reading earlier, I swear. I just… my fucking concentration’s shot, okay.”

Mickey sighed and lay down next to Ian who immediately cuddled him, throwing an arm across Mickey’s waist and resting his head on the brunet’s chest. Mickey knew Ian’s frustration was genuine and let his boyfriend try his best to burrow into him. When the younger man settled down, he ran his fingers through the red hair comfortingly.

“Alright, what do you need?” Mickey asked after a while and Ian mulled it over.

“Motivation,” the answer was muffled by Mickey’s shirt.

“Shit, that’s it?” Mickey sniffed, “got plenty of that. You only have a couple of semesters after this, man. You get an honours degree, you get an awesome job and you can finally take me away from the bullshit that is construction so I can fulfil my destiny as a kept man.”

Ian chuckled and shuffled to look down on Mickey once again. “My motivation to study and work hard is to become your sugar daddy?”

“Damn straight, bitch. Burberry coats, Bulgari watches, Louis Vuitton luggage and all that shit. You need to keep my ass covered.”

Ian grinned wider, “You always do look good in a coat.”

“My ass looks good in everything and anything.”

Ian wasn’t about to deny that, though he did feel Mickey’s ass looked best in nothing at all. “Being your sugar daddy is my long-term goal. I’m task-oriented, Mick. I need some short-term ones to get me through finals.” He prodded his boyfriend, “so help me out. What do you have?”

Mickey worried his lip while he thought it over. “What grade are you aiming for this semester?”

“Probably a B, B+ average if I buckle down a little better.”

Mickey nodded, “alright, you get a B+ average this semester and...” he wracked his brain a little while longer, “we’ll head into Montauk for a few days—ditch Mandy and go to that B&B you like so you can bang your seventy year old girlfriend. I wonder if she’s still running the joint.”

Ian’s eyes widened in surprise and delight, not expecting Mickey to offer anything of that tier. He nodded eagerly before pausing a moment and scrambling for his phone. He quickly navigated to his grade site and took stock of his grades while Mickey watched him suspiciously. He did some quick math and sent Mickey some hopeful glances. “What would I get if I pull off an A?”

Mickey blinked up at him in surprise, “No shit, you think you can pull off an A?”

“It’s improbable, but not completely impossible,” Ian hedged, “but if I did manage to swing it, what would I get?”

If he had known Ian was going to up the ante, he would have started lower and used the Montauk getaway for his trump card. In any event, he was going to have to come up with a topper. He eyed Ian and his big green puppy eyes and reached for the one thing he could think of that would beat out Montauk in Ian’s estimation. “Shay George.”

“What?”

“Shay George, you know that fucking restaurant. However the fuck you say it.”

“Chez George?” Ian corrected, completely stupefied, “you’d take me to Chez George?”

“Yeah,” Mickey affirmed, though a little uncertainly, “only if you pull off an A though.”

“Fancy French restaurant ‘Chez George’? Soft music and dim candlelight, actual real romantic date ‘Chez George’?”

“Jesus Christ, man,” of course Ian would react this way. Mickey could see the way he mooned over that place and all places like it whenever they happened to pass by. To Ian’s credit, he never pressured Mickey about going, understanding it was well outside his boyfriend’s comfort zone. As long as Mickey lived though, he would never really understand the significance Ian attached to those kinds of things; the big open romantic gestures, the public displays of affection, the broadcasting of their relationship. Anne tried to break it down for him once, explaining that Ian pulled a lot of his energy from the outside and got a charge out of social situations. That had not gone down so well with Mickey who only needed Ian and the few people in his inner circle. It had sounded as if Mickey wasn’t enough for his own boyfriend. Anne had then called him a dinkus, which Mickey had found to be quite unprofessional.

“Get an A, get the date, simple.” Mickey nodded, nervous as hell about what he was committing to, though he couldn’t help grinning when Ian peppered him with kisses. Ian then abruptly rolled off him and picked up his book off the floor. Mickey was amused. “So, we good?”

“Yep,” Ian answered, already deeply engrossed in his studies.

“Need me to suck your dick or anything?”

“Later,” Ian mumbled and flipped a page. Let no man say Mickey Milkovich wasn’t a great motivator.


Mickey came home to find his boyfriend at the dinner table, books piled up in front of him, getting grilled by Mandy like nobody’s business. Neither seemed to notice his arrival and he wandered over to be inquisitive.

“Douchebags.”

“Assface,” Mandy replied automatically while Ian grinned up at his boyfriend. “Do you know the difference between a bull and a bear market and the various factors that may lead to the development of either type?”

“That sounds like the start to a really complicated gay joke,” Mickey offered cluelessly.

“Well then you’re useless, go away,” Mandy shooed him and Ian only shrugged apologetically. Mickey could only roll his eyes and escape to less cerebral pursuits.

It was well after midnight, later on, when he stretched out his hand looking for Ian, only to find he was alone in their bed. He sat up tiredly and peered into the darkness of the room. His partner was nowhere to be seen. A little concerned, he got out of bed and stumbled into the dark of the living room. Mandy was fast asleep and everything was still, but no Ian. Mickey was going from mildly concerned to alarmed at a fast clip. It wasn’t until he opened the bathroom door to find his boyfriend sitting on the toilet with a macroeconomics textbook on his lap, that Mickey’s pulse began slowly returning to normal. He stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.

“Move,” he said shortly and Ian yawned, grunted and shuffled past him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. He eyed Ian while he did his business and the ginger was busy studying away. “You don’t think you’re overdoing this a little bit?”

“Nope,” Ian mumbled, highlighting another passage in his text. The book had more highlights than a Bratz doll. Mickey snorted, flushed and shifted to the sink to wash his hands.

“This really about the restaurant? You really want to eat there that badly?”

Ian finally looked up from his studies and stared at his boyfriend as if he was the slowest child in the world. “Well apart from the whole getting a decent education thing, it’s not about me eating at Chez George; it’s about you taking me there.”

Mickey was confused, but knew far better than to flat out ask what the heck the difference was. Instead he just scratched his nose, perplexed, and watched his boyfriend mutter to himself and highlight entire pages of text. “At least come back to the room, man. You can use your reading light, it won’t bother me.”

Ian thought it over quickly and nodded. The bathroom wasn’t the most comfortable place to study anyway.


“So how’s he doing?” Mickey asked his sister after he showered and changed from work. Ian was working his shift at the Tinder Box and Mickey could just imagine him up there dancing while studying off his phone. The thought amused him.

“Oh you unleashed the beast, man. At the rate he’s going, he might unlock a 5.0 GPA achievement,” Mandy grinned irrepressibly, “gird your wallet and your loins.”

“Shit,” Mickey smiled in spite of himself, “you know that place doesn’t even have prices on their menus? Like if you have to ask, your ass shouldn’t even be in there. I have to research like crazy just to get a ballpark figure.”

“Going for the cheapest thing?”

“Nah, fuck that, if I’m taking him, he should get whatever he wants. I need to pick up some overtime though—create a cushion just in case.”

Mandy cooed and pinched his cheek before he batted her off. “Aw, my big bro is such a sweetie. Just make sure you know what you’re ordering when you go though. The French eat snails and frogs after all and they hide it under fancy-ass names.”

“That’s seriously a thing?” Mickey asked, horrified.

“It’s a thing, I shit you not.”


Several weeks later, Ian was home obsessively refreshing his results on his phone. Mandy sat with him feeding off his anxiety until she was practically bouncing in place on the sofa. His English and Macroeconomics grades were in, so two A’s down, three to go. It took another half an hour before his A in Microeconomics finally updated, leaving his two worst—Math and Statistical Analysis.

“Martin and Shu always take forever to update their fucking grades,” Ian chewed his thumb and fretted, “I’m not going to get A’s in Math and Stats. I’m screwed.”

“Nooo,” Mandy moaned as she rubbed Ian’s arm soothingly, “you and Mickey went over the Math exam, right, and he thinks you nailed it. Well, neither of us knows shit about stats but I’m sure you’re fine.”

Ian nodded, kept fretting anyway and hit the refresh button one more time.

Mickey stood outside his door listening to the muffled sounds of people being murdered in his apartment. He opened the door cautiously and peeked in to see Ian swinging his sister around while the two yelled like banshees. He slipped inside and watched the celebration with amused interest.

“What did I miss?”

He grinned when Ian unceremoniously dumped his sister and scrambled over the couch to get to him. The redhead caught him hard around the middle, knocking the wind clean out of him and sending them both crashing to the floor. After the stars cleared out of his eyes, Mickey focused on the phone Ian was casually waving in the face.

“I got a 95% average for this semester, no big deal,” Ian said nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just flattened his boyfriend into a pancake in his excitement, “my cumulative is 3.6, but I’ll get it up there over the next two semesters.”    

“You did good, Firecrotch,” Mickey beamed up at his boyfriend, “not bad at all.”

“So, when do we go?” Ian wasn’t even going to try and play coy.

“Go where?” that earned Mickey a hard punch to the ribs and a scowl that had him laughing.


“Well don’t you two look nice,” Mandy wolf-whistled at her brother and her best friend as they prepared to head out. Mickey scoffed and tugged at the collar of his new blue button-down dress shirt, that Mandy warned him not to mutilate once he was done wearing it the first time. He managed to escape the tie, but there was no avoiding the jacket and dress pants, and the whole thing made him feel slightly itchy. He made sure not to complain though, because his boyfriend was grinning so hard, Mickey was afraid his face would split in two.

He was determined not to take any of the enjoyment out of Ian’s night, which included sucking up his own issues with overpriced, pretentious restaurants and the social anxiety which came with being there and putting his and Ian’s relationship on display.

“Taxi will be here in about three minutes, we should get downstairs,” Mickey pocketed his phone and looked expectantly at Ian.

“We’re not taking the train?” Happiness could make Ian a little stupid sometimes.

“Yes Ian, we’ll just take car to the train, ride that for an hour and then hike the ten blocks to the-” he was cut off when Mandy jabbed him hard in the ribs.

“I know you’re nervous, but bite your tongue and play nice.”

Mickey clammed up immediately and shot his boyfriend an apologetic look. It hadn’t bothered the still giddy Ian in the least since he knew Mickey’s defence mechanisms even better than he knew his own. He just waved goodbye to Mandy and practically bounced out the door. Mickey wiped a hand over his face and prayed to whatever gods there were that tonight would be a good night.

After she was sure they were gone, Mandy practically dived for the phone. “They’re gone, I’ve got the apartment to myself; bring pizza and your A-game.”


By the time the doorman waved Ian and Mickey into the reservations area of the swanky restaurant, Mickey was trying his best not to sweat bullets. The back of his neck felt hot, his palms were clammy and when the Maître d asked him for the details of their reservation, he almost forgot his name. Soon they were ushered in and Mickey’s eyes were everywhere. No one was looking at them strangely, at least not from what Mickey could see. He relaxed more when he saw that they weren’t the only gay couple—not by a long shot—and everyone seemed too caught up in their respective dates to give a crap about them and his fucked up tattoos.

The powers that be granted Mickey one more reprieve so he could relax enough to maybe even enjoy himself. This reprieve took the form of their waitress Marguerite. She introduced herself with a smooth French accent and flirted prettily with Ian, but Mickey could smell a rat from a mile away.

“Bullshit you’re French,” Mickey couldn’t help himself and winced at the swift kick that followed beneath the table. Marguerite’s eyebrow shot up and she pivoted to face Mickey.

“Excuse me?”

Shit, he didn’t want to start off the evening wrong, but come on. “Bullshit, she’s French,” Mickey repeated defensively in the face of Ian’s warning glare, “‘Marguerite’ my ass.”

The young woman’s eyes narrowed as she regarded Mickey before smiling a little, “Chicago Southside?” she asked, the familiar Chicago drawl coming out in stunning force. Mickey grinned and nodded, “fine, it’s Margie, don’t bust my balls over this. The accent gets me better tips. I’ll drop it for you, but you better not be cheap.”

Mickey smiled wider and nodded to his boyfriend, “you need the accent?”

Ian was just thankful there was something familiar and comforting to Mickey and he shook his head quickly. “I can live without it.”

“He got all A’s this semester,” Mickey told Marguerite/Margie proudly, “he’s the smartest fu…he’s the smartest dude alive.”

“Yeah? Congratulations!” she seemed genuinely pleased for them, “let me find out if that scores you a complimentary bottle of champagne. Anything else to drink in the mean time?”

She took their drink orders and disappeared, leaving the two men alone for the first time since they entered the restaurant. Mickey smiled sheepishly and kept glancing at and away from his boyfriend. He hadn’t felt this awkward and bashful since their first visit in juvie. Ian’s smile was bordering on dazzling now, and Mickey wondered how his face wasn’t tired yet.

“I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Said I’d take you didn’t I?” Mickey said gruffly, “shit, you really pulled it off, though I knew you would. You turn into fucking Superman sometimes.”

Ian wanted to kiss him so badly, it was ridiculous. He hid his own burgeoning blush behind a menu and looked over the offerings. He immediately started getting antsy about the cost. He laid the menu flat and nudged Mickey with his foot.

“What should I get?”

“The fuck you’re asking me for? Get whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t have the words ‘escargot’ and ‘grenouille’ in it.” Mickey muttered as he looked over the menu. “Oh thank fuck, they have the translations underneath.”

“Yeah, but what’s off-limits price-”

“Get whatever the fuck you want.” Mickey ground out. If Ian was going to get nutty about prices, he should have asked for McDonald’s. “I’ve got it covered, man, go for it.”

Marguerite showed up with their drinks, appetizers and champagne and soon skated off again with the orders for their main course. Ian was looking anxiously after her, clearly worried that he had ordered something that was insanely expensive and far too much. Mickey tapped the table and pulled the redhead’s attention back to him. Ian just needed to make peace with the fact that he was high maintenance. Mickey had come to terms with that ages ago.

Wanting to make sure Ian was properly focused on the date and not obsessing over their funds, Mickey took one more cautious look around him before putting his right hand palm up on the table. Ian blinked at the proffered hand in confusion for a bit, until Mickey rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers. “Don’t leave me hanging, Gallagher.”

Ian cautiously slipped his hand into Mickey’s, wondering what his boyfriend was going to do. Mickey only squeezed it and beamed at him, beyond proud of himself for initiating such a telling display of affection. Ian promptly melted into goo while Mickey stroked his thumb over the redhead’s knuckles.

“This…is kind of insane,” Ian whispered shakily. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was already in system overload. He was in New York, away from the toxicity of the Southside, getting A’s in school and how sipping champagne while the love of his life held his hand and looked deeply into his eyes. This entire thing was getting ridiculous. The surrealism of the moment was capped off when the restaurant’s violinist floated over to serenade them with Tchaikovsky.

Ian watched with growing amusement as the violinist poured his heart and soul into fantasy overture from Romeo and Juliet. Meanwhile, Mickey’s lips had disappeared into his mouth, his eyebrows had climbed up to his hairline and he was squeezing Ian’s hand so hard, he was sure bones would start breaking. The growing hysteria on Mickey’s face was the stuff of legend. He lasted another minute before he gave up.

“No, just no,” Mickey shook his head and the violinist paused, looking absolutely scandalized. “This is just not working for us, it’s not happening. Can you just go please?” The violinist huffed and flounced off, horrifically offended. Ian cracked up, even while Mickey mumbled a “sorry” at him.

“No, you made the right call. That was just a little too fucking much.”

Mickey broke down laughing too and much of the weird tension drained away, leaving them relieved and feeling as if they could breathe a little better. Mickey hadn’t let go of Ian’s hand and Ian honestly couldn’t imagine anything better than this. After a while, Margie returned with their entrees.

“Your coq au vin,” she announced as she placed the meal before Mickey, “and the beef bourguignon for the A student. Is there anything else I can help you with? Anything else I can bring you?” With that, she left them to their date.

“Yours looks good,” Ian said, nodding at Mickey’s food.

“Yeah, well it had coq in it and you know how I feel about that,” Mickey grinned cheekily and Ian could only sigh at his idiot’s dorkiness.

They spent the rest of their meal chatting about the usual random stuff: Ian’s upcoming semester, the guys on Mickey’s current construction crew, how they were going to make their timetables work better and everything in between. The time flew by and before long, Margie had shown up to clear their plates and hand them their dessert and drink menus.

“Want to split a dessert?” Ian asked doubtfully, looking over the offerings of rich cakes, ice creams and sweets.

“Fuck that, I’m not sharing with you; get your own,” Mickey backed away from the table and peered around for the men’s room. “I need to hit the can, order for me, you know what I’d like.”

He took a step away and stopped, an unlikely idea running over in his head. He turned back abruptly and marched over to Ian, who looked up at him curiously. Mickey tilted Ian’s head back a little more and bent forward, planting a kiss on his shell shocked boyfriend and keeping it there until Ian finally parted his lips and let him in. The kiss was slow and sweet and far too brief; the older, more confident version of their first kiss. When Mickey pulled away, Ian was left staring up at him, eyes wide and soft. Mickey smirked and stroked his cheek tenderly.

“Hopefully no one shoots me in the ass on the way back from the bathroom,” he turned away and flipped his boyfriend off for good measure. Ian was left mooning after him. He barely registered Margie’s return for their order.

“Hey, you okay?” she waved a hand in front of him only for him to turn his dreamy smile on her.

“I really don’t think so.” In fact, Ian might never be okay again.

Margie giggled and readied her notepad. Ain’t love the sweetest thing?


By the time the bill came, Mickey was fully at ease and Ian had entire star systems in his eyes. The younger man attempted to sneak a look at the bill only for his boyfriend to kick him under the table.

“I’ll cut you,” Mickey threatened mildly and took the bill.

“I’m surprised your bloody foot could reach that far,” Ian muttered and the next kick was aimed at his ankle.

In the continued spirit of overloading poor Ian and giving the unprecedented success and smoothness of the night, Mickey made a big exception to his usual rule and actually held Ian’s hand as they left the restaurant. Mickey hailed a cab and waited for the yellow taxi to stop at their feet.

“We’re taking a cab home?”

Mickey raised his eyes heavenward and let out a sound that was half huff of frustration and half laugh. He got into the back of the cab and dragged his idiot in. Mickey had barely told their driver their address before Ian was all over him, nuzzling Mickey’s neck and sliding his hand up his boyfriend’s thigh. Mickey made a small noise of surprise and elbowed him off. “Can you just wait?”

“Uh uh,” Ian murmured into Mickey’s neck and tried tugging his shirt out of his pants.

“Too bad, you’re just going to have to cross your legs and hold it,” Mickey shoved Ian off again and the redhead sat back pouting cutely, one hand still resting on Mickey’s knee.

“For twenty dollars extra, I take shortest possible route and drive at speed limit!” The cab driver offered generously.

The two men in the backseat exchanged a glance before regarding their grinning driver. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be doing now?” Ian asked pertinently. The cabbie went very quiet after that, but he did drive faster when Mickey fished out his brass knuckles.


Mickey was far more receptive in their empty elevator. Ian shoved him against the back of it and managed to untuck Mickey’s shirt completely in time for them to reach their floor. They stumbled out and lurched towards their apartment, still clinging to each other.

Mandy awoke to hear them fumbling with their key in the lock. She had a brief moment of panic and clamped her hand over her companion’s mouth to keep him quiet. The last thing she needed was Mickey and Ian taking the piss out of her for developing a taste for skinny nerds. When the door finally opened, admitting light and the couple in the blackness of the living room, she cautiously raised her head to ask them how their night went.

She didn’t have to trouble herself; neither Ian nor Mickey was taking notice of her or her proclivities. She lowered her head and listened to the sounds of the slide and fall of fabric as the men shed their jackets and kicked off their shoes on their journey to their room.

“I want you so bad,” Ian whispered heatedly into his partner’s ear as he pushed him against the room door and started working on his shirt buttons. Mickey groaned, finally managed to get the room door open and dragged Ian inside. They slammed the door firmly shut behind them.

“I’m guessing the evening went well,” Mandy mused and settled back in for the night.


Mickey came to the decision that he needed to take Ian out a little more often, because the payout was phenomenal. Ian was so hot for him; he was leaving blisters all over Mickey’s skin. Ian sat on their bed and yanked him forward until Mickey stood between his legs. He made quick work of the brunet’s pants and sucked him down eagerly. Mickey sighed with pleasure and quickly shed the rest of his clothes. He managed to strip entirely, only for Ian to back off.

“I want you to come inside me,” Ian explained through his clothing as he tugged off his suit.

“Well, if you’d just waited a couple of minutes,” Mickey grumbled and Ian only snorted as he reached for the lube off the night table.

“Not like that, dumbass,” Ian shoved the bottle at a surprised Mickey and got comfortable on his back in the middle of the bed. “We’re shaking things up a little tonight, right? I’ll still do you afterwards, if you want.”

Mickey nodded and climbed in bed to settle between Ian’s legs. He liked what he liked, but he certainly wasn’t opposed to topping Ian every once in a while. He leaned down to lick Ian’s nipples and leave a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen. Ian’s body twitched as Mickey moved lower and he ran his fingers through the dark hair as encouragement.

Mickey took a long languid lick of Ian’s cock as a promise, before backing off and squirting a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.  He deep-throated Ian as he slipped the first finger in. Ian so rarely bottomed; he was incredibly tight which made Mickey’s erection twitch in anticipation. He took his time with the preparation, not wanting to rush things and hurt his partner. He continued to swallow him down, humming around the dripping, engorged cock while he stretched him. 

“Fuck,” Ian breathed, feeling slowly pulled apart by Mickey’s mouth around him and his fingers inside him. “I’m ready, you need to stop.”

Mickey pulled himself up and gripped the back of Ian’s thighs, spreading him further as he prepared to enter him. “Ready?” He slowly pushed forwards after Ian nodded. Mickey paused when he was in to the hilt, panting as he relished the feel of Ian convulsing around him and pushing against the unusual intrusion. Ian was groaning his boyfriend’s name harshly, instinctively arching up as Mickey wrapped a hand around his dick and stroked him.

“Move,” he commanded and Mickey didn’t hesitate, matching the thrust of his hips to the stroke of his hand. Mickey gradually picked up speed, bolstered by his partner’s increasing vociferous cries of pleasure and encouragement. “I’m going to come,” Ian warned, feeling the tide start from his extremities and rush inwards.

“Good.”

Ian gave a breathy laugh and knocked Mickey’s hand away from his cock to try and stem the tide. “You can, but don’t make me come now, asswipe. We’re supposed to switch in a bit.” Mickey grunted in acknowledgement and gripped Ian’s hips instead as he pounded into him, far too gone to slow anything down now.  

“Asshole,” Ian chided and squeezed the base of dick to choke off his ejaculation. Crisis momentarily averted, Ian reached up and pulled Mickey down flush against him so he could taste him. Mickey moaned into his boyfriend’s mouth, his rhythm stuttering as he drew close to the edge. Ian broke the kiss briefly to slick his fingers before unceremoniously shoving them up Mickey’s ass.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” the addition of Ian’s fingers made his orgasm hit him like a freight train. He rammed hard and fast into his boyfriend as he rode the wave of it while Ian leaned up to lick the column of his throat and kept working his fingers into him.

When the last of his orgasm shuddered through him, Mickey was flipped onto his back and Ian wasted no time getting inside him. Ian then sat back on his haunches, taking Mickey with him until the brunet was straddling him and wrapping his hands around him for balance and support. The position brought them face to face, trapping Mickey’s dick between them and making him moan from the friction. Ian used both hands to grope his boyfriend’s ass and felt his mind go as Mickey matched him thrust for thrust.

“I fucking love you,” Ian panted against Mickey’s lips as he stared into the heavy-lidded blue eyes, “so much.”

“Mmm, you sure you’re not just a French food whore?” Mickey asked as he rode Ian harder.

“Well yeah, that too,” Ian grinned and thrust up into Mickey’s sweet spot. He buried his nose in the dampness of Mickey’s neck, inhaling deeply as he came. They collapsed panting on the bed and Ian shifted his weight off Mickey to curl against his back instead.

“So, this is going to be my dangling carrot for my other two semesters, right?” Ian pressed his luck immediately, “I mean, it doesn’t have to be Chez George again, I can easily think of two other places I want to go…”

“Fine,” Mickey agreed easily, more than ready to pass out now, “get the A’s, get the dates.”

Ian grinned happily into Mickey’s shoulder and hugged him closer. He was about to fall asleep when he was suddenly reminded of something important. “But we’re still going to Montauk though, right? ...Mickey? Mickey?”

Mickey rolled onto his stomach and put a pillow over his head, which was the Milkovich-Gallagher way of telling your audacious partner that, seriously, he could go fuck himself.