Shamelessly Smutty

Not So Platonic.

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Summary: Ian and Mickey are best friends who secretly have the hots for each other. Ian doesn't know Mickey is gay but Mickey knows Ian is gay. Slip-ups happen. Dry humping occurs.

Warnings: sex (not really), language

Words: 1897

Season: 3

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Mickey noticed. Of course, he did. Ian wasn't sly. Mickey could feel the younger man's eyes on him. But then again, Mickey just got out of juvie and hasn't seen the Gallagher boy in a while, he missed his best friend.

He knew Ian was watching him. And kept eyeing his backside. Was he bothered? Absolutely not.

And he decided to have a bit of fun with him, even.

He sort of arched his back, ass popping out more than it already did. Then he leaned down against the Gallagher table where he was munching on the leftover KFC. His elbows were braced against the table, leaving him in a stretched-out position.

He bit his lip to keep from grinning at the soft noise he heard coming from Ian. A person didn't need heightened senses to figure out that the boy was turned on.

"Gallagher," he said suddenly. "So, ROTC? Still doing that shit?" He hummed, ignoring that Ian hadn't answered at all. "I'm sure you're doing great at that..."

Ian cracked a small smile even though his cheeks were flaming red with the sudden conversation that tore him from his thoughts. "Uh, yeah...it's good."

He stretched out more, pretending to stretch his back, "Sleeping in shitty prison beds, messes with your back," he grinned, "You know?"

The redhead shook his head a little, "I've never been to juvie so...no."

He sat up suddenly, "Actually, would you mind rubbing my back real quick? I've been leaning over this table for too fucking long."

Ian blinked quickly, looking at him. His brain couldn't seem to keep up, not taking in anything he was just asked. Mickey was definitely fucking with him. Ian felt a bit scared that even laying his hands on the Milkovich would just be a trick to get knocked out. 

"Mick?"

"A backrub, Gallagher. Please with a fucking carrot on top."

Ian moved his hands to Mickey's shoulders shyly, cheeks flushed.

"That's a little high, dumbass. Unless you need a lesson in directional terms, I think you know where a back is," he scoffed.

Ian did know his directional terms. Lip helped him with that for school last summer. Which was the issue. Because the back is very very close to the plump flesh that he had been eyeing for the better part of two hours. But his hands slowly dropped, resting on Mickey's back.

"And don't be fucking gentle with that shit. Got fuck ton of sores. I like it rough."

That phrase shot straight through Ian, blood quickly surging to his already half-hard dick. Fuck.

"O-okay," he stuttered, thumbs gently moving to dig into the tight muscle.

Mickey relaxed into the touch, smirking to himself when he was absolutely sure that Ian couldn't see him. He groaned softly at a specific dig of the young boy's thumb into his back. He had meant to have a few well-placed noises to get Ian's attention, maybe get him thinking a little more, but that one had been completely unintentional.