Ian entered the dingy gas station restroom and was about to close the door behind him so he could sulk in private for a few minutes when someone pushed him inside from behind. He spun around, fearing the worst, thinking he would end up as some gay sob story on Dateline NBC one day. He relaxed when he saw it was Mickey.
It was Mickey, leaning back against the closed door, his eyes dark and intent with desire.
"Shit, Mickey! The hell are you doin' in here?" Ian asked, his words barely tumbling out of his mouth before Mickey grabbed fistfuls of his coat and pushed him back against the dirty sink.
"What I've been wantin' to do all fuckin' day," Mickey breathed before leaning in and crushing his lips against Ian's.
Ian was stiff against the kiss, trying to assess the situation, before finally running his hands up the front of Mickey's coat and wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing as tightly as he could against him. He rested most of his weight back against the sink and opened his legs enough for Mickey to press against him.
They kissed vehemently, their coats bunching underneath their groping hands, both panting into each other's mouths, unwilling to break away from each other.
"Take this fuckin' jacket off," Mickey muttered when he eventually pulled away. He unzipped Ian's coat and pushed the offensive material down over his shoulders, but he didn't push it all the way off. He dropped his hands and slid them underneath Ian's shirt and feathered his fingertips over his taut belly, wanting to feel Ian's soft, warm skin beneath his fingers. "Jesus, man," he groaned before leaning back in for another hungry kiss.
"This isn't a good idea, Mickey," Ian said unconvincingly when Mickey began nipping teasingly at his throat, knowing it drove him crazy.
"Feels like a good fuckin' idea to me," Mickey murmured against his Adam's apple before moving back to press his mouth to Ian's again. He gripped the back of Ian's head, holding him in place as he devoured his mouth.
Ian kissed him back just as hard before putting his hands on Mickey's chest and pushing him away. "No, Mick, we can't do this."
Mickey stared back at him, his hair messy, lips red and swollen, and cheeks flushed. "You kiddin' me right now?" he exclaimed, glancing down at the erection straining against the front of his jeans.
"We can't do this here," Ian rephrased. There was no way in hell he would turn Mickey down while he looked like that. "I saw a motel right down the road. We can go there."
Mickey leaned in and pressed his forehead against Ian's, his breath caressing Ian's freckled face. "You sure you're up for it?"
Ian nodded and licked his lips. His erection pressing against Mickey's thigh was answer enough. "Oh, I'm up for it."
"Let's fuckin' go then," Mickey blurted as he stepped away and tugged Ian with him.
The motel was even shittier than the previous one, but neither of them gave a flying fuck. They tossed the crumpled money at the guy behind the counter, grabbed their key, and hurried to the room. They'd barely gotten through the door before they were tearing their coats off and practically flinging themselves into each other's arms.
Mickey pressed Ian back against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed Ian's wrists and pinned them to the wall above his head. "You're so fuckin' hot, man," he groaned against Ian's neck, inhaling him.
Ian arched into him. "We need to get these fuckin' clothes off."
Mickey didn't have to be told twice. He kissed Ian hard, tugging his bottom lip roughly with his teeth as he broke away. With his eyes locked on Ian's, he tore his shirt over his head and immediately began undoing his belt.
Ian's eyes racked appreciatively over Mickey's body as he worked on his own belt. After kicking his pants off, he locked lustful eyes with Mickey, lifted his arms over his head, and waited.
Mickey smirked before taking the bait. He grabbed and slowly lifted Ian's shirt up and over his head before tossing the garment aside. He then rocked up for another eager kiss.
Once they were naked, Ian grabbed Mickey by the wrist before turning him by the shoulder until he was against the wall, facing it. Not wasting any time, he dropped to his knees and kneaded Mickey's ass before slapping it. "Fuck, Mickey. You have the perfect ass," he said as he leaned in and sprinkled soft kisses over Mickey's cheeks.
Mickey gasped and pressed his forehead against the wall. He wasn't used to anyone going near his ass, let alone worshipping it, but he thought he could get used to it.
"So fuckin' perfect," Ian murmured against Mickey's ass cheek. Without bothering to warn him, he spread Mickey's cheeks apart and dipped his tongue against the puckered hole.
"Fuck, Ian," Mickey gasped, slapping his palm against the wall and fisting his hand. The action took him by surprise and it felt incredible. He reached back and dug his fingers in Ian's hair, holding him in place.
Ian continued to knead Mickey's ass with his hands as he lapped and licked him open, loving the reaction he was getting from him. He pulled back to spit at the puckered hole before moving back in with a groan.
"Don't stop," Mickey moaned, not above begging at that point as Ian practically fucked him with his tongue. He pushed back against Ian's mouth, unable to get enough. He almost whimpered when Ian pulled his tongue and lips away a minute later. "What the fuck? Why'd you stop?"
Ian said nothing; he stood up and pressed his erection against Mickey, showing him how hard he was for him. He ran his hands down Mickey's arms and pinned his hands against the wall above his head with one hand. "I wanna fuck you now." He lazily ran his free hand down Mickey's spine, leaving goosebumps. He teased his slick asshole with a finger, smiling in satisfaction when he moaned.
Mickey licked his lips and hung his head, ready for whatever Ian wanted to give him.
Ian nipped Mickey's shoulder as he stroked his dick. "Shit," he moaned. "The condoms and lube are in the car."
"It's fine, just do it," Mickey rasped. "Fuck me."
"I can't, Mick."
"You're clean, right?" Mickey practically whined, not caring about anything at the moment, just wanting to feel Ian inside him.
"Yeah, but we—"
"Just fuckin' do it," Mickey ordered, bracing himself against the wall.
"We can't afford a baby," Ian joked breathlessly against the crook of his neck. He stuck two of his own fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, wetting them liberally, before placing the two fingers at Mickey's hole.
"Shut up with the stupid jokes, asshole, and get in me already."
Ian thought about his next move for a few beats before sighing. "I can't do it like this. I have to get the stuff. I'll be right back."
Mickey groaned, but he knew Ian was right. They had to be careful and smart about it. Plus, he knew spit would make shitty lube. "Hurry the fuck up, my ass is gettin' cold," he teased as he watched Ian hastily redress.
A few minutes later, Ian reentered the motel room, undressed quickly, and pushed Mickey against the wall again.
Mickey listened to the sound of the lube opening and hissed when he felt cold fingers teasing his hole. "Fuckin' warn me next time?"
Ian smiled against Mickey's skin as he slowly scissored his slicked fingers in and out of Mickey, loosening him. Unable to hold off any longer, he removed his fingers and rolled the condom on. He positioned the head of his cock at the tight ring of muscle, gently easing and pushing in. "I don't wanna hurt you," he mumbled.
Mickey hissed and pushed back against Ian, wanting to take him fully. He panted and gasped, trying to adjust to the painful intrusion. "I'm good."
Ian kept Mickey's hands pinned to the wall with his left hand as his right hand gripped Mickey's hip. "So hot, Mick, you're so fuckin' hot."
They met each other thrust for thrust, their bodies perfectly in sync with each other.
"You like my cock?"
"I fuckin' love your cock," Mickey gasped.
"It's all yours," Ian panted. "All yours."
"Fuck," Mickey breathed, falling apart at the seams.
Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey's waist and stroked his dick, knowing they were both already close. He pressed his forehead between Mickey's shoulder blades, trying to hang onto his orgasm, wanting Mickey to go first. "Come for me," he murmured when he knew Mickey was teetering on the edge. "Want your fuckin' come."
Mickey choked back a gasp as he fucked into Ian's hand.
When he came a few thrusts later, Ian followed him immediately over the edge.
Mickey practically whimpered when Ian slowly eased out of him a minute later.
After rolling the condom off and tossing it aside, Ian pressed against Mickey, trying to gather himself and catch his breath. He leaned in and kissed Mickey's sweaty cheek.
Mickey turned his head at the contact and kissed Ian over his bare shoulder, their tongues lazily tangling.
When Ian eventually pulled away to fall limply on the bed with a satisfying sigh, Mickey turned away from the wall and stared down at Ian in all of his beautiful, sweaty, naked glory. He knew he was playing with fire but went for it, anyway. "Let's stay here tonight, man," he blurted. "We can deal with all that other shit tomorrow. One more night won't hurt."
Ian stared up at him for a few beats in contemplation before reaching out a hand. "C'mere."
Mickey hesitantly took Ian's hand with a smirk and let out a bark of laughter when Ian tugged him roughly down onto the bed with him in one fluid motion. "Asshole," he grunted as he gathered himself and relaxed against him.
"One more night, huh?" Ian asked, pressing a kiss to Mickey's sweaty forehead.
"Might as well," Mickey concurred, trying to play it cool. "We already paid for the shithole."
"Might as well get our money's worth, right?" Ian mumbled against Mickey's skin.
Mickey answered him by leaning in for a gentle, lingering kiss.
A little while later, they forced themselves to peel away from each other and made their way to the bathroom. The water pressure was shit, the temperature of the spray was lukewarm at best, and it felt cramped as hell, but being under the spray, wrapped in each other's arms as they kissed slowly, they didn't seem to mind all the rest.
"Can't believe I'm takin' a shower with a fuckin' dude," Mickey murmured as Ian nipped his shoulder.
Ian pulled back with a smirk. "Out of everything we've done these past two weeks, that's what you can't believe?"
"There you go ruinin' the moment with that mouth of yours again," Mickey said, his eyes falling to Ian's wet lips.
"Maybe I'll just have to find something else to do with my mouth then, huh?" Ian grumbled against Mickey's collarbone as he continued peppering his wet skin with kisses.
"What the fuck have you done to me, man?" Mickey asked when Ian pulled back to look him in the eyes. "None of this makes any fuckin' sense."
Ian stroked Mickey's cheek with his thumb, his expression soft and earnest. "Maybe it's just something we're not s'posed to make sense out of."
Mickey answered him with another wet, sweet kiss.
After Ian dropped to his knees and used his mouth more productively, they got out of the shower and dried off, not bothering to dress as they made their way to the bed. They laid side by side and passed a cigarette between them.
"So, what's gonna happen tomorrow?" Ian asked. "Are we just gonna go our separate ways and never see each other again?"
Mickey inhaled the cigarette as he stared through the darkness. "At least not for a while. Not until shit with my dad blows over. Then maybe…" He let his voice trail off, not wanting to make any promises. "I dunno."
"It'll never be safe for us," Ian said sullenly as he took the proffered cigarette. "Not with your dad around."
"After I handle everything and settle shit, maybe we can hook up once in a while and bang," Mickey said. "But until then, we can't be around each other. We'd be signin' our death warrants if anybody ever found out about this."
Ian said nothing as he stared into the dark, his Adam's apple bobbing, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
"It's just how it's gotta be."
"So, what am I s'posed to do?" Ian snapped. "Sit around for months, hopin' you'll call me outta nowhere one day when your dad isn't in the picture so we can bang?" He was sick of feeling sad and hopeless. He was suddenly angry: angry at Terry Milkovich for making their lives hell, at Frank for being a piece-of-shit father, at Mickey for being so nonchalant about it all. He was angry at himself for falling so easily and carelessly.
"Christ, Ian," Mickey sighed. "Can we not do this right now? What the fuck?"
"We shouldn't have done this." Ian sat up. "It was a mistake."
"What the fuck are you saying?"
"This! Us stayin' here and givin' it one more night!" Ian said, his voice heavy as he looked down at Mickey over his shoulder. "We're torturin' ourselves here, Mickey, because we both know come tomorrow, it's done. We're over."
Mickey sat up and ran a hand over his face with a heavy sigh.
Ian shook his head. "We just keep goin' in circles here."
Mickey hung his head and clutched his hair. "Fuck."
Ian forced himself to look away and sniffled, rubbing the corner of his eye quickly.
"Hey," Mickey eventually said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He placed a hand on Ian's bare shoulder. When Ian looked back at him, he said, "Let's not do this tonight, alright? We can't change our fucked-up situation. Let's just enjoy tonight for what it is."
Ian stared back at him, his eyes giving away his sadness. He eventually nodded. Without another word, he leaned back and allowed himself to get lost in Mickey's embrace.
Neither of them said much else the rest of the night. They laid together in silence, listening to the other breathe until they fell asleep.
Ian woke up the next morning and stretched before even opening his eyes. He wanted to put off waking up for as long as possible, knowing what the day would bring. He forced himself to slip back into a peaceful slumber, but after a few minutes, he decided it was useless and gave up.
He rolled onto his side and blindly extended an arm, intent on reaching for Mickey so they could go a final round, but he found nothing but space and rough cotton sheets. His eyes flew open before he bolted upright. Without having to look around, he already knew. Mickey was gone.
A sense of emptiness immediately settled over him. He ran a hand down his face, letting out a watery sigh, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it was over.
Mickey had left without giving him a proper goodbye. Just as he was starting to get angry, Ian realized the night before had been Mickey's version of goodbye.
Ian forced himself out of bed and sluggishly tugged his jeans on. He fought back his emotions, wanting to be strong. He knew it had been coming; he had known for days.
As he was miserably heading to the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder, something on the dresser caught his eye. Mickey had left some cash behind, and there was a note folded next to the money. He slowly made his way over and picked up the piece of paper with shaky fingers.
It was the receipt for the room payment they had received the night before. On the back of it, written in barely legible handwriting, was one sentence, five words: I'll worry about you too
He stared down at those five words for a long time, his heart thumping miserably in his chest, and his vision blurring from the onslaught of tears threatening to spill. He stood in the middle of the cold, empty motel room and hung his head, the small yellow slip of paper clutched in his hand.
It was all he had left.