Day 2: Dirty Talk
Title: Dirty Talk
Author: missyblackslash
Prompt #: 2. DUSK
Prompt table: L
Fandom: Shameless
Rating: [NC-17]
Character/Pairing: Mickey/Ian
Genre: Romance/Slash
Word count: 1880
Disclamer: I do not own Shameless or the characters. No profit is made from the writing of this fic, sadly.
Summary: Ian makes a sensual assault on Mickey's defense system. Warnings: M/M, rimming, oral sex, anal sex, swearing and obviously dirty talk.
Dirty Talk
Ian keeps a wary eye on his brother's bed as he slips out of the bedroom, quiet as a mouse in the hallway and tip-toes to the yard. He picks up the pace once he reaches the street, running in his excitement to the Milkovich house just three blocks over. He doesn't bother knocking, knowing Mickey is there and waiting for him, the thought sending his blood rushing south before he can even turn the handle.
“Took you long enough.” Mickey says in greeting, smirking from the couch, beer in hand, looking Ian over like he's something to eat.
Whatever witty retort Ian had waiting fled his mind at the hungry look in his lover's eyes.
Lover.
He kicks himself mentally. Lover, boyfriend, partner … these words did not apply to them. Mickey wouldn't allow it, his self loathing at constant war with his desire. He was embarrassed by his dirty little secret.
Ian has settled for these clandestine meetings until now. He's hoping tonight things will finally turn a corner.
He needs something more than a rushed fuck in an alleyway or under the school bleachers, in a broken down car or the storeroom at work. Tonight they actually have time. Time alone, in a house, with no chance of discovery.
Hidden by the gray, silent dusk. The street is quiet, only the occasional shout or cry of ghetto domesticity can be heard. Most of the young people are at the bars and the elderly are already passed out on sofas. Mickey's own resident drunk, his father Terry, is back in jail for cutting some asshole behind the Alibi Room Thursday night.
“You just gonna stare or do something.” Mickey asks over Ian's thoughts and he realizes he must have been standing there like a jackass for some time if Mickey's squirming is anything to go by.
“You gotta another beer?” Ian replies, hiding his nerves with a lopsided grin.
Mickey nods towards the kitchen and Ian cuts a path through the newspapers and empty pizza boxes to look in the fridge. He grabs a chilled 40-ouncer before slowly walking back to where Mickey sits, a plan forming in his mind.
He sits down casually beside him, closer than what's considered friendly, and takes a long drink. He sees Mickey swallow in return, wide eyed, before shoving him in the shoulder.
“Scoot the fuck over, Gallagher.”
“Why? Who's gonna see? It's just us.” Ian lets out a nervous laugh before taking another sip and settling back into the couch.
Mickey sighs but says nothing, continuing to nurse his beer, lost in his own thoughts.
“I like this.” Ian says after a few minutes, looking carefully at the boy beside him.
Mickey scowls. “This shithole? I can't wait to move out of this dump.”
Ian shakes his head and puts a tentative hand on Mickey's knee. “No. Not the house. This. Being alone for once.”
Mickey's body stiffens but he says nothing, scowl still firmly in place. Ian waits patiently and he feels the boy beside him finally relax and turns his head to the side to hide his smile.
They bullshit about their families and the neighborhood while they finish their drinks. When Mickey stands to get another beer, Ian grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Wait. I want to try something.”
Mickey raises an eyebrow but says nothing, waiting for the redhead's next move. Ian carefully sets down his bottle and sits up. Without releasing Mickey's wrist, his other hand slowly skims the top of Mickey's jeans and comes to a stop at his buckle. He keeps his eyes on his task, afraid of what he might see in the hovering boy's face, as he carefully unfastens his jeans and slowly draws down his zipper.
Mickey shifts from foot to foot, his breath coming out harsher already and Ian hasn't even touched his prick. He stands silent, watching every move, as Ian rubs him softly through his pants. He finally releases the wrist, once he's sure that Mickey won't run away, and uses both hands to tug down the jeans, stopping at the knees. He pushes Mickey's hands away when he tries to help, finally looking up with such a determined glare that Mickey drops his hands in surprise.
Ian's heart feels like it might pound out of his chest as he rubs the fully erect cock through the worn material of the briefs, watching intently as a large wet patch forms around the head. He then leans forward and inhales, smiling when he detects the scent of Ivory, pleased that Mickey showered before he came over.
Maybe Mickey cares a little afterall.
He lovingly runs his nose along the fabric and Mickey grunts but doesn't make a move. Finally, he places his fingertips inside the waistband and pulls them down. The cock once released jerks forward eagerly. Ian licks a broad stripe up the front, tracing the thick vein there, before swirling his tongue around the tip.
Mickey curses, his fists clenching.
Ian takes his time, sucking him in inch by inch. When he's swallowed him to the root, he pulls hard with his cheeks and hums. Mickey swears again and tries to thrust into his throat.
Ian quickly pulls back before Mickey can fuck his face. He wants to make this last. He holds his hips steady as he surveys his work, pleased at the sight of his flushed face and trail of saliva he's left on the dark purple head of his dick.
“Pull off your shirt.” he orders and he smiles when Mickey is quick to comply.
Ian reaches up and strokes his chest, lightly pinching his nipple, before following the path back down his happy trail in a soft caress. He's captivated by the shadows cast by the fading twilight as they play across Mick's abdominal muscles and can't seem to stop his fingertips from tracing each one. Mickey tenses from the tender touch, flushed face scrunched in confusion, so he switches his tentative petting for a firm stroke of Mickey's cock.
Mickey groans. “Fuck, Gallagher, get on with it.”
Even though he sounds pissed, there's a begging tone to the words that makes Ian bite down another grin. He's nowhere near done with him yet.
So he stands and strips off his own shirt.
“Bend over.”
Mickey finally smiles that cocky smile that Ian loves and leans over, holding tightly to the back of the couch, muttering “fucking finally.”
Ian takes off the rest of his clothes and leans against him, relishing in the feel of his warm skin for a moment before pulling away.
He then drops to his knees behind him.
Mickey's complaint is quickly cut off by a “Shut up, I'm not done yet.” He sighs and shakes his head, but he obeys, quietly waiting for what happens next.
His odd submissiveness does weird things to Ian, making him want to kiss him and fuck him right then. He has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to stop himself.
He has a plan and he will follow that plan like the good soldier he is, dammit.
He palms Mickey's ass, squeezing the cheeks lightly before separating them to eye the dusky bud at it's center. He's watched enough porn and read enough magazines to know roughly how this should go, but he says a silent prayer anyway that Mickey will enjoy it and not turn around and punch him the fuck out for being 'too gay.'
He takes a deep breath and leans forward, licking softly at his puckered entrance. Mickey yelps. He squeezes the cheeks harder to try and forestall any argument before diving back in, circling the hole with his tongue and taking small pokes at it with the tip. Mickey is panting and shaking but he hasn't decked him or kicked him out yet, so he thinks he might be pulling this off.
He starts out first with small licks and prods, working his way up to pushing his tongue as deep as he can get it. Soon, Mickey is actually pushing back on his face, moaning in a way he would be completely fucking embarrassed by if he had any idea what he was doing, and Ian starts pushing his fingers in, one at a time, beside the slick muscle.
“Fuck now, Ian, come on.” Mickey pleads, his voice cracking with emotion and Ian can no longer hold back. He quickly stands, slapping on a rubber and grabbing the lube from his pocket to slick up his own cock, not trusting the spit alone to smooth the way, before grabbing Mickey by the hips and pushing his way in.
“Yes, yes, fuck.” He's still talking and it's so fucking hot that Ian fears he might blow his load right fucking there.
“God, you feel so fucking good. Fuck. Mick.” he moans in reply, pistoning his hips and fucking him hard. He tilts his hips, searching for his sweet spot and knows when he finds it, because Mickey's words become an endless stream of curses and affirmations. He changes speeds and just savors the feeling for several minutes before he takes mercy and reaches around, stroking Mickey to completion.
“Close … so close. Love … ugh. Feels, fuck yes.” Mickey shouts as he spills out on his hand and the cushions below.
Ian nearly loses his rhythm at the sound of that one little word, but the spasming of Mickey's hole brings him right to climax alongside him and he screams out his own release.
He stays inside a moment longer, relishing every moment before Mickey comes to his senses. He even rubs his lips over the glistening back before reluctantly pulling out and turning around. He desperately wants more. He wants to kiss him, taste him everywhere, but he doesn't.
He pulls on his boxers and reaches for his pants but Mickey stops him, this time grabbing Ian's wrist and giving him a questioning look.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he asks with narrowed eyes and a smirk, but Ian doesn't miss the vulnerability hidden just behind the mask.
“No where, man. Just putting the lube back in my jeans and the condom in the trash. Wouldn't want to leave that shit lying around, would we?” he answers, hoping Mickey sees the echo in his own smile. Mickey rolls his eyes and they quickly pick up their clothes with Mickey silently leading the way to the bedroom.
Ian can barely believe it when Mickey pulls him down on the bed beside him. He never expected to stay the night. They don't cuddle but just feeling the warmth of Mickey's leg beside his has him reeling, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Mickey to scream “faggot” and push him from the bed.
“Go the fuck to sleep, Gallagher. You need your rest if you're going to finish that blowie in the morning.” Mickey laughs and though its dark, he knows that he's smiling that cocky smile.
Ian laughs along with him and allows himself to sink into the pillow, filled with hope for what tomorrow might bring.
Author: missyblackslash
Prompt #: 2. DUSK
Prompt table: L
Fandom: Shameless
Rating: [NC-17]
Character/Pairing: Mickey/Ian
Genre: Romance/Slash
Word count: 1880
Disclamer: I do not own Shameless or the characters. No profit is made from the writing of this fic, sadly.
Summary: Ian makes a sensual assault on Mickey's defense system. Warnings: M/M, rimming, oral sex, anal sex, swearing and obviously dirty talk.
Dirty Talk
Ian keeps a wary eye on his brother's bed as he slips out of the bedroom, quiet as a mouse in the hallway and tip-toes to the yard. He picks up the pace once he reaches the street, running in his excitement to the Milkovich house just three blocks over. He doesn't bother knocking, knowing Mickey is there and waiting for him, the thought sending his blood rushing south before he can even turn the handle.
“Took you long enough.” Mickey says in greeting, smirking from the couch, beer in hand, looking Ian over like he's something to eat.
Whatever witty retort Ian had waiting fled his mind at the hungry look in his lover's eyes.
Lover.
He kicks himself mentally. Lover, boyfriend, partner … these words did not apply to them. Mickey wouldn't allow it, his self loathing at constant war with his desire. He was embarrassed by his dirty little secret.
Ian has settled for these clandestine meetings until now. He's hoping tonight things will finally turn a corner.
He needs something more than a rushed fuck in an alleyway or under the school bleachers, in a broken down car or the storeroom at work. Tonight they actually have time. Time alone, in a house, with no chance of discovery.
Hidden by the gray, silent dusk. The street is quiet, only the occasional shout or cry of ghetto domesticity can be heard. Most of the young people are at the bars and the elderly are already passed out on sofas. Mickey's own resident drunk, his father Terry, is back in jail for cutting some asshole behind the Alibi Room Thursday night.
“You just gonna stare or do something.” Mickey asks over Ian's thoughts and he realizes he must have been standing there like a jackass for some time if Mickey's squirming is anything to go by.
“You gotta another beer?” Ian replies, hiding his nerves with a lopsided grin.
Mickey nods towards the kitchen and Ian cuts a path through the newspapers and empty pizza boxes to look in the fridge. He grabs a chilled 40-ouncer before slowly walking back to where Mickey sits, a plan forming in his mind.
He sits down casually beside him, closer than what's considered friendly, and takes a long drink. He sees Mickey swallow in return, wide eyed, before shoving him in the shoulder.
“Scoot the fuck over, Gallagher.”
“Why? Who's gonna see? It's just us.” Ian lets out a nervous laugh before taking another sip and settling back into the couch.
Mickey sighs but says nothing, continuing to nurse his beer, lost in his own thoughts.
“I like this.” Ian says after a few minutes, looking carefully at the boy beside him.
Mickey scowls. “This shithole? I can't wait to move out of this dump.”
Ian shakes his head and puts a tentative hand on Mickey's knee. “No. Not the house. This. Being alone for once.”
Mickey's body stiffens but he says nothing, scowl still firmly in place. Ian waits patiently and he feels the boy beside him finally relax and turns his head to the side to hide his smile.
They bullshit about their families and the neighborhood while they finish their drinks. When Mickey stands to get another beer, Ian grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Wait. I want to try something.”
Mickey raises an eyebrow but says nothing, waiting for the redhead's next move. Ian carefully sets down his bottle and sits up. Without releasing Mickey's wrist, his other hand slowly skims the top of Mickey's jeans and comes to a stop at his buckle. He keeps his eyes on his task, afraid of what he might see in the hovering boy's face, as he carefully unfastens his jeans and slowly draws down his zipper.
Mickey shifts from foot to foot, his breath coming out harsher already and Ian hasn't even touched his prick. He stands silent, watching every move, as Ian rubs him softly through his pants. He finally releases the wrist, once he's sure that Mickey won't run away, and uses both hands to tug down the jeans, stopping at the knees. He pushes Mickey's hands away when he tries to help, finally looking up with such a determined glare that Mickey drops his hands in surprise.
Ian's heart feels like it might pound out of his chest as he rubs the fully erect cock through the worn material of the briefs, watching intently as a large wet patch forms around the head. He then leans forward and inhales, smiling when he detects the scent of Ivory, pleased that Mickey showered before he came over.
Maybe Mickey cares a little afterall.
He lovingly runs his nose along the fabric and Mickey grunts but doesn't make a move. Finally, he places his fingertips inside the waistband and pulls them down. The cock once released jerks forward eagerly. Ian licks a broad stripe up the front, tracing the thick vein there, before swirling his tongue around the tip.
Mickey curses, his fists clenching.
Ian takes his time, sucking him in inch by inch. When he's swallowed him to the root, he pulls hard with his cheeks and hums. Mickey swears again and tries to thrust into his throat.
Ian quickly pulls back before Mickey can fuck his face. He wants to make this last. He holds his hips steady as he surveys his work, pleased at the sight of his flushed face and trail of saliva he's left on the dark purple head of his dick.
“Pull off your shirt.” he orders and he smiles when Mickey is quick to comply.
Ian reaches up and strokes his chest, lightly pinching his nipple, before following the path back down his happy trail in a soft caress. He's captivated by the shadows cast by the fading twilight as they play across Mick's abdominal muscles and can't seem to stop his fingertips from tracing each one. Mickey tenses from the tender touch, flushed face scrunched in confusion, so he switches his tentative petting for a firm stroke of Mickey's cock.
Mickey groans. “Fuck, Gallagher, get on with it.”
Even though he sounds pissed, there's a begging tone to the words that makes Ian bite down another grin. He's nowhere near done with him yet.
So he stands and strips off his own shirt.
“Bend over.”
Mickey finally smiles that cocky smile that Ian loves and leans over, holding tightly to the back of the couch, muttering “fucking finally.”
Ian takes off the rest of his clothes and leans against him, relishing in the feel of his warm skin for a moment before pulling away.
He then drops to his knees behind him.
Mickey's complaint is quickly cut off by a “Shut up, I'm not done yet.” He sighs and shakes his head, but he obeys, quietly waiting for what happens next.
His odd submissiveness does weird things to Ian, making him want to kiss him and fuck him right then. He has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to stop himself.
He has a plan and he will follow that plan like the good soldier he is, dammit.
He palms Mickey's ass, squeezing the cheeks lightly before separating them to eye the dusky bud at it's center. He's watched enough porn and read enough magazines to know roughly how this should go, but he says a silent prayer anyway that Mickey will enjoy it and not turn around and punch him the fuck out for being 'too gay.'
He takes a deep breath and leans forward, licking softly at his puckered entrance. Mickey yelps. He squeezes the cheeks harder to try and forestall any argument before diving back in, circling the hole with his tongue and taking small pokes at it with the tip. Mickey is panting and shaking but he hasn't decked him or kicked him out yet, so he thinks he might be pulling this off.
He starts out first with small licks and prods, working his way up to pushing his tongue as deep as he can get it. Soon, Mickey is actually pushing back on his face, moaning in a way he would be completely fucking embarrassed by if he had any idea what he was doing, and Ian starts pushing his fingers in, one at a time, beside the slick muscle.
“Fuck now, Ian, come on.” Mickey pleads, his voice cracking with emotion and Ian can no longer hold back. He quickly stands, slapping on a rubber and grabbing the lube from his pocket to slick up his own cock, not trusting the spit alone to smooth the way, before grabbing Mickey by the hips and pushing his way in.
“Yes, yes, fuck.” He's still talking and it's so fucking hot that Ian fears he might blow his load right fucking there.
“God, you feel so fucking good. Fuck. Mick.” he moans in reply, pistoning his hips and fucking him hard. He tilts his hips, searching for his sweet spot and knows when he finds it, because Mickey's words become an endless stream of curses and affirmations. He changes speeds and just savors the feeling for several minutes before he takes mercy and reaches around, stroking Mickey to completion.
“Close … so close. Love … ugh. Feels, fuck yes.” Mickey shouts as he spills out on his hand and the cushions below.
Ian nearly loses his rhythm at the sound of that one little word, but the spasming of Mickey's hole brings him right to climax alongside him and he screams out his own release.
He stays inside a moment longer, relishing every moment before Mickey comes to his senses. He even rubs his lips over the glistening back before reluctantly pulling out and turning around. He desperately wants more. He wants to kiss him, taste him everywhere, but he doesn't.
He pulls on his boxers and reaches for his pants but Mickey stops him, this time grabbing Ian's wrist and giving him a questioning look.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he asks with narrowed eyes and a smirk, but Ian doesn't miss the vulnerability hidden just behind the mask.
“No where, man. Just putting the lube back in my jeans and the condom in the trash. Wouldn't want to leave that shit lying around, would we?” he answers, hoping Mickey sees the echo in his own smile. Mickey rolls his eyes and they quickly pick up their clothes with Mickey silently leading the way to the bedroom.
Ian can barely believe it when Mickey pulls him down on the bed beside him. He never expected to stay the night. They don't cuddle but just feeling the warmth of Mickey's leg beside his has him reeling, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Mickey to scream “faggot” and push him from the bed.
“Go the fuck to sleep, Gallagher. You need your rest if you're going to finish that blowie in the morning.” Mickey laughs and though its dark, he knows that he's smiling that cocky smile.
Ian laughs along with him and allows himself to sink into the pillow, filled with hope for what tomorrow might bring.