[Ian's laugh comes out more as low rumble as he moves into Mickey, pushing deep and slow before reaching his arm around to take a hold of his dick. He's high on the feeling of Mickey pressing back into him, the feeling of his body reacting to the intrusion, how rock hard he is in his hand. He strokes a few times as he drives into him, wanting to drive Mickey crazy with the stimulation.]
[ he loves feeling ian around him like that, his weight pressing him into the mattress, his arms on either side framing him in, his lips against the back of his neck. this is heaven for mickey, and when ian takes his cock in hand and starts to stroke, the rock of his hips pushing him into the rhythm of it, mickey's seeing stars behind his eyelids, lips parting with a low groan. ]
It's time for you to shut up about my fingers and fuck me. [ because he can't keep track of actual conversation right now anyway, just the steady pulse of ian's dick moving deep inside him. ] Christ, Ian, I missed you.
[ mickey reaches a hand up, gripping onto whatever he can find - ian's arm, his bicep, a shoulder, hell, he'll curl his fingers into his hair if he's ducked down low enough - and his thigh spread, knees bracing against the mattress until he has enough leverage to push back and meet each thrust into him. ]
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Then it's time to try more fingers.
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It's time for you to shut up about my fingers and fuck me. [ because he can't keep track of actual conversation right now anyway, just the steady pulse of ian's dick moving deep inside him. ] Christ, Ian, I missed you.
[ mickey reaches a hand up, gripping onto whatever he can find - ian's arm, his bicep, a shoulder, hell, he'll curl his fingers into his hair if he's ducked down low enough - and his thigh spread, knees bracing against the mattress until he has enough leverage to push back and meet each thrust into him. ]