Actions

Work Header

I’m a damn good f*ck

Work Text:

Ian stood in the kitchen, letting the sun shining through the window warm his skin. The Gallagher home was unnaturally quiet early in the morning, and Ian loved it. They had moved to the West Side months ago, but they were helping Lip work on the old house to boost the sale price. They had found out that Fiona was still dabbling in real estate, and she had agreed to help sell the house. Ian was glad, not only because Fiona was involved but also because they would get more money. He and Mickey could invest in their business or anything else they wanted to spend the money on, like a real honeymoon. Ian was secretly hoping for the honeymoon.

Lip startled Ian as he bumbled down the stairs, as Ian was not expecting anyone to be up for at least another hour. Ian set the doughnut that he was eating and picked up his coffee. It was the only caffeine he would have for the day, so he liked to savor it. Lip gave Ian a shit-eating grin as he pushed past him to grab a coffee mug.

“What’s that look for?” Ian asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Lip laughed. “just glad to see you are finally eating and relaxing.” Lip shrugged. “For the longest time, I was fucking worried that you had some eating disorder or some shit.” Lip patted him on the stomach. “Never thought I’d see you with a pudge.”

Ian froze. Lip had just called him fat. Never had he been anything other than a skinny twink, or that’s what most of the men he’s met had said. He looked down, noticing his stomach was not flat anymore. He had lost his abs in prison, but he had been fit, muscular even. He looked back to the doughnut on the counter and tossed it in the trash.

“You just seem healthy, man,” Lip said with a frown.

“Yeah,” Ian mumbled.

He hadn’t thought about it, but his body was really all he had control of, but that too was slipping through his fingers. He used to run eight miles a day, but now he wondered if he would make it a mile. Just a few weeks ago, he had tried to start doing sit-ups, but Mickey had showered him with money. He was reminded of working in the clubs, and it made him feel gross. Money was raining down on him, and he could feel the hands on his body. He had only gotten to thirty, and he didn’t know how many more he would have been able to do. He had gotten fat. The only good thing was Mickey didn’t seem to notice. Mickey had always appreciated his body. It was surprising that he hadn’t said anything, but like Caleb had said, at least he is a good fuck.

He dumped his coffee in the sink and headed upstairs to the bathroom. He shut the door and flipped the lock. He looked in the mirror, examining himself. His face was chubbier than it had been. At least I’m a good fuck. He patted his chin, wondering when he got a slight double chin and again wondered why Mickey hadn’t said anything. At least I’m a good fuck. He pulled off his shirt, looking at his body. His pecks and arms seemed fine, but Lip was right. He had a pudge. He was fat. At least I’m a good fuck. He pulled at his stomach as shame welled up in his chest. He would do better. He wouldn’t lose Mickey because he had no self-control, no self-discipline. At least I’m a good fuck. He pulled off his pants, feeling tears well up in his eyes. His thighs were gigantic. He could see stretch marks on the inside of them and wondered how did Mickey deal with it? How could he look down there and not be grossed out? Then he looked at his penis; at least that hadn’t changed. Mickey definitely would have left if it had. At least I’m a good fuck.

His shower was quick, and by the time he made it back to the bedroom, Mickey was starting to wake. Before Mickey rolled over, Ian quickly pulled on a too-big hoodie and sweat pants. Mickey hadn’t said anything about his weight change, but he also didn’t want to bring attention to it. Ian sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes but froze when Mickey wrapped his arms around his torso. Mickey’s hands pressed firmly into his belly, and Ian had to fight the urge to suck in or jerk away. Mickey pressed a kiss to his neck, and usually, he would melt into it, but he couldn’t.

“What’cha doing up so early?” Mickey asked as he buried his face in Ian’s neck.

Ian didn’t know what to say. He had been up because he had a nightmare, then he went downstairs and had his world view rocked. Now he didn’t know if he wanted to go for a jog or stop taking the drugs that made him gain all the weight. At least I’m a good fuck. Or he could take his shoes off and remind Mickey why he loves Ian.

Instead, he said, “Couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a lie, but it felt dirty leaving his lips.

“Mmm, why didn’t you wake me, stud?” Mickey let out a low chuckle and nipped at the side of his neck. “You know I love wake-up blowies.” You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me.

Ian felt like he had been punched in the chest. Mickey was right, of course. Husbandly duties, and all. “Next time, I will.” Ian knew it probably seemed stiff, but Mickey didn’t pick up on it.

Mickey reached down, running his fingers over Ian’s soft cock. “Or you could fuck me into this shitty mattress.” At least I’m a good fuck.

Ian let out a small groan as Mickey was steadily rubbing his cock. “For old times sakes.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s wrist and turned, so they were face to face. Ian kissed him as he grabbed the other wrist so that he could pin both above Mickey’s head when he pinned him to the sheets. Ian gathered both wrists in one hand and used the other to work down Mickey’s fit body. He slid his free hand down the front of Mickey’s boxers, giving him a few languid tugs.

“Come on, big guy, get on me,” Mickey whispered, but Ian froze with his lips pressed against Mickey’s neck. Big guy? Had Mickey noticed? Ian lightly nipped at Mickey’s neck and gave his cock a sharp tug to make him arch into Ian’s touch with a pretty little moan rolling off of his lips. At least I’m a good fuck.

“You want me to fuck you, Mick?” Ian licked his adam’s apple, making Mickey groan.

“Fuck, yeah.” Mickey tilted his head back, giving Ian better access. With his hands pinned to the sheets, Mickey couldn’t touch Ian, so he rolled his entire body with every tug Ian gave his cock. After he was good and leaking, Ian pulled back and tugged Mickey’s boxers off. Ian sat back on his haunches, looking at Mickey spread out on the sheets.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Mick,” Ian said in awe as he ran his fingertips up the insides of Mickey’s thighs. He grasped Mickey’s knee as the other traced the hard lines of Mickey’s hips, lifting it so that he could pepper kisses from the knee to the hip. Mickey’s cock was hard and dripping, so every time he rolled his hip to arch into Ian’s touch, it would bounce off his firm stomach.

“Ian, please.” He whispered. Mickey didn’t like to beg, but he was already worked up.

“Turn over.” Mickey looked at him with his face scrunched up in confusion. For a split moment, Ian wondered if Mickey would say something. Ian never asked him to get on his hands and knees. He much preferred to fuck him face to face, but right now, he didn’t want Mickey to see his body.

Mickey turned over, arching his back to present himself to Ian. He loved being fucked from behind, but he could tell something wasn’t right. Especially since Ian hadn’t taken off his clothes. Ian could feel the hesitation in Mickey, and he knew he could get Mickey to focus on something else. At least I’m a good fuck.

He grasped both cheeks, squeezing them, making Mickey moan. He spread Mcieky’s cheeks looking at his mostly lax hole. He was still pretty open from last night, but Ian didn’t want to hurt him. Ian let go of his ass, and a small whine escaped Mickey’s throat. “Spread yourself for me, baby.” Mickey reached back with both hands to spread his cheeks, with his face pressed into the mattress.  Ian grabbed the lube and coated his fingers.

He pressed in two fingers with no resistance. “Fuck, baby, you’re sucking me in.” He quickly spread and flexed his fingers so he could press in another finger. Once all three fingers were stretching Mickey, he paused, making Mickey whine. Mickey started pushing back to get the friction he desperately wanted.

“Yeah, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers.” Mickey moaned, pushing back harder and faster. “Such a good boy, taking my fingers. You think you can take my cock, good boy?”

“Ian fuck, please. Get on me.” Mickey demanded, making Ian chuckle.

Ian reached to pull off his hoodie but paused. He didn’t want to take it off; he didn’t want to see his stomach jiggle. He stood quickly, pulling off the sweats, but left his jacket on. He crawled back up to Mickey, pressing the head of his cock in, making Mickey gasp.

“Yes, yes.” Mickey chanted as Ian slowly pushed in until he bottomed out.

Ian leaned forward to cover Mickey with his body, but Mickey jolted. He shoved Ian back so that he could turn around.

“What are you doing?” Mickey motioned to Ian.

“Well, I was balls deep in your ass, so I think I was fucking you.” At least I’m a good fuck. Maybe, or maybe not?

“What’s with the jacket?” Mickey was looking at him with a frown, and Ian felt himself start to soften.

He didn’t want to talk to Mickey about it, but he didn’t have an excuse. He couldn’t think of one off the top of his head, and he didn’t actually like lying to his husband. He had thought he had distracted Mickey, but apparently, he wasn’t as good as he thought. Too bad I’m not a good enough fuck. To make matters worse, Mickey could see that he had gone soft. He couldn’t even fuck his husband anymore.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Mickey grabbed his boxers, feeling the need for them to both be clothed.

Ian grabbed his sweat, pulling them back on without looking at Mickey. “It’s nothing.”

Ian made to walk out of the room, but Mickey grabbed him. “Nah, sit the fuck down.”

Ian sighed and tugged at the hem of his hoodie. “We got shit to do today.” Ian knew it was a poor excuse; just a few moments ago, he was ready to fuck. They have plenty of time.

“Talk to me, man. What the fuck is going on with you?”

Ian looked back to Mickey. “Do I look different to you?”

Mickey’s head tilted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind, can we just go?”

“Woah, hold the fuck up.” Mickey grabbed Ian, forcing him to sit on the bed with him. “What do you mean look different?”

A blush swept across his face. “Like bigger?”

“You’ve always been bigger.”

Ian felt his heart sink. Fuck! If he has always been bigger, then he must really be a cow now. Ian felt tears well in his eyes, but he didn’t want them to fall. He didn’t want to be fat and sad. He didn’t want to be that stereotype.

“What is this about, man? Do I not say it enough?” He grabbed Ian’s hand. “You have a big cock, and I love it.”

Ian huffed out a laugh and rubbed the tears from his eyes. Mickey was completely serious, and it was the funniest thing he had ever said. “Not my dick.” The smile fell from his face, and he started tugging at the hoodie again. “Like, you know, am I, do you like, fuck, Mick, don’t make me say it.”

“What the fuck are you actually talking about? Is this a stroke? Do you smell toast?”

Ian ran his hands over his face. “Am I fat?”

Mickey laughed. His entire body shook at the loud bellows falling from his lips, and Ian raised an eyebrow. After Mickey wiped away the tears of mirth and caught his breath, he smiled at Ian. “Are you off your fucking rocker? You’re not going to float away in the wind, but you are definitely not fucking fat. Where the fuck did this come from?”

“So I’m still attractive? You still want to fuck me?” Is my mouth still warm? Am I still a good fuck?

Mickey cupped his face so they could hold eye contact. “You are the sexiest motherfucker I have ever met. Now tell me, where did this come from?”

“I don’t have abs anymore.”

“Yeah, and?” Both of Mickey’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“I’m pudgy.”

“Fucking were, man? I see you naked all the time, and I got to say, you are fucking buff.”

“No, I,” Ian sighed. “I couldn’t be a dancer anymore.”

Mickey looked at him with concern before his gaze shifted to Ian’s meds for a split second. “You want to dance?”

“No,” Ian felt so fucking stupid. “but I couldn’t if I wanted to. My body has gone to shit.”

They sat in silence as Mickey precessed. “You know, for the first time since we’ve been together, you look fucking healthy. You don’t look strung out or like you exercise to the point of pain anymore. You look happy and healthy.” Mickey shifted so that he could straddle Ian. “You are the sexiest you have ever been.”

Mickey pushed Ian, so he was lying on his back. “What are you doing?”

Mickey shuffled out of his boxers and straddled Ian with his ass pressed to Ian’s cock. “Take off your jacket and watch my cock.”

Ian was confused, but he did it. He pulled off his sweatshirt and flopped back on the bed so that he could see Mickey’s cock. He could feel Mickey’s eyes roaming all over his body, and he felt a little self-conscious, but Mickey’s dick was getting hard. After a few moments, Mickey groaned.

“Fuck look at you.” Mickey ran his hands up Ian’s belly to his shoulders. “My husband is fucking hot.”

Mickey rolled his hips, grinding on Ian’s hardening cock. Mickey trailed his fingers down Ian’s torso stopping at the hem of his sweats before shuffling off. In one quick motion, he yanked Ian’s pants down. Ian’s cock popped out, bouncing against Ian’s soft belly.

“Fuck, is that for me?”

“You want it, baby?” Ian said with a smirk.

“Fuck, yeah.” He gave Ian’s cock a few tugs making sure it was completely hard before grabbing the lube and slicking Ian up.

Mickey straddled Ian again. “You going to ride my cock, baby?” He grabbed both of Mickey’s hips and thrust up. “You want it, baby?”

Mickey nodded and reached back to grab Ian. Once he was lined up, Mickey sunk down with a loud groan. Ian’s hold on his hips turned into a bruising grip. He held Mickey still as he pulled nearly out and thrust back in with deadly accuracy and brute force. A scream erupted out of Mickey’s mouth as Ian hit his prostate dead on.

Mickey started bouncing in earnest. He put both hands flat on Ian’s tummy and used him as leverage to arch his back as he rolled his hips. “Fuck, yes.”

“So, good baby.” Ian ran his hands down Mickey’s face to wrap his fingers around his neck, giving it a soft squeeze. “You take my cock so good.” Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey’s hips so he could reach behind him and touch where his cock was being swallowed up. Mickey slowed in his bouning as Ian’s finger drag across the rim of his hole. Ian looked up at Mickey, who had his eyes closed. “Can I baby? Can you take it like a good boy?” Mickey nodded. “Say it.” Ian’s voice was rough and gravely. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Ian grabbed the lube and coated his fingers as he waited on Mickey to speak. “Ian, please.” Mickey opened his eyes, looking down at Ian. He looked wrecked. “Spread me wider. Finger fuck me while you fuck me with your cock.”

Ian grinned and flipped them, so he had more room to work. Mickey’s knees fell open, and Ian moaned at the image. He tucked two fingers along with his cock and slowly started to push in. Sweat was dripping down Mickey’s face as he whined at the intrusion. After a few shallow thrusts, Ian was buried in Mickey’s tight hole, and two fingers were pressed into his prostate.

“Fuck baby, I wish you could see this. Your pretty hole is taking it all.” Ian started slowly thrusting as he rubbed Mickey’s prostate. Mickey wrapped his hands around his thighs, holding himself spread wide. Tears were clinging to his lashes. Ian wanted to taste the pretty whines that were escaping Mickey’s throat.

“Are you going to splatter yourself in cum, baby? Are you going to be a dirty boy?”

“Please, Ian, Please.” Ian picked up the pace in his thrusts and rubbed Mickey’s prostate with quick motions. Mickey was screaming as his orgasm burst, covering his belly and chest in thick ropes of cum. Ian slowly pulled out, making sure not to hurt Mickey, and quickly jerked himself to completion on Mckey’s stomach.

“Fuck, Mick, that was hot,” Ian said as he flopped next to Mickey on the bed.

Mickey laughed, rolling his eyes. “My husband is hot as fuck.” Mickey looked at Ian with a bright smile. I’m a damn good fuck.