Chapter 20
Being isolated from the cruel world had been a welcome relief, while he regained his strength. But now, the walls of Mickey's apartment were suffocating him. His body was vibrating with barely contained exhilaration. For the first time in years, Ian Gallagher wanted to live.
The hours until Mickey would be home seemed to stretch endlessly before him. Ian began pacing impatiently, glancing at the clock every now and then. Nayla sat by the couch, watching him pace restlessly with her head slightly tilted to the side, mystified.
It felt like the walls were closing in on him – Ian couldn't wait one more second to get out of here. He strode to the kitchen and stood in front of the refrigerator scanning the list of emergency numbers and addresses Mickey had left for him when he had gone back to work, attached to the door with a cupcake magnet. The phone number and address of the school where Mickey worked at were right at the top of the list.
Ian knew it was reckless to just show up at his workplace out of nowhere, but he simply couldn't stay Igged up in this apartment any more. He had passively allowed events in his life to determine his future for too many years, instead of seeking out what he wanted. That was over now. From now on, he was going to shape his own destiny. He wanted to be brave.
Ian decided to walk – it would help him burn some pent-up energy. He grabbed the spare key Mickey had left for him just in case, and a light jacket before leaving the apartment. Going down the stairs left him a little breathless; he really needed to get back in shape after weeks of rest. He considered taking his car, but he was pretty sure the tank was empty, and he had no money to fill it or take a bus, so it wasn't like he had any other options.
Ian would've appreciated the nice weather more if he wouldn't have suddenly relapsed into anxiety. Was he doing the right thing? For the first time in forever, he wanted to follow his heart, but his heart was so rusty, after being ignored for so long, that he wasn't sure he was being too rash…
On his way to the school, Ian found himself walking past streets, alleys and corners that brought back grim memories of so many horrible nights. In a way, he felt like he was purging himself from the life he had lived as he walked. He was saying goodbye to the nightmares he had lived in those dark places, hoping he would soon find a different life full of light, instead. It was so strange, to feel optimistic about the future. Even if Mickey rejected him (oh god, please, don't reject me, please, please), he didn't ever want to go back to having sex for money. He didn't want to let any random guys do whatever they wanted to his body just because they gave him some cash. Ian was tired and he wanted to abandon that life style, before it actually killed him.
It took a little over half an hour to get to the school, walking slowly and steadily, appreciating the fresh air. After all, Terry had suggested he take it easy. The bruises had faded, and his ribs were healing okay, but after so many years of abuse, Ian still needed to be cautious.
As soon as he stepped into the building, he was immersed in the incessant chatter of dozens and dozens of children. Ian's memories of school weren't gleeful in the slightest, but this sounded like a happy place. The kids were younger, and with the right guidance from teachers like Mickey, they wouldn't grow to be the kind of people that had turned Ian's life into a living hell. The walls were covered with different works the students had done, and most of the classrooms had the door open, so walking by was like being swallowed by whatever was going on inside that particular room – like listening to a story about a dragon-slaying knight, or singing a song about the alphabet.
He stopped in his tracks when he recognized Mickey's voice coming from one of the classrooms.
"That was fantastic, guys! You were amazing!" He was saying with a broad smile on his face.
Ian peeked into the room and was surprised to see that every kid had a puppet – the puppets they had worked on together. It seemed it had been a century ago; so much had changed in just a few short weeks.
"That's enough rehearsal for today, but we'll practice more tomorrow!" Mickey clapped his hands together enthusiastically, and then moved to a corner of the room to retrieve sheets of paper and a huge box of crayons. "Now, remember we started learning how to write our letters the other day? Well, today we're going to…"
"Mr. M!" One of the boys near the front interrupted, raising his hand in the air and waving it almost desperately. "Mr. M! Who's the man at the door?"
Suddenly, a multitude of tiny heads turned towards Ian, who nearly ducked away, startled at being discovered. He saw the look of utter shock on Mickey's face.
"Ian! What are you doing here?" Mickey asked with his eyebrows raised nearly to the gelled curls in his hair. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes. I'm sorry to interrupt your lesson. I know I shouldn't have…"
"Who's that, Mr. M?" A girl with long blonde braids exclaimed curiously.
"My mommy says it's rude when you don't introduce new people," a boy with glasses pointed out from where he sat near the window.
"My daddy says that, too!"
In just a second, Mickey's classroom became a cacophony of childish voices. All the kids had something to say and questions to ask about the unexpected visitor. Ian bit his lip, amused, as Mickey stared at his little students, still shocked and confused.
"Uhm," Mickey cleared his throat and then spoke a little louder to be heard over the voices of the kids. "Guys, come on, settle down!" Everyone froze very still, staring at Mickey in anticipation. "This is Mr. Ian. He apparently decided to come visit us. Ian, these are my kids."
Again, the children chattered all at the same time. The ones who had said their parents had told them it was proper to introduce yourself when meeting someone new, immediately proclaimed their names loudly so Ian could hear them. Others simply asked him questions. Another boy actually took advantage of the commotion to retrieve some candy from his pocket, and ate it, ignoring everyone else.
Ian was very impressed with how quickly Mickey was able to gain control over the kids again. He just simply asked them to quiet down, and they all obeyed, some of them even looking up at him with a loving look Ian recognized. It was evident that Mickey was a good teacher who loved his kids, and that the kids could tell when someone actually cared about them.
A girl at the front raised her hand. "Mr. M, is this like when the nurse lady came and we pretended we were reporters?"
"I liked the nurse lady! She gave me a Spiderman Band-Aid!" A cute ginger-haired girl said excitedly.
Mickey hesitated and glanced at Ian, still completely at a loss of what was going on. Ian shrugged, unsure of what to do next. Maybe he should've waited outside. "Yeah, sure. Mr. Ian can be our guest today…"
The kids cheered as Mickey put the crayons and sheets of paper back in their place. One of the boys rushed to find an extra chair for Ian, who smiled at him and said thank you, even though he felt ridiculous sitting on such a small chair.
"Okay, everyone! Calm down!" Mickey exclaimed, gently but firmly. "Now, what do we do when we are going to ask people questions?"
"We have to be polite!" One boy answered.
"And we have to wait for our turn!" The boy with the candy added.
"Very good! We also need to respect our guest when he's talking and wait until he's done before we ask the next question. I know you get excited when we have a visitor, but it's important to let them say what they have to say," Mickey said and all the kids nodded. Mickey smiled at them. "Okay. Who wants to start?"
Ian had been through a lot of difficult situations in his life, had faced dangerous men and homophobic assholes, but suddenly nothing seemed as terrifying as answering the questions of a group of curious kids.
Luckily, they started with easy ones. They asked his name and how old he was, and one of the girls asked him if he liked My Little Pony. Mickey stood at the back of the classroom, his full attention on Ian, and still immensely surprised at seeing him there. He grinned, amused, as the kids' questions got more and more ridiculous from that point on.
Until Amanda raised her hand, and innocently asked, "What's your job?"
Ian's breath hitched for a moment. What was he supposed to say? He saw Mickey stand straighter, sending him a look that clearly told him he would intervene if Ian needed him to. But Ian shook his head slowly, swallowing and gathering courage. This could be part of the healing process. This could help him put his past behind him.
"Well, I don't actually have a job right now. Not too long ago, I worked for very, very bad men, but I decided I didn't want to do that anymore, so I quit," Ian kept his eyes on Mickey, trying to make him understand. I'm doing this. You helped me. You saved me.
Jimmy gasped and raised his hand to ask a question, too. "Bad men? Like, super villain?" He asked, excited.
Ian bit his lip. The kid was wearing a Batman t-shirt and his puppet had a cape. "Yes, you could say they were super villains."
Jimmy smiled broadly. "So you're a superhero?"
Again, Ian's eyes stayed fixed on Mickey. He had a message he needed to deliver, and Mickey needed to understand. "No, but I met one, and he saved me."
Jimmy got so excited at his answer, that Ian was honestly afraid the kid was going to pee his pants. He had to look away from Mickey's eyes, which were wide and a little watery, suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss him, even though there were twenty kids around them.
Wendy was the next child to raise her hand. Her big eyes were a little narrowed at Ian, as if she was deep in thought. "Mr. Ian…" She inquired. "Are you Mr. M's boyfriend?"
Both Ian and Mickey were shocked by such a direct question, but they really couldn't expect anything different from kids, who were so honest and got straight to the point. There was desolation in Mickey's gaze when Ian looked back at him. Seeing him so heartbroken gave Ian the push he needed, to be brave enough to take the next step.
He smiled as playfully and teasingly as he could and murmured: "Maybe."
If, deep down inside, Ian hadn't been so scared of how Mickey would react, he would've found his reaction deliciously hilarious. Mickey's hazel eyes widened in absolute surprise, and he gaped, unable to form coherent thoughts. His knees seemed to give out because he leaned on the wall heavily, unable to tear his gaze from Ian.
Ian really hoped all that was a good sign.
The children, of course, all began talking at the same time. Wendy asked if they were going to have babies and Mickey would stop coming to school to stay with the baby, like her mother had. Derek wanted to know when they were going to get married. Jimmy was still fixated on the fact that Ian knew an actual superhero, and the boy in the back just kept eating candy as if nothing had happened, while the two girls next to him tried to decide if Mr. M's eyes were prettier than Mr. Ian's or not.
It took almost a whole minute for Mickey to get a grip on his emotions and stop staring at Ian in shock. He cleared his throat and immediately hushed the kids by telling them it was story time. It was Chloe's turn to pick a book, so the little girl immediately rushed to the bookcase next to Mickey's desk and searched for the one she wanted.
Ian stood, suddenly feeling awkward, and wished he could disappear. What had he been thinking, blurting out something like that in Mickey's workplace, with his students still there? It had been terribly inappropriate.
Mickey moved towards him while the kids pushed the tables against the wall. "Can you… can you stay?" He asked, visibly unsure.
Ian nodded jerkily. "Okay."
Mickey gave him a soft smile before fetching a huge box full of pillows from a storage closet. He put the box out in the middle of the classroom for each kid to grab a pillow and find a spot on the floor. Mickey offered one of the last pillows to Ian, with another little smile. "It's storytime."
Ian smiled back and accepted the pillow. He sat down on the floor carefully, still wary of hurting himself. He didn't want to experience that kind of pain never again. He had been dealing with too much pain, for far too long.
All the kids sat in circle on the floor, centered around Mickey on his chair, looking up at him raptly, though he hadn't even opened the book yet. Ian felt unexpectedly proud of him, seeing how much the kids loved him, and what a great teacher Mickey was. He felt happy, because he knew Mickey was happy here.
Ian wanted to share some of that happiness. He wanted to make Mickey just as happy when he was home, to see him smile when he walked through the door to find Ian there, waiting for him. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go, and kiss his lips until they were both breathless and filled with joy.
Mickey's voice was soothing, deep and soft, as he read. Ian found himself focused on the way he sounded rather than on the words of the story – something about a ladybug getting ready for a tea party – and suddenly, he remembered that same rich, beautiful voice saying he loved him. The memory seemed to wrap around him like a blanket, comforting him and warming his heart. He hoped he could hear those words leaving Mickey's lips again.
Once Mickey closed the book, the story over, some of the kids debated which had been the best part. Other had fallen asleep hugging their pillows. Mickey looked at all of them fondly, as he stood to put the book back in its place. Then, parents started arriving to pick their children up, and slowly but surely, the classroom emptied. Some of the kids rushed to give Ian a parting hug before taking their parents' hands to go home.
Soon, they were alone. They looked at each other in silence for a few long seconds, and it was clear that Mickey had a million things to say, but Ian simply smiled at him and picked up a few pillows.
"I'll help you tidy up," he said quietly.
Silence grew tense and full of anticipation between them. Neither dared speak, afraid of what the other would say. As they put everything back in its place – pillows back in the closet, toys back in the plastic boxes in the corner, art supplies on the shelf – Ian had a flashback to his childhood. It wasn't the first time he had thought of his parents when he was with Mickey – that first time had been when Mickey played that beautiful song during his parents' anniversary party. He remembered wonderful memories of peeking one eye open, faking napping on the couch to avoid picking up the toys he had been playing with, to find his father enveloping his Mom in his arms from behind. Everything back then felt so simple and so full of happiness – and Ian wanted it back. He wanted to feel like that again.
As he put the miniature tables and chairs back in their places, Ian turned to find Mickey leaning against his own desk, watching him with an indecipherable look on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest and the crease between his eyebrows could only mean he was thinking hard about something. Ian watched him back, and waited.
"You said 'maybe,'" Mickey finally said. He spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb something.
"I did," Ian replied calmly.
Mickey held his gaze. His own hazel eyes seemed a hurricane of emotion. "Why?"
Ian looked down at his shoes, seeking enough courage to do this, trying to find the right words. In his mind, he could still see his parents, holding each other lovingly in the kitchen, swaying together in a slow dance. "Come here," he murmured instead.
Mickey seemed surprised, but took a few steps to meet Ian in the middle of the classroom, looking vaguely worried about what was about to happen. Ian wanted to ease his fears, but he hadn't even figured out how to ease his own yet.
Ian carefully put his arms around Mickey, giving him the chance to pull away if the contact wasn't welcomed, then began humming a beautiful tune. Mickey's eyes went even wider in bewilderment, as Ian settled his arms around him.
"What are you doing?" Mickey asked, confused.
"We're dancing," Ian whispered soothingly in his ear. "Just hold me, Mickey."
Mickey shivered, then slowly relaxed against him, lifting his arms to circle Ian's neck, so close they could feel each other's heartbeat. Mickey still wasn't sure where this was going (was this Ian's way of saying goodbye? Or was it something else entirely?), but he would gladly hold him for as long as Ian allowed him to.
Ian pressed their temples and cheeks together, tilting his head down an inch or two to Mickey's level. Mickey gasped at how intimate the contact seemed and was left absolutely breathless when, out of nowhere, Ian began to sing in a quiet, melodious voice.
Blue Moon
You saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Blue Moon
You know just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for
Mickey choked on a sob. Ian's voice was breathtaking and the words he was singing into his ear seemed the most intimate and wonderful confession. He tightened his arms around him, and felt Ian's fingers in the small of his back, drawing him closer, letting the hope in their hearts finally soar free again.
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper please adore me
And when I looked to the Moon it turned to gold
Their swaying stopped slowly. They were now only holding each other in the middle of the classroom, not moving an inch unless it was to press even closer. Ian didn't sing anymore – he simply recited the last few lines against Mickey's skin, his voice a little hoarse and his eyes closed as if he was trying to memorize what it felt like to be with Mickey like this, in this very moment.
Blue Moon
Now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
When Ian's last word vanished, they went back to a charged silence, though the tension had evaporated. Anticipation was floating between them, but now they were almost certain that nothing could go wrong.
"Ian," Mickey murmured, and his voice cracked when he said his name.
Ian didn't say anything, too busy enjoying being this close to a man without nausea or terror. Mickey made him feel safe and cherished. And a thousand other beautiful emotions that Ian hadn't felt since he was a child.
He couldn't get enough of it.
"Have you come to say goodbye?" Mickey asked hesitantly, in a scared little whisper.
Ian nuzzled against his cheek. "Do you want me to say goodbye?"
"God, no." One of Mickey's hands slid to the back of his neck and pressed there, as if he needed to steady himself.
"Then I'm not saying goodbye to you," Ian replied. He pulled away slightly, only enough to be able to look him in the eyes. "Mickey, I… there's something I need to say, and I need you to listen."
"I'm listening," Mickey nodded, earnestly.
Ian swallowed. It was difficult to focus when they were so close. He could feel Mickey's breath against his skin, the warmth of his body pressed to his own; the soft motion of his breathing as his chest rose and fell with his. "I've wanted to die more times than I can actually count, and I've actively planned on doing something about it at least half of those times. My life is… was completely miserable. There wasn't any good reason to wake up in the morning, to smile, or anything to look forward to." Ian paused, noticing Mickey's eyes were brimming with tears, regretting putting them there, but he wanted to be absolutely honest. He needed to push through. "I didn't understand love because I couldn't even remember what it felt like. The only people I've ever loved have been gone for too long. I was… I still am terrified of loving you, but since the moment you walked into my life, I've felt like everything was just meant to fall into place, that life was finally giving me a break. You've proved to me that there's still some good in this world and that sometimes, just when you're ready to give up, you can find the one thing that makes you want to stay around for another day."
Mickey whimpered. "Ian…"
"Please. Please, let me finish," Ian cupped his face gently and wiped Mickey's tears with his thumb, starting to trail down his cheeks. "You have saved me in so many ways in just a handful of weeks. That's enough to show me that every minute of years of suffering was worth it, if this is what was waiting for me at the end. You shook me back to life, restored my dreams and the happy memories I had forgotten about. And you made me love you so damn much that I'm willing to risk getting my heart broken again if it means I can…"
Mickey couldn't stop himself anymore. He surged forward and pressed his lips against Ian's, kissing him deeply and desperately. Ian let out a surprised sound when their mouths collided, but couldn't keep from kissing him back, just as passionately. Their lips slid together wetly until they couldn't breathe, and then they just stayed there, gasping into each other's mouths with their eyes closed, listening to their hearts pounding wildly.
"You… you didn't let me finish," Ian muttered dumbly, his eyelids fluttering heavily.
"I think I've heard enough," Mickey said, his lips curled up slightly into the beginning of a smile. "Did you really say you love me?"
"I did," Ian nodded. He opened his eyes and fixed them on Mickey's. "I do."
"Oh, Ian, I love you too," Mickey grinned widely and rested their foreheads together. "I love you so much. I want to make you so, so happy and…"
"I want to make you happy, too," Ian said, with a slight edge of insecurity in his tone that made Mickey pull away to look at him. "It's just… I don't know how. I don't know how to do any of this and I… I'm gonna need you to teach me everything. I need you to teach me how to trust again, to stop being scared and to just… let myself be loved."
"Okay," Mickey's smile turned a little watery and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Ian's lips.
Ian smiled, too, the lump of nerves in his stomach loosening considerably. "Okay."
Mickey took a deep breath and stepped out of the circle of Ian's arms. He looked in his eyes, losing himself in the swirls of green, blue and grey. He extended a hand towards him and gave him an encouraging smile. "Do you want to go home now?"
Home. The word tugged at Ian's heartstrings and he felt like he could start crying in relief. He hadn't had a home in years…
"Yes," he said in a choked voice. He put his hand in Mickey's, and their fingers slotted together with such easy familiarity, as if they had been holding hands forever. Ian stared down at them, loving the contrast between Mickey's tanned skin and his own pale fingers. When he glanced up, he found Mickey watching him sweetly with a smile that spoke of love and tenderness.
They headed towards the exit, after Mickey had grabbed his bag from behind the desk. Mickey tugged on his hand to tuck Ian closer against his side and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
So this is what being happy and in love feels like, Ian thought as he sighed in contentment. I could get used to this…
Nayla excitedly welcomed them home when they walked through the door, so Ian stopped to scratch behind her ears as she wagged her tail at them. Mickey put his messenger bag and their jackets in the closet by the door and then fondly ran a hand down Ian's back – god, he couldn't stop touching him, like he needed to make sure he was real – and smiled as he moved past them towards the kitchen.
"I'm going to start dinner," he said. "I feel like cooking something special tonight…"
Ian caught his hand before he got too far, and pulled him a little closer, his pale cheeks suddenly painted in pink. "You don't have to do anything special for me…"
"Au contraire, sweetheart," Mickey smiled and nuzzled their noses together. "You deserve a special everything. And we need to celebrate!"
"Celebrate?" Ian couldn't help smiling at Mickey's enthusiasm.
"Yes. We'll celebrate the new life you're just beginning, which will be nothing short of spectacular," Mickey said with absolute confidence. "And us. We need to celebrate us."
Ian's smile turned a little watery. How had he managed to find someone as wonderful as Mickey? "I really love the sound of that."
"And I really love you," Mickey winked at him and grabbed his hand. "So. What are we in the mood for? Chicken? I make a mean risotto that goes perfectly with chicken and I believe there's a nice bottle of wine in the cabinet…"
Ian shook his head in awe. He bit his lip as he trailed the tip of his finger along the outline of Mickey's jaw. "You are honestly the sweetest man I have ever met. You… you overwhelm me."
Mickey tilted his head to the side, slightly worried. "Is that a bad thing? Should I tone it down a notch?"
"Never," Ian moved in for a quick, reassuring peck. "You make me feel… cherished… cared for."
"Mission accomplished, then," Mickey grinned, and kissed him again. He was about to pull away and head to the kitchen when Ian's arms wrapped around his shoulders, bringing him closer and his lips found his. Mickey was more than happy to comply when Ian deepened the kiss shyly.
They just couldn't seem to get enough of each other. When one was about to end the kiss, the other dived in again, needing more. Their lips slid together in a way that sent tingles all over their bodies, and the soft puffs of breath shared between them were immediately swallowed in the next kiss. When Ian's mouth parted slightly, Mickey tentatively brushed the tip of his tongue against his lower lip, listening to Ian's breath hitching, and heard himself moan, quiet and needy.
Ian's hands tightened where they had somehow found their way to Mickey's chest, clenching the fabric of his pole between his fingers. That seemed to snap Mickey back to reality. He pulled back abruptly, their mouths parting with a wet sound. He leaned back, trying to put some distance between them.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. His voice was hoarse and he was flushed, sending a thrill down Ian's spine – it wasn't the first time he aroused a man, but Mickey was the first man he wanted to cause these reactions in. "That was… too fast. You're probably…"
"Mickey," Ian cut him off with a little whine. "Please, kiss me some more…"
Mickey blinked in surprise. "Are you sure? I thought… dinner…"
"Can't… dinner wait? I need… I want to…" Ian licked his lips, his eyes fixed on Mickey's mouth. "I just… I haven't actually felt like kissing someone like this before…"
Mickey's expression softened and he stepped closer once again, placing a few small kisses on Ian's cheekbones and slowly making his way down to his lips again. "Well, I'll never say no to that…"
Ian whimpered as their lips touched again. It was as if his entire body was receiving electric shocks – small shocks that grew in intensity as the kiss turned from little pecks against closed lips, to mouths parting eagerly; to Mickey's tongue brushing his.
Ian ended the kiss by slowly shifting down to kiss Mickey's jawline, afraid he would pass out, unless he took a moment to breathe, and worked his way across his neck. Mickey gripped his shoulders tightly when he felt the faint scratch of teeth against a sensitive spot. When Ian stepped even closer to him, tugging at the hair at the back of Mickey's neck to tilt his head back so he would have better access, he felt Mickey's obvious erection against his thigh and stopped, frozen in place.
"Ian," Mickey said breathlessly, noting Ian's uncertainty. "We… we should cool down. I don't want to push you…"
Ian waited. He closed his eyes and waited. Any minute now, every fear that he had ever felt due to being this physically involved with someone would rush back and hit him like a freight train. Any minute now he would have to push Mickey away and take deep breaths until the images of all those men using him, abusing him and doing whatever they wanted to him would come back and kill the happiness he had finally started to feel again…
Ian waited and waited, but everything around him remained his wonderful Mickey – Mickey's scent, Mickey's breath, Mickey's warmth. It was all safe and loving, and there was nothing to be scared of…
Exhaling shakily, Ian took a step backwards, out of Mickey's arms. Mickey's hazel eyes were wide and cautious, ready to calm Ian down if he freaked out. That was enough for Ian to finally understand that he could trust Mickey completely – he would never want to hurt him.
Mickey frowned, obviously concerned, but giving Ian his space. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," Ian said, letting relief wash over him, as he glanced back down to Mickey's mouth, eager to feel it against his again. "Everything's… perfect."
Just as Mickey was about to offer Ian an escape so they could both cool down and deal with this calmly, Ian took a deep breath and slowly began to unbutton the shirt he was wearing, his fingers trembling against the light blue fabric.
"Ian?" The reverent way Mickey pronounced his name, so naturally, made Ian feel even safer. He was where he was supposed to be, with the man he was supposed to be with.
Still, his fingers fumbled with the buttons, causing his cheeks to redden in embarrassment, as he looked down to see what he was actually doing instead of staring at Mickey's beautiful face. "Damn it. For someone who spent most of his life getting fucked for money, this shouldn't be so difficult…"
"Hey," Mickey was suddenly looking in his eyes again, looking so anxious that Ian wanted to stop undressing and kiss away the worried crease in his forehead. "Don't say those things, Ian. What's going on?"
"I want to…" Ian sighed and let his hands drop to his sides, frustrated. "I'm so nervous, I feel like a fucking virgin again…"
"We don't have to do anything," Mickey replied quietly but firmly. "You never need to feel like you have to do any of this with me. I'll always love you, even if we never have sex again…"
"But that's the thing," Ian muttered, staring right into his eyes. "You're the only one who actually makes me want to do this. I look at you and I want to do everything with you. I want to touch you and I want you to touch me, and I want your hands to erase all the other touches I never wanted…" He took Mickey's hand, craving the comfort the contact provided. "I decided to start a new life, and I don't want my past to stop me from enjoying every second of it. I've already done that, I've already been a prisoner to my own fears, and I'm done with it, Mickey."
Mickey smiled at him adoringly. "Have I told you how strong and amazing I think you are?"
"Mm, are you just trying to butter me up so I'll go to bed with you?" Ian teased, slipping his arms around Mickey's shoulders.
"Honey, you're the one who started taking his shirt off, in the middle of our living room," Mickey chuckled.
Ian felt himself tear up a little at Mickey's choice of words. "Our living room?"
Mickey glanced into his eyes with a soft smile gracing his lips. "I thought you were staying?"
"I…" Ian bit his lip. They hadn't talked about this yet. They hadn't talked about a great many things yet. "I'd like to…"
"Then it's our living room," Mickey muttered. He gently propelled Ian backward, guiding him through the apartment, as he placed kisses everywhere he could reach. "This is our hallway," he added, as they moved down it. "This is our bedroom…" Mickey paused to kick the door closed behind them and continuing to make Ian walk backward, until something hit the back of his knees. "And this is our bed…"
Ian fell onto the mattress with a thump and a titter of laughter, and Mickey followed, perching himself on top of Ian, with his forearms holding him up, next to Ian's head. Ian was caged by Mickey's body, but it was the sweetest of imprisonments, if it meant Mickey was going to stare at him with those adoring, gorgeous eyes of him.
"How are your ribs? Any pain at all?" Mickey asked.
Ian rolled his eyes. "Oh, I didn't know you were such a sweet talker in bed…"
Mickey laughed. "Come on, Ian! I just want to make sure I won't hurt you!"
Ian cupped his face in his hands. "I'm fine. Nothing hurts anymore, not even my ribs. As long as you don't expect me to have acrobatic sex, we'll be okay."
Mickey was trying vainly to hold back more laughter, his eyes twinkling in a way Ian hadn't seen them before. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Ian had never felt so full to bursting with happiness and peace, knowing he was safe, as long as he stayed in Mickey's arms.
Ian had never thought sex could be like this – playful, loving and so incredibly hot at the same time. Mickey began kissing him again, while they were fumbling out of their clothes. Ian rolled just enough to get to his shoes, almost sending Mickey to the floor. They laughed and held each other, kissing each new inch of skin that was revealed. Mickey made sure to kiss every scar in Ian's pale body, giving it so much love and care that Ian felt close to tears at how much Mickey loved him, how much he worshipped what others had abused and discarded.
Mickey's body was absolutely beautiful, tanned and compact. Ian allowed himself to look at him in a way he hadn't allowed himself to when they'd had sex for the first time. But now, he was certain he was welcomed to touch, kiss and explore. Mickey welcomed every brush of his fingertips and his lips, moaning loudly when Ian caught one of his nipples between his teeth and gasping when one of Ian's fingers trailed between his cheeks with interest, barely ghosting over his entrance before it was gone again.
"Do you want to…" Mickey stopped, swallowed and tried again, his brain feeling like it was short-circuiting. "Do you want to top? I would love it, if you wanted to…"
Ian seemed thoughtful for a moment, distracted with so much skin on display – so much to touch, so much to look at, so much to taste. "Maybe next time?" He proposed. "I… I really meant it when I said I want you to erase everything. All those guys always wanted me to…"
"Hey, no," Mickey pressed a finger against his lips. "Don't think of them, don't talk about them. Not now. Now is only about us. It's you and me. What do you want?"
Ian sucked Mickey's finger into his mouth, making Mickey momentarily lose track of what they were talking about. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to claim me. You're the only one who can."
Mickey growled as he leaned in for another kiss. Heat grew between them, beads of sweat trailing down their bodies, roaming hands touching burning flesh.
Soon there was lube, and fingers buried so deep inside of Ian that he could feel them everywhere, as he jolted with every rush of pleasure every time Mickey pressed against the responsive bundle of nerves that made him moan loudly. It was easy to forget like this, when Mickey was everything he could focus on, everything he wanted to focus on.
"Mickey, please," he begged, when fingers weren't enough and his body was demanding for more. He wanted Mickey where he belonged, with him, always with him, becoming one with him.
"I'm here, sweetheart," Mickey kissed his neck, sucking a bit on the skin until the spot was red and wet. He pulled away and simply stared down at him, in complete awe. "You're so beautiful."
Any other time, with any other person, Ian would've scoffed and said something like "you just like how I look while I suck you off." Guys liked the way he looked on his knees, and only called him beautiful when he was good and broken, and let them use him as they liked. But with Mickey… with Mickey, it was different.
"You really think so?" He asked with a hesitant smile.
"Yes. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen," Mickey nuzzled against his cheek, in such a tender moment, even though a second ago they were letting lust drive them. "And I can't believe you're all mine…"
Ian would have laughed and danced around the room ecstatically, if he wouldn't have had to push Mickey off of him for that. He was perfectly happy with where they were right now. "All yours."
Mickey slid on the condom and coated himself with lube. He traced his thumb over Ian's rim, finding him open and waiting. He ignored the scars. They would heal every one of them, together. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Ian threw his head back, far gone again, as he felt Mickey pushing in gently.
It was overwhelming, how well they fit together. Maybe it sounded like a cliché, that they were meant to fit together, that they were meant to be, but Ian had never before had the privilege to experience many clichés in his life.
Feeling Mickey inside of him again… made everything right in the world. It felt right. Ian had never imagined he could find sex so natural, so satisfying, so amazing, after he had been forced to endure sex for so many years. The last time he had had someone inside of him, he had been brutally attacked and almost died in a dark alley. He had never felt safe, alone and vulnerable. But here and now, with this man who looked at him as if he had hung the moon… nothing could be better.
Mickey had his arms wrapped around him, keeping their bodies closed, and Ian had his around Mickey, fingers buried in his hair to bring him down for a kiss every now and then. Mickey's hips moved restlessly, giving and taking, and groaning when Ian met him with thrusts of his own. The room was filled with the sound of their moans and breathless gasps, and the slide of skin on skin.
Mickey whined, high in his throat, looking right into Ian's eyes. "Ian, I can't, I'm…" He practically sobbed.
Ian cradled his face in his hands and watched him, giving him a long, languid kiss. "It's okay. God, Mickey… it's so okay…"
Mickey pulled away only enough to burrow his hand down their bodies to circle his fingers around Ian's cock, hard and flushed, leaking pre-come over their stomachs. He stroked him as his hips stuttered, so close that he could barely think, and Ian arched off the bed, trying to get more and harder and there.
Mickey started babbling Ian's name over and over when his orgasm finally hit, as his body shook and spasmed. Ian could feel him pulsing inside of him, into the condom, just before his own orgasm washed over him, filling him with burst of light and overwhelming pleasure that momentarily stunned all of his other senses. They clung to each other tightly as they came down, mouths glued together but not kissing, just gasping, breathing and moaning together.
When Mickey finally managed to open his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Ian's eyes, staring right back at him, blue and shining with tears. Mickey immediately panicked, until he noticed the lazy smile stretching Ian's pink, debauched lips, and the sated happy expression on his debauched face. He was beautiful, more beautiful than ever like this, disheveled and sleepy. Mickey couldn't love him more even if he tried.
"You…" Ian started, speaking with such a hoarse voice that it was hard to recognize it as his. "You are everything I ever dreamed of, but didn't dare hope for…"
Mickey smiled at him, touched and so in love it hurt. "You can hope for anything you want now, and I'll make sure you get it."
"Can I hope for a kiss?"
Mickey kissed him.
"Can I hope for a shower?"
Mickey laughed and nodded. "Give me a minute to make sure my legs work and we can shower together."
Ian hummed in contentment. "Can I hope for us, forever?"
Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's hair, and rested their foreheads together. "You've got it."
They didn't say anything else – it didn't seem necessary. They simply gazed at each other, thinking of the future full of possibilities that now lay before them. Ian seemed about to cry for a second, but instead he cleared his throat and smirked.
"Now can I hope for dinner?"
Mickey barked out a laugh and tickled him until Ian was breathless and begging for mercy. Only then did Mickey put pants on to order a pizza. Their special dinner could wait. They had a lifetime of opportunities for special dinners, and so much more.