Every fuckin— [ mickey's voice hitches when ian slips a couple wet fingers inside him, back arching and hips rolling against his hand, groan lost somewhere low in his throat as he breathes out the last word: ] day.
[ ian doesn't need to tell him twice, and it only takes the first nudge before mickey's turning onto his stomach, fingers curling in the comforter on top of his mattress, hips canting up for ease of use. his cheek presses against the blanket, lips curling in a wide smile as he feels ian kissing along the back of his neck, shivers and sweet shocks dancing up his spine. ]
Or I could show you. Later. Tomorrow, maybe.
[ today, he is busy. busy pushing back against the weight of ian's hips, feeling his cock slot between his cheeks and grinding back against him. ]
no subject
[ ian doesn't need to tell him twice, and it only takes the first nudge before mickey's turning onto his stomach, fingers curling in the comforter on top of his mattress, hips canting up for ease of use. his cheek presses against the blanket, lips curling in a wide smile as he feels ian kissing along the back of his neck, shivers and sweet shocks dancing up his spine. ]
Or I could show you. Later. Tomorrow, maybe.
[ today, he is busy. busy pushing back against the weight of ian's hips, feeling his cock slot between his cheeks and grinding back against him. ]