There was no way anyone would say that Mickey and Ian fucked like they were in love. No one would know that. From a stranger's standpoint, they fucked like they hated each other. But to Ian and Mickey, they fucked like their life depended on it. Whether it be in the cooler, in an alley, in Mickey's room.. they fucked like they were about to die. And this was romance. They wouldn't have it any other way.
Mickey's face smashed into the wall, Ian with a tight firm grip around his waist with one hand, and the other pulling the older boys head back so viciously hard until Ian had his teeth sunk into Mickey's neck. Mickey with one hand clawing into Ian's neck and the other clawing into his back, holding him with each thrust. Bruises already showing on Mickey's hips where Ian had dug his fingers in moments before. Grunts and screams coming out of their breathe as if they couldn't breath. This is how Mickey and Ian fucked.
To Ian and Mickey, romance is the blood that drips from their busted lips, The red and blue handprints that Ian leaves on Mickey's hips. The teeth marks that Mickey leaves on Ian's shoulders. Romance is the grunts that Mickey lets out when Ian bucks into him. Romance is the way Mickey meets Ian thrust for thrust, never off beat. For these boys, romance is when Mickey begs for Ian to fuck him harder. When Ian grips his hands around the back of Mickey's neck, bending him forward. Romance is in the way each boy claws at each others skin when they rip their clothes off. Romance for these boys, is pushing the other into a dark Ally, to be left alone, and out from under the world. Romance for these boys is the way Mickey looks Ian up and down when he pretends he doesn't notice. Romance is the way they fuck each other with their eyes in a crowded room, and no one else notices.
And they say romance is dead in the southside. Mickey and Ian would beg to differ.