Mickey could feel his cheeks burning. The look Ian was giving him was almost enough to make him let out the most desperate sound, but he held it inside, breathing shallowly, heavily, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip.
It was almost a battle, and for now, Mickey wasn't close to winning. Ian's cock was brushing over his ass so delicately he thought he might cry, gripping his boyfriend's shoulder and staring directly into his eyes.
"Ian, please," his voice was almost a whisper, but not quite. It was choky and borderline raspy, but still Mickey's low tone of voice.
Ian couldn't care less; he pressed his mouth to Mickey's thighs, fingers ghosting over his cock, touching-not-touching, lips almost curling into a smile. Mickey's face was his favorite thing during sex, and especially during the time he teased him. He pressed another soft, lingering kiss to Mickey's stomach, and he hovered over him, pushing his dick inside Mickey, emitting a sound from him that he knew Mickey would regret making for the rest of their lives.
Mickey's hands found Ian's shoulders the moment he felt his tip enter him so smoothly (that would probably be because Ian didn't waste his time when he prepped him, torturing Mickey with his fingers), and Ian leaned in and pressed their lips together, giving him a drawn out, lengthy kiss, lazily moving his tongue over Mickey's, yet skillfully. He could feel his boyfriend breathing heavily into his mouth as they kissed, and he pressed himself deeper and deeper, until he was balls deep inside Mickey. He wanted to see him disappear from the pleasure, completely disconnect from reality; he wanted to see his face when he came, he wanted his orgasm to be earth shattering.
Mickey tried his best kissing Ian back, but he was breathing so hard he thought he might have a heart attack, or he was going through lung failure or some other sort of shit. His eyes won't flutter, keeping their focus on Ian's face as he was fully inside him, unmoving for the time being. He let out a sigh, and nodded briefly to tell Ian he can move, and the Gallagher boy took his hips back, his cock just halfway out of Mickey's ass before he slowly, but harshly, thrusted into his boyfriend. Mickey gripped his shoulder with digging fingernails, scratching his back, leaving red marks to fade away later.
"Are you trying to kill me?" He asked, lips parting with every single movement Ian gave him, so slow and sweet, Mickey wanted to punch him in the face.
"Maybe giving you a killer orgasm, but other than that," Ian mouthed against Mickey's skin, giving a harder thrust than before, making Mickey arch his back over the mattress, teeth buried in his bottom lip again. "-no."
At that point Mickey really did consider punching him in the face. He pressed his ass to Ian's cock, trying to increase his pace, letting out a few strangled moans to get him going just a little faster. But Ian grabbed his waist and stopped him, looking into his eyes seriously. "Don't move. You're beautiful and I'm going to fuck you the way I want to."
Mickey forgot how to breathe. He halted his hips movement and tried to regulate his breathing, nodding at the other, hoping Ian didn't enjoy his red cheeks as much as Mickey hated them.
For the next hour all that Mickey could feel was Ian's voice in his ear and his cock deep inside him; his sweet voice dripping down his ears and melting around his brain, making him gasp so frequently he didn't even bother trying to close his mouth. Ian wouldn't stop talking and Mickey didn't have the power (or desire) to stop him, as he felt the redhead shake above him, hips moving erratically with each thrust.
"You're so beautiful, you're amazing…
you feel so good, Mick, you're incredible...
how did I get this lucky… you're so gorgeous..."
Those words were stuck in his brain as he felt his aching cock begging for release, and he whined, scratching Ian's back, and this time, with wounds that won't go away so easily. The pleasure pooling around his stomach was only growing as Ian kept fucking him, so slowly, face to face, fingers everywhere, mouth anywhere. He barely knew where he was, he barely knew his own name.
"Please," Was the only word he managed to slip out, pulling and tugging at Ian, moving in sync, hips against hips. Ian kissed the corner of his mouth, shushing him. "You want me to make you come?"
Mickey nodded desperately, and Ian gave a hard, aggressive thrust, and another, and Mickey was clawing at the sheets underneath him. Clawing, tearing, back arching off the bed and head tilting back. It took five hard, fast thrusts to make Mickey fall apart in front of Ian's eyes, coming, with his mouth open but no sound coming out, so shakily and so hard, Ian fucking him all through his orgasm, and ventually spilling inside of him, his hips' erratic movements slowing down gradually. Mickey's brain repeated that nothing ever felt so good, and nothing really, genuinely mattered anymore.
Ian carefully pulled out of him, lying next to him, letting out a breath that was relief and victory mashed up together. Mickey turned his face to look at the teenager next to him, shaking his head no, covering his face with his hand, unstoppable laughter starting to bubble up from his mouth. He then climbed Ian and started swatting at him, making the redhead laugh back hysterically, and then rolled and play fight for the next five minutes.
Mickey got tired and dropped back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling and swallowing thickly, taking Ian's hand and intertwining their fingers slowly, Ian's eyes widening just a little when he noticed the small romantic gesture. Unexpected. Ian pulled Mickey into his arms, and Mickey complied immediately, wrapping arms around Ian's neck, Ian's hands on the small of his back. He sighed into his skin, taking Ian's scent in, that was clouding his atmosphere, making everything around him hazy. He felt kisses trailing over his shoulders and neck, soft and gentle, no motive behind them but to make him feel loved, and his heart, breaking into pieces. He could feel it mending with each kiss, sewed back together. Every bad memory, every punch from his dad, every kick, every time he missed his mom, every time he cried because he was so tired of living a lie- Ian was kissing him better, every kiss telling him-
I love you here, and I love you here. I love you over there, and far away, and when you're not around. I love you when you're crying and I love you when you're mad, I love you when you're happy, I love you when you're smiling.
I love you when you don't love you, and I love you when you do. I'll take care of you.