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Every time they do this, every time Ian is inside him, Mickey thinks his cock has never been this hard. It throbs inside him, aching, leaking; fuck he can even feel Ian’s heartbeat through his cock inside him. Ian thrusts, up, up, in, in, as Mickey legs hang over his shoulders like limp pieces of pasta. Mickey can’t breath. He can't think. He can only feel. Feel every inch; all 9 inches deep inside him; tearing him apart in so many different ways.
It's been like this for almost 2 months now. Since the wedding. They wake up, they fuck. They go to work and they text all day about fucking. They come home, fuck. Eat dinner, fuck. Sometimes they go out and when they do they find a way to fuck no matter where they are. A shitty diner bathroom. Back alley of a club. There's a lot of alleyways. Mickey doesn't care. It’s like they are fucking teenagers again. And he loves every second of it.
They fuck whenever, where ever they can. And it's not Ian going into another bout of hyper-sexuality. This isn't the bipolar. This is marriage. This is freedom. This is them, just Ian and Mickey. Living together under one roof. Yeah it's the Gallagher roof but it doesn't matter. Not in this moment. Not when Ian’s lips are ghosting over Mickey’s mouth with soft moans and groans and curses and he pounds relentlessly into his ass.
It's rough, it's been rough like this 70% of the time lately. Like they are afraid someone is going to come and take it away from them at any moment. They know deep down that's not true. They are safe. Yeah, Terry’s still out there, somewhere, waiting. They could step outside the front door tomorrow and get 2 bullets in them and they would be all she wrote. But they have been careful. Mickeys been keeping pretty good tabs on his psycho ass Nazi father, and so far they have been ok.
So yeah, most of the time they fuck like it’s their very last time. Just like when they were teenagers, just starting this thing between them. Like they needed each other to breathe. And Mickey does. He still needs Ian to breathe. And the way that Ian just keeps fucking him, ramming, pounding, lifting Mickey’s ass and literally his entire body up from the edge of the washing machine in the middle of the Gallagher kitchen, Mickey knows Ian needs him just the same for oxygen. Life.
“Jesus, Gallagher”, Mickey groans out, his legs bent all the way back beside his ears, his cock inches from his own mouth. He could suck it if he wanted to. It's something Ian’s been asking him to do for months. ‘Just once, Mick. Lick it once, I swear to God I’ll blow my load that second.’
He isn't sure why something like that would get Ian going so much. In his opinion it’s pretty fucking foul, but they have done a lot of stuff Mickey wasn’t too sure of to begin with but in the end realized it was something he couldn’t live without sex wise when it came to Ian. And they’ve been fucking on this washer for fuck knows how long and Mickey thinks his ass is literally going to fall out if Ian doesn't cum soon. So fuck it, right?
He leans his legs back further and looks Ian dead in his eyes and sticks his tongue out ever so gently across the tip of his own leaking cock. Ian’s eyes go wide; cloud over like a storm rolling in and turn the darkest green Mickey has ever seen in nature. Ian reaches up and grabs the back of Mickey’s thighs and pushes his legs as far back as they can go without breaking them. Mickey feels it in his muscles; he’s going to be in so much pain tomorrow there is no way hes going to be able to walk let alone stand all day in some fucking hipster clothing store tomorrow. But fuck it.
He takes the tip of his cock in his mouth and sucks. And holy fuck it’s the most perverted, gay ass queer thing he has ever done but the sound that emits from Ian’s throat and the feeling of how Ian’s cock hardens even more, if that was even possible, inside him, makes it all worth it. And if he was being honest with himself, and only himself, it felt actually kinda good to have his own cock in his mouth.
He can feel Ian’s thrusts start to stutter and he knows he’s close. And fuck, Mickey is close to. Is he really going to swallow his own jizz? It's not like Ian hasn't kissed him after he’s blown him before. He used to hate it. He used to turn his head when Ian tried, but that was so long ago when they were different. When he was different. So go for gold, right?
They are both right on the edge. It's coming, no pun intended. There are curses and groans and the most pornographic sounds coming out of Ian’s throat, and Mickey knows they are both seconds from having the best orgasm of their lives as he stares intently into Ian’s eyes. He knows that look behind the new look of awe in Ian’s iris’s. Seconds. Three...two…
“OH MY FUCKING GOD. IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN? WHAT THE FUCK? ARE YOU SUCKING YOUR OWN DICK?”
One.
****
Mickey hasn't been able to look Carl in the eyes for 2 weeks. He can barely look Ian in the eye. But that doesn't stop Ian from looking at him every second they are together with this little twinkle and smirk because he remembers. He remembers Mickey sucking his own dick for him and it's embarrassing and gross and Jesus fuck, he won’t stop looking at him.
“Stop it.”
“What?” Ian takes a bite of his apple and keeps fucking smirking.
“It’s bad enough your fucking brother won’t stop looking at me and giving me this fucking look every time I see him-”
“Is it the same look I give you?”
Mickey snorts. “No. You’re brother doesn’t want to fuck me.”
“You sure? I mean after that display of flexibility and dick sucking skills-”
“Do you wanna fucking die?”
Ian laughs so hard pieces of apple fly out his mouth and almost hit Mickey. He groans and pushes himself up from the table.
****
Ian likes the shower hot. Almost too hot to stand. At first it used to piss Mickey off because he would get out of the shower with welts on his skin from the scorching water. But now? Not a lot of things bother Mickey anymore about Ian. And with Ian on his knees in front of him and the hot water cascading onto his skin, there's nothing to be mad at in this moment.
Ian’s mouth is like a warm wet vice around his cock and Mickey keeps threading his fingers through wet red hair and the way Ian moans around him when he does it makes Mickey shove his cock deeper into Ian’s throat. His gag reflex isn't as good as Mickey’s; he needs it for Ian’s 9 inch cock; but Ian takes it like a champ. He caresses Mickey’s balls; rolling them carefully but firmly in his long fingers and Mickey can feel the tingle in his spine, the flip in his stomach and he grabs the back of Ian’s hair to pull him off his cock. Spit drips from his lips and he looks up at Mickey, mouth still open.
“I’m gonna fuck you.” Mickey grits through his teeth.
Ian smiles slowly and stands with that Gallagher swagger. He turns around, bracing himself against the shower wall and spreads his legs.
“Hard or slow?” Mickey asks against his ear as he rubs his cock between the cleft of Ian’s perfect ass.
“Make me take it.” Ian moans, pushing back against Mickey’s cock.
“Oh you’re gonna take it.” Mickey growls. He spreads Ian’s ass and shoves his cock into him with one fluid motion. Ian screams; this throaty, sexy scream and Ian grabs Ian’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat. Mickey latches on, sucking and licking and biting at the exposed skin.
“Take my cock, Ian. You like it don't you? You like to think you’re this power top, don't you? But I know the truth. I know you love a cock up your ass just like me. And not some silicone piece of shit you used to take. My cock. My hard, throbbing cock inside this tight ass.” Mickey thrusts with every dirty word. Thrusts hard and deep, hitting Ian in the spot that makes his arms shake and whole body spasm.
“Just your cock, Mick. Always just yours.”
“Fucking right, Gallagher.” Mickey starts thrusting harder; up, up, in, in. Gripping Ian’s hips hard enough to leave bruises. They are both moaning, whining, screaming sometimes when Mickey hits just the right spot. The water is starting to run cold. This is an old house after all and Mickey’s skin is starting to rise with goosebumps but he refuses to stop until they are both finished.
“You want my cum, Gallagher?”
“Fuck yes, yes, Mick. Give it to me, please.” Ian’s writhing, squirming, practically crying with pleasure. Mickey reaches around and barely swipes his finger over the head of Ian’s cock before he's coming; clenching down around Mickey and screaming as he paints the wall in front of him with stripes of cum.
Ian is quivering from the aftershocks and Mickey knows he's gonna burst any second.
“Hole or face?” Mickey whispers against his ear.
Ian groans and pushes Mickey back and off him and falls to his knees in front of him. Fuck, this kid. No man. Mickey’s man. His husband. His forever.
He strips his cock and unloads all over Ian’s open lips. He licks it up like a thirsty dog and when Mickey rubs the tip of his deflating cock over his red lips, Ian licks and sucks and if Mickey wasn't completely done he might get hard again just from the sight of it.
“Nasty cum slut.”
Mickey hauls Ian up underneath his arms; Ian like a rag doll; and he kisses him. Slow and purposely. He holds Ian’s face in his hands and rubs his thumbs over his cheek.
“I love you.” Mickey whispers against his husband's lips.
“Me too.” Ian barely groans out.
They stay like that for a few minutes, lips ghosting over each other, clinging to each other as cold water cools their heated skin.
The loud banging against the bathroom door awakens them from their bubble and it sounds like someone is about to take the fucking door off the hinges.
“You two fuckers have been in there for over an hour. Other people in this house have to shower and get ready for work, assholes. You have a bed to fuck in you know!” Debbie's voice carries through the door. They both smile at each other.
“Or washing machines!” Carl’s voice is next and Ian grunts out a small laugh.
“Keep it up, Gallagher.” Mickey says smacking Ian’s ass as he shuts the water off.
****
He’s going to leave bruises. Mickey can already feel them forming on the skin of his hips. He can hear the Gallagher's downstairs; Franny babbling away as Debbie and Carl bicker back and forth about god knows what. He even hears Lips' voice; and the crying of the baby somewhere in the downstairs region. They are alone upstairs, in their bedroom, Mickey riding Ian’s dick like Zorro. It’s their normal morning fuck; when they know they won’t see each other all day and will have to wait 8 plus hours before they are back together; touch each other again.
Yeah, it's a lot. They both know that. They both know hey have been fucking a lot. They normally fucked everyday before they got married. But this? 2, 3 sometimes 4 times a day? It did feel like he was back in the bad days; when Ian would fuck him literally all night long when Ian wasn't sleeping, or eating and writing crazily in his notebooks all night. But he knows Ian is stable. His meds are on track and Ian eats, Jesus that kid can eat, and he's going to work and he's fine. This is just...the honeymoon stage he guesses. Because this isn’t like all those years ago when Mickey didn't want Ian to fuck him so much. When he was so sore he was near tears. Yeah, Mickey is sore, but no he wants this. He wants Ian just as much as Ian wants him. He even fucks Ian now more than he ever did. At least once a week now.
And as much as he knows he's a bossy bottom, Ian’s bossy bottom, he doesn't mind being the top sometimes now. Because it's Ian. It's always been Ian. And always will be.
So yeah, they fuck a lot. And it’s fucking awesome.
He’s riding Ian so hard the bed is knocking against the wall and the floor and creaking and fuck this bed is old and Ian is meeting every thrust up as Mickey slams himself down and they are both about to cum and there are moans and Mickey knows if he doesn’t smash his mouth against Ian’s in 2 seconds hes going to scream through his orgasm and it’s building and Ian’s thrusts are stuttering and fuck fuck fuck-
Mickey only remembers the loud crack and then the falling and the dust and the pain. Holy fuck the pain.
When he finally opens his eyes, he knows Ian’s dick is still in his ass because he can feel it but all he can focus on is the blood on Ian’s chest from Mickey digging his nails into his skin from the fall. When the dust clears and that is not some fucking metaphor, Mickey realizes suddenly the bed just didn't break. The whole fucking floor went out from underneath them and he is now in the kitchen of the Gallagher house. With his husband's dick still lodged in his ass.
He turns, eyes blurred with fuck are those tears? Why the fuck is he crying? It must be from the dust and debris. Holy fuck he’s in pain. He turns to look into the eyes of the Gallagher's, all gathered in the entrance way from the living room into the kitchen. Lips mouth is hanging open, eyes wide and Mickey can faintly hear the crying of Fred from the living room. Debbie is holding Franny to her for dear life, burying her head into her mother's shoulder to shield her from the debris. Or all the gay, Mickey isn’t quite sure. And Carl and Liam are just standing there, not knowing what to do.
Mickey finally looks down at his husband and Ian just stares up at him with those fucking eyes.
And then he bursts out laughing.
That ginger fuck.
The Gallagher clan groans and Mickey hears Carl’s voice over Ian’s laughter.
“That's it, I’m calling an intervention.”
****
Family meetings are bullshit. Not that Mickey ever really had family meetings in the Milkovich house. Mostly it was filing off the serial numbers of guns while everyone sat around the kitchen table and spewed racist homophobic bullshit while they chain smoked. Not exactly family bonding at it’s finest.
But the Gallagher's. They fucking love family meetings. And with Fiona gone, it's usually Lip that holds them. But today? Today is different. Carl’s in charge of this one.
“This needs to stop. I can’t keep seeing my brother and his husband’s ass and dick every time I turn the fucking corner in this house. You guys have a bedroom. Fucking use it! And now...now the fucking kitchen is…” Carl rubs his hand over his face. “We can't afford to fix that shit!”
“I’ll get it fixed, fuck face.” Mickey mumbles, tracing his finger over Ian’s bare knee under his basketball shorts.
“With what money? Old Army paying you 100 bucks an hour these days?” Lip bites back.
“I can get the money.” Mickey growls back. Lip nods condescendingly.
“I’m sure you can, Mickey.”
“You know what, Phillip? Fuck you! Just because your baby mama doesn't suck your dick anymore-”
“Mickey, I will knock you the fuck out. I don’t care who the fuck you're married to-” Lip stands and Mickey is immediately on his feet crowding Lip against the window.
“Hey!” Ian grabs Mickey by the back of his wife beater, pulling his husband back against his chest. “Enough. The both of you.” He pushes Mickey behind him and looks at his brother. “We will fix the house, okay? It was an accident. This house is old as fuck and we never kept up with it. Any of us. So we fucked too hard. We aren't the only ones who fucked hard in this house.”
“You fuck hard every god damn day in this house!” Carl yells. “Multiple times. That's all I hear. All I see! I can't unsee things!”
Mickey smirks. So does Ian.
“No, no. Fuck you guys! This has to stop. We need our house back!” Carl is pacing. It’s fucking hilarious.
“It's our house too. We pay bills here just like the rest of you. Mick included. He's family now. My family. If you are that god damn upset about a bunch of sex being had in this house, Carl, I can’t help you. Because it's been going on like that since before you were born. Fiona has fucked in that kitchen. Bathroom. The couch. The stairs. So has Lip. I bet even Debbie has.”
“Don't get me involved in this. I’m just glad Franny wasn't hurt.” She pushes her daughters red hair off her forehead and kisses her. She doesn't look pissed. Honestly she looks amused more than anything. Mickey smiles. He's always liked her the best.
“So we fix the house. And we’ll keep the sex confined to the bedroom, okay prudes?” Mickey crosses his arms across his chest and raises his eyebrows at the Gallagher clan.
“Fine.” Carl pushes his way out of the living room and up the stairs.
It's quiet for a few minutes when Lip finally speaks up. “I cannot fucking believe my gay brother and his husband broke the house fucking.”
“It is a story for the grand kids.” Ian says grabbing Mickey’s hand.
When the laughter fills the house, it seems to finally cut through the rest of the dust that hasn't seemed to settle yet.
****
Mickey finds Carl on the front porch an hour later.
Carl looks up at him when he closes the door and Mickey motions next to him. Carl nods.
Mickey lights his cigarette, inhaling the smoke slowly.
“So why are you really pissed?” He finally asks.
Carl sighs. “I’m never gonna find someone. I've never...loved someone like everyone else. No one has loved me. Fiona and Jimmy-Steve. Fiona and god every other guy. Debbie and her slew of men and women. Lip and Mandy. Lip and Karen. Lip and Tami. You and Ian. No one has ever wanted me that much.”
Mickey already doesn't like this conversation. But...he's part of this family now so he guesses he has to get used to talks like this. It's the Gallagher way.
“Man, listen. You will. Fuck, it happens when you don’t expect it to. One day you'll meet someone and it will turn your whole world upside down. And it might hurt sometimes. So much that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to breathe again. And sometimes you'll feel so good it'll feel like the best high of your life. It'll come out of nowhere. One day you’ll just be living your fucking life and-” Mickey feels his throat tighten and he shakes it off, taking another long drag of his cigarette.
“Like you and Ian?”
Mickey nods. “Yeah. Like me and Ian. Ginger fuck came out of nowhere and fucked me all up. But...it's worth it. It was worth it. It's worth the wait.”
Carl nods looking out into the street. Mickey claps a hand on his shoulder. “She will come. Or he. Who knows.”
“Nah, I’ll leave all the butt fucking to you and my brother.”
“Just in the bedroom, right?” Mickey smiles at him.
“Damn straight.”
Mickey laughs.
****
It takes 6 months to get the house fixed up. They did a lot of the work themselves but what they couldn't do, Mickey somehow found a way to get the money in pure south side thug ways. Ian never asked. Didn't matter. He knew who his husband was at heart. And loved him even more because of it.
“Kinda boring doing it on a bed.” Ian whispers as he bites down on Mickey's jaw.
“Mmm. We promised Carl.”
“Carl’s been banging some brunette for weeks now. Bitch keeps screaming.” Ian slides his dick against Mickey’s making him arch up and moan.
“Let him have his fun.”
“Has big bad Mickey Milkovich gone soft on me?” Ian grabs their cocks together with his long fingers and Mickey grabs a handful of Ian’s hair pulling his head back so he can look into his eyes.
“Does it feel like I’ve gone soft?”
Ian smiles. “Never.”
“Damn straight, bitch. Now get in me. Gotta be louder than Carl’s girl.”
Ian licks into Mickey’s mouth. “That won't be a problem.”