"The Ride"
Ian Gallagher stood across the street from the Milkovich house, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the boy who was the source of his unrelenting nervousness. By all outside appearances, Ian exuded a cocky confidence that came from years of being the only gay kid in the South Side of Chicago. Bullying was, unfortunately, a part of every kid's life, but Ian always felt like he had so much more working against him. Between the red hair, the freckles, pale skin, not to mention being gay, he figured he must have pissed somebody off out in the universe. But, as he got older, he grew into his looks and joined ROTC at school, which allowed him the opportunity for some major ass-kicking when a homophobic prick was asking for it. Over the years, Ian's confidence grew and he became comfortable in his own skin. Eventually, people just accepted who he was and went about their lives. And come to find out, there were plenty of other gay kids in the neighborhood, but none of them were nearly as out and proud as Ian was. They were always willing to meet up for a behind the bleachers fuck or some other inconspicuous place where their secret wouldn't be discovered. Ian always went along with their secrecy with no arguments. As long as Ian was getting laid, he didn't care. He was a teenager after all. So if he had to keep his mouth shut to get some ass, he figured it was a small price to pay. Didn't bother him one bit. Until now.
Mickey Milkovich was Ian's latest closeted fuck buddy, but he had a hard time considering Mickey just a fuck buddy. They had been seeing each other off and on for a year now, and Ian considered Mickey the most exciting man he'd ever met. With his jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, knuckle tattoos, and bad ass attitude, Mickey was the stereotypical South Side thug. All except for the fact that he loved cock. Especially Ian's cock. Unfortunately, Mickey's dad, Terry Milkovich, was the biggest homophobic prick of them all. He had a reputation as a racist, bigoted, dangerous asshole who made being a criminal into a full-time career. He spent a lot of time in prison which suited Ian and Mickey just fine. Even though Ian was understanding with Mickey, he hated not being able to be public with their relationship, always having to sneak around, to resort to the same secret hookups as Ian's previous conquests.
Mickey was deathly afraid of his dad finding out about him, and it killed Ian to see the fear that was constantly present in Mickey's eyes. Whenever they hung out together, Ian died a little each time he saw Mickey's eyes darting around, constantly on the lookout for anyone willing to reveal his deepest darkest secret and God forbid, that secret getting back to Terry.
Ian knew that his feelings for Mickey ran deeper than just sex. He had never had these feelings before. That's why he knew this was so different. He wasn't exactly sure how Mickey felt about him, since Mickey would rather go back to juvie than talk about his feelings. But Ian lived for one of those looks from Mickey where his eyebrows rose toward the sky when Ian said something nice or that slight smile that tugged at his lips at something silly the redhead said. Those little moments told Ian all he needed to know. He hoped one day Mickey would be able to face his fears, but until then, he would take whatever Mickey was willing to give him.
Mickey had just been released from his second stint in juvie as a result of stealing from the local Kash and Grab. Ian knew he was getting out today, so he had made special plans for their reunion. It all started with Ian's sister, Fiona's boyfriend, Jimmy, car thief extraordinaire. He had a sweet 1966 black Ford Mustang convertible. Jimmy claimed it belonged to his dad and that it wasn't stolen. Ian could only hope and pray that Jimmy was telling the truth. But he had let Ian borrow the car for the night without any questions, so he figured he at least owed Fiona's boyfriend the same.
Ian had texted Mickey earlier in the day to execute his plan into action.
2:37pm Hey Mick. You out?
2:40pm Yeah, just got home. Why are you not fucking on me right now?
2:42pm Lol good things COME to those who wait.
2:45pm Dork
2:47pm Meet me outside your house, 7:00?
2:48pm What's up, asshole
2:49pm You'll see. See you 7. Don't bring your cell phone
2:50pm What the fuck Gallagher
2:51pm See at 7 Mick
2:52pm Fuck…K
At 6:59pm, the front door of the Milkovich house swung open, and Mickey stepped out onto the front porch. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his chest in all the right places. He puffed on a smoke as he made his way down the front steps of his house. Even though Ian and Mickey had been seeing each other for a while now, Ian still got nervous butterflies in his stomach whenever Mickey came around him. He just couldn't explain it, but Mickey excited him and made him a ball of nerves all at the same time.
Mickey tossed his butt into the grass, stubbing it out as he made his way across the street to Ian. His eyes got wider as he got closer to Ian and saw their ride for the night. He looked around nervously, like he was expecting someone to come up and try to steal the car from them, an unfortunate side effect of growing up on the South Side. Ian was leaning against the Mustang, his arms outstretched like he was presenting the car to Mickey.
"Your chariot awaits, Mr. Milkovich." Ian smiled so big, he thought his face may crack.
"The fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey looked questioningly at Ian, raising his eyebrows to the moon.
"Just a little something I borrowed from Fiona's boyfriend, Jimmy." Ian opened the passenger door, waving his arm to invite Mickey in.
"Jimmy," Mickey lowered his voice, "the car thief?"
"One and the same."
"Is this fucking car stolen?"
Ian looked at Mickey, slightly indignant now, considering Mickey just got out of juvie for the second time, granted he had never served time for grand theft auto, but still, he didn't think Mickey was in any position to judge. "Does it matter?" Ian replied, lifting his eyebrows, a challenge in his eyes.
"Nope," Mickey quipped, and jumped enthusiastically into the passenger seat. Ian just shook his head and laughed out loud as he closed the door and made his way around to the driver's side and hopped in. Ian was already prepared for the barrage of questions he knew was coming. But he definitely wasn't prepared for what happened next. As soon as they were in the car alone, finally, out of view of prying eyes, Mickey reached over and grabbed his thigh, quickly squeezing the hard muscle there before pulling away again, coming dangerously close to his hard cock. Ian, shocked as shit, looked over at Mickey, who was still staring straight ahead, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That smile Ian had missed so much lit a fire in him similar to the heat on his thigh Mickey's hand left in its wake. It took everything Ian had in him not to attack the brunet right then and there. Ian tried to play it off like he was adjusting his seat belt, but he was really adjusting the hard on he was sporting at that moment. If Mickey noticed, he didn't say anything about it.
"So," Mickey began, "What the fuck's with all the secrecy and no cell phones? You planning on chopping me up and burying me in pieces down by the river?"
Ian could only snort at the ridiculousness of that question. "Considering you're the only guy I am currently fucking, why in the hell would I want to do that?" Ian was looking at Mickey now, sincerity evident in his eyes.
Mickey just smirked and responded, "Better be."
Ian then cranked up the car, reveling in the roar of the engine as he punched the gas a few times. He threw the car in drive and they were off like a rocket, heading into the hot summer August night.
They had been driving for about 45 minutes, having stopped at a gas station for snacks and drinks, letting the top down on the convertible while they were there. They were just outside the Chicago city limits when Mickey broke the silence in the car, raising his voice over the wind whipping around them as they flew down the highway.
"Man, this car runs like a dream," Mickey purred appreciatively while he admired the all black leather interior. "You never did answer my question, you know."
"What question?" Ian looked over at Mickey, confused, just for a second until he had to look back to the road.
"Why'd you tell me not to bring my cell phone?"
Ian sighed. "Oh that. I just wanted us to have a stress free night. No interruptions, no distractions, you know?"
Mickey seemed satisfied with that answer because he continued on to his next question. "Where are we going?" Ian knew this question was coming. He worked his ass off keeping his plans under wraps and he'd be damned if he was going to ruin it now, so close to the finish line, so to speak. "It's a surprise," Ian responded, with a 'cat that ate the canary' smile on his face.
Mickey began looking around nervously, biting his lip like he always did when he was frustrated. "Man, you know I hate surprises. What the actual fuck?"
Ian could feel the tension emanating from the other man. He answered quickly, "I know, Mick, but trust me, you'll like this one."
"I highly doubt it," Mickey grumbled. "So, when are we going to get wherever the fuck we're going?"
"Just a little further," Ian said patiently. He knew this was out of Mickey's comfort zone, as comfortable as the South Side could be, but it's all Mickey had ever known. Hell, it was all either of them had ever known, but at least Ian had been out of the South Side before and had plans to make it out in the future. Mickey was a tried and true South Side resident, born there, never been anywhere outside of there, would probably die there. Ian didn't like to think about how those limits might affect any future they could have together. It was a concern, better left for another time. Not tonight.
Ian reached over and rested his hand high on Mickey's thigh. Mickey looked at him, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Even though he bit his lip trying to hide it, Ian knew it was there. Ian returned Mickey's smile, as they both relaxed. Mickey pulled out his smokes to light one up until Ian abruptly stopped him. "You know you can't smoke in this car, Mick," Ian stated tentatively.
"The fucking top is down!"
"I don't care, Mick! This isn't my car and I'm not taking any chances, alright?" Ian insisted, hoping not to ruin mood between them, but it seemed it may have been. Mickey scoffed, putting the cigarette back in the pack, then turned his face away from Ian to look out his side of the car.
Ian's surprise wasn't going according to plan so far. He hoped Mickey's attitude would change once they got to their destination. Ian looked out at the view around them as he drove. The Chicago city lights, gradually being replaced by twinkling stars spread throughout the sky like tiny diamonds, were beautiful to Ian, but he had a feeling that his shotgun rider wouldn't appreciate them as much as he did. All of a sudden, Ian realized just how far outside the city limits they actually were. They were coming to a deserted stretch of highway, just trees among trees and a lake just to the left, the moon reflecting off the water.
Ian was just about to reassure Mickey again that they weren't too far away, when all of a sudden, the car started sputtering and shaking. Ian took his hand off of Mickey's thigh to grab the wheel with both hands, not sure yet what was happening. "Uh oh."
"Uh oh, what? What the fuck does uh oh mean?" Mickey looked over at Ian with a panicked expression, those eyebrows working overtime, while Ian looked at the console with a matching look.
Ian pulled the car into a field surrounded by trees, the lake just beyond, looking much more peaceful than the mood inside the Mustang at that moment. All of a sudden Ian wished he was in that water, all the way down, with no way to make it back up. Or maybe a hole would open up right in the middle of this field and swallow him up. Anything would be better than what was about to go down.
"Uh oh what?! What the fuck, man?" Mickey was yelling now and Ian could see the anger setting on his face as he tried to guide the car to not hit any trees.
The car sputtered for a final time, stopping completely and going dead, the silence deafening to Ian's ears.
"If you don't tell me RIGHT fucking now….."
"I think," Ian interrupted, "I think, that we ran out of gas." Ian tried to make his voice small thinking that would somehow make the statement less true, but it didn't work.
"You think? You THINK?" Mickey was livid now. This was not going to be good.
"Ok, we did run out of gas," Ian replied softly.
Mickey threw open his door and jumped out, slamming the door behind him. Ian grimaced at the impact which shook the whole inside of the car. Ian hesitantly opened his door and stepped out, bracing himself for the brunet's wrath. "Are you seriously fucking telling me right now that we are stuck out in the middle of Bumfucked, Egypt, with no gas and not a fucking soul around for miles?"
"Look, Mick, it could be worse right?" Ian was trying for optimism, but as he watched Mickey pace back and forth behind the car, a smoke already lit and firmly in place between his lips, he knew there was no talking him down.
"Unfuckingbelievable," Mickey muttered as he continued to pace. "Was this all part of your special plans?" Mickey sneered with just enough venom to hurt. "'Don't bring your cell phone,' he said." Mickey's voice trailed off as he walked around the opposite side of the car away from Ian.
Ian looked down at the ground, his shoulders slumped, disappointment and regret all over his face as he pleaded to Mickey. His voice was soft as he began. "I'm so sorry, Mick. It's all my fault. I was so stupid for not checking to make sure we had enough gas. And we stopped at a fucking gas station!" Ian raised his arms as he spoke, then let them fall with impact against his side, effectively expressing his defeat.
Ian then realized Mickey's furious footsteps had stopped. He looked up to see bright blue eyes staring back at him, smoke dangling loosely from his plump lips. He grabbed it and threw it to the ground as he strode toward Ian with purpose. Ian didn't know how scared he should be, not sure what Mickey was about to do. Ian knew Mickey pretty well by now, but he had never seen him this mad before.
"Listen to me Ian Gallagher," Mickey began, pointing his finger in Ian's face. "You may be a lot of things, but you are not fucking stupid, you hear me?" Those eyebrows pointed to the stars, making Ian's heart flutter in his chest.
But even the excitement Ian felt being this close to Mickey couldn't erase the shame he felt for ruining their night. "But I fucked up, Mick. I wanted this night to be so perfect. I had it all planned out. I got us a cabin. We were gonna spend the night and fuck until we passed out from exhaustion. I just missed you so much, Mick. These last six months without you have been pure, absolute hell. I tried so fucking hard to….."
Mickey put his hand on Ian's shoulder, effectively ending his tirade. "Stop, Ian. Just stop, ok?"
Ian's breath caught in his throat. He was Ian now. Not Gallagher. Not asshole. Not dick. Mickey called him Ian. His voice broke as he looked at Mickey and said, "I've never heard you call me Ian before. That's the first time, Mick."
Mickey thumbed at his lip, looking away from Ian, remaining silent for the next few moments. When he turned his head back, Ian could see moisture in his eyes and watched as his knuckle came up to rub at his nose. Mickey then locked eyes with Ian as he stepped closer to him, a look of sincerity all over his face. "I missed you too, Ian. So fucking much."
They were standing so close together they could feel each other's breath on their faces. With Mickey's words, Ian crashed his lips to Mickey's with so much force, Mickey had to step back to balance himself and keep his body upright. Mickey returned the kiss with equal fervor, and then all of a sudden they were a tantalizing mix of tongues, teeth, and lips, months of sexual tension built up to an achingly unbearable peak. They couldn't get close enough to each other, even though they were connected from head toe. Ian's hands came up to frame Mickey's face, turning his head, enabling him to kiss the other man impossibly deeper. "I want you Mick, so bad. You taste so fucking good."
Their lips came back together in another searing kiss. Moments later, Mickey pulled away, leaving Ian bereft and wanting.
"Car, backseat, now," Mickey demanded.
Thank fuck the top was already down from earlier. They hurried to either side of the backseat, throwing clothes as they went. They only got as far as their shirts and shoes until they couldn't stand the distance any longer. They jumped in the backseat, Mickey landing on top of Ian as they adjusted to the cramped space. Mickey straddled Ian's lap, his knees bent on either side of Ian's hips. They each grabbed for the other's jeans, making quick work of unbuckling belts and unfastening buttons, both eager as hell to get to what was behind those zippers. Mickey shoved his hand down Ian's pants, not able to wait any longer. His hand rubbed across the front of Ian's boxers, a thrill running through Ian's body as Mickey palmed the redhead's rock hard cock through the flimsy material. "God, that feels so fucking good," Ian breathed.
Mickey leaned over and licked from the base of Ian's throat up the side until his lips closed around the other man's earlobe, lightly sucking and pulling, drawing a whimper out of Ian's mouth. Mickey had now slipped his hand inside Ian's boxers to rub at his straining cock without any barrier in the way. His breath was hot in Ian's ear as he whispered, "Can't wait to have this cock inside me."
Ian's eyes fluttered closed as Mickey's words went straight to his dick, making him impossibly harder. His boxers and jeans were too restrictive, making the pressure against his cock almost painful. Mickey eventually removed his hand from Ian's erection, making him whine from the loss. Mickey then hooked his hands in Ian's waistband and tugged his jeans down along with his boxers, shimmying them both down Ian's legs until they were thrown over the side of the car, completely forgotten. Ian was beyond thankful for at least that bit of relief.
Ian hooked his hands behind Mickey's back, pulling the brunet down on top of him, flush against him so there was nothing between them but sweat and longing, and suddenly everything slowed a bit between them. Ian looked into Mickey's eyes, the heat radiating from both of them. Mickey wrapped his hand around the back of Ian's neck, brushing his cheek with the pad of his thumb back and forth softly, his blue eyes scanning down Ian's face and back up again. It was almost as if Mickey was trying to burn the image of Ian's face into his mind. Ian had missed that look so much. It was only during these intimate, private moments between them that Ian was privy to this look and it never ceased to make his heart skip a beat every damn time. The sex between them was always good, always hot, but this...these private moments between them when everything slowed down enough for the chaos of their world to finally go silent are what Ian lived for. These moments convinced Ian that his feelings for Mickey weren't one sided. They told Ian everything Mickey could never say with words.
Those moments were fleeting, passing as quickly as they arrived. The heat returned as Ian ran his hands down Mickey's sweat slicked back, marveling in the feel of the taut muscles as they responded to his touch. Ian's hands slipped under the waistband of Mickey's jeans, sliding under his boxers to grab at the smooth skin of Mickey's ass. He placed one hand on each cheek and kneaded the plump mounds, tugging and pulling, reveling in the feel of it. Mickey's ass was a God damn work of art, and Ian loved admiring it. Ian brought his hands around to Mickey's hips and scraped his fingernails up and down the pale, soft skin there. Mickey mewed in Ian's ear. He knew Mickey so well by this point that he knew what the brunet liked and what made him lose his fucking mind. After a few moments of scratching at Mickey's hips, Ian brought his hands back around to Mickey's ass, grabbed on tightly, and jerked him forward hard so their crotches rubbed together with deliciously agonizing friction. "Get these fucking jeans off, Mick," Ian said heatedly. He reached around to rub roughly up and down Mickey's crotch, sighing loudly at how hard Mickey's cock was under his hand.
That was all the encouragement Mickey needed and suddenly he was scrambling to remove his boxers and jeans, Ian helping him as much as he could, the clothes haphazardly thrown somewhere outside the car along with Ian's completely forgotten garments. Mickey came down on top of Ian again, their lips crushing together in brutal neediness. Ian sucked Mickey's bottom lip into his mouth, his tongue then darting out to swirl with Mickey's. Their collective moans and grunts echoed through the stillness of the air, the only other sounds being those of crickets and night owls. There were no police sirens, no loud drunks, no busy city streets. It was only them. Only Ian and Mickey.
Ian eventually broke their kiss, Mickey huffing a small protest until Ian's lips found Mickey's neck and began sucking and licking his way from one side to the other, licking the sweat drops rolling down as he made his way across, catching them before they could pool at the base of Mickey's throat. "Don't mark me up," Mickey chided lightly. "I went through…fuck….hell trying to hide that shit from my dad the last time."
Ian didn't need a reminder of that prick invading their time together. It wasn't that Ian didn't understand, he got it. He certainly didn't want to cause Mickey any trouble, knowing full well what Terry Milkovich was capable of. Ian just didn't want any thought of him tainting the little time they were able to spend together. But Ian knew no matter how much time they were together, it would never be enough. He needed Mickey like he needed air. It scared him a little, but thrilled him all at the same time. So, Ian silently agreed with no argument, not willing to let anything get in their way. He removed his lips from Mickey's neck to briefly catch his breath, catching the look of disappointment on Mickey's face.
"I didn't say you had to stop, asshole," Mickey muttered.
Ian chuckled, breathing hard in between. "I stopped to catch my breath, you little slut," he teased. As Mickey returned Ian's smile, the redhead went back to work on Mickey's neck, careful not to suck too hard, then grazing his teeth lightly over the pulse in Mickey's neck, smirking against Mickey's skin as he felt it speed up.
"Fuck, that feels good," Mickey growled.
"You like that? You're really gonna like this, then," Ian husked, continuing to kiss his neck between the words. Mickey's breath quickened in anticipation. Ian wrapped one arm around Mickey's shoulders, while the other hand ran down Mickey's chest, caressing his pecs, his nipples, his abs as he made his way down. Ian's hand was hot as a fucking furnace, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, making Mickey's already burning skin impossible hotter.
"You get me any hotter I'm gonna burst into flames," Mickey murmured against Ian's ear. "But what a fucking way to go."
Ian kissed and licked at the shell of Mickey's ear as his hand finally reached its destination. Grabbing Mickey's cock firmly in his grip, he began pulling on his length, amazed at the feel of it, both soft and hard all at the same time, incredibly hard. Ian's thumb teased the tip and swirled the precum leaking there around for lubrication. Mickey's eyes were closed, his mouth open. Ian watched him intently, loving knowing that he did that. He made Mickey feel that good.
As if reading Ian's thoughts, Mickey moaned loudly, place his hands flat on Ian's chest for leverage. He rubbed his hands down Ian's chest to the rhythm of Ian's strokes on his cock. Ian was so fucking turned on he almost couldn't stand it. This was the Mickey he never got to see. Uninhibited, unabashed, and just free. Free from judgment, free from worry and fear that someone would walk in on them. Free from his family, from the South Side, free from the bad ass thug mentality that he had to maintain. It was a little overwhelming for Ian to see Mickey like this. But God knew he wasn't going to question it. He was going to enjoy the fuck out of it because he never knew when, if ever, it would happen again.
Ian's thoughts were interrupted by Mickey's hands leaving his chest. Mickey's crotch then rubbed against his own, the sensation sending flashes of heat up his spine. Ian looked at Mickey then to see him scoot down on his upper thighs, careful not to break Ian's rhythm on his cock. Ian had to raise up slightly as well, not willing to break the contact. It was too fucking good. Ian wondered idly what Mickey was doing until he felt his tattooed fingers wrap around the base of Ian's hard as a rock erection.
"Oh, shit, Mick," Ian panted, breathing heavier and heavier as Mickey began stroking up and down Ian's length, base to tip, then back down again, over and over.
"Fuck, I've missed this cock," Mickey stated appreciatively, locking eyes with Ian as they both continued their ministrations, matching each other's rhythm stroke for stroke. Moans and pants ensued, eyes now closed, each man lost in the dual pleasures. The pleasure they were giving each other and the pleasure they were receiving. It was a heady combination.
They continued this for a few moments, when all of a sudden, Mickey raised himself off Ian's lap as best he could in the small back seat. He began to turn his body around facing away from Ian, his left foot pressing flat in the floorboard, his right knee coming down to settle beside Ian's hip. Ian was completely confused. "What the fuck are you doing, Mick?" Ian huffed, a little pissed that Mickey broke their precious contact, and now was turning away from him? This can't be good. Ian just hoped it wasn't those invisible walls coming up and surrounding Mickey on all sides. What did he do wrong?
"I just want to try something," Mickey reassured finally, clearly aware of the hesitance in Ian's voice.
"Um….ok. What are you wanting to…" Ian's words were broken off when Mickey began to slide his body backwards, his hands running up Ian's thighs while his crotch and ass slid up Ian's chest. Mickey's balls tickled Ian's sternum which already had Ian's brain turning to sexual mush, when he suddenly realized what Mickey was doing. It had nothing to do with Mickey's fears. It was actually quite the opposite and Ian couldn't fucking believe it. The next words out of Mickey's mouth had Ian close to falling over the edge much sooner than he wanted to.
"Will you go 'round the world with me, Ian?" Mickey's voice was small but Ian heard every word. Ian's breath hitched in his throat, rendering him unable to answer. Mickey didn't wait for an answer anyway. He leaned down, presenting his ass to the redhead, while his mouth closed on the tip of Ian's cock. Mickey had just recently worked up the courage to give Ian a blow job, and when he did, it was good, but it was always fast and sloppy, that ever present fear in the back of Mickey's mind that he would get caught. It was never like this. This was passionate, sensual, and sexy as fuck. Ian couldn't believe his fucking good luck, but just like with everything else tonight, he wasn't going to question it, he was just going to go for it.
Mickey's mouth was hot and wet on Ian's swollen head, sucking hard at the tip then running his tongue around to the underside, paying special attention to the vein that throbbed there, red and pulsing. Ian's head fell back on the backseat, eyes rolling back in his head. Then Mickey swallowed him down, taking every inch Ian had to give him. He was the only guy Ian had been with who was able to do that without gagging. Ian wondered if Mickey had any gag reflex at all. It was sexy as all fuck, and had Ian groaning in pleasure, turning his head from side to side until he was finally able to lift his head and pay attention to Mickey's ass in all its glory. "Can you come back a little more? I want you sitting on my face."
Mickey moaned at Ian's words, complying with his request. Ian began licking and biting at Mickey's ass cheeks, the knowledge that he had free reign of Mickey's ass a welcome thought. Terry sure as fuck wouldn't see these marks, so Ian planned to take advantage of that fact. He sucked on one globe watching the skin pink and pucker up from Ian's lips. Then he moved to the other one, repeating his actions. He grabbed handfuls of that ass and spread Mickey's cheeks apart. Ian was going in, tongue out and ready, when Mickey began twisting his hand at the base of Ian's cock while his mouth sucked hard on the top half.
"Goddammit, Mick, that's so good." Ian's words seemed to spur Mickey on, his hand twisting faster, his mouth sucking even harder.
As Mickey worked Ian's cock, Ian went to work on Mickey's ass. Ian dragged his tongue from Mickey's perineum up to his ass crack, stopping at the ring of muscles and digging in. Ian's tongue darted out and he began fucking Mickey with his tongue. Mickey tensed at the intrusive feeling for a second, but then quickly relaxed under Ian's touch. But then Ian remembered something important. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Goddammit, what?" Mickey questioned, still holding Ian's dick in his hand, while his mouth popped off to answer Ian.
"The fucking lube and condoms are in the glove compartment," Ian huffed, frustrated.
"Ok, I'll get them, keep your fucking shirt on, geez. Well, actually, don't, but you know what I mean," Mickey smirked as he climbed over the front seat to grab the items.
"Smartass."
"Hey I didn't see you complaining a second ago about my ass."
"You're damn right I wasn't." Ian hated that he broke the mood because it was getting so fucking good.
"I was so caught up, I forgot about all these, Ian." Mickey let out a small laugh. "See what you do to me?" Mickey said as he tossed the lube and a condom to Ian.
"Yeah? Well get back here so I can do it some more."
With that, Mickey laughed heartily, his laugh echoing in the darkness, music to Ian's ears. Mickey assumed his position and they continued on like nothing ever happened. Before Ian used the lube to get Mickey ready for him, he had an idea. He scooted a little further down, making Mickey stop what he was doing.
"What the fuck, Ian?" Mickey exclaimed, clearly annoyed by having to stop. Again.
"Just go with it. You trust me?" Ian knew that was a loaded question. Mickey didn't trust easy, those walls firmly in place at all times. But Ian had worked his ass off breaking down those walls and he hoped they had made enough strides in their relationship for trust to be implicit. Ian held his breath as he anticipated Mickey's answer. It finally came.
"Yes, Ian. I fucking trust you." Ian couldn't see his face, which was a blessing in Ian's eyes, knowing how hard that probably was for Mickey to say. Pride bloomed in Ian's chest as he continued with his plan.
Mickey's mouth went back to Ian's dick, lapping and sucking at it greedily, while Ian lined his mouth up with Mickey's balls. He opened wide and took one in, closing his mouth around it, sucking lightly and rolling his tongue around and around. He felt Mickey stop what he was doing, but he couldn't be mad at him because the noises that escaped Mickey's mouth were more than worth the interruption.
"Oh, fuuuuuccckkk, Ian," Mickey drawled. He continued with a litany of curses which made Ian smile wickedly. After Ian thoroughly sucked on Mickey's balls for a few moments, the brunet was finally able to go back to his task at hand, literally. Then, Ian scooted down just a little bit further, not even enough to affect what Mickey was doing, but enough to achieve his lascivious goal. Ian grabbed Mickey's dick, and very carefully as not to hurt him, and pulled it backward slightly until the head of it was lined up with Ian's mouth. Ian let his tongue slide up and down the underside of Mickey's cock a few times until finally bringing his whole mouth around the tip and swallowing him down. He opened his throat and let Mickey's cock just sit there for a moment, swallowing several times, letting his throat muscles massage Mickey's shaft, humming loudly when he felt his cock twitch in his throat. "Jesus fucking Christ," Mickey practically howled. "Shit, fuck, I can't…."
"It's ok, Mick." Mickey's breathing was now more erratic than ever, his mouth resting on Ian's thigh as his arms wrapped around each one, holding on for dear life. His fingers were biting into Ian's legs, making marks and causing just a slight amount of pain. But Ian loved it, since he knew the feeling was a result of what his mouth was doing to Mickey. Ian brought his mouth back up to the head of Mickey's dick to lick his slit and the precum that settled there. Then he took all of him in again, coming back up and establishing a regular up and down rhythm. Mickey was finally able to continue on, eventually getting his rhythm to match up with Ian's. Mickey hummed low in his throat and Ian felt it from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It was the most amazing feeling. Mickey was amazing.
After several minutes of loud sucking and slobbering permeating the air, Ian finally came up for air to get Mickey ready for him. He popped the top of the lube, slicking up one of his fingers. Slowly, he breached Mickey's ring of muscles, eliciting a loud cry from the brunet. He slowly entered his index finger down to the knuckle. "You're so tight, Mick. You ok?"
It was a minute before Mickey answered through his moans. "Yes, God yes. More, please." Satisfied that he wasn't hurting Mickey, Ian began to pull his finger out, then push back in. Mickey pushed back against Ian's finger as he muttered, "Another."
Ian closed his eyes, turned on beyond belief by his bossy ass bottom. Ian then slicked up another finger, adding it slowly to Mickey's hole to join the first one. Ian circled his fingers around his inner walls, stretching Mickey out as much as he could. "Another," Mickey breathed. Not one to disappoint, Ian added lube to yet another finger. When three fingers were inside Mickey, Ian began a steady rhythm in and out, brushing against Mickey's prostate in the process. "Holy fuck," came Mickey's garbled response.
Mickey was a blabbering mess by now and Ian couldn't help his smirk. Ian was so fucking hard, and ready to be inside Mickey, but he never said anything, always letting Mickey indicate when he was ready. Luckily, Ian didn't have to wait long. Ian was still stretching Mickey's hole with his fingers when Mickey reached around and grabbed his hand. Thank fuck.
Mickey was turning around to face Ian, pulling Ian up as he turned. It was nice of Mickey to help Ian get on top of him and get in position, especially considering how much little space they had to work with. Except Mickey didn't do that. He pulled Ian halfway up so he was sitting upright in the middle of the backseat facing the front of the car. What the fuck? Mickey must have seen the confused look on Ian's face because he moved his knees to either side of Ian's thighs, straddling his lap, making his intentions clear. Mickey placed both his hands on either side of Ian's head, his fingers wrapped around the top of the backseat. Mickey licked his lips as he looked deep into Ian's eyes. Ian thought Mickey's eyes would burn right through his skin with their intensity. Ian felt exposed and vulnerable.
"What the fuck, Mick?"
Ian then heard his own words being thrown back at him. "Just go with it. You trust me?"
Ian didn't hesitate. "Yeah, I fucking trust you, Mick." And with that, Mickey rolled the condom on Ian's length, squirted some lube onto his hands and lathered Ian up good, driving Ian crazy in the process. "Jesus, Mick."
Mickey placed his hands back by Ian's head and hoisted himself up, lining Ian's cock up with his fully stretched hole. Ian couldn't believe this was happening. They had never fucked in this position before. They had always done it with Mickey on all fours facing away from him. No eye contact, no vulnerability, which was fine with Ian. He would take Mickey any way he could get him. But Mickey had never rode Ian's cock before, never wanted that kind of control over Ian before. This way, there was no hiding, no guessing what the other was thinking, feeling. This way, it would all be right there for the world to see. Ian knew their relationship would change forever after tonight. They had reached a level that Ian was more than willing to embrace. And now he knew for a fact that Mickey was too. Ian felt a ton of weight being lifted from his shoulders as Mickey's weight came down on his cock slowly, steadily until he was fully seated.
Mickey leaned his head back, looking up at the night sky, Ian following his gaze, both of them moaning through the intense pleasure. Ian saw stars, but none of them were in the sky above them. They were in Ian's eyes from the feeling of Mickey's heat surrounding his cock. Mickey lifted himself up almost completely off his dick, then slammed back down hard using his strong thighs to pick up speed. He established a punishing rhythm, aided by their combined sweat against the black leather. Each time, Mickey would take Ian completely in, then pull himself completely out.
"Fuck, Mick, you take my cock so fucking good," Ian moaned.
Mickey looked at Ian's face until their eyes met, shiny green to icy blue, the moonlight illuminating their faces. Mickey pressed their foreheads together as they moved as one, hot breath blowing in each other's faces. Ian ran his hands across Mickey's back, pressing into him, sweaty chest to sweaty chest, and it was not from the heat. Ian kissed Mickey's neck, licking circles with his tongue as Mickey continued bouncing hard on his cock, which was driving the redhead absolutely fucking crazy. His right hand came up to the back of Mickey's neck and pulled him down to meet Ian's lips, their kiss fast, hard, hot, and wet, like their fucking.
Ian's hands then ran down Mickey's sides until he reached the other man's hips. Ian's fingers bit into the skin there, signaling to Mickey to stop. Ian didn't like Mickey having to do all the work and they were limited to what they could do in this little ass car. Mickey stopped his movements, waiting expectantly for Ian to do whatever he was going to do. Their kissing had slowed too and was now languid and lazy, and so fucking good.
Ian held Mickey in place with his hands as he began fucking up into him fast and hard, snapping his hips with each thrust. Mickey let out a moan into Ian's mouth with each powerful thrust. His hands were now framing Ian's face. He wiped Ian's sweaty hair away from his face moving his lips away from Ian's mouth to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, then back to the swollen, red lips where his tongue was hanging out just enough for Mickey to feast on. He wrapped his lips around Ian's tongue and began sucking and biting it, then licking it with his own.
Ian began thrusting impossibly faster when all of a sudden, Mickey moved his hands down on the top of Ian's then pushed Ian's hands off of him as he raised up, still licking and biting into Ian's mouth. At that moment, Mickey covered Ian's mouth completely with his own, practically swallowing his head. From his raised position, Mickey came down hard on Ian's cock, rocking with a renewed fervor. They kissed hungrily and desperately, still not getting enough of each other. Ian reached between them to stroke Mickey's cock, wanting Mickey to come first.
Mickey moaned into Ian's mouth, not breaking the kiss. Ian began to stroke Mickey harder, matching the rhythm he had set in Mickey's ass. Mickey's noises became louder and more frequent until he had to finally break the kiss as he came hard in Ian's hand, crying out loudly, never breaking their stride. Ian continued to pound into Mickey while Mickey rode Ian's cock, pressing down fully with each of Ian's upward thrusts. The combined sensations were finally too much and Ian came hard, so fucking hard, in Mickey's ass. The both moaned and growled through their aftershocks, a tangle of fast breaths and heaving chests as they slowly came down from the high of their fucking fantastic sex.
"Holy shit," Mickey muttered, his head resting in the crook of Ian's neck. "I can't fucking move."
Ian smirked. "Who fucking asked you to?" Ian took a deep breath to calm his thundering heart. "Goddamn that was good."
Mickey, finally able to lift his head from Ian, put his hands around the back of Ian's neck, pulling his forehead to rest against his. "Fuck yeah, it was."
Not wanting to break the spell, but needing to get out of the position they were in, Ian carefully pulled out of Mickey, discarding the condom outside the car. Mickey then tried to get up until Ian grabbed his arm to stop him. "Wait, wait, wait. C'mere." Ian tried to move Mickey down with him in the backseat but Mickey wasn't having it.
"Man, after that, I gotta have a smoke." Mickey went to find his jeans, fumbling around in the blackness, tripping a couple times and muttering "fuck" each time. After he finally found his smokes, he lit one up and began taking drags off of it, while standing beside the car, watching Ian as he laid back down in the backseat, his back propped up against the side of the car. Ian nodded a 'come here' look to Mickey, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"I distinctly remember a certain redhead telling me I couldn't fucking smoke in this car. Isn't that right, tough guy?"
"After what you just did in this fucking car? You can do whatever the fuck you want to do. Fuck Jimmy."
Mickey just shook his head, grinning like an idiot while he leaned down to grab his discarded shirt and jumped back in the backseat to join Ian, handing him the shirt to clean himself up with. "Hey, just be careful with that cigarette in the car, asshole," Ian scolded without any venom, smiling the whole time, as he wiped his hand with Mickey's shirt.
"Who are you, fucking Smokey Bear? Relax, I ain't starting no fucking fires tonight." Mickey took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke through his nostrils as he smirked," I am putting 'em out though." He glanced over with a shit eating grin on his face in time to see the redhead roll his eyes and motion for Mickey to join him. He turned around, his back to Ian's chest, and settled in between Ian's legs. Ian put his arm around Mickey's shoulder and splayed his hand across his chest, rubbing slowly back and forth until his forearm came to rest under Mickey's chin. He gripped Mickey's opposite shoulder, pulling him tightly to him. Mickey didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed like a weight had been lifted off him too, if only for tonight. Ian would take it. Ian would take anything.
Mickey took another drag off his smoke, then passed it to Ian. They laid like that for a long time, both lost in their own thoughts, lazily passing the smoke back and forth between one another, occasionally kissing each other on the temple. It was Mickey who finally broke the silence. "You know, I think we should run out of gas more often."
With that, both men broke into hearty, stomach cramp-inducing laughs, enjoying just being alone together, being with each other. They had no idea what tomorrow would bring or even how they were going to fucking get home. But right now, here together, neither one of them gave a shit.