Every hard shell will break sometime

Tired, but never tired of you

Mickey never liked being touched. By anyone. It just felt weird to him, unnecessary even. He didn't like people being near him, people coming close. He wouldn't allow other people to come close. He didn't want people to know him that way. He didn't want people to associate any kind of weakness with him. He didn't want people to see his soft side. Not that he had one.
Mickey liked being gripped. Roughly. He liked getting fucked. Liked getting a dick slammed into his ass. Liked firm grips, that would mark him up even. Maybe because that wasn't soft, wasn't tender, wasn't romantic or whatever. Maybe because it was the closest thing compared to a physical fight. No one would ever think his bruises came from sex. He had a reputation. Everyone would think they came from fighting, because everyone knew to to fuck with a Milkovich.

And it all worked out so far. Until one day was about to change that.
Okay maybe it wasn't only that one day. But one day that built the way to the path him and Ian were going down with. First, there was their first kiss. It had been just a chaste brush of lips on lips to be honest, but it had been a huge fucking deal to Mickey. Because kissing meant something more. Something more that fucking didn't meant. It meant feelings, it meant romance, it meant connection. It meant letting his guard down in front of Gallagher. Giving him something he wanted so badly. Because Mickey was afraid of losing him. That had been the first time Mickey realized that. It was almost funny to think that a stupid old viagroid was the reason for that all to happen.

Mickey was jealous. He didn't like to admit it, but he certainly was. And he hated that. Because jealousy meant that Gallagher wasn't just a warm mouth to him. Jealousy meant that he was getting attached. That he had feelings. And even worse: he was scared that he could be replaceable. And Ian wasn't fucking replaceable. As much as he wished he would be. He was so much more than a warm mouth. He was so much more than a good fuck.

There was only one time he and Gallagher had sex that came at least a little close to making love. It had been a nerve wrecking week. The first kiss, then the sleepover.

The day everything went down, and everything went shit.

He had never been that much excited in his little stupid life. He remembered putting on different outfits beforehand, and made a last minute decision that he would just wear what he wore for the whole day already. Because Ian shouldn't know he cared. He shouldn't know that he made an effort.

After half an hour into the movie the smitten looks they had shared still didn't stop. It wasn't until Ian had looked at him for a little too long and Mickey got weirdly awkward. "The fuck are you looking at, shithead?", he snapped but couldn't hide a huge grin. "Just thinking about kissing you again.", Ian answered casually and Mickey felt his heart stopping for a brief moment. Right after that it was beating at double speed and he wasn't able to think straight anymore. Because the truth was, after the little kiss they had shared in the truck he couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about how he wanted more. He had even dreamed about it.

"Then stop talking and just fucking do it."

That was all it certainly took. And then Ian was leaning forward and pressed a soft kiss onto his lips. He had felt those stupid butterflies again, those he thought he would never get to feel, or get to know about. Just after a few seconds Gallagher had pulled back and smiled at him in such an innocent way Mickey had wanted to punch that look off his face. But he decided to kiss him again instead. Because he couldn't take the way his lips looked at that moment. Those lips he wanted to feel again so badly. Those lips he couldn't stop dreaming about. He had wondered how Gallagher's mouth would taste like, how it would feel to bite into his plump lower lip.

And kissing him had been the right decision. He had gripped Ian's head firmly, his nails digging into his scalp, and then biting his lip harshly only to force his tongue into his mouth afterwards. And weirdly enough it didn't feel as gay as he thought it would. No, it felt just right and it had made him horny as hell. And he couldn't wait to rip off Ian's clothes and feel every fucking inch of him.