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Chapter Text

Ian tips his head back, pushes his chest out, groans out a loud moan as his orgasm hits. Feeling the spasm of Owen around him, smooths a hand down his back and into the bowed dip of it as he shudders with his face buried in his arms. He watches his hands leave a glistening trail of lube along his dark skin, pumps his hips a few more times to ride out his aftershocks before he pulls out and turns his hips for the camera to get the best view. His freckled hand a stark contrast to Owen's back, to the globes of his ass as Ian spreads them open. Giving the camera a good view of his cum trailing out with the tip of his dick.

Owen is still breathing heavily. Cam A on his face while he turns his head to look back at Ian with a grin. Ian goes with it. He has chemistry with Owen. And Ball Kings didn't get to the top of the game by pairing dudes who don't have chemistry. V is very specific about who partners with whom. They've grown a working relationship with not only the porn stars but also the camera operators and the directors. V often directs the shoots for these two since they are her top grossing stars currently.

Owen makes good show of clenching and giving Cam B all the close up of his blown out hole before he reaches back to tug on Ian's arm. Ian climbs onto the bed, making sure to flex every muscle before he grasps Owen's hips to toss his legs to the side, climbing over him and covering his mouth with his own. Owen's a good cam kisser. They've gotten their roles down to a T. Making is appear as though they're intimate, they're kissing each other out of enjoyment not because they're getting paid for it. And it's not bad kissing, it's just thought out and planned. Just like the sex. Everything is scripted. It's still enjoyable, it's sex for fuck's sake, of course it's enjoyable. And Owen's a good lay. He's a great bottom, tight and it's clear he's more than happy to take a fat cock like Ian's.

It's a little strange to know so much about a guy he'd never date. Nothing against him. They're just better as friends. Which is maybe why it's been so easy to shoot with him. They know each other well enough to know sex codes.

Owen is not the only one Ian fucks. But their series of videos are the most popular on Ball Kings' website, popular enough that Ian got his first invite this year to the porn shows in Vegas in February. There's even rumor they've been nominated for a Cocksucker, but the official nods won't be announced until next week.

"And cut." V's voice enters his head just as he's drawing back from the kiss, "good work. I'll take it to the cutting room tomorrow and see what we need to refilm."

The sound of camera equipment being taken down and people shuffling around the set. The lights dimming and filtering into Ian's head. He rolls over to his back, throwing an arm over his face. They'll lay here, in all their lubed up and cum filled glory until it's just the two of them and V. She'll give them a run through of what they did right and what they need to work on. She'll have ideas for how to angle properly for the reshoot. She never makes them run through the scene again in one day. She prefers her porn to be realistic, avoiding fake semen and weak orgasms at all costs. She's a little picky about her foreplay scenes and the more intimate bits of the shoot, but the sex is usually pretty easy. Letting the stars go with what they're good at.

Ian lays on top of the sheets, he's got nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. These people have seen every part of him. And he makes good money that way. He lets the cool air begin to dry the sweat on his skin while he listens to V's perspective on today's work. Owen's body heat close, but not touching while he listens and adds his input. Ian nods along, feeling bone tired now after spending half his day knuckle deep in tight ass, with a raging hard-on while he waited for penetration. He's built up a lot of stamina over the last two years he's worked here. But the waiting is still torture.

"I will have Foxy text you the details for our next shoot." V offers them both a clean robe, clearly stating without saying a thing that it's time to get the hell off her set and get cleaned up so she can get home in time for dinner.

Ian responds with a salute, dragging himself to the edge of the bed to tug the robe on. If he stayed lying down for any longer he'd pass out here and not even have to go home between shoots. But he's still got some weightlifting to do tonight and a lean protein meal to cook. Keeping his body fit, flexible, and muscled has never been a burden for him. He enjoys the order in it. The lack of surprises in his day when he can schedule out his entire week on Sunday night, prep his meals and fill in his planner.

He fist-bumps Owen on his way by, giving him a, "good work today," over his shoulder when he exits the door.

Down the hallway he can hear voices from V's office. It's late for them to be having a meeting but that's what is sounds like. Kev and Foxy must have started the meeting early. Either that or V is in no mood to be trifled with as she starts quickly by ordering more than asking, "what can you bring to Ball Kings?"

Ian can hear the stranger snort, his voice is gravel and dirt and sends a tingle of intrigue through Ian as he begins speaking, "I can bring shit to the table that you don't have. You guys got a lot of categories, and a lot of stars. You're premium. But there is one thing you are lacking severely."

"Severely?" V sounds pissed.

Ian feels himself smirk as he starts walking towards the office. The door is cracked just slightly. Just enough that if he is quiet enough and plays his angles right, he'll be able to see whoever this is that dare challenge V's business model. "Severely." The voice responds with nothing but cocky confidence in his tone.

"Well," V huffs out, "tell me first where you got your business degree."

"Don't have one. But I've got experience watching porn. And I gotta tell you, you're missing solo male bottoms. Specifically. And severely." He adds the last part with a whole lot of dare in his voice.

Ian inches forward further. He needs to see this guy's face. To see if it matches his voice. If it matches the cocky cadences in his tone.

V is quiet for a long enough moment that Foxy offers, "we have been meaning to send out casting calls for solo male bottoms."

"Well it looks like Mr Milkovich here beat us to the punch." V responds. Ian can picture her expression right now. Looking at whoever this guy is like she's taking him apart in her mind already. He seems to have thrown her for a loop and she hasn't been able to voice it yet. She eventually clears her throat and Ian takes a few more steps forward, nearly to the door now. "You have a half an hour to impress me." The sound of her chair being pulled out from behind her desk, "do you need time to get started?"

"Do I look like an amateur? Someone who'd show up to an interview without prepping first?" The guy responds. Ian cranes his neck to peer into the office before the guy can get out of the chair and move over towards the casting room. His breath gets punched out of his chest when his eyes land on the ink-black hair, the snow white skin, and the cocky eyebrow lift over the pale blue of piercing eyes.

"Holy fuck," Ian hears himself whisper. Watching the guy get to his feet. Revealing muscled shoulders, a strong broad back that tapers into narrow hips and a perky ass.

"Is that your natural hair color?" V wonders when he's standing.

"Yeah." He stays where he stands, cocking his head and waiting for V to nod before he pulls off his long-sleeved shirt, "the tats you can see already. Hafada and frenum piercings. Working on a Jacob's ladder."

V hums a response. Ian feels his mouth watering and he swallows it down, listening for anyone in the office to start moving towards the door. He really had no desire to get busted.

"Solo only?"

"Yeah. I don't work with partners. Never will."

Fuck. Ian feels his stomach twist, wanting to barge into the office and offer a hand at the very least.

"Can I ask why?"

"You can ask. But I don't gotta answer."

V snorts, "fair enough. Let's move to the casting room and you can show me what you've got."

Fighting every urge in his body to go in there, reserve a spot in the casting room and watch. Instead he pulls himself away from the door, hurries down to the locker room before he can get caught out here and keeps his fingers crossed that this guy will get hired and it won't be the last he sees of him.

###

you go to work in the morning, fuck all day, come home and have nothing to say about it?

Ian rolls his eyes at the text, doesn't bother responding to his brother and goes about putting his dinner together.

dude you fuck all day.

for your job

It's Carl. Of course he's not going to leave Ian alone until he answers.

Balls deep all day. Tired. Leave me alone.

Thankfully, the phone doesn't vibrate. He's going to see him tomorrow anyway, he can ask his burning questions about the porn industry then. Truthfully, Ian is tired. Not of the job. It's easier than a relationship. He goes to work five days a week, get's blown, fucked, or jerked off and comes home satisfied. To an empty house. Where no one leaves their dirty underwear laying around, or stinky shoes in the way, no one to roll out of bed without making it in the morning. There's no one sitting across the table at him at dinner. Or making noise in the kitchen when he's trying to listen to the news. Or scrolling through Netflix to find the next series they're going to binge.

Ian sighs. Taking his plate to the couch to pick out whatever he wants to watch, not having to take into account what anyone else wants. "Maybe it's time for a dog." He tells his steaming plate as he scrolls mindlessly through the menu.

###

He doesn't see Mr Milkovich the next day at work. Even though he cranes his neck around every corner and into every room as discreetly as possible to see if there are any additions to the workforce. He doesn't want to ask V. It'd be too obvious. Then she would stick her nose it it and probably set them up on an awkward date that he'd regret horribly.

They run through the talking points. They get naked. He rims the hell out of Owen, get's his cock sucked and leaves for the weekend knowing next week will start a new scene. This time it'll be with Jody who can suck his own cock, so Ian really just has to be there to rig up his swing, and tie his bindings, stroking himself while he toys Jody's ass. It's not complicated. Jody's the one who goes through all the work when they work together. He's kind of a weird guy, but he's easy to work with so Ian isn't going to complain. With Owen on vacation, his replacement partner could be a lot more awkward than Jody.

He paid for a car service to pick up his brothers at the airport and told the doorman to just let them up. So he expected them to be there by the time he got home. Going through his things, making a mess, and drinking his beers. It's good to see them even if they are mostly a pain in his ass. Carl wanting to know everything about how porn is filmed, even if Ian tells him it ruins the mystique if you know all of it. Lip grunting, smoking, and generally adding whatever genius bullshit he can add to the conversation when it's needed. He's here in New York for a job interview with some big tech corporation. But he has no desire to take the job when it's offered. He's a Chicago kid, he'll always be. Ian just hopes he realizes his full potential before he turns this one down, if he would just put in the work in NY and suck it up for a few years he can move back to Chicago once he proves himself to the company. They'll keep him on and let him work remotely. But he can't just go in there demanding that from the jump. Which is something Ian tells him. He responds by rolling his eyes, stomping out his cig and reentering the loft to drink another beer.

At least the tech company paid for their tickets. They would have paid for accommodations and Ian is starting to think he should have let them when he sees Carl's feet up on the coffee table. He sighs to himself, hangs both their jackets on the hooks instead of on the armchair where they left them and settles in with his phone to zone in and out of the game that they've got on the big screen.

###

It's Monday when he hears Mr Milkovich's voice again. This time it's in one of the filming rooms. If he can hear it, then the door is open. The rooms are soundproofed so as long as the door is closed it isn't like anyone can just walk down the hall and listen to moans and shouts, slaps, headboard banging, or whipping. There are designated rooms for certain fetishes so that the more messy fetishes don't overlap into the vanilla rooms. Vanilla rooms being what V likes to call the pairings that are more likely to never use props, to fuck missionary, and to kiss on the lips. Ian falls mostly into the vanilla category, but he doesn't mind being a prop in the more hardcore rooms when he's needed. Whips, chains, gang bangs aren't really his thing but depending on the amount of zeros following the offer on paper he's been known to dabble. He doesn't need to dabble much now that he's got a fanbase that's pretty loyal and his fanbase expects vanilla, so he'll give vanilla.

"Honestly, I'm a little surprised she agreed to this so easily." It's Foxy's voice that Ian hears first.

"Yeah, well I told her I'd have over a hundred subscribers after the first video gets posted, so buckle up buttercup."

"Foxy actually, but thanks for generalizing."

Ian finds himself smirking as he listens in on their conversation. The guy looks rough around the edges, not someone who would ask people their proper pronouns much less their name before he designated them with a nickname.

"What the fuck ever it is, or whatever you are, either help me set this shit up or get out of my way."

Ian stifles a snicker with his hand over his mouth as Foxy scoffs and next thing he sees is him hustling through the door, probably to tell V that he's just been offended by the new kid. Ian steps into the doorway that was left open, taking in the sight of the man who's hustling around the place, setting up toy stations and marking x's on the floor for the cameras. Stuff that a director and the film crew normally do.

"You used to doing all your own filming?" Ian asks.

The guy doesn't even look up at the intrusion. "Yeah. I am actually, so if you're not going to help, then get the fuck out."

Mouthy. And hot as hell. He can think of about ten different things he'd like to do to that mouth as soon as Milkovich turns his head, giving him a straight-on view of his face. And wow. He would look good on his knees, face tilted up. Ian shudders at the thought, then shakes it off and introduces himself. "Ian Gallagher," with his hand extended for shake.

Milkovich waves him off before he can even step all the way across the room to reaching distance. "I got shit to do here. So this has been nice and all tough guy, but like I said unless you're here to help then do me a favor and fuck off."

Ian's entire body bristles at his words, instead of calling him out on being an asshole to his coworkers, he decides to just leave. Let him be, he'll get fired soon enough. As soon as V hears his mouth and witnesses his attitude towards his fellow actors, he'll be out the door. No matter how many subscribers he can pull after just one video.

Chapter Text

The week with Jody goes as Ian expected. He's exhausted by the amount of props, but it never ceases to amaze him what Jody is willing and eager to do. Sometimes he wonders if his mental state is okay, but with the amount of screenings they do for health at Ball Kings he can't imagine that Jody could be hiding a sex addiction. His cock twitches and leeks when he presses the ass gaper past his rim and watches his belly hollow out. Gripping the swing with both hands and guiding the gaper with the flat of his lower abs. He watches Jody's face to any hints of needing to pull back or slow down. It's only Wednesday, they still have the rest of this week and the next to get this all done. But Jody's face is nothing but pure bliss.

In Ian's mind it morphs into Milkovich's face. His cock aches for release at the image when he eyes Jody's pushed open hole, the way it's swallowing the large plug effortlessly. And Jody isn't even a pure bottom. Ian can only imagine what the hole of a pure bottom who toys on cam on a regular basis could do, could take, could stretch for.

His hips stutter when he's deep enough that his cock-head is brushing against the cleft of Jody's ass. Jody groans and shudders at the contact, at the base of the plug pushing against his rim. Resting there. Holding him wide open.

Ian licks his lips, aware of the cam angles as he leans back to let the view of Jody's plugged ass have full display on film. He releases the swing with one hand, drags it over Jody's thigh and takes his own cock in his hand. Bumping the head of it against the base of the plug. Jody's muscles tense and spasm with pleasure of the plug being jostled with Ian's cock. Tapping again and getting the same response.

Jody says whatever line is in the script. It enters Ian's head in that gravelly and gruff voice of the brunette he hasn't seen all week. He's thinking he must have already been let go. That attitude won't get him far no matter how many subscribers he has. Ian is certain of it. There hasn't been any word around the office, no welcome to the job cock cakes and testicle balloons.

By the time they wrap for the day the Cocksucker noms have been announced. Ian's pleased and unsurprised when he's got noms for Best Top and Best AssLicker. He knows it takes a few years and a large library of works before he'll get the coveted nom for Best Cock. A piece he did with Owen is nom'd for Best Short Fuck. They'll have to do better next year and get into the category of Long Fuck. But since Long Fucks usually require fake jizz, and multiple orgasms it would either have to be filmed over weeks to get the natural feel that V demands, or they'd just have to suck it up and use the fake stuff. By the time he retires he plans to have an entire wall of Cocksuckers.

###

It's Thursday when he decides it's safe to pull up Ball Kings' website. To his shock, the banner up top is 'Welcome inside our newest Ball King' with a gorgeous layout of Milkovich. His piercings on full display, his cock hard and beautiful wrapped in his FUCK hand while his other hand is displaying his perfect hole. Index and middle finger spreading it to show the pink giving way to red and falling into the dark depths of his insides. Ian shivers at the image. Chastises himself for being so turned on by a coworker he's barely met but already knows him well enough to know he's an asshole. His face is showing just enough to see a cocky smirk on his sinful lips and a twinkle in his eyes that might as well be inviting everyone who looks at it to get inside him.

Ian knows he'll regret it, but he clicks the banner. He's immediately directed to a casting room couch clip. The caption on the screen reads, 'Terry. Audition One.' So his stage name is Terry. Not the sexiest choice Ian has ever heard, but none of the Ball Kings have exorbitant stage names. Ian's porn alter ego is Curtis. It works. Milkovich gives a few answers to a few questions, the same ones V had asked him about his hair color, his piercings, his tats. He talks about loving bottoming, getting hard just thinking about having a fat sleek cock in his ass.

He shouldn't do it, but he clicks the link to his video when the interview is over. And there he is spread out on the couch with a dildo in his ass. He's biting his lips red and swollen. He's tweaking his nipples and his cock is hard and leaking where it lies untouched on his belly. He turns for the cam to get a better angle, getting up to his knees, bracing one hand on the wall behind the couch and sliding the glass dildo in and out, in and out. Slow drags that make him grunt, the muscles in his back flexing and releasing with his pleasure. His head drops, hanging down as his movement gets faster. His back dipping dangerously low to give the cam full view of his hole and his tight drawn up balls with the line of silver piercings like a trail begging to be licked.

Ian's cock twitches, grazing his zipper inside his pants and he doesn't even think twice about tugging down his fly, digging out his cock that should be spent after a full day of work but is quickly plumping to full hardness. The girth of it fills his hand, fingers barely closing around it. Sometimes in real life it's been a bitch to find a partner who can take him. That's part of the reason he ended up in porn as a career instead of just a passing phase. He did a few cheap films when he first moved out here, just to pay rent, telling himself he'd go to school once he had some cash and he'd start a career that was respectable. But when he met V after seeing her ad for recruiting, he thought this had the potential to be a respectable career and a fat pocketbook. After having the tour of Ball Kings studio he was sold. He figures if he saves right and if he lives within his means he can retire before he hits forty. And in the meantime have no-strings-attached sex with people who like fat, long cock.

Milkovich's performance is breathtaking. He wasn't lying about enjoying bottoming. The way he arches into it, and toys himself in earnest while still giving the camera a good view. His moans and grunts sound real and Ian wishes he could see his face as his rhythm and speed start picking up. His hole tightening in a telltale sign that he's close to orgasming. Ian's cock is already leaking cum down over his crown, he smears it with his thumb to slicken up his grip, sliding it down the shaft. He feels his mouth fall open when Milkovich cums onscreen. His gasps and choked breaths, the clenching of his hole as he pulls the toy out to show the camera that glorious opening. He never even touches his cock and there is jizz splattering the couch in front of him when he lets go of the toy to tug his rim open. To show the hot, wet interior of his hole.

"Fuck," Ian groans, spilling his seed out over his fist that quickly. He's a seasoned pro, sex is his job, stamina is his thing and all it took from this Milkovich was a three minute clip before he's cumming all over himself. That is talent. No wonder he's such a cocky prick with such a shitty attitude.

###

Friday by the time he figures he can ask Foxy about it. He snorts, sniffs out something about that bastard with a chip on his shoulder and dismisses Ian easily. So he goes to the next best option that isn't V.

"Yo Kev." He knocks on the doorjamb and waits for Kev to nod at him before he enters the office. Kev is on the phone, looking very confused about whatever is happening on the other end. So Ian busies himself wandering around the office, looking at pictures from last year's awards shows. It's a full week long celebration and he's never been. Judging by these photos everyone who is anyone goes at least for the Carpet events and the awards show. He doesn't pay attention to Kev's side of the conversation, only hearing enough to know that he's talking to someone about the lunch menus for the week.

By the time he hangs up Ian has craned his neck over the papers on the desk to see a file marked M Milkovich. Probably his contract. So they're in contract negotiation phase already and still haven't made an announcement to the lineup. Strange. He pretends he wasn't reading it when Kev looks up and says, "what can I do you for Gallagher?"

He used to be a bartender. And probably still is at heart. "It would take a lot to get to do me Kev," he responds as he slumps down in the chair.

"I don't know about that," he grins when he pulls a bottle of scotch out of his desk and wiggles it in Ian's face.

He nods to accept that drink and watches Kev pour it, cutting him off with a hand motion after a single shot, "gotta get home somehow."

"What the subway is for. Or a taxi."

"Solid point."

He pours more. And Ian accepts it more gratefully than he thought he would. He loosens him up with a few more drinks and an air of just being in here to chat and catch up, not actually having motive for coming in. When Kev's fingers graze over the file on his desk, Ian sees his opening.

"Got a new teammate?"

"Oh this one," he sounds equal parts proud and worried.

"Uh oh, that sounds complicated."

"It is. I think. He's good, he's got a video up that's already got more views in the first three days than the majority of our videos get in their first week. And after just one, he's got over a hundred subscribers. But he seems really high maintenance. Like, get this: he told us we weren't allowed to have a welcome party."

"What?" Ian wonders incredulously. The welcome party is a rite of passage. Eating a cock shaped cake and having testicle balloons cuffed to your wrists with frilly pink handcuffs while everyone hangs out in the meeting room in their thongs.

"Said he doesn't work with anyone. He'll take care of his own set up every time. He'll never use a partner. He just needs a cameraman who won't talk to him. And that's all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Oh is right," Kev downs the last of his drink. "I don't think I've ever been around someone so demanding and I'm married to V! So I know demanding. But there's something about him. V always says porn isn't necessarily about the body, the look of the subject but it's about confidence. And this guy oozes it."

Ian almost says he's got the most amazing ass he's ever seen and his cock is pretty fucking hot too. But he doesn't need Kev knowing he was already creeping on his coworker when he's trying to act like he knows nothing about him.

"Helps that he fills a void in the gay porn industry." Kev shrugs, "anyway, what can I do for you? I should probably wrap up here and get my drunk ass home."

"Oh yeah. That. I just wanted to see what was on schedule for next week."

Kev gestures vaguely in the direction of his top drawer and announces he has to drain the main vein so Ian can just lock up the office when he's done.

There's nothing on Ian's schedule that surprises him. He knows already he'll have two days to reshoot V's requested scenes with Jody. They'll have two days to look over the film and decide if they want to reshoot anything else and then on Friday they'll do any voice-overs that need to be done. Typically with V at the wheel these things go smoothly, the retakes are minimal since she runs such a tight ship on set. She can usually catch it immediately if something is off and fix it live before it even needs to be brought all the way around to reshoot. Fuck, she makes this easy. Though the longest scene he's ever shot is twenty minutes and he's sure if he ever did a full length it would take much more than two weeks start to finish.

He pulls back the first page of the Ball Kings schedule after scanning it over for Milkovich. He's not on the first or the second page. His name doesn't appear until two weeks out. Two weeks. That is a long time. And he's only booked for one day. How does he expect to keep the interest of his fans if he only posts when he feels like it? If he only works part time, not even part time?

Ian sighs, puts the schedule back in the desk and locks up behind himself when he leaves the building to head home to his nice, perfectly empty loft.

###

He eats his lean protein meal, does his nightly work out, and when he lies awake for twenty minutes without being able to fall asleep he pulls out his phone and tries to find any trail for Milkovich. The only Terry Milkovich he can find is on some dating site for over-fifty that looks more like a place to purchase a mail-order bride from Russia than a place to find love. If he could narrow his searching to a particular region it'd be different but there seem to be Milkoviches all over the place and quite a few of them begin with M. If he could figure out why he chose the name Terry. Ian clicks back into the Terry porn actor search and finds a few hits on a different porn site. Not the highest quality but not the worst either. There are twenty videos. Not a great library, but if he's just a beginner in the business which Ian strongly suspects, then it's not bad either. Judging by the thumbnails they are all solo. And judging by the thumbnails he's going to have to check these out, watch every single one of them. For research. Getting to know a new coworker is all. A new coworker who keeps to himself and probably will never join in the old water cooler gossip, not that that actually exists in a studio that films gay porn. The gossip yes, but water cooler gatherings, no.

Ian is two minutes into the first one, one where Milkovich is just fingering himself. Not a toy in sight. This was shot before his piercings but his smooth waxed skin looks delectable. Ian's cock is already filled, hard and yearning for touch. This would be embarrassing if anyone ever found out how quickly watching this guy fuck his fingers makes Ian cum.

###

Friday's filming is hard to make it through. He's tired, his dick is sore from all the jerking off he did. When he stifles a yawn while tightening Jody's nipple clamps, V asks him with zero amusement in her tone if he had a fun night last night.

"Ask your husband." He shoots back at her with a wink.

She rolls her eyes but announces, "scotch makes him frisky."

Ian snorts out a laugh, sure he can blame it on the scotch too. He had some scotch with Kev, picked up a hot date off grindr and fucked late into the night. That's the real reason his dick is chafed and he can barely keep his eyes open, much less focus on the spread in front of him. Every time he blinks it's Milkovich and his hot ass in Ian's eyelids. Fuck, he needs to lay off. There's no use in becoming a fanboy for some cocky asshole who can't even be a team player. He needs to go out tonight, mingle with some single men and get this guy off his mind.

Easier said than done when he walks in his favorite club at the end of the day and the first person his eyes land on is a stocky brunette with piercing eyes and a cocky smirk on his face.

Chapter Text

Ian pretends he didn't see the guy, and the guy probably wouldn't recognize him as a coworker if he did recognize him at all. He slides to the opposite side of the horseshoe bare, a place where he can keep his eyes on Milkovich but not be creeping on him. He knows a few of the people seated here already so it's easy to fit in. This place isn't a gay bar but it's queer friendly with trans nights, drag nights, lesbian nights, and gay nights. The typical Friday night is just a mixed bag of everything. It's the kind of crowd that Ian likes. He can blend in a little, but stick out a little at the same time. He can find a hook-up if he wants, or a group of friends, he can find a straight girl who just wants to chat it up with the token queer. It's no difference to him as long as the atmosphere is happy and friendly then he'll have fun. It's his night off, he earned it, he always earns it. He doesn't drink often, hating the way it makes him feel bloated the day after, knowing full well that he has to keep his body fit for the course of his career. A big cock will only get a person so far, people want to watch high quality porn they want good looking, fit actors.

His eyes trail over the bar, across the where Milkovich is sitting with some girl and two guys. Maybe that's why he solos, he's actually straight. No. There's no way a guy who likes ass play that much is straight. Trying to keep his eyes slightly averted, he can hear some of their words through the din of the crowd. They seem to be having a good time. The longer the night drags on, the more people join them and the louder their group gets. It looks like the old parties Ian is used to from the Southside. And fuck he wants to go over there. Every time he hears Milkovich laugh his ears perk up and his heart thuds. His palms are beginning to sweat even around his cold beer with every glance he allows himself over there, trying like hell not to get caught looking. By the time midnight rolls around, he is surrounded by flirty guys who clearly are trying their best to take him home and he is brushing every single one of them off.

Ian can't pay attention to the group he's with, their words and conversations just sort of dancing around him. One of his buddies nudges him at one point and asks if he's feeling alright since he's been so quiet all evening. The bartender calls him out on staring holes through the hottie across the bar. But he can't even bring himself to get offended. It's the damn truth. If he has one more beer he'll get up and go over there, ask him to dance. Ian is good at dancing, at speaking with his body the things he can't quite find with his words. He can show Milkovich how he can work his hips, how he can work with a partner, how he could fuck him if he'd let him. But by the time he's finished with his beer Milkovich is making his way through the crowd with the dark-haired girl on his arm. Fuck. They look so alike, they either have to be related or he's so into his own looks that he found a girlfriend who looks just like him. Neither one would surprise Ian at this point.

At the door, Ian swears he throws a smirk over his shoulder directly at Ian. It sends his stomach into a frenzy of butterflies and he can barely finish his drink before he's headed back home to scour the internet for more videos.

###

He hits the jackpot after about an hour of searching tonight. Finding a grainy, kind of old looking video, probably uploaded directly from a phone. Pre-piercings, pre-tats he looks pretty damn young but still over eighteen. So Ian feels no guilt in watching. And watch he does. A set of anal beads that would make a seasoned porn actor blush. A few expressions towards the camera like he's daring anyone watching to bend him over and fuck him proper. It only takes two of the beads passing his rim before Ian is leaking into his hand, he releases his hold, wanting this to last, wanting to tease himself all through the video no matter the length. He wants to cum with Milkovich, he wants to release when his hole is shuddering with his orgasm, he wants to be able to have the full view while he fantasizes over having his cock buried deep through that ringed muscle, well beyond the pink, into the red, and swallowed to the depths of him.

###

He wakes up on Saturday morning feeling ashamed of himself for jerking off once again to a coworker. Not that he's never done that in the past - it was V who told him to scour the site when she first hired him, see which faces, which bodies, which kinks he preferred and she'd pair him appropriately. So he spent the weekend before his first day in the studio searching for a hole he thought could take him, would ride him, would get him hard even if he wasn't completely in the mood when he walked in the door. He knew for his first shoot, with the cameras and the extra people around he'd need someone he was turned the fuck on by, someone he'd get hard for, someone he'd feel comfortable with that wouldn't be trying to tie him down or asking him to piss on them. He has nothing against kinks, any kinks, everyone has a different one. He just wasn't ready for that kind of stuff in the beginning. Sure, now he's done some things he never dreamed of doing, and he'll be the first to admit that some of them turned him on in ways he didn't think possible. So even if his usual speed is vanilla, that doesn't mean he doesn't have a wild streak that he likes to tap into from time to time. It's a well-rounded porn star that is going to get the most subscribers and after two years he's nearly to two thousand. A platform that few make it to in such a short time.

He goes for his morning run through Central Park. Stopping in a clearing to stretch when he's finished and like the universe is plotting against him, he sees the girl that was with Milkovich last night in a group of yoga people. He takes a moment when she's unguarded to look her over, the lines of her body and the color of her hair, her skin, her sharp clear eyes when they dart over his direction when she feels eyes on her. And yeah, he'd recognize that smirk anywhere. Between the coloring and the expressions, this is definitely the guy's sister, not his girlfriend. Relief settles over his shoulders and he chastises himself for thinking about his coworker that way. Again. Peeling his eyes off her when he feels a presence near him. Looming over him actually.

He cranes his head to see who is blocking the late Autumn sun from his place on the grass.

"You stalking me big red?" His eyes are shielded with sunglasses, his mouth is pursed in annoyance and he's dressed in work-out clothes.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Ian grins at him. Easy and charming even if he feels anything but. "I suddenly seem to be bumping into you when I'm just out and about doing my usual routine."

"Does your usual routine include staring at my sister?"

Thank fuck it's his sister. Ian nearly gets up to do a dance for joy at hearing that. Instead he plays it cool, "how do you know it was her? Maybe I was looking at the lady next to her with the hairy armpits."

Milkovich snorts, "sure. Right."

A moment of quiet passes between them before Ian wonders, "so you're the new guy?"

He chews his lip for awhile, and even if Ian can't see his eyes, he knows he's being examined thoroughly. "Yeah I guess so."

"Ian." Remembering how he reacted to his handshake offer the other day, he decides against offering his hand this time and gestures toward himself instead.

"Mickey." He half-smirks at Ian's gesturing, but he must decide he appreciates the lack of handshaking offer so instead keeps his mouth shut.

"You live around here?"

He cocks his head towards the general vicinity of Ian's building. "Sister and I signed a lease last week. One bedroom that we probably can't afford, but figure fuck it. You only life once, right?" There's almost a smile rising on his lips and Ian thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He feels himself returning the expression and agreeing, "rent around here is insane but if you got the job," he doesn't say the name of the company, thinking that some people are a little more private about their line of work than Ian is. Maybe his own sister doesn't even know what he does for money. "Then you'll be getting a decent paycheck in no time. They treat their employees right. As long as you put in the work," he adds as an afterthought, when he remembers the guy's light schedule. Mickey, he reminds himself, the guy's name is Mickey.

He grunts a response that Ian doesn't bother trying to decipher. By the time his sister is done with her class the chit-chat seems companionable. He introduces her as Mandy, she reaches for Ian's hand and starts peppering him with questions about the neighborhood. By the time he leaves he at least has her number and he didn't miss the half-cocked brow on Mickey's face when he was typing his into her phone. A half-cocked brow could mean anything, but he gets the firm impression it means that if the two of them are going to be friends then he better keep what he knows about Mickey to his damn self or he'll end up gutted and left for dead on the street corner.

###

Sunday he offers to meet Mandy for lunch and show her around the neighborhood some. She seems more laid back and easier to chat with than Mickey. She lets him in on a little background info on the guy that Ian can't get out of his head. Mickey moved to New York about a month ago after Mandy broke up with her boyfriend and felt alone in the big city, but didn't want to go back home to LA either. Mickey came out to visit to ease the break-up transition and just ended up staying.

Mandy has some kind of corporate job that's low enough level she's basically someone's assistant right now but she plans to work her way up and just deal with shitty money and being a coffee bitch, at least it's a foot in the door. And that is the attitude that Ian wishes Lip would have.

"Mickey is still looking for something, but he had some luck at an interview last week." She divulges, "a broadcasting company. Part time."

"Broadcasting, hmm?" He supposes it's only a partial lie, but that just confirms what he had thought about Mickey being private about his career choice.

"It's a start." She shrugs, "so what do you do?"

And this is where he has to test out the room. Typically people his own age are more willing to see it for what it is: a job. A good paying job. But then there's the churchy types who think he'll burn in hell for fucking for money. And there's the plain old prudes who think he's a walking STI. When in all reality they get tested so often at Ball Kings that he has a way higher chance of getting an infection from a one-night-stand, or a weeklong hook-up, or even a relationship than he does from work.

There's also the awkwardness when someone recognizes him, and they can't figure out why and then it's the 'oh do you work at the coffee shop on ninth?' or 'maybe the whole foods?' or such and such cafe. Depending on where and who is around he likes to see the reaction when he tells them it's porn actually that they recognize him from.

Judging by her personality so far he has no reason to be bashful about his career so he just admits it. "I work in porn actually."

"Really?" Mandy wonders without judgment in her tone, "what's that like?"

"Gay porn to be precise. It's not bad, really. I work for Ball Kings, they're a really great company. If you get into a shitty company or a sleazy set or have a degrading producer it can be a horrible job choice, but I really lucked out honestly. Place I work is clean, professional, and the pay is really good."

"No shit?" Mandy is smiling brilliantly like she just discovered the answer to all her life's desires. "Tell me more," she urges, "if you are comfortable with that, I mean."

"Oh sure," Ian agrees and finds himself talking about his line of work more openly than he has in a long time to anyone other than his coworkers. She doesn't ask any of the nosy, inappropriate questions that a lot of people do. She seems more interested in the filming aspect, how they produce it, how long it takes to film, what kind of requirements it takes to get behind a camera. He gets the sense that she's asking on behalf of her brother, like maybe he's got a dream of producing. That would explain things about Milkovich. Getting his foot in the door by being on film, knowing he's got the body, attitude, and insatiable look when he's got a dildo in his ass that works perfectly for solo work. Doing solo work to avoid getting into any kind of partner type relationship or having any other actors relying on him when he makes his move to get behind the cam. Also, filming his own stuff is a pretty good indicator of his aspirations. Smart moves.

Ian also gets it, the whole keeping it from the family thing. He didn't tell Fi right away. Knowing she'd have some concerns about it and he wouldn't blame her for it, she's practically his mother she should have concerns for him. So he waited until he had felt out the scene, knew more about V and Kev, knew more about the sets and how they were run. He waited until he could tell her with certainty that he was being treated well and he wasn't pressured into a thing.

Mickey's secret is safe with him. And maybe he can talk him into dinner sometime by using the information he's gathered here from his sister, after all Ian does already have plenty of working knowledge of how Ball Kings is run. He'd have to broach the subject of his shitty attitude with him somehow in a constructive manner. Dating a coworker is probably a horrible idea. And clearly this guy has some boundaries that need to be respected that Ian is not used to. But he's pretty damn certain he'd do just about anything to get Mickey to spend some time with him, he'd most likely be walking around with a half-hard cock if he ever did get to spend any time alone with him but it would be worth it.

Chapter Text

The remainder of Sunday is easy. It's such a routine day that Ian can be on autopilot for it. He has to work out a little bit extra to burn off the drinks he had on Friday, and the restaurant meal he had with Mandy but that's no big deal. He enjoys working out. Then it's time to fill out the planner, prep himself mentally for the work week, prep his meals and FaceTime with Fi. Usually the entire family. And it never takes long before the phone is just set on the table and he's resigned to watching them go about their typical hectic Gallagher business and occasionally shout something at him on their way by. He doesn't mind it, it's like it was at home. Everyone knowing he's there by his presence but being the typically overlooked middle child he's used to it. But he thrives in the chaos and strangely enough it's when he has some of his best ideas for how he's going to play out his next scene.

Monday goes as expected. It's at the end of his workday on his way out of the locker room that he hears it, that gruff voice that's unmistakable. It's coming from Kev's office. He must be here to sign his contract. Ian decides to be that creeper that stands outside the door, leaning all nonchalantly against the wall beside the door so he can just so happen to see Mickey when he leaves. It doesn't take a whole lot of waiting, he's pretty sure there wouldn't be much to a contract for a guy who solos only. He's probably not even held to the same testing standards as everyone else. It grates on ian's nerves that he's so insistent on solo acts. What he'd give to pleasure that hole raw.

The door swings open with the rough nature that the guy exudes. He stops directly past the door and lights a cig. Something he hasn't see him do yet and he certainly doesn't smell like smoke.

"You smoke?" It's out of his mouth before he can process how stupid of an opener that is.

Mickey snorts, his entire facade when he's here is so much different than what Ian saw when it was just them the other day at the park, or that flirty guy at the bar from Friday night. He nearly tells him he can drop the act now, he's out of the building and he has no need to impress Ian. The way he carries himself exudes cockiness and sex appeal. Fuck, Ian is not sure which one he is more turned on by: this guy who is practically daring everyone who looks at him to fuck him, or the playful guy he witnessed on Friday, or the polite small-talker from the park.

"Still stalking me?"

"Looks like it," Ian agrees shamelessly.

Mickey takes off down the stairs like he's on some kind of schedule, attempting to dismiss the conversation but Ian isn't going to just let him walk away. He can grunt at him through his cig sucking mouth that Ian would kill to see wrapped around his dick, all he wants. Ian is not easily dissuaded.

"So since we live in the same general area I would assume we're going to be seeing a lot of each other. And we work in the same building. So on the not so off chance that I'll be seeing your sister as well, I just want to be clear. She doesn't know it's porn, does she?"

"No." He answers unaffectedly and blows a puff of smoke skyward when he comes to a halt at a crosswalk. It's kind of a busy corner so the people bustling past him are something he braces himself for.

"How would you feel about grabbing dinner sometime?"

His head snaps in Ian's direction, glaring for a long moment while he sucks in his cheeks. "Like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date. Or, a you know, getting to know each other since we keep bumping into each other."

"Pretty sure dating coworkers is a pretty horrible fucking idea red."

"You work solo, so it's not like it matters when you think about it." Ian shrugs, then wants to kick himself for it when Mickey's brows rise because he knows he never told him that. "Or that's what I heard anyway. And since you were setting up last week alone, I just kind of assumed."

His brows drop slightly and he shakes his head. "I don't date."

"Coworkers?"

"Anyone. I work solo. I'd live solo if I could afford it. I'm just a solo kind of guy Curtis," he smirks at the name. So he must have watched something of Ian's if he knows his stage name. Okay, so they can blame this all on research. Knowing they've watched each other's videos. Pretending they didn't.

He can take a brush-off as far as the date is concerned, but he can't handle not knowing more about this guy. "What about a work-out partner?"

"For what?"

"Working out? You know, like we can run together in Central Park, or lift together or whatever. Keep each other honest, motivate each other."

"That sounds real fucking horrible."

Ian snorts, "I'm a great work-out partner I'll have you know."

Now he side eyes him and there's still a layer of that cocky stage persona, but there's also something soft in his eyes when they meet Ian's. He seems skeptical, and decides to not trust Ian. "Fuck that shit, I do just fine by myself. Do I look like someone who can't keep myself honest on my workout schedule?"

"No, I'm just saying it's nice to have a partner sometimes, and it's safer really to be out running with a second person."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm not saying you can't. Just saying, you know, safety in numbers or something."

"Whatever Curtis," the grin is sly when he stomps out his cig butt on the sidewalk and jerks his head in the opposite direction of where Ian's loft is. "This is where we part ways."

This is the most frustrating a person has ever been, Ian is pretty damn sure. "Okay, see you around at work or something."

"Work," he snorts and Ian wills his mind not to wander to the image of his fingers sliding in and out, in and out of his slicked up hole. Especially when he turns on his heel to head down the street, with a middle finger thrown over his shoulder.

"Asshole," Ian mutters. The next three blocks home he has to remind himself that he's just a coworker, just like any other coworker some of which are awful and insufferable, some of which are friends, easy to talk to and fun to fuck. And when he gets home he has to convince himself that he doesn't need to do anymore research on the new guy. He finds it strange however that when he lies down for bed it's still the image of Mickey's blissed out face when he cums around a fat anal bead that haunts his fantasies.

###

By Friday the talk inside the locker room is of the new guy with the chip on his shoulder. None of them have met him, except for Damon. He bumped into him in the hallway but doesn't have much to say about him other than, "I hear his second video grabbed two hundred more subscribers. He's going to hit a thousand by the end of the month at this rate."

"I don't see what's so special about him," Chester admits.

Ian turns his back on his locker, sitting on the bench to pull on his socks and shoes. He's not going to contribute to this conversation. He's just going to listen.

"Oh please." Cox flicks his wrist towards both of them as he pulls his phone out of his bag. He's got the latest video up quickly (one that Ian has not seen yet. He's been forcing himself not to think about him, not to research him, not to jerk off to him). "That ass," Cox sighs, puts a hand over his bare chest, "makes even a pillow princess like me want to top."

Ian can't see the screen from where he's sitting, but he hears the grunted moan that echoes out of the speakers and his dick immediately begins to fill. Adjusting himself in his pants and hurrying through the rest of the dressing process while the other three gather around Cox's phone to review the performance. There are a few comments at first, about lighting and filming being great, about angles being perfect. There's a gasp from Cox and something muttered about the toy he's about to use. When another guttural moan exits the speaker, Ian throws his bag over his shoulder and hustles out the door without so much as a goodbye. He has to get out of here, get home and check out this video in private. He has to know what his coworkers are talking about, what it is about Mickey that's so engaging on screen. At least that's what he tells himself.

He doesn't check his phone, barely makes it though the door and into his bedroom to pull up his laptop before his dick is already full hard in his pants, yearning for the image of Mickey with his hole stretched on screen. Jerking out of his clothing as Mickey on screen is smirking his way through the pages of a Ball Kings mag. They don't sell many, but they still print them quarterly, they also sell a yearly calendar for those patrons that prefer pages with their porn. Ian already did this year's shoot for the calendar but his shoot for the next periodical is scheduled for the coming week. He's back with Owen for that. They'll be posing in various positions for their holiday themed spread.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is the image of Mickey biting his lower lip as his dick swells and he wraps his fingers around it to tug it to full hardness. Spreading his legs where he's laid out on the bed for this scene. Showing the shadows of his hole when he cups his balls. Those silver rings like a ladder to the promised land gleaming with lube already. Ian licks his lips and settles in with his cock in his hand.

'You want to top me Daddy?' Mickey purrs at the mag he has open against his thighs. Having drawn his knees towards his chest, both hands taking hold of his asscheeks, spreading them to show the camera his slicked up and half-prepped hole. He starts by sinking his index fingers past his rim, sliding slowly in and out, in and out. His knuckles glossy with lube. His bottom lip pinched tight between his teeth as he eyes the mag, then flicks his gaze towards the cam.

'You want to get on me?' He asks the cam. Setting aside the mag to draw his legs up to his shoulders, giving the full view of his hole as he sinks index and middle fingers from both hands into his ass. Fuck it's hot. That stretch from four fingers, the in and outs. It's almost too much already and he hasn't even touched the dildo sitting beside him. Ian watches his dark pink balls draw up, tight and ready to cum just as Mickey draws his fingers out.

'I bet you do.' The corner of his lips twitch, his eyes are lust blown already and he's half-wrecked just from fingering himself. Ian could only imagine what tonguing him out would do. He pulls his cheeks open to show the cam his clenching hole. Ian wants to feel that, to put his fingers, his tongue, his cock inside that darkness and feel that pink ring clench around him until they're both cumming.

'How about you just watch instead?' He turns to his knees, bows his back and puts the dildo between his thighs. He rubs the dildo between them a few times, where he's pressed them together, sliding the lube up and down the shaft, leaving it trailing across his pale skin. His left hand reaches back over his hip, fingers toying at his rim again before he slaps it and moans a hot and dirty moan. Pads of his fingers slapping down on his hole again and again. Dirty moans and garbled whines as his body writhes, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he puffs up his hole for the cam. When he spreads his thighs Ian imagines himself there, holding his hips, hands digging into his muscles and bones through his skin. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from cumming hard and quick now. Waiting until Mickey has the dildo lined up to his hole. Clenching and yearning to be filled, he teases himself with the rounded head of it. It's on the large side of average but not as fat as Ian's cock. He keens when he presses the head of it through his rim then pulls it back out again quickly, showing off his clench again. Fuck that is hot. His free hand is slapping at his hole again, puffing it back up nicely.

Ian's dick is leaking precum all down his slit, over his crown and he knows he won't last though the end of this video but the release is sweet as Mickey pushes the dildo past his rim again, this time with a quick swoop into his hole until it's buried to the base. His hand releasing it as his hole clenches and spasms around it, holding it, sucking it in and then pushing it out partway. He doesn't release it though, his hand there to push it back in with another dirty moan that goes straight to Ian's cock that's twitching in his grip, coming down from orgasm. His jizz hot on his thigh where a few drops have landed.

He takes a deep breath, lets the blur and white heat of orgasm recede as the video plays on but he forces himself not to look. He has to stop this. He cannot obsess over a coworker who has already made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with him. Or anyone as far as he can tell.

Chapter Text

The spread shoots are so fucking simple. Owen might not be Ian's type as far as boyfriend material is concerned, but damn he makes fucking so easy it's hard not to love being balls deep inside him.

The video with Jody made last week's top five when it dropped. No surprise there. And when the photo shoot for the mag is over it's time for the Ball Kings holiday party before they go on a four week break. They'll come back from the break in time to shoot a Valentine themed film, edit it, and reshoot scenes before it'll be time for the Cocksuckers with a free week in Vegas to take part in Porn Week. Some stars participate in live showings - basically just fucking in front of a group of people who paid good money to watch it. Some stars are willing to partake in paid orgies. Ian is not going to do any of that in his first year at the event. He's going to take a backstage pass and watch some of the shows, he's going to do some shopping and mingling with high powered producers. Not that he ever wants to leave Ball Kings but some of the most well known porn stars come out of a studio in LA and he'd love to get their take on certain career aspects.

He has made it his goal to stop snooping into Mickey's videos, to stop looking for him, or making himself seem available in any way when they do bump into each other at work. He heard through locker room echoes that he's got another two hundred or so subscribers and a VIP requesting him for parties already. It took Ian six months before he had any VIP requests. He has no idea what that means for a solo bottom, maybe this particular VIP just wants to put him on stage to masturbate. Ian's first experience at a VIP party was at a sex club upstate. It's not prostitution when it's porn stars fucking other porn stars in the walls of a mansion where some rich swinger or playboy hires them to put his other guests at ease by breaking the ice and getting the party started. And it's good money.

Either way, he has not watched Mickey's latest video. Even if he overheard Foxy telling V that it was their top debut of the entire year. In it's first night getting more hits than any other video on the entire Ball Kings site.

It's fucking on now. Ian doesn't give a shit how hot this cocky jerk is, you can't just walk into a studio and beat out the veterans in your third week. Fuck that shit. He must be boosting his total somehow. Ian needs to step up his game, maybe throw some income into advertisement or get more active on social media. It's all about marketing in today's world anyway.

He pitches the idea of a podcast to Kev and V one night after-hours. A breaking the fourth wall kind of thing. Just porn actors hanging out with other porn actors talking about their favorite scenes, their most memorable moments, and the high of fucking on camera. Ian can easily get something up and running with Lip's help over holiday break. With V's blessing, he does. And he starts by having V herself sit in on a chat, discussing why she chose to film porn, how she got her business up and running from scratch. It's easy to fall into a chummy chatter with her, by the end of the half hour they've both talked about their personal experiences in the industry, loosened the potential audience up with some laughter and engaged them with the story of an inner city black woman making her way professionally through an industry that is typically a white man's game. And the story of an inner city gay kid who never felt like he had good queer guidance in life, finding his niche by filming porn. Maybe not exactly typical role model material but they're both here of their free will and their want to succeed in the industry that they both love.

They launch the podcast the week before the Cocksuckers, Ian's plan is to air the second one - and interview with Owen - the week of the Valentine's specials. It'll pair well with their scene. A scene that has Ian sliding heart shaped anal beads in Owen's tight ass with rose petals on the bed and champagne chilling on the nightstand. It's easy to lose himself in it, as any actor gets lost in their work from time to time, easy to play the domestic lovemaking scene out like he truly does have feelings for Owen. Treating his hole with tenderness as he plunges the last heart shaped bead past his rim, watching his hungry hole swallow it up with a greediness reserved for pure bottoms.

He pushes up gently on the handle, letting the bottom curve of the heart slip out just a little, stretching his rim and showing how much he can take as he twitches and shudders, letting out a moan of pure bliss. Ian pushes it back in as far as the handle, and tells him, "now keep that ass nice and loose for me," as he slides a hand up his thigh, fingering his balls and reaching around to tug his hard cock. He leaves Owen on the bed, on his hands and knees as is scripted, to fuck himself with the beads while Ian is off screen.

He takes the moment to watch, to tease his cock and immerse himself in the moment. Even if his mind is wandering to what Milkovich might have planned for a Valentine scene. How he'd be able to make a solo act appealing to the people watching alone on such sacred of days for happy couples. If you ask Ian, he'd tell you the holiday is a crock of shit, but he has to act it out like it's the most romantic thing he could do with his onscreen partner so he doesn't let his mind wander to how he'll be spending the actual day in Vegas either winning or losing a Cocksucker, rubbing elbows with big names in the industry, and generally not giving a shit that he's single.

When Owen has the wand going at rhythmic motions, in and out, in and out, his head hanging low and his back bowed like he's near cumming, is when Ian has to step back into the scene and remind him, "no fair cumming first," taking the handle from his grip and removing the beads from his ass. Tossing the toy aside to plant both hands on his cheeks and show the camera his clenching and shuddering hole. Dark muscular ring giving way to pink insides that Ian holds open just long enough for his own cock to start twitching at the sight before he leans in to rim him. Rimming on camera isn't exactly easy, it's hard to get an angle that's both satisfying for the partner and has good visibility for the cam. Getting a good view on it typically means pulling back often, which is not something Ian likes to do in real life. In real life, he likes to rim the hell out of his partner until they're cumming, spurting hot jizz all over the sheets and clenching around his tongue.

He slips a finger past Owen's rim, rubs at his prostate for a few strokes and then slips another to scissor him. He moans - one that Ian knows is real - and Ian feels himself smile smugly. There's a certain amount of pride in knowing you've accomplished true pleasure for your partner, enough pleasure that they've given in, forgotten about the cams and the lights. He leans forward to slip his tongue in between his fingers. Reaching with his free hand for the table, where the bottle of champagne is waiting to be popped. Pulling back his fingers from Owen's insides, working his tongue around his rim as he feels blindly for the bottle, popping it open while Owen situates himself to take the spray to his back. Letting it trickle down his spine and into Ian's waiting mouth. Champagne, flavored lube, and a hot wet hole it's enough to have his cock leaking precum as he suckles around Owen's rim for every last drop of champagne, feeling him arch against his face as he tips the bottle and pours himself another drink from the fountain of Owen's back before he draws himself away to pour Owen a glass.

Owen is all smiles as he repositions to lounge back on the bedding and accept his drink. When it's cut for the night Ian props his head back, taking the last drink from the bottle with a sigh, "we sharing a room in Vegas?"

"I got me a plus one baby, sorry," Owen shrugs.

"That sorry doesn't sound too sincere." Ian grins, poking at him with his elbow. "But tell me more. Meet him on holiday break?"

Owen rolls his brown eyes with a fondness reserved for friendship in them when he responds, "please, you really think I'm that cheap that I'd bring some guy I just met along to Porn Week in Vegas? Just so I could have a hot guy on my arm when I accept my award for Best Bottom?" He winks at him with a sly smile, proving that is exactly what he's doing.

"Ouch, so you're saying I'm not hot enough to be your pretend boyfriend? But I am hot enough to be your onscreen lover?" Ian teases right back.

"That is exactly what I'm saying," he grins, pats Ian's knee and rolls off the bed with a sigh and stretch. "Ask V who hasn't roomed up yet, or splurge and get yourself some swaggy suite, let your hair down and bring home some skanky boys to throw that fat cock at. What happens in Vegas..."

"Burns when you piss for days after," Ian finishes for him. He fucks for a living, hooking up with random strangers doesn't really appeal to him. But neither does going stag to the Cocksuckers. When he thinks about the rest of the Ball Kings, and having to spend the entire week with any of them, sharing a room, then splurging on a suite doesn't sound like a bad idea.

###

Ian hunts down V the following day to see if she's got any rooming plans for any of the single guys. She's got a block of rooms reserved, but most everyone either has a plus one or is paired off already. She's got one guy though. "A new guy, he's not nominated but he's going for the press and we'd be idiots not to shine a spotlight on our new star. Maybe you've met him. Milkovich," she tells him as she hustles down the hallway towards her office.

"Milkovich," Ian responds, trying to keep his voice neutral and act like he's never heard of him, never spoken to him, never masturbated to his videos. "We have a new guy and you didn't bother announcing it or having a welcome party?"

"He didn't want one." She pulls the door open and ushers him inside, "I can see if there's another room in the block we reserved, or you can get a hold of Mick and see if he's up for sharing, split the bill."

"He seem like a sharer?"

"No. But he seems like someone who isn't an extravagant spender." V answers honestly, scrolling through her contacts list for a moment, scribbling his number on a piece of paper and handing it over. "Now go get ready for your scene, you've got a long day of fucking today and a podcast to prepare." she reminds him as she jerks her head towards the door motioning that he get moving.

"Yes ma'am," Ian responds, saluting her just to have her scoff in return.

###

"Milkovich, huh," Ian wonders towards his dinner as he thumbs the card with the guy's number on it, "what are the chances?" He nearly feels like he should call Mandy first and see what her thoughts are on the two of them possibly sharing a room at a porn convention in Vegas. But since he knows she's out of the whole porn loop with her brother then he'd have to know what Mickey was telling her he was going to Vegas for before he could talk to her about it. Also, she has no idea they work together so it'd be way too risky to pump her for information. So it's either call Mickey and tell him it was V's idea. Or just call the hotel and see how much a suite would be.

Chapter Text

He chickens the fuck out is what he does. He doesn't call Milkovich and he doesn't call the hotel. He's working on the assumption that he'll check in and there will be one room left in the reserved block and he'll either have already been paired up with Mickey through V's doings or he'll be rooming alone. He supposes that the inappropriate crush he's been harboring for his coworker would make it better if he was alone, but the part of him that throbs with red hot want for Mickey's everything is really hoping for a roommate during the trip.

It only makes it worse that they're sitting in proximity to one another on the flight. The flight rented for Ball Kings only so it's a party on a plane and barely anyone is staying in their designated seat so it's not like it matters except that Mickey is mostly keeping to himself, headphones on, laptop on the tray in front of him. Ian chances a few glances over his way and looks away before he can make eye contact, he has no desire to get busted staring. It's Chester with his attention whoring ways that decides to try making nice with the loner partway through the flight. Sitting down next to him with a glass of wine and pursed lips, flitting his hand over the laptop screen. Ian can't hear what he says over the music, but it's enough to make Milkovich take off his headphones and accept the wine. It takes about two minutes before Micky smiles and lets out a laugh that rises over the thump of the base, making Ian's chest feel too tight and a chill run down his spine. He closes his eyes to savor the sound, thinking it probably doesn't happen that often, or at least not when he's in his Terry persona.

He doesn't dare get closer to them, but by the time they are about an hour away from landing, Chester has Mickey loosened up and chatting with a handful of other Ball Kings. They're smiling and laughing and Ian can't help but look.

###

The party bus that takes them from the hotel to the resort is brilliant, male strippers on board to get everyone's blood flowing in the right direction before they have to make their entrance at the convention. Kev insists that everyone get up and dance, or just generally move to shake some of the bloat out that happens with travel. He wants as many of them shirtless as possible. It's Vegas, and porn convention week, shirtlessness is expected. Ian doesn't mind it. He's never been much of one for modesty.

He's got quite a wine buzz going by the time they enter the resort, but he's certain he's not the only one. They're expected to bring the party after all. V checks them all in and ushers their bags away with a bellman while Kev leads the crew straight to the night club where the party is already in full swing. There's another production company here already, and a lot of guests with their VIP lanyards. Ian has no qualms about it when he gets steered to the stage by Kev, he did strip for awhile when he first got to New York, so he's no stranger to that either. It doesn't slip his attention that Milkovich watches his dance. He might even play it up a little, extra hip jives and pelvis thrusts in his general direction. He's nearly certain the guy is blushing by the time Ian steps off the stage - much to the dismay of the crowd - promising he'll be back for another dance soon.

The rest of the night is basically a blur of naked torsos, bare legs, and sweaty bodies writhing on the dancefloor. Ian makes certain to keep Milkovich in his sights, taking note of the way alcohol seems to loosen him into that flirty guy he witnessed him being in the bar that one night. It prickles jealousy up his spine when he notices him turning on the flirt with a VIP who is very eager to talk to him and buy him drinks. But Ian doesn't let it dictate his actions, even if he places himself within hearing range. That's what fellow coworkers do for each other in this industry. Being a stripper, or a porn star, or even a prostitute for that matter doesn't make it okay for any random person to just touch you whenever they want; but a lot of people seem to think that if you sell your body on any level then it's up for grabs.

The VIP turns out to be harmless, just some lonely middle aged guy who wants to chat for the most part. Of course it probably helps that Mickey is shirtless and it's easy to see he's cut as fuck and is probably no stranger to fist fights. Ian finds that hot as fuck. The way he looks like he could hand out a beatdown without batting an eye over it.

Ian would rather stay down here and party the night away but V and Kev have enacted a curfew for the first few nights so that no one over parties right away and spends the rest of the week looking haggard and unattractive. So by two in the morning they're all riding the elevators up to the top floors, V doling out the room keys for the guys and their plus-one's or their fellow Ball King roommates. Ian holds his breath when she gets to him and jerks her head towards Milkovich, announcing that since they are the stragglers of the group that didn't bother getting their own rooms or bring dates, they'll be stuck together unless one of them wants to drop a few grand to upgrade.

Ian snickers at luck or fate or V, whoever put them together for the week. Mickey snags his key, looks Ian up and down without trying to hide it and then jerks his head towards the hallway that their room is down. Ian has a hard time containing his reaction, acting nonchalant about it all. If he acted the way he wanted to, he'd be cheering loud enough for the entire floor to hear him and since it's down to just the three of them here it would be pretty damn inappropriate to call attention to them. And just because he's still got his cocky Terry persona on, doesn't mean it means anything once the room door is closed.

"Alright," Mickey stands just inside the doorway eyeing the gorgeous high roller suite overlooking the strip with a kitchenette, a king bed, and a pull-out couch, a bigscreen and a sitting area. "Ground rules. You bring home a lay you let me know, I don't wanna walk in on that shit. Bed is mine. Couch is yours. The tv plays no porn. I sleep until noon. If you wake me up before then I'll kick your ass." With a very menacing look thrown over his shoulder, he's disappearing into the bedroom. Shortly there after, Ian's suitcase gets tossed out into the sitting room and the bedroom door slams.

"Fuck you if you think I'm going to sleep on the couch," he mutters to himself more than anything. Honestly he's so fucking tired he's pretty sure he'd crash just fine on the tile floor and it's not like he was actually expecting this guy to fuck him. Or even talk to him really. It's late. So for tonight, he'll let that go. But tomorrow at noon sharp, he's going to have to talk to this guy. And if he can't negotiate then he'll be the one dropping a few more k's to upgrade his room because Ian is not spending more money just because his roommate is a stubborn, private, uptight asshole.

###

Fuck noon. And fuck ground rules. Ian wakes with a kinked neck and sore back, goes down to do his workout anyway and gulps down a protein shake for breakfast before storming back to the room with annoyance still filling him when he sees the bedroom door shut tight. So he does the mature thing. Cranks up the music, bangs around in the living area and then sings in the shower. It doesn't take that long, really, before Mickey is barging into the bathroom with a scowl on his face that Ian can't help but think is sexy. He glares at Ian through the clear glass shower panes as he pisses. Ian puts on a show for him. Shrugging at him like he has no idea why he's receiving a death glare right now before he gets back to sensuously soaping up his body. He turns his profile on where Mickey is still standing, but still makes a show of soaping up his junk. Knowing when to pull back so he doesn't get a hard on when the hottest guy he's ever been around is still in the vicinity.

He hears Mickey eventually snort over the sound of the water and hit the room with a door slam that rattles the hinges. Ian can't help the smug look that's plastered on his face, it's still there when he walks out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, calling out a, "good morning," to his roommate who is scowling at the coffee pot as it brews. Mickey responds with a middle finger and Ian nearly tells him he's too pretty to have permanent frown lines so he might want to start smiling more.

Since he has no bedroom, he drops his towel in the middle of the room. Oils up his body with the stuff that Kev suggested for today's activities. He can feel Mickey's gaze on him, burning holes through him. Exactly what he wanted. He just hopes he's controlling the flush he can feel beginning to rise under his scrutiny. When he shifts his gaze to look over his shoulder at Mickey, those blue orbs dart away for a moment before his entire persona shifts and he puts on that thing that Ian has come to know as Terry. That cocky smirk as his eyes drive back over to Ian, looking him up and down while he's still naked, sucking his teeth for a moment before he licks his lips, takes a drink of his coffee and turns away with a healthy sway to his hips as he saunters over to the bedroom. He leaves the door open, baiting Ian to watch when he removes the t-shirt and shorts he slept in, tossing them over towards the bed. When he bends down to retrieve his work-out clothes from his suitcase, Ian sucks in a breath. Bending just enough to show a peek of his pink hole and a glimmer of silver from his piercings before he's back up, stretching to lengthen out his lower back muscles and show off the depth of them carved into his body. Arms splayed over his head, hands grasping each other while he sways a little to loosen up, then drops his tank over his head and that quickly covers the perfect target for a wet load of cum. Then he bends again. And Ian feels blood rushing to his naked cock. His mouth has gone dry watching the curve of his ass, the shadows of his cleft, and the perfect pink ring of his hole. Fuck. One leg lifts just enough to step into a pair of underwear and a sliver of his dark pink ball bag appears, another jolt of blood and electricity shake Ian's body when the second leg lifts and he's pulling the underwear up his legs. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck. Ian is fucked. He peels his eyes off before Milkovich can catch him staring, even if he knows that Ian was in fact staring. That was the whole point of the show, and Ian started it, Mickey just one-upped him. If it wasn't on before, it's fucking on for real now. This is fucking war. And Mickey is fighting a losing battle.

Chapter Text

The first full day goes as expected. Naked dudes everywhere, talks with other production companies, other stars, other people on the fringe of the industry trying to get a foot in the door. The evening's event is a mixer which will probably be the event in which they wear the most clothing of the week aside from the awards show. The awards show is not exactly a black tie affair but it is fairly dressy.

Ian retires early that night in attempt to get back to the room before Mickey, who he lost track of shortly after dinner. But when he gets there, it's already too late. Fucker. He's got rock music going in the bedroom and the door is mostly closed, enough that Ian will feel a need to knock if he goes over there. He's tired, he finds the talking part of these affairs much more exhausting than the action parts. And he pretty much just wants to face plant on the couch. He barely makes it through pulling out the pull-out and removing his suit jacket before he does exactly that.

The music has a weird lulling affect on him, something that might not work for most people, but growing up in the Gallagher house he's used to loud noises being constant so the thump of the base and the riffs of the guitar are soothing.

###

Ian wakes on the second day feeling much better than he did on the first, even if he did sleep in his dress pants. The bedroom door is wide open and the place is mostly silent, assuming Mickey already left for his morning workout or maybe had a scheduled event. He takes some time alone to appreciate the room, let himself in to the bedroom to look around. He's not going to look through Mickey's stuff and invade his privacy but he kind of wants to see what he's missing out on by having to sleep on the couch. And then the idea hits him. He'll just move his stuff right in here. He'll unpack his bag, organize his stuff in the dresser and make it damn clear that he will not be relegated to the couch for the duration of this week.

He's standing in the doorway admiring his work when the alarm on his phone goes off, reminding him that it's time to get moving on his morning workout so he can be to the booth on time this afternoon for his turn running it.

Feeling pretty smug about his plan, he doesn't see his roommate all day but it's a damn boring ass day of sitting at the booth being admired, signing autographs and answering questions. He opts for dinner in the suite tonight since it's the only dinner that isn't planned out by the Ball Kings for the duration of the trip. Kicking back with his feet up on the coffee table and a hot meal delivered to his door sounds pretty awesome. He must have been an idiot to think his plan would work. All his stuff is tossed back into his suitcase and left on the couch when he gets there. Mickey is already in the bedroom with the door shut and the music blaring.

Fuck him. Fuck this whole set up. If Ian doesn't get that damn bed tonight, he's going to drag Milkovich out of there by his damn neck and lock him out. He can pay for his own suite. Fuck him.

Ian storms over to the door, fist risen and ready to pound on it when it swings open and there he is in all his nude glory, the bane of Ian's existence. And the most fucking sexy man he's ever seen.

"Can I help you with something?" his brows are popped up high on his forehead, eyes a laser that shoots right though Ian's glare and makes him crumble.

"Just wanted to see if you wanted me to order anything for you. Room service."

"I got shit to do." He barges past Ian and slams the bathroom door behind him. Ian can't help but stare at his asscheeks and the perfect way they bounce when he walks. The shower blasts on and Ian is left standing in the middle of the room with his tongue tied to the roof of his mouth. Why does he keep losing his nerve with this guy?

Waiting for his room service meal when Mickey exits the shower looking so fucking pink and clean, Ian wants to lick the lone drip of water that's rolling down his hairless chest and making it's way along his upper abs. He drags his eyes to Milkovich's face in time to see his smirk growing to the height of cockiness before he enters the bedroom leaving the door cracked as he oils up and puts on a show of getting dressed. This should be getting old. This whole showing off their nakedness to each other, but it's really, really not getting old at all. He's pretty sure he could watch the play of his muscles and the curve of his ass, the shadows of his cleft and the gracefulness in his movements even through his brash, obvious show at attention grabbing for hours straight and never get tired of it.

Ian keeps his mouth shut, keeps his eye on the mirror that's reflecting the scene in Mickey's bedroom. He feels a little like a voyeur but the guy left the damn door open knowing Ian was sitting right there. So obviously he knows he's being watched. And he's probably going to get off on it later.

By the time he's pulling on a shirt, the door is being knocked on and Ian has just enough time to will his boner away before he answers it to gather his dinner. Too bad it's not his dinner. It's a super hot guy asking for Mickey. Wow. That is certainly a development that Ian was not expecting. Before Ian has any chance of answering this guy, or calling for Mickey, it's Mickey that's brushing past him and taking the guy's offered arm to saunter off down the hall. Leaving Ian reeling with ideas of what this could be. No way it's a date, the guy solos for a reason, he said so himself he's just a solo kind of guy. No way he's leaving Ball Kings already and meeting with a different production company. Ian doesn't recognize the date from any other company as a star or an up-and-comer. He didn't have a VIP pass on. Unless Mickey is doing some escorting on the side, or maybe even with Kev and V's consent. Typically if they set up a date with a VIP, or a party appearance they send security along and Ian doesn't see any security anywhere.

His stomach is twisting too much to eat his dinner by the time it finally comes to the door. Wondering where Mickey is, if he's gotten himself into trouble, bitten off more than he can chew by arranging a private affair. Or maybe he's not a solo kind of a guy after all. Then what has all this teasing and tantalizing been about? Maybe he's just a shady fucker and Ian needs to leave it at that and forget he exists outside of work. Fuck. He's about to just pack up all of Mickey's stuff and put it in the hall when he finally hears the key card in the door.

He hustles to lounge and flips through channels like he's been sitting here chilling all night and not wondering what his roommate is up to. Mickey doesn't even greet him, walks in like he's alone in here, tosses his boots against the clean white wall in the entryway and disappears into the bedroom. It's when Ian is sprawled out on his back watching the ceiling, after everything has gone quiet and he's thinking about tomorrow's events, ticking off his to-do list in his mind and making sure he has all his alarms set for the day, his clothes (or lack thereof) ready for each event. Part of tomorrow's plan is an afternoon poolside before the evening's events kick off. There's some informational presentations that V signed him up for that he actually finds himself looking forward to. Learning more about the industry and how to make a lasting career out of it. He knows he won't be able to be in front of the cam forever, eventually no one will want to fuck or jerk off to his body no matter how well he stays in shape.

He's startled out of his thoughts when a gruff voice wonders, "why Curtis?"

Ian hears himself snort, "why do you assume I'm awake and want to talk right now? At..." lifting his wrist to check his watch and wow it's early. What is happening? Is he getting old here? He's in Vegas at a porn convention and he's in bed by eleven. Most of the Ball Kings are probably at the club downstairs partying it up. He doesn't bother finishing his sentence.

"Because I can see you in the mirror and I know you're awake." His tone is hinting that Ian is a dumbass, and maybe he is since he was using that same mirror only a few hours ago to watch the show Mickey was putting on.

He blows a big breath out, letting his hand fall to his chest to scratch at his sternum while he debates honesty or not. He decides maybe this is a good opportunity to crack this guy's shell and get the version of him he talked to in the park that one afternoon, the version of him that his sister knows, the one that seems worth getting to know as a friend. "I stripped for awhile when I first moved to New York. And when they asked me for a stage name, the first name that popped into my head was the first name I saw Sharpie'd on the bathroom wall."

It garners a snicker from the bedroom. "You stripped?"

"Hell yeah. Made decent money doing it too."

"Why'd you move to New York?"

"I don't know. Wanted a change of pace I guess. Big family, south side of Chicago, poor and trashy and I was just over it. I knew if I didn't get out young I'd never get out. New York was the only place I could afford a bus ticket to."

"You sound like Mandy." The way he says it sounds almost fond but Ian isn't going to think anything of it.

"You? Why Terry?"

He hears Mickey sigh heavily and wonders if he shouldn't have asked that, if he should have steered clear of industry talk if he wanted to get him out of his shell. "Dad's name is Terry."

"What? You chose your dad's name as a porn alter ego?"

"Dad's a real homophobic piece of shit. Using his name only means that when people search for Terry Milkovich online, they're going to come up with a bunch of hits of a dude shoving stuff in his ass. And enjoying the fuck out of it," he snickers at that and Ian's got to hand it to him. That is pretty damn good revenge.

Ian can't help but smile along with the chuckling when it lingers, before he wonders, "why'd you end up in porn? Don't tell me it was just a revenge plot on your dad."

"No. I mean, that was part of it, but I don't know. A combination of things I guess. I've always loved fucking myself and never really enjoyed the porn I could get my hands on, you know all the grunting and the uber-masculine tops that treat bottoms like they're nothing but a warm hole. Grew up in LA where everyone is plastic or dreaming of being plastic. My dad pushed me and Mandy into child modeling, he wanted to get us famous so he could profit off it but didn't care if it fucked up our childhood. So I knew I could make a buck off my looks by the time I was a teenager and just wanted to get the hell out of LA. Wanted to get away from my dad. Figured I could combine a few motivations and make decent money this way."

That is by far the most Ian has ever heard his voice. He finds that he really fucking likes it. And he doesn't want him to stop talking. "Interesting motivations, that's for sure. You have any plans for how long you're going to do it?"

"I don't know. I was hoping to make enough money to go to school, get a degree that would mesh well with production. I don't ever want to move back to LA so I figure if I even stand a chance of making it to a decent level, then New York is the best place to be."

"Smart."

There's a pause long enough that Ian thinks he's probably regretting being so open. But then he sighs, and wonders, "you? You going to sling dick all your life or what?"

Ian chuckles at the bluntness of the question. "No, eventually my balls will be too saggy and I'll need viagra or some shit, so I imagine I'll invest well and retire young. Spend the second act of my life just doing whatever the fuck I feel like. Maybe I'll live out of an RV and travel. Maybe I'll move back to Chicago and help my siblings raise a handful of illegitimate children or something."

The snort that he responds with makes Ian certain that he knows exactly the lifestyle that Ian is talking about. There's nothing wrong with his siblings, they just lacked guidance. So they make stupid decisions. Ian's not sure how he lucked out and has been able to keep his shit together.

They end up talking, just talking about everything from their favorite video game to their first time dating, from their favorite music to their most embarrassing moment. They talk until both of their voices are crusty and their eyelids are drooping. And Ian drifts off to sleep for the first time in his life thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to share space with another person. To fall asleep to the sound of someone's voice. Sure, if it was someone like Mickey, he'd have to house train him, but that's doable.

Chapter Text

Ian wakes in a panic remembering that he had a podcast to drop this week and he never scheduled anyone for it. He jolts out of bed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he stumbles towards the bathroom and shoves the door open without even gaining his bearings first.

"You know how to fucking knock?"

Oh shit. Mickey. Yeah, that's Mickey already in here. Buck naked and ready to step into the shower.

"Not like I've never seen you naked," Ian retorts very intelligently. There must be some expression on his face that is completely in tune with his internal panicking since Mickey pauses mid-step.

"You, uh," he trails off, his eyebrows finishing the question for him when they rise with concern.

"I'm fine," Ian sighs heavily, tugging out his dick and going for a piss while Mickey is still standing here. It's not like he's never seen it before. It's not like half the porn watching world hasn't already seen it. "I just completely forgot to schedule a guest for a podcast this week. And I need to get it up this afternoon if I want to stay on schedule."

Mickey shrugs, disappearing into the spray of the shower. "Fuck schedules."

"I happen to like schedules."

It's silent for long enough that Ian can hear the beating of his own heart in his ears, pulsing with panic of messing this up already. After the first two went so well and V was so excited to have another product to pull in viewers.

"I'm right fucking here Gallagher." Comes the eventual solution.

"What?"

"You've been interviewing fellow coworkers and shit, right? It's just another plug for Ball Kings essentially?"

"Yeah."

"So unless you want to go knocking on doors where guys have their plus-ones with them, or are entertaining VIPs, or whatever other sex parties are booked for the week are going on, then I'm right fucking here."

"Oh. Oh, shit, you mean to interview you?"

His face appears in the reflection of the mirror, craning his neck to look out the shower door. His eyebrows cocked in response instead of using his words. And then he's gone again. Even if Ian can see right through the glass door, it's the motions that count.

"When? You got time now? Have breakfast yet?"

"I have time. You can get my breakfast ordered while I finish up in here and get myself presentable and we can knock this out before the pool party shit. You might have to juggle your precious schedule and arrange your morning work-out."

"Fuck you." Ian feels himself grinning though. It's almost like he just set up a date. Chatting over breakfast? Getting showered up and looking presentable? It's a date in Ian's book. Now he just has to figure out what kind of questions to ask the guy.

###

By the time Mickey comes back out of the bedroom, Ian has the equipment all set up, breakfast spread at the table by the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the strip. He's rushed through the shower himself and is pouring a cup of coffee. "Black?"

Mickey snorts, "yeah. Just like my heart."

"Nice." Ian hands him the coffee.

"I would have said just like my favorite kind of cock, but since I don't partner, well then, that kind of takes that quip off the table." He accepts the mug with an eyebrow pop before his beautiful eyes scan over all the equipment that's out. It's not like either of them are unused to being on film. It's just strange to do it with clothes on. "So how sexualized is this shit? Am I supposed to act like I'm turned on all the time, or are we just chatting?"

"It's like a breaking the fourth wall thing. Just chatting, sharing some industry behind the scenes type things, letting people know that under all the sex you are still a person. And hopefully the overall thing they can take away from this is that porn can be an enjoyable experience, but to have actors treated right on set they need some cash flow to be able to do it. So, you know, we'll have to talk up Ball Kings a bit, or at least plug the name a few times so they can check out all the other links."

While Ian is talking, Mickey is eying the set-up, scanning for best lighting, making sure he's got a good angle and this will look professional instead of just something they threw together last minute in a hotel suite in Vegas. He nods his approval, reaches out to adjust the lens and then sits himself right where the natural light of the early morning brings out his features so fucking perfectly that he looks more like a painting than a man.

Ian starts with all the perfunctory bullshit when Mickey gives him the green light, then introducing him as Ball Kings newest star Terry. Mickey smirks at that, giving in to Ian's, "tell us a little bit about yourself."

Starting with all the easy stuff, the background info that people find so interesting, the type of shit that makes people think celebrities are just like us bullshit. Ian's pretty sure Mickey could be talking about anything, or recite the dictionary and Ian would love to listen to it. He interjects with questions when necessary but the guy is such a natural in front of the camera that it makes this so damn easy. They fall into a comfortable chatter pretty quickly and he seems so unguarded for being half in his porn persona, that Ian is having a hard time finding the Terry persona for most of the interview. They chat about porn in general, what got Mickey interested, how he wants to turn his career into the production side of things eventually. Then he asks the thing he's been wondering ever since he first laid eyes on the guy. 'If you're not comfortable answering any of these questions, just take a pass,' he had reminded him before they started. Knowing he can always edit shit out later. But so far this has been going so well he's starting to think he should have done this live.

"So you fill a void in the industry by being a solo bottom." He watches Mickey's face during every question, to gauge his expressions and see if the question pushes too far in any way, if maybe the Mickey on camera doesn't want to be a dick so he'd be too polite to take that offered pass. This doesn't seem to catch him off guard in the least. "Can I ask you to tell us more about that? Why you chose solo? Why it's important for you to fit that role?"

Mickey brings a hand up to nudge at his nose while he thinks through his best answer. It's not a sign of discomfort, not yet, but Ian can tell he feels the pressure to answer this honestly and perfectly in order to get through to his fans that may be listening.

"You know, I guess part of it is that I'm demisexual. I like what I like, but if I don't feel a connection to a person then I'm not going to have that sexual spark that's required to film the quality partner porn that Ball Kings is known for. I'm not afraid of admitting that I fucking love to bottom, even if I'm not your typical type that a lot of people would think of when they think of a pillow princess," the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. And no, he is not the type at all that most media like to continue to portray in gay relationships. "And as someone who thought for a long time that I was maybe ace, I tried to find porn that fit my watching wants and so much of it was just too much for me with dominant tops, or pushy tops or bottoms that clearly weren't enjoying themselves. Which is what brought me to Ball Kings, the pure enjoyment that every star on the roster gets from their own personalized videos." He looks at Ian for confirmation. Or maybe a break in the narrative.

"I've found that to be largely appealing to Ball Kings as well. There is so much variety, but every single person in every single scenario is just enjoying the hell out it. And what is sex if not enjoyable? The customized style of porn at Ball Kings really can't be beat," Ian adds. Mickey just shared a lot, going into sexuality with that kind of openness is really admirable. Demisexual, now that explains a lot about him.

"And the one thing I noticed was missing even from Ball Kings was the solo bottom. Even in porn there's a lingering stigma surrounding gay bottoms, like you can't be a macho man and love a cock in your ass," he half-smirks at that and then rolls his eyes shut in a very sexual manner that Ian finds his dick yearning to see more of, "but fuck, man, a little prostate play can't be beat," he bits the corner of his lip at that and Ian has to take a deep breath to fight his hormones. "A good stretch and the full feeling of a thick rod. That's the stuff right there," he grins now and Ian's heart lurches.

By the time all is said and done, they've discussed favorite positions, favorite toys, the piercings and tats. They've even discussed diet, exercise and the down and dirty douching practices. Fuck, this guy is easy to talk to once you can get past the initial icy layer.

"Thanks," Ian mentions once the filming is over and he's wrapping up the equipment. "You really didn't have to do that. And being so open was great, I really appreciate it."

"No fucking problem," Mickey shrugs. "You can make it up to me. If you want."

If he didn't already know the guy was demisexual he might think he meant a sexual favor, but even without the helpful piece of information, he's pretty sure he's already given enough hints that he won't be sleeping with Ian any time soon. "How's that?"

"This shit, awards shows and shit, they make me really fucking nervous. And I kind of," his eyes drop to the floor and Ian feels a twist of anxiety in his own gut. He doesn't have to say the rest.

Ian clears his throat to get his attention back on him. "You want to go to the events sort of together but not together together?"

His pinched expression disappears just like that and he grins, "something like that. Sure."

"Alright. It's a not-date date then."

"Got yourself a deal Gallagher."

Ian tries like hell to keep his heart in check. But holy shit, does that sound better than being alone and looking like low hanging fruit all week anyway. Even if the events and the spotlight and the boundary crossing doesn't really bother Ian anyway. It's still nice to have that little bit of coverage.

###

The pool party goes as expected. Flirting with guests, showing skin, having some drinks and loosening the crowd up enough to know they are at Porn Week. The nudity isn't allowed until after-hours and by then they'll have moved to a private club that Ian is assuming Mickey won't partake in that kind of crowd. But he's shocked to be walking down the hallway later with him right off his shoulder. Ian's already dressed in his gold shorts beneath his robe. He's not sure what Mickey has beneath his robe, but he's looking forward to finding out. They're nodded past by the bouncer and Ian holds the door open. "After you," with a smirk in order to get Mickey in front of him so he can enjoy the view when that robe does hit the floor and his bare ass with g-string between his round cheeks is revealed. Fuck, it's going to be hard to be around that all night and not get a fucking hard-on. He sticks close to him regardless, after the honesty he'd bestowed upon Ian earlier he has no desire to break that trust he's suddenly achieved with him.

He only relaxes when Mickey is ushered by Kev over to one of the go-go dancer lifted stages with the bars around it. He must have requested that ahead of time, to be up where no one can touch him. But fuck, that means he'll be on full display up there, shaking that hot ass. His body oiled and sleek. When they talked about peircings earlier, he had mentioned getting his nipples pierced next and now Ian can't help but picture it. Silver balls beside each pink nub, perfect for tonguing. Or maybe a ring for tugging on until the nipple gets swollen with blood, throbbing with pleasure.

###

One thing Ian is certainly glad for is this week being the Cocksuckers, so all the conventions are gay porn only. He doesn't have to worry about turning his head and seeing a tit or female stripper or anything to kill his high. Though, sometimes throughout the course of this night - like when Mickey is rubbing his naked ass on the pole, fisting his cock hard - he thinks it'd be nice to have some naked chick around to distract his boner. But really fuck it, this is a sex club so a hard cock is not something to flush about. It's just a little embarrassing when he thinks about his star status and his abilities to fuck all day on camera being dwindled down to nearly cumming in his shorts at the image of Mickey's slick hole when he bends forward to give the crowd watching him a view.

Now this, right here, can't be beat. People just fucking right here in the open. Not caring who's watching or what kind of fucking they're doing. Blow jobs, frottage, anal penetration. Owen and his plus-one are 69ing and Ian is glad to see him having a good time. Every Ball King will have to be tested again and get clear results before they can resume filming back in New York, but this is a week to let their hair down and get their nasty on, to chase kinks and just fucking enjoy themselves without having to worry about angles and lighting.

Ian hears himself groan when Mickey traces a finger over his hole. He's not the only one, nowhere near it, enjoying the show. He might be the only solo one enjoying the show - most everyone else using the visual to jerk their partner - but he really doesn't mind at all. Sometimes he thinks he doesn't spend enough quality time with his hand since it's his job to fuck and V wants full loads every time, so his career has really taken a toll on his alone time. Not that he really minds, but fuck, when he closes his fingers over his cock it's so hard already it twitches at the touch and he emits another moan when Mickey slips a second finger past his rim. Scissoring himself, bent low to present to the crowd.

Ian wants to run his tongue over every wrung in his Jacob's Ladder. The shine of the lube along his gooch a tantalizing trail. Ian strokes his cock gently at first, wanting this to last. He's approached by a VIP who offers, "can I give you a hand Sexy?"

"No thanks, but you can watch," Ian counteroffers with a smug smile and a wink.

The guy grins, digs a note out of his wallet and tucks it into the waistband of his shorts. Ian loosens his grip, opening his fingers to show the hard lines of his fat cock, letting the VIP get a good view of what he's working with. The handful of pure male gentalia that has the guy pressing the heel of his palm against his own groin.

"You can touch yourself too," Ian gives permission and jerks his head towards where Mickey's got his ass stuffed with three fingers now and his hard untouched cock dripping precum on the floor at his feet where he's still swaying to the beat of the music. Ian jerks his head towards one of the many tables of supplies including lube and little trash baggies for expelled jizz. This might be a sex club but they have rules. No spunk on the main floor is one of them. It's cleaned often and the men they've hired for this week are all dressed up in little French Maid costumes so they stand out enough in the crowd that it's easy to flag them down for quick cleaning. But a person can be kicked out for not attempting to keep their load to themselves or their partner. It's just common courtesy.

The VIP grabs his own supplies and stands next to Ian, alternating between watching Mickey and dropping his eyes to get a good view of Ian's cock as he fists it. "I don't think this is what my daddy had in mind when he told me to spend my college fund wisely." The guy winks at him, "but I'm having a damn good time," he throws his head back and starts stroking himself in earnest.

Ian can't help but grin, "that's all that matters then."

###

It's early morning by the time he and Mickey are walking out of the club side by side. He's got so many images of Mickey's pink hole stretched and petted, teased and finger fucked in earnest, dildoed while his cock recovered from one round to the next, and then finally plugged. It's burned into every part of his mind and he wants to keep it that way. Mickey seems exhausted and sated, his skin still glowing, cheeks pink, eyes glazed over.

"You need anything or?" Ian's breath catches when Mickey makes eye contact with him in the elevator on the way up. He's leaned back against the wall, shoulders slumped with a good kind of exhaustion. A tired smile rising on his face. Ian can't help but reassure him, "you were good tonight. Like, so good. That was really something."

Mickey's smile goes a little shy and his eyes dart away but he accepts the compliment with a quiet, "thanks." His voice hoarse from panting and gasping most likely. Ian will have to set him up with a glass of water and maybe some fruit to replace some of those lost minerals during that workout. He didn't ask for Ian's help, but that doesn't mean he won't give it, or that Mickey will turn it down.

Mickey is tripping over his own feet by the time they stumble to the room, Ian steers him to the shower even though he grunts and grumbles his protests the whole way. Stripping him of his robe once he's given a nod of permission and giving him a gentle nudge into the steam of the shower. He leaves him in there do do his own business while he readies a tray for the bedroom, and sets it beside the bed. When the shower turns off, he waits until Mickey has left the bathroom and then takes his turn.

He's rewarded with a quiet, sleepy, "thanks red," coming through the open bedroom door as he settles into his own bedding for the night. Even if he is relegated to the couch bed, he really can't help but drift off with a smug smile on his lips knowing he's done the right things with this gorgeous guy.

Chapter Text

Ian fully intended on sleeping in the next day and taking the morning off to do nothing before the VIP party at a private residence in the evening. He's not booked for fucking, but he's decided to go as a server. So all he has to do is walk around with a champagne tray and his gold shorts on, taking tips in his waistband and letting people grope his ass while his coworkers who have opted to have sex, do just that. For a couple extra benjamins he really doesn't mind.

But his plans to sleep in go awry when he can't sleep in. No matter how he tosses and turns and burrows his way into the mattress that really isn't that bad for a couch, he just can't seem to get comfortable. He gets up much earlier than intended, does his morning workout and returns to the room to see Mickey still bleary eyed, thumbing through a Things to do in Vegas guide. So he must not be partaking in the party tonight.

"Hey," he decides is a good enough greeting.

"Hey." Mickey grumbles over his shoulder without lifting his head. "Ever hear of Red Rocks?"

"The amphitheater?"

"Na. The state park with all the trails and shit."

"Oh, yeah sure." It's only a partial lie.

"Well my mom used to take us there when we were kids and I'm thinking about going today since I've got nothing on my precious schedule," he smirks at that last dig aimed directly at Ian with an eyebrow pop along with it.

"Oh yeah?" Ian decides to ignore the verbal joust.

"Yeah. You want to come?"

"I," he nearly tells him he's on slate for the party tonight. That he'll have to be back in time to get on the party bus. But then he looks at the softness in his eyes when they meet Ian's, he looks at the openness that's starting to creep in on his face. The willingness to share little pieces of himself that Ian is certain he most likely keeps close to his chest in any other situation. And he can't deny it. "I do. Yeah. Got time to shower first?"

"We're just going to go hiking and get all sweaty anyway."

"Good point." Ian shrugs and bites into the banana that he brought up from the exercise room with him.

He texts V and Kev to cancel his slot in the party tonight, lies and tells them he's just tired and would rather get a good night of sleep to prepare for the next day's Red Carpet events. It's a good excuse. They both buy it.

Mickey rents a car and they drive with the top down in the desert air. It's cooler this time of year but it doesn't get actually cold until the sun goes down and by then they will be back in the car and headed to the hotel for the night, hopefully a quiet night. But just in case Mickey will want to go to dinner or something, he's better off to cancel his party appearance rather than risk being late. Mickey drives like a true LA driver: fast. Weaving in and out of traffic on the freeway that has Ian grabbing the the edge of the windshield and wishing he'd rented an SUV with oh shit bars. Mickey throws him a smirk over his shoulder when he peels off the freeway exit and onto the paved road to the park. Barely dropping speed as he tears up the backroad. It's slightly exhilarating, he'll give him that.

They choose a trail that's marked intermediate that'll take them through some unique scenery. Most of the time is spent chatting about whatever comes to mind and Ian finds is so easy to be with him. To walk and enjoy nature, to listen when he talks, and to ask questions he's truly curious about. Typically when he dates, he finds it a drag to be in the getting to know you phase. But now with Mickey? Whole different ballgame. It's fun to tease him and Mickey doesn't get rattled easily, he's game for playful insults and prodding. But he's also getting more and more open with every moment they spend together. Ian doesn't feel nearly as though he's prying when he finally asks, "so who was the guy the other night? The one that picked you up at the room?"

Mickey half-laughs and Ian nearly expects him to tell him to mind his own business but instead he admits, "I told Mandy I was coming out here with the production company so I couldn't take many photos to send her, like it'd spoil the project or something that we came out here for. But she's always pestering me to go on dates and try to make friends and all that horseshit. So I might of hired an escort to pretend I was on a date with so I could take some pics and she'd get off my back about dating for a few months."

Ian has to laugh at the cover. He also feels some relief knowing it wasn't real.

After the laughter dies down, Mickey sighs, "I hate lying to her though."

"So don't." Ian shrugs and when Mickey's blue eyes narrow in his direction, he clarifies, "I didn't tell my family right away either. I get it. But she's a cool girl. She'll understand. Especially if you lead with how much you get paid," he wiggles his eyebrows and Mickey laughs. A real laugh that has butterflies stirring in Ian's stomach and his chest clamping with something he's not ready to put a label on. "Besides, family is family and if they resist the idea at first, they'll eventually understand that it was your choice. And as long as you made the choice of your own free will then there's nothing they can argue about. Ball Kings has a good reputation, it's not like you're doing some back-alley bullshit that'll put you in bad situations."

"Yeah. That's true." he agrees easily and Ian can see he's still deep in thought about it for the next few silent moments in which the only noise is the sound of the desert around them and the crunching of rock and sand beneath their boots.

Once he's sure Mickey has had time to mull it over, he moves the conversation along with, "this was a great idea. It's gorgeous out here."

"Yeah it is, isn't it?"

He wants to say something stupid like it's not as gorgeous as Mickey's smile, when that smile does rise and nearly blind Ian.

"Mom used to take us out here camping. Just the three of us."

Ian doesn't ask where she is now, there's something in his tone suggesting that she's long gone and whether it was death or by choice, Ian does know what it's like to lose his mother so he's not about to prod. He'll talk when ready. "Probably not much to do in LA for outdoor stuff, huh?"

"Not really. It's just like any other giant ass city. There's stuff outside the city, some parks and shit, but nothing like this." He stops atop a ledge with a beautiful view of the mountains and valley. Dropping his day pack to retrieve lunch and make himself comfortable sitting in the dirt.

Ian follows his lead. They eat in silence, but the silence is chummy and he finds it soothing. Ian's never typically felt this kind of comfort in silence. He grew up in madness and the silence in his loft since he moved out to New York has always been punctuated with the sounds of the city. He finds himself typically filling the gap with music or tv. But this is a completely different experience. Being able to just listen to himself breathe and focus on the thumping of his heart. Knowing Mickey is right beside him doing the same thing. While nature moves around them and the wind whistles in the mountains, rustling the small amount of branches in the desert scrub brush.

He finds himself whistling on the walk back to the car. Mickey doesn't seem to mind, or if he does he doesn't say anything. Occasionally pointing out a new view or a type of wildlife unique to this place. It's the most relaxing thing Ian has done is such a long time. And he is so grateful to Mickey for providing this experience that he wonders, "you want to grab dinner somewhere on the way back? You can totally say no, there's no pressure. It just might be nice to have a meal away from the hotel."

"Already planning on it red. There's a shithole greasy spoon diner that serves the best fucking burgers in the damn world. You'll have to add another mile to your morning run and do a few extra deadlifts to burn it off but it'll be worth it. If you want the milkshake it'll cost you another cardio workout, but damn."

Ian can't help but smile along and he can't help but eat whatever Mickey suggests when they get there and settle in. The place is exactly what he expected from the description Mickey offered, and they probably failed their last inspection but Ian doesn't care. There's a homey feeling to it like Patsy's back home. He nearly expects Fi to exit the kitchen and whip him with a towel. When he tells Mickey as much, he chuckles. His eyes twinkling in the golden reflections of the falling sun just beyond the window. Fuck, he's beautiful.

###

Ian nearly reaches for his hand when it swings past his on the walk down the hall to their room. He stops himself just short, just in time. And reaches in his pocket for his key card instead. Opening the door to their suite, he feels like this could be an awkward end to a date where they don't know what to say to each other and they don't know if a kiss is appropriate or not. But when Mickey just saunters in and plunks down on the couch, toeing off his boots to kick them against the wall, that idea is assuaged. Ian grins in spite of himself, shakes his head to himself on his way to the shower.

Since Mickey picked the entire day for them and did everything so perfectly, Ian throws a, "you want to pick out a movie to watch together?" over his shoulder on his way to the bathroom.

"Why the fuck not?" Mickey agrees, settling further back into the couch that Ian will have to fold back out later to make his bed.

By the time Ian is showered off and ready to kick back and relax in front of a movie, Mickey's got a couple beers open and waiting on the coffee table and a Segal movie queued up. He figured him for the Segal type.

It turns into two movies and a later night than Ian really wanted, but he doesn't mind it one bit. It was a great fucking day. And he knows it's going to be a great fucking night when Mickey eyes the couch bed as he's pulling it out and admits, "fuck, I was kind of a dick about the whole bed thing."

"No biggie. It's not like we really knew each other when we got randomly roomed together. Privacy is important."

Mickey snickers at that, chewing on his bottom lip for a minute before he jerks his head towards the bedroom. "Bed's big enough I don't have to worry about you touching me or anything. It's more comfortable than this thing, so if you want, I guess you can sleep in it too."

"Only if you're comfortable with that."

"Why the fuck would I offer if I wasn't comfortable with that?" His eyebrows rise, conveying that he's not the type to be pressured into anything. Ian grins while he watches Mickey walking across the room stripping off his clothes and leaving a trail of them behind as he finally heads for the shower to wash the day's grime off.

###

Ian won't turn down the offer to sleep in the comfortable bed. And he knows it's a big bed so it is likely that he won't have to worry about crossing any boundaries and touching Mickey in his sleep. But he also knows that he is very likely to gravitate towards him in the night. He gravitates towards him in the day, so of course he will in the night. And he has no desire to ruin this tenuous friendship they've come to create in the time shared here in Vegas. So he arranges a few pillows in the center of the bed while Mickey is still cleaning up and getting ready to sleep. Knowing that at the very least, he'll have something between them stopping him from spooning the guy and ruining his trust that he's so far earned.

Chapter Text

Ian crossed the boundary he set for himself but he doesn't worry too much over it when he realizes Mickey is already awake. His alarm goes off, tearing him from his deep drooling sleep in the most comfortable bed in the history of beds. When he reaches for his wrist to turn it off, he realizes he's got a very light grip on Mickey's wrist. The pillows are still between them, making it impossible for him to touch his body anywhere else but it's nearly like he spooned him through the pile.

Jerking his hand away to switch off his alarm. Ian mutters a, "sorry, I did not mean to invade your space."

Mickey snorts and sits up, his bare back in the dim light that's filtering through the closed curtains is enough to have Ian's morning wood aching for release. He reaches his hands up above his head, sways back and forth a few times to stretch and challenges, "really think I couldn't just move your hand away if I wanted to?" With his head thrown over his shoulder to give Ian a smirk and a risen brow when he stands. He's wearing underwear that cup his bouncy asscheeks absolutely perfectly as he walks away.

Ian waits until he's out the door and he hears the bathroom door close before he groans. For a moment he wonders if he has time to jerk off while Mickey is in the bathroom, but in the end he decides to will his boner away with his mind and get ready for a long, sweaty workout. He spends some extra time in the gym that morning, Mickey takes some time to lift and work up some cardio on the elliptical machine. Tonight's red carpet looks are more clad than most of the other events, but still bare chested and the pants are tight enough they may as well be naked. Ian isn't really expecting to win a Cocksucker but he's got a speech prepared and he wouldn't be surprised if he won. Not that his competition is anything to take for granted, hell there are some really talented veteran competitors in his categories, but he knows he's got the upper hand when it comes to production elements. Regardless of what happens, he's just happy to be here and be nom'd. It's a high honor.

Kev is on his way in when Mickey and Ian are on their way out. Swatting Ian's ass with a rolled up towel on his way past him, he doesn't bother touching Mickey in the chummy way he normally does with the guys. Instead he nods a greeting and then has the audacity to wink at Ian like he thinks they're fucking already or something. "Be good today boys." Kev pats his own six pack abs to make it clear he's talking about a no-bloat affair tonight.

Mickey rolls his eyes at him and Ian responds with straight-backed, "yessir," and a salute.

"Wanted to be a cop when you grew up or what?" Mickey wonders when they're back in the elevator.

Ian shrugs, feeling himself blush just slightly at the accusation. "Thought about it for awhile. Thought about military too. Then figured it'd be easier to just take my chances in the Big Apple than get blown up in the desert somewhere."

Mickey's eyes rise to meet his and linger there for a moment as he chews his lip. "Lucked out then?"

"Pretty much. So what do you have on schedule before the red carpet starts?"

"Schedule," Mickey snorts. "You and your damn scheduling. I don't do schedules Gallagher. But I figure we've got a few hours before we have to get ready. So what do you have in mind?" he raises an eyebrow like he's challenging Ian to something, but Ian is certain it's not sexual even if it might look that way and it makes something in him want to back the guy against the wall and stick his tongue down his throat.

"Nothing." Ian admits, "that's why I was asking you."

"Smooth." He doesn't hide the amused smile that's rising so Ian counts it as a win.

"Big event tonight so it's not like we can spend the day in the sun. End up all sunburned and looking like hell in the stage lights. Can't go down and eat our way through the buffet. I don't know. Maybe I should challenge you to a CoD tourney."

"Maybe. If you want to get your ass kicked." Mickey all out grins at him at that and it makes Ian's heart flutter. He's pretty sure it's rare for Mickey to grin and he feels like it's a pretty good thing that he's been able to do it.

"We'll see about that." Ian promises.

###

They see about that alright. Mickey wipes the floor with Ian for the rest of the afternoon until it's time to get dressed, pressed, and ready to swagger. Fuck, does Mickey look good in his assigned attire. V isn't the kind of woman to take chances and let the guys pick out all their own gear. She knows all of her employees well enough at this point to customize something to their specific tastes and body types anyway so everyone ends up with something they like. But if it were up to some of the guys, they'd be going in thongs or nothing at all and it's not quite that kind of show. Not until the afterparty anyway.

She's chosen a pair of trim black pants and a vest for Mickey. A red rose decorating the pocket making Ian's mind immediately wonder if he's ever prolapsed for the cam. Nothing under the vest. His hot arms on full display. His tight midsection peeking between the garments just enough to tantalize and his smooth chest visible for just enough to know that it's solid and muscular under the vest. He certainly is an attention grabber, V was right to book him for the week even if he's not nom'd. He will be by next year if he keeps this up.

Ian's been provided with a pair of tight slacks and a sleeveless dress shirt that he was given strict direction to leave unbuttoned entirely but tuck the tails in. His tie lies between his pecs and leaves a slim trail highlighting the center of his body and basically pointing directly at his cock. The bulge of which is quite apparent in these pants. He takes note of Mickey eyeing him, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips when his eyes catch on the outline of Ian's cock through his pants before he shakes it off and tells him gruffly, "look good red."

“Thanks.” Ian shakes it off enough to tell him, his voice sounding gruff, “you look good too, man.”

Mickey snorts at him and tugs a little at the vest. He is clearly uncomfortable in this outfit. Ian’s not sure if it’s the dressy undertones to it or the crowd they’re about to enter and all the flashing cam lights and interviewers. People asking for pics.

“Hey, so do you have touch phobias or…” He kind of trails off, wanting to open the dialogue before they go down there, but not wanting to make it awkward. Which, he is probably making it awkward.

“No. Just don’t like being the center of attention and shit. Hate when strangers think they’re allowed to touch just because of what I do or whatever.”

“Okay. Just wondering. So if you want, I could, I don’t know, be like your human shield or something.” He’s shooting for casual but he sounds like a moron. Maybe he’s nervous too. Of course he’s nervous. Mickey is looking at him with the clear gaze that seems somehow open and forbidden at the same time.

He shrugs finally, half his mouth lifting into a smirk but Ian takes the head bob as acceptance of his offer. He can do that, for sure, he can totally act normal with Mickey on his arm and just be there to act as a buffer between him and the crowd of porn fans, interviewers, and fellow actors. He can do that and he can keep his cool.

###

Fuck. He somehow manages to keep his cool, somewhat, through the red carpet stuff. Having offered his arm to Mickey and having Mickey accept it made his heart try to thump out of his ribcage but he’s managed not to make a complete fool of himself. His cock is trying like hell to completely fill the front of his pants and probably break the seam. But he supposes having that little bit of extra blood in the general area isn’t exactly going to harm his reputation. Even if it’s uncomfortable.

Their seats are assigned next to each other. Whether by fate or V’s doing, he’s not sure and he’s not going to ask. V took home a boatload of trophies - all of which are shaped like cocks, cast in gold - in all the production categories that were announced pre-red carpet. Ian’s not at all surprised; her scripts, her sets and her films are hard to beat. It’s just another year to her and Kev, just another string of wins to uphold their Ball Kings reputation with.

Ian’s nerves are rising the longer the night goes on. Barely being able to listen to anyone’s acceptance speeches while his head buzzes with what-ifs. What if he does win? Will he even be able to keep his shit together enough to remember the speech he worded with Lip’s help? Will he even be able to make it to the stage without tripping on the steps? Will he pull a Jennifer Lawrence? Fuck, what if he gets announced as winner and is midway through his speech when the show shuts down and they tell him it was a mis-announcement? Will he have the grace to accept his loss and still smile for the cam that’ll be trained on his face when the names are announced?

Mickey’s hand is warm and the strong grip of it on his knee brings him back from the edge of worries that are running rampant in his mind that he’s surprised he didn’t start freaking out over earlier. The contact of his warmth through the leg of his pants brings a shot of clarity through Ian’s core, his heart thumping hard but sure. And his eyes jolt up to meet Mickey’s, he nods at him. Reassuring and safe. And he knows in that moment that no matter what happens this night, he will have a friend to talk it over with when it’s all said and done. He has someone sitting right next to him who is supporting him and will maybe even be proud of him. If he’s judging the expression on Mickey’s face correctly, then he will be proud. And wow, does that mean more than he ever thought it would.

On one hand it seems silly to be getting so nervous for something like a porn award show. It’s not the Oscars for fuck’s sake. But this is his area of profession, this is the Oscars of the porn industry and winning would certainly seal a raise in his contracted wages. And it would put his face and body out there on another level as far as garnering the attention of fans and other production companies. And V will know it, so she’ll hand him a better contract just to keep him there (even if he never plans on leaving Ball Kings). She knows what her stars are worth and she pays them accordingly.

Fuck, they’re getting close to Best Asslicker. Right now the Fingerbanger is accepting his award. His short scene with Owen did not win, and he’s fine with that. It’s easy to lose when he’s got someone to cheers with anyway, giving an easy, silent, ‘now we have something to improve on for next year’. Teamwork is an easier loss to accept.

And not that he was licking his own ass in the scenes that got him this nom, so it was still a team effort, one that he will have to be certain to remember naming names for partners that helped him achieve this. Oh fuck. His fidgeting is getting hard to control, one leg bouncing up and down under the table. Mickey’s grip is sure, squeezing gently with more pressure the more he fidgets. Keeping him grounded as he holds his breath while they start listing off the nominees. He’s got enough wits about him to know he has to breathe and smile at the camera, he has to look calm and relaxed.

Mickey’s hand releases just to slide up his thigh and back to his knee in a more soothing sweep of contact. And that does it, it takes the last of his worries and just rips them away. He feels his whole body relax as they announce his name on the nom list. He smiles appropriately at the cam, scans the crowd for nods towards his fellow nom’d tops. And his eyes land on Mickey’s while he waits. The cool confidence that he is exuding is easy to pick up on. The way he’s relaxed but eager. He’s looking forward to the announcement but he’s not going to change his opinion of Ian no matter the outcome.

Ian feels himself smiling, maybe a little dopily as he keeps Mickey’s eye contact. He can hear the voice over the speaker announcing winner, he doesn’t bother dragging his eyes to the stage to watch them say the name. The name that he registers is not his. He did not win. But he certainly feels like he did when his eyes stay on Mickey and his smile rises into something so severely private in this crowd of mostly strangers that Ian can’t even feel the slightest bite of disappointment as he begins to clap for the guy that beat him fair and square.

Oh well. Something to strive for next year. And maybe by next year, he’ll have the ass of a fucking god to add to his scenes. The ass of the guy that’s grinning at him now, one that’s sparked with pride, and an undercurrent of attraction that Ian feels his heart soar at the prospect of.

Chapter Text

The afterparty is unlike anything Ian has ever experienced. It’s on Valentine’s day so the club is decorated with not only cocks and balls all over the place, but also hearts and stupid flowery shit. But none of that matters. Everyone here is just here to have a good time. To enjoy the music and the company. To get drunk, let their hair down, let their freak flag fly. Since it’s mostly industry people, it’s pretty tame compared to the rest of the week. It’s not like the sex parties and clubs where everyone is fucking all over the place. It is truly just a party packed full of gorgeous bodies and scantily clad porn stars. Celebrations for the winners and recognizing the competition at the same time. Ian gets a chance to catch up with the guy who won the coveted Best Top and gets a chance to talk to him, get some insider info and some tips on how to make his name more of a household name in the industry. He’s not going to ask him for technique tips - Ian knows how to fuck, that’s not the issue. Part of what goes into winning these awards is just the amount of exposure a name gets. This guy has been doing this for a decade and has worked with two big name companies who have a little more capital to push advertisement. V, as many awards and recognitions she’s garnered already, is still kind of new when compared to a couple other companies. She’s not quite as well funded, but she will be. Ian is sure of that. With her purity in porn, her realistic couplings and her artful use of sets and props, her unbiased exploration of kinks, and the sheer selection of types, moods, and films she’ll eventually be the only name in porn that matters.

He never strays far from Mickey. Even when he’s rubbing elbows with the big guys, and Mickey is out on the dance floor dancing like he’s the only person in the world, he still doesn’t peel his eyes off him. Even if he wanted to, he feels like he would still be the shield they agreed upon. And even if that wasn’t the case, it’s hard as fuck to look away from him regardless of the situation. But right now, fuck, he’s dancing and having a good fucking time.

Ian feels like he needs to get out there and stake his claim even if there’s no claim to stake. But the hungry eyes that are scanning him over, wondering who the new guy is, how he got in, and who he works for, how they’d get a scene with him. It’s overwhelming. So Ian finally steps up, ordering him a drink and grinding his way out through the crowd to deliver it.

He seems like he’s completely sober, which is impressive to Ian that he’d have lost his inhibitions to this extent without being drunk. But Ian is totally not like that himself either. He doesn’t need to drink to dance, he just knows that sometimes other people do. And so far with Mickey it seems he’s a little kept to himself and a little in his own bubble so he just assumed he wasn’t much of a dancer. Even with the shows that he puts on when he’s got his alter ego running at high gear like at the sex club the other night, he just assumed that without the alter ego to protect him he’d be more likely to have to drink a little to let loose.

He offers the drink he brought out, Mickey takes it with a grateful expression and cheers him without breaking his rhythm.

“Can I dance with you?” Ian thinks to ask. Being polite and respecting his boundaries.

His eyebrow shoots up in response that Ian regards as yes. Or sure, or maybe something more like this is a public space idiot. But either way, he’s relieved to not be shot down. He sways and grinds with Mickey, making certain not to get in his space, not to touch him without his express permission. He doesn’t want to cross any lines and bring himself back to square one with this guy. Fuck, does he want to touch though. He is sex appeal to the nines and Ian could easily cum in his pants from grinding on his tight ass for a few songs, he’s certain.

It turns out, he doesn’t need to make any moves at all. It’s Mickey that eventually starts to sway into his space. Eventually his hand lands on Ian’s hip and even if that’s the only contact he gives him, it is more than enough. Ian shudders with it, feeling tingles spreading from his stomach to his legs. Mickey gives him a look that seems to be asking for permission and Ian would be a fucking moron to shake his head. So he nods and steps a little closer. It’s like fucking breathing or just fucking when they make contact. It’s light, not hesitant though, the brushes of their chests, their stomachs and their thighs as they get down, grind, and thrust to the beat. It’s not the most sexual dancing Ian has ever done, hell he’s been a stripper and a porn star, he’s done a lot of sexual dancing. But it feels more intimate somehow. Without their pelvises so much as touching, with fleeting moments of contact aside from the steadying feel of Mickey’s hand wrapped around Ian’s hip, it feels so much deeper than grinding his cock into Mickey’s assheeks would ever feel.

He feels high with it. Ian knows what drugs would do to his job so it’s rare that he ever partakes, but this feels much better than any high he’s ever had of the chemical kind. Fuck, this feels perfect. He does’t bother going back for another drink when this one is gone. And Mickey makes no moves to replenish his, or to hint at wanting a refill either. So he doesn’t leave the dance floor. His shirt soaked through with sweat, his pants stuck to him in every single place they could possible be stuck. He’s too warm and probably dehydrated by now, but this is far too good to leave behind. He is going to soak up every single moment of this he possibly can.

And this is much, much better than any award win he could possibly imagine.

###

It is far too soon that the night ends and last call is long past. When the lights are coming up signifying that it is well into the morning in Vegas. They could easily just hop to another club and keep going, Ian has so much adrenaline still rushing though his system just from being this near Mickey, that he’s certain he could keep this up for hours more. But he knows they still have some things to wrap up for after-awards interviews and a few more Ball Kings media events tomorrow. He can’t go to those looking like a complete zombie. He needs to at least attempt to get a few hours of sleep.

He grabs a few bottles of water on his way out, twisting the cap off one and chugging the entire thing before they even walk the hall to the elevator. Mickey does the same to the one he handed him and they sway together into the elevator car. They aren’t the only ones. He takes a hold on Mickey’s elbow, just a light one to remind him he’s still the human shield they agreed on earlier in the night. And back them into the far back corner. They are on nearly the top level anyway, they’ll be the last off. He’s shocked out of his goddamn mind when Mickey drops his arm, nudging towards Ian to let his hand fall from his elbow. On the way down, Mickey grasps it in his hold. Twines their fingers together and holds. Without offering any eye contact to go with it, it feels the most intimate thing he’s ever been offered. His heart leaps to his throat. He knows better than to think they’ll just jump into fucking, but this is better than that.

If anyone can take a physical relationship slow, it is someone who fucks for a living. That is for sure.

###

They don’t bother with speaking on the way back to the room. Mickey gets to the bathroom door first, stalling in the open doorway and offering with a hopeful smile, “I guess it’s not like we’ve never seen each other naked so if you want, we can share this shower. But I’m not fucking you.” He grins at Ian, something a little wicked in his eyes when he adds, “yet.” And then he disappears into the interior of the bathroom leaving the door open wide enough for Ian to watch him strip his clothes.

Ian watches for a moment, enjoying the show, seeing every line as it becomes exposed and imagining what it would feel like to run his tongue over it all. But he pulls back his hormones, and listens to what Mickey said. What he’s said with words and with actions so far. He’s a fucking tease, sure, but underneath that he’s a vulnerable guy who deserves to be treated with respect. Ian is certain he can do that. He is the man for the job. He just has to figure out how to will his dick down whenever he sees a flash of that bare skin slicked with sweat.

It will be hard to keep his cock away from Mickey in the shower, and to keep himself from touching or caressing his soft looking skin. But he’s not a complete perv. So he shakes himself internally. He can easily pretend this is a locker room thing. They are just sharing a shower and shooting the shit after a day at work. That is technically what they’re doing anyway so it’s not that much of a stretch of the imagination. He just has to focus on keeping his eyes above neck level.

He nearly loses his battle when Mickey reaches out tentatively to soap up Ian’s back for him. His fingers linger there when Ian exhales and he rubs his shoulder for a moment. Being finished with his own washing, he leans into Ian’s back just close enough for his breath to tickle along his ear when he tells him, “I had a good night red.” And with that he’s gone. Leaving Ian’s back empty of touch and the shower strangely bereft.

Ian rolls his eyes back in his head and groans to himself. He’s going to have to stroke himself off in here without a doubt before he gets into that bed with Mickey. It’s the respectable thing to do. Even if he’s most likely still going to wake up hard, he at least won’t go to bed hard. And it’s not like it takes much, he’s been half hard all night just being in Mickey’s presence. Just a few solid jerks with a little conditioner in his palm and he’s spilling down the drain.

###

Mickey is already snuggled into bed when he gets to the room. His back turned to the side that he’s left open for Ian. The pillows are suspiciously gone from the buffer he built last night.

He can tell that Mickey isn’t quite asleep yet but probably will be soon. He slides into bed, pulling the sheet up to his chest and facing Mickey’s solid, defined back. It’s not long before Mickey is moving slowly back, towards Ian and offering, “I don’t have a touch phobia Gallagher.”

“Does that mean, um, what I think it means?” trying to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice and failing miserably. Fuck, it’s embarrassing how much of a confident motherfucker he is on screen and how much of that has just fallen away from him in the presence of this man.

“It means you can spoon me. If you want.” It sounds like a dare but there’s an edge of fearing rejection there too, and maybe he also thinks something like this could destroy whatever friendship they might be able to forge from this. Or maybe he still thinks dating a coworker is a bad fucking idea.

Ian thinks it’s a great fucking idea. And if all goes well, he’s absolutely certain that at the very least Mickey can understand what he does for a living so if they were to date, there’d be no jealousy knowing Ian was getting paid to fuck other people.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Spooning doesn’t mean fucking. And it doesn’t mean dating. But it’s got to mean something, even if Ian is going to actively ignore it before he makes it a big deal and turns it into something it’s not.

He takes the offering for what it is. Covering the small distance between them in the big bed. The warmth emitting from Mickey is soft and soothing. He fits perfectly in the arc of Ian’s embrace and he smells like exactly the manly kind of man that Ian wants to bury his face in his neck and breathe deeply. He refrains from that just yet. Letting this seem relaxed and casual. He has no desire to put pressure on this guy when he’s opening himself up little by little for Ian to have a place in his life. He wonders how any of this will change when they’re back in New York. Or if this is just the influence of Vegas and the awards and being surrounded by sex everywhere they turn all week. Fuck, he hopes that’s not the case. He wants this to be more, he wants this to be the real thing.

Chapter Text

The final day in Vegas is mostly a blur. With interviews and autograph signings, meet and greets with fans. It goes quickly, if Ian is being honest it’s too quickly. It’s weighing on his mind as to how this will all be when they get back to NY. If Mickey will be back to giving him the Terry persona and hiding the beautiful man beneath that Ian has gotten to know over this past week.

The one thing that will remain clear in his mind for a long time, he is certain, is the way he woke. With Mickey tangled so deeply in his limbs that he couldn’t tell where he ended and Mickey began. Ian didn’t want to move even though he knew his alarm would be going off in moments and he’d have to extricate himself from the bed and the man. That he’d have to face the day with the heaviness of knowing it would probably never happen again and if it did then it would probably take a long time to get to the point of spending nights together.

He thinks with a guy like Mickey things will never be simple. Between being coworkers, having his secret to hide from his sister who is quickly becoming Ian’s friend, and the fact that Ian is not quite sure how to approach any kind of relationship beyond friendship with someone who is demisexual. He’ll need to do some research and hope that Mickey continues to be open along the way. How he could even dream of moving this past a friendship, or if he has to just have patience and wait for Mickey to make all the decisions. That doesn’t really seem fair either, a relationship goes both ways, but fuck he feels like he’d do anything for Mickey already and they’ve only just begun this friendship. This friendship that apparently includes spooning.

It’s late in the evening when they’re boarding the jet back to NY. He’s stayed close to Mickey but not put the pressure on, making it clear that he is still willing to be his human shield should he want it. But he boards the flight first and gets himself situated in a seat. Not expecting anything of Mickey but relieved nonetheless when he does take the empty seat next to him. It sends thrills through him when he turns his head to smile at him, knowing it’s probably pretty dopey and judging by Mickey’s expression like Ian is a complete moron, he’s certain it is. But he doesn’t care because he definitely doesn’t miss the grin that Mickey tries to hide by turning his head.

###

He’s back in his nice, clean, empty loft and unpacked. Has the first load of laundry running, has been through the shower and is queuing up a show to wind down to after his isometric workout. When he finally remembers to group text his family that he’s safely home and in one piece after the long week in Vegas.

It’s Fi that responds first, telling him your gracious loser face looked more like a lovesick puppy dog face .

It takes him a moment, thinking back to that instant when the other guy’s name was announced. Thinking over what he was looking at. And realizing it was Mickey. Well. Shit.

The ribbing and shittalking storm over group text is still going when he tucks himself into bed. Leave it to his family to make sure his ego is never overinflated. He’s grinning over the conversation and refusing to respond, when he notices a text from an unknown number that must have come in at some point through the course of this never-ending vibrating session.

got your number from Mandy

thanks for making the week bearable

Fuck. It makes his heart thunder in his ears and is so counterproductive to trying to wind down for bed. He saves the number immediately and responds, even if it’s really fucking early morning now and he’s certain Mickey is in bed. Or he’s like Ian and is going to have trouble getting his internal clock back on NY time and get the adrenaline out of his system from just the whole craziness of the week.

thanks for making the week amazing

He one-ups him, knowing it sounds cheesy but he has no reason at all to hide what he feels about Mickey. What he hopes Mickey might eventually feel towards Ian. Or is possibly already on his way to it.

###

They have the first week back off from filming. It’s the decompress week to make sure everyone gets tested and gets a clean result. To sit in meetings to talk about what they want to happen for the remainder of the year. To talk about teamwork. Then it’s private meetings with Kev and V to talk about contract changes and goals, to make sure they are still happy at Ball Kings and with their current partners. Knowing that Mickey is still a solo guy, Ian doesn’t mention anything at his meeting, he is more than happy to stay with Owen. He knows him and it’s simple. And while he’s willing to fuck other guys, he’s willing to be the prop guy for soloists or act the part of the dom from time to time for non-penetrative sex. It’s just a little different this time. Knowing that Mickey is not an option, but he wants it anyway. He’ll never pressure the guy and he’ll never try to go through Kev and V to get there either. If things go well outside of work between them, then maybe someday he’ll suggest it. Or maybe things will go so well outside of work that they won’t have to worry about fucking each other onscreen because they’ll be doing more than enough of it offscreen.

Ian also receives his script for the next week’s shoot. He mentioned to V that he’d like to be considered for a long film at some point. It won’t be until later in the year if it does happen. The longer films take chemistry that’ll last through weeks of filming. Ian knows he has enough chemistry with Owen to film multiple shorts throughout the course of a year but he’s not entirely certain he has it enough to film weeks upon weeks with him without a break to fuck around in other projects.

###

Texting becomes a thing that they just do. They do it all day pretty much. Random things, like workout discussions and what series they’re watching. Mickey sometimes bitches about Mandy. Sometimes work stuff comes up. Regardless of what it is, it’s comfortable. And Ian comes to rely on it. To know that Mickey is there on the other side of the phone line whenever he needs him, it’s refreshing. Not even when he needs him, just when he sends him a pic after seeing something stupid and silly that makes him think of him.

Mickey is the talk of the locker room after his next post goes porn viral. It gets the most hits of anything on the Ball Kings site in it’s first twenty four hours that a solo (top or bottom) ever has. By the end of the week it even sits in the top five of overall videos in the entire industry as far as hits and likes go.

Ian promises himself he won’t watch it, not before clearing it with Mickey. Now that they’ve achieved a type of friendship, he wants to support him, but he doesn’t want to be perving out over him either. He wants to be able to talk critically about the film if he wants to, and he wants to be able to enjoy it at the same time without feeling like he’s breached a friendship’s unspoken rule.

It’s Mickey who breaks the ice over it. is it weird to watch friend’s porn vids?

Ian can’t help but laugh when the text pops up during his internal debate over the exact same thing.

honestly?

no fucking lie to me if you have to

Ian snorts out another laugh and debates just calling him to talk about this shit. Where the lines are and how not to cross them. He’s tapping the phone on his chin, staring out into the darkness interrupted by city lights from his loft window when the damn thing rings in his face.

He doesn’t bother looking at the screen, mostly already knowing who it is, “Mickey?”

“Yeah. Who the fuck else would be calling you from my number?”

His mouth twists into a smile. He’s starting to think Mickey’s love language is one he can really get on board with. “Maybe your pretty ass got kidnapped and someone is calling me for a ransom since all your other acquaintances hung up on them.”

Mickey barks out a laugh that has Ian feeling something very akin to pride before he shakes it off and gets down to business. “So I heard you and Owen had a good one rolling out this week. And I don’t typically watch partner porn since, like I said, most tops are pushy and annoying. But from what Cox was telling me, you’re in the vanilla category. And this little vanilla category is where V puts all the… how did Cox put it? The tops who love to munch ass and fuck like it’s breakable?”

Ian can’t help but chuckle at that, thinking about Cox saying exactly that. Cox is into verbal abuse so he thinks anything that isn’t calling him a slut is something too nice and soft. But yeah, if Ian had to categorize himself he would proudly admit that, “yes I do love to munch ass. It’s really a shame that I have to be aware of angles when I’m filming. It’s a lot easier to rim someone until they cum untouched when I don’t have to give the cam a view of it.”

Mickey’s breath audibly chokes off. Ian smugly smiles to himself at having that effect on him.

“But in all honesty, then yeah I guess if you’re avoiding aggressive tops or bottoms who seem to not be enjoying every moment of it, then vanilla is the category that you’ll want to stick to. And yes, Owen and I have a new one dropping this week that’s pretty good. Depending on the mood you’re looking for. Are you only asking because you want to be able to critique the film? Or because you want to jerk off to it?”

Mickey grumbles something inaudible and then snipes at him, “you really think I need to jerk off after a long day of work?”

“Don’t you only work like one day a week?”

“Good point. Got me there. But hey, when you’re this good at fucking yourself you only need one take and barely any editing so yeah. If I don’t have to spend the extra time at work, then why would I?”

“I’ll give you that. So what do you do in all your free time anyway?”

“Work out. And text you,” he says it like it’s obvious but obviously there’s more to his day than that.

“Well if that’s all that’s on your schedule then you have time to grab dinner with me tomorrow and maybe catch a show.”

There’s a slight pause. Just enough to make Ian’s heart skip a beat before he sighs and responds, “sure thing Gallagher. Pick me up at eight.”

And then he’s gone. Leaving Ian wanting to be like a teenage girl and scream into his pillow for joy. Or maybe a teenage boy and jerk his cock raw to the remembered images of Mickey in the go-go cage pleasuring his hole relentlessly. It’s a toss up, really.

Chapter Text

Ian knows it’s more of a friend thing than a date, but he can’t help being nervous as all fuck. He’s got the hottest guy he’s ever been around on his arm and they’re walking into an upscale place before they’re about to go see an off Broadway show so yeah, he’s pretty damn nervous. If he doesn’t trip over his own heart Mickey will probably leave here tonight feeling too much pressure.

He takes a deep breath when he situates himself at the table and catches Mickey’s eye. Mickey who looks like he can’t decide which fork to stab the waiter with, but other than that he looks completely at ease here. It’s probably the LA child model influence that makes him seem like he can fit in at a place like this. Fuck Ian should have picked something more chill, less intense. He has no idea what kind of shit his dad put Mickey through when they were kids to try to make a buck off him but he imagines it was probably pretty classy shit when he was trying to schmooze potential managers or whatever.

He opens his mouth to apologize, to see if Mickey wants to dump this place and head to a down and dirty B rated joint that you feel a need to check the spoons and the glasses for lip prints before you use them. But Mickey’s mouth opens and his eyebrow pops up when he looks at him. “Ready for your film critique Gallagher?”

Ian laughs, effectively breaking the ice and stopping the worry train in his head. Yeah of course he’s curious if Mickey actually wanted to know if it was appropriate to beat off to Ian’s porn. Or if he truly did want to talk about filming aspects of it. Either one is possible he supposes. He did say he was planning on going back to school for film. He’s not exactly going to admit that he already beat off to plenty of Mickey’s clips, and he’s not going to get his hopes up about Mickey being attracted to him.

The conversation flows easily after that. And no, he doesn’t critique any films, in fact the topic of work never comes up again through the rest of the night. Nothing about work does. They fall into an easy rhythm, talking about everything and nothing. By the time they’re ready to leave the restaurant and head to the show, Ian feels pretty confident in leaving his hand open between them. Letting it swing by and brushing against Mickey’s, just a little hint or a nudge or whatever he needs to grasp it. He doesn’t break the conversation when it happens, notes Mickey biting at the bottom corner of his lip while he thinks it over for a split second and then taking Ian’s hand. He doesn’t allow it to register in his voice or in the breath he feels is suddenly hard to pump through his lungs. He doesn’t want this to seem like it holds all the weight that he feels it holds.

###

The first hint of awkwardness that crops up in their evening is when he’s walked Mickey home and they’ve talked about the show and dinner and they’re just enjoying the city’s silence or lack thereof. They’re to the entry of his building and it’s like Ian wants to not let this night go. He knows logically that when it’s over, there will be more. This date has gone well and even if it didn’t blossom into anything more, he’s still have a damn fine friend to hang out with at work obligations or maybe when he’s hanging out with his sister. But in his heart he just wants to linger. He wants to press his lips to Mickey’s and see how he’d react. He is more than okay with taking this slow if that’s what Mickey wants and he has no desire to pressure him into sex. But kissing, kissing those lips sounds fucking amazing. So amazing in fact that it is all that is on his mind anymore.

He realizes he’s just sort of standing awkwardly at his door, waiting for Mickey to open it and disappear when Mickey clears his throat. Peeling his eyes off his pink lips to meet his blue orbs, he catches the hint of a cocky smirk rising and he’s really hoping he won’t see any of his Terry persona to close this night out. It seems to be what he defaults to when he’s feeling insecure or exposed and that was not Ian’s intention.

“Thank you for coming with me this evening.” He means it when he says it, “I had a great time. We should…”

It’s cut off when Mickey rolls his eyes, reaches out to latch onto the back of Ian’s neck and haul him in for a kiss that steals the breath from his lungs. He was not expecting it, he was even talking himself out of wanting it. Of course, of course Mickey would up the ante and take it to the next level. Just as Ian is beginning to sink into it, a kiss that hasn’t progressed into tongues yet, but has lingered solely on lips, Mickey pulls away. The smirk is somehow different. It’s not the porn alter ego rising, there’s too much softness in his eyes for that.

His eye contact flits away as he pulls the door open to his place and tells Ian, “have fun watching tonight.”

###

Maybe they’re gone beyond the point where it’s okay to beat off to each other’s videos, but Mickey pretty much gave him permission. And it’s not like he can’t jerk off and still look for anything in the production that might be worth brushing up. Mickey left him at the stoop with a kiss that made his mind spin and his heart race, his dick begin to fill and it’s not like he hasn’t done a full strip show for him already in their hotel room in Vegas, so it’s really not a surprise if he does beat off to the video.

Well shit, he’s got it queued up while he’s still trying to find a legitimate reason not to watch it. It starts out on a set that Ian recognizes from the studio. Mickey coming home from his office job, loosening his tie and stripping off his suit jacket while the lights and music come up. He’s starting to think it’s going to be one of the videos that fits into the bracket of normal people doing normal masturbation, which he could see boosting his subscriber counts. People like to see people on screen who look and act like them, so it’s no stretch of the imagination to have a guy who works an office job come home and jerk his cock, or finger his ass at the end of a long day.

He does a good job of stripping while making it seem a typical way that anyone would undress, but also tantalizing and sexy the way he’s stretching it out, taking his time to undo every button as he looks over his stack of mail that he set on the counter. Undoing his pants and whipping the belt out with an audible sound that makes Ian’s dick tingle with anticipation. Down to undershirt and tight briefs that cup his luscious ass and show off the line of his cock, the cam follows him to the bed where he tugs his shirt over his head, his hands trailing over his chest and stomach, lingering at the waistband of his briefs before sliding over and down to cup his own cheeks. He arches his back, dips his chest and the hard line of a plug in his ass becomes visible. Ian chokes on his spit. His imagination does exactly what it’s supposed to do, thinks of Mickey, a hot guy like Mickey as his coworker in some boring office sitting at his desk and filing paperwork, having meetings all day with a plug in his ass.

Ian groans as Mickey deepens his bend, trails the tips of his fingers along the curve of the plug nestled deep in his hole. The lube making a darker ring around the briefs, lube that has leaked out around his hole while the plug jostled in his body all day.

He pulls the band of his briefs down, his crack peeking out, the pale white of his lower back and the shadow of his cleft perfect in this lighting. Ian bites down on his lip and gets his dick out, hard already and straining against the fabric of his boxers. He already has his lube set up beside the screen, doling out enough to slick up his palm and stroke over his generous shaft. He swipes a thumb over the slit, shudders with it as Mickey pulls his briefs back up, effectively covering his ass again. Ian licks his lips while the strip tease carries on, he teases just long enough to have Ian wanting to shout at the screen, ‘take if off!’ But not so long to lose interest of the viewers.

Ian hears himself groan again when the briefs are pulled down, the handle of the plug, the round grip of it nestled up snug into his ass becomes visible. He bends to reach for his ankles, bending deep enough to show the silver of his piercings where his hard cock is dangling towards the ground between his spread thighs. It makes Ian’s mouth water. He’s purposely slow in removing the briefs from his ankles, keeping his back bowed deep and his thighs spread as his body shifts and the plug moves with him.

He can’t help but imagine how it would feel to tap his fat cock against the handle of the plug, to listen to Mickey moan as he jostles it inside his channel. He picks up the pace on stripping his cock. Biting at his bottom lip as Mickey climbs up to the center of the bed, placing both hands on the wall as he arches and dips his pelvis, his back, showing the play of his muscles around the plug. Jesus, Ian is sure he could get off just watching him doing this. Even if that plug never moved. Even if he never did another thing in this video, the lighting alone on his body lines is impeccable. He reaches back and slaps his own ass, letting it jiggle. Then the other cheek.

“Fuck,” Ian can’t help but get vocal even if it’s his own hand on his cock. He slips a thumb over the slit again, smearing his precum in with the lube.

Mickey’s hands slide down the wall, fingers splayed and all Ian can think about is how that would feel on his back as he comes down to all fours. His full balls and his hard cock visible between his luscious thighs again. The silver of his piercings catching light as the cam zooms in and he tucks his head, rolls up to his shoulders so his back is against the wall and the front of his body is more visible. His face while he bites at his lip, his eyes closing as he shudders, slipping a finger in beside the plug. Trailing it around the diameter of the plug, pulling at the pink ring of muscle as he goes knuckle deep, The balls of his feet planted on the bed, legs bent and giving good view of the show. He’s found an angle that not only works for the camera views, but also for his own pleasure. It’s intriguing and so fucking hot.

A good flexible bottom always livens things up a little more. Ian’s own eyes force themselves shut momentarily as Mickey slips another finger inside his hole, tracing around the plug again while a moan parts his lips and the darker pink of his insides becomes exposed when he pulls out against his asscheeks with his palms.

Orgasm tugging at Ian as he tugs his cock, his pace picking up, his breathing increasing and blood rushing around inside his head. He can’t look for the overwhelming amount of pleasure that Mickey is giving himself, but he can’t look away either. He is so fucking hot when he’s blissed out. When his skin is pink and he’s got a sheen of sweet rising. When he's tucked up into a ball and the most visible part of him is his stretched hole. He’s begun to slowly pull back on the plug. His body responding in little waves of muscle spasms down his core. Ian wonders how he would look with a belly bulge, with a cock so fat it pushes out his lower abs, he wonders how it’d feel to flatten his hand over Mickey’s abdominal wall as his cock pounds in and out of him, feeling himself seated there inside of his hot red channel.

The thought of it makes him cum. Just as Mickey is removing the plug and showing the cam his clenching hole, moaning around it as he pushes it back inside and his body spasms. Cum shoots out of his cock and splatters his chest, pulling the plug back out to show the empty, gaped darkness of his insides.

“Fuck me,” Ian gasps. His cock still twitching in his grip as he watches Mickey pulling his asscheeks wide open, his balls still emptying, cock leaking. Cumming untouched is the hottest fucking thing, Ian wants to tongue-fuck him until he’s spurting jizz all over his flat stomach.

He feels like he just had a marathon sex session when the video starts to fade away. Fuck.

Washing up his hands, wiping the lube off his spent and oversensitive cock. He shoots Mickey a text.

the lighting in your last post is fucking stunning

He nearly fires out another one to compliment his acting, but he’s absolutely certain that was not acting.

Chapter Text

“So, is it like, weird that I know your sex techniques by our what? Third date?” Mickey wonders when they’re sitting in Central Park after a strenuous workout that has sweat doted on his hairline and his cheeks so pink in the same way they get right before he cums.

“If I wasn’t a porn actor, then sure.” Ian grins and nudges him with his elbow. “So I take that to mean you watched a vid or two?”

Mickey’s thumb nudges at his nose for a minute before he admits, “yeah. I got to hand it to you, that Valentine thing with the champagne was pretty hot.”

“Yeah?” Ian wants to offer any time, but he’s still really not sure where the lines are with Mickey.

He’s silent for awhile as they stretch, telling him quietly when his eyes rise over to meet Ian’s, “you don’t have to be all worried about sexual boundaries with me just because I’m demi. Having a third date is a pretty damn good sign, you know?”

“So you’re saying there is a little sexual spark?” Ian wiggles his eyebrows at Mickey and waits for him to smile, breaking the ice before reassuring him, “I have sex five days a week, I’m not in any rush to jump into bed with a partner either. Kind of like getting to know you first.”

“You do that? Before? I mean, getting to know people before you fuck them?”

“Well yeah. I mean I’ve had one-night stands and whatnot before, never felt any kind of hesitance to fulfill my own sexual desires, but I get it. Sometimes even for me, this world seems so full of people just wanting to skip right ahead to the sex part and not really bother seeing if they’re cohesive as partners first. Whatever your boundaries are, I’ll wait. I don’t want you to put any kind of time frame on it. When it feels right, then I’m game. If it never feels right, then I’m game for that too. I like spending time with you, I like dating you. And whether we’re friends or boyfriends, I just want you to be part of my life.” He shrugs and is completely caught off guard when Mickey lurches forward to kiss him. It’s pretty chaste, short and to the point but it says a whole of words that Ian is pretty sure Mickey is not in the mood to say aloud.

###

The downside to getting more serious with Mickey is that he finds it harder to mentally prepare himself for his shoots. It’s not the problem of getting hard and staying that way, it’s keeping his head in the game and focused on his partner in the way that V’s vanilla love scenes need. Sure, he can imagine it’s Mickey that he's fingering, or sucking off, or rimming. He can imagine it’s him when he’s pushing his fat cock into his partner, he can’t imagine saying some of the lines to Mickey. But he can easily imagine it’s him in his bed, in his loft, in his life.

That though is kind of terrifying. He’s gotten so accustomed to sharing his thoughts and his day with Mickey, whether it’s in person or via text, they’ve grown so close that it’s hard to imagine what his life was like before he had his nightly chats with him. And it’s gotten easy to imagine him sharing his space. They haven’t spent the night together since Vegas, and Ian isn’t really sure anymore what he’s waiting for. The times he’s come over for dinner and a movie it’s like he belongs there on Ian’s couch, in his kitchen. It’s simple and it feels intimate in ways Ian has never felt towards anyone else he’s ever been with. It feels simple to kiss him goodnight and hold his hand when they’re out together.

So fuck it, “you want to spend the weekend? With me? You can say no.” He assures him the next time they’re out on an evening stroll. Ian feels kind of wound up after the scene he was shooting today with Brenden and Han. He sometimes likes to switch things up, push his own boundaries to further establish his portfolio and reach an even larger audience. But today was maybe a little more than he wanted, he’s not sure how he feels about it. Everyone, as always, was there with full consent but it just felt weird to be in a threesome with double penetration. He’s not sure it’s something he could handle in a real life scenario, with a real friend or boyfriend. And maybe that’s just his stupid brain talking about Mickey, thinking about Mickey. Thinking about sharing him, or seeing him with another guy even if Ian’s in the same room. Maybe he just needs to get a damn grip on himself and keep his reality more in check, be certain he’s keeping work and personal as separate as possible.

“Yeah. Sure.” He agrees that easily and Ian feels his heart soar at the prospect.

Ian lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and grips Mickey’s hand when it swings by. Twining their fingers, he realizes that this is something worth holding onto.

###

Ian’s stupidly nervous by Friday night. Obsessively cleaning the loft, cooking a meal, and lighting candles to give it a romantic mood. Then he decides the candles are too much and he’s putting them out just as the door buzzer sounds.

By the time Mickey is up the elevator and in the hallway, Ian’s heart is firmly lodged in his throat.

“Look like you’re about to accept an Oscar man, loosen up.” Mickey demands, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Sorry,” Ian stutters. Holding the door open and sweeping his arm to motion Mickey inside. “I’m just in a weird space this week I guess. Which is part of the reason I asked you to come over for the weekend. Not all of it, obviously I want to spend time with you, but I just feel kind of out of sorts.”

“Okay.” Mickey slings his bag off his shoulder and kicks his shoes off. He approaches with confidence in his stride, nothing of his Terry persona on his face, just an open honesty and concern. His hands land on Ian’s chest and doesn’t stop until his face is so close he could kiss him so simply. “We can talk.”

“Can I kiss you first?”

Mickey’s eyes twinkle and his lips twist into a smile before he’s closing the distance between them. His lips part and Ian lets him take the lead pressing his tongue to the seam of Ian’s lips gently. Ian opens for him, meeting his tongue between them for a brief brushing with a burst of mint and a slight cigarette undertone. Then Mickey is drawing back again, bringing it to parted lips for a lingering moment then ending it with his hand stroking over Ian’s cheek. It lingers on the back of his neck while he watches him. Ian feels like his body is floating somewhere high above them. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt all week.

He waits until they’ve had their dinner and chatted about all the nothingness that two people who are completely comfortable around each other do, before he brings up the week’s shoot. “V is always very transparent about what the scene is going to be, how it’ll play out and how it’ll end before we even shoot so I was well aware of what I was going to be doing. And I signed up for it. I didn’t feel violated in any way, I was there of my own freewill and I was doing the scene the way I knew it would go. The physicality and the consent and the level of comfort in my surroundings and with my fellow actors was not the problem. The problem,” and he reaches out to stroke a finger over Mickey’s knuckle where his hand is resting on the stem of his wine glass, “was that I kept thinking about you. You’ve been kind of invading my work life for a few weeks now.” He admits it with a grin so that Mickey knows he’s not to blame for any of Ian’s feelings. “I just kept thinking about if you and I were sexual with each other, if we were in that kind of relationship and for whatever reason ended up in a three-way type of scenario. How I’d feel if I had to share you and it did not sit well when I thought about it.”

Mickey snorts out a laugh at the expression on Ian’s face and assures him, “I don’t think you’d have to worry about a three-way with me. Unless it was you, me, and ass destroyer 2.0.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks at Ian until Ian blushes. Then wonders, “will it be harder to date someone in the industry? On one hand, we know what the other one does already so it takes the big reveal off the table. And we know how it’s done, it’s not like we have to worry about cheating when it’s a job and we know there’s no real emotional attraction to scene partners. But on the other hand, we’re both fucking for work so if we get to a point where we’re fucking each other will we have the sex drive for it? And will it be weird to know that the other one is down the hall doing their scene if our schedules overlap?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Ian strokes over his knuckles again until Mickey opens his hand and wraps them together. “I know my jealous ass would be having trouble knowing you’re fucking other people even if it is for a job,” he grins.

Mickey rolls his eyes at him and admits, “I really don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

“Would you ever, you know, if we start a sexual relationship together, would you ever want to partner up for a film?”

He chews his lip for a long moment, his eyes dancing between Ian’s while he mulls it over. “Filming it would take it to a mechanical level, worrying about angles and lights and it would take us out of our heads and into the logistics. So I don’t know. I guess if it was something that could boost our careers, it might be worth it. But I’d rather have sex to fully enjoy it and be in the moment with the person I care about rather than filming.”

“Good point.” It is true. The sex while filming is still enjoyable, that’s not an issue, but it’s not emotional and even though Ian and his partners cum every time there is always the concern of angles and positions and lighting, where the cams are and maintaining good hardness and good face. If he was with a partner he was romantic with in real life, it’d be hard to reel back from that place of passion to focus on the script and other production aspects.

###

He didn’t expect for anything sexual to happen with them, and he made that clear to Mickey when he offered to share his bed. But Mickey is kissing him, backing him up against the door as he strips his clothes off and his hands are all over Ian’s chest. His easy tongue kiss from earlier has progressed to something passionate and deep, his tongue chasing Ian’s over every surface of his mouth.

He only breaks it when he’s pressing Ian to seated on the bed, straddling his lap with nothing but underwear on to tell him, “I don’t want to fuck. But I want to jerk you off.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can live with that.” Ian agrees, planting his hands on Mickey’s lower back as he arches in Ian’s lap. His mouth darting into Ian’s again, tangling up his tongue quickly as chills spread across his scalp, butterflies take over his chest and he has to remind himself to breathe when Mickey gives him the chance to do so. Ian has never been kissed like this, feeling like if someone took this away from him he’d suffocate. He’s never felt these little sparks from his fingertips against every single place on Mickey’s back that they slip across.

His cock is plumping nicely, Ian can feel it through the fabric of their underwear. His boxers and Mickey’s briefs. Mickey’s hand slides down the surface of Ian’s chest, stopping on his stomach to drag knuckles over his abs giving Ian a rippling sensation down his core and straight to his cock. Mickey grinds his hips in a downwards stroke that strangles the breath out of Ian’s lungs as his ass crack rubs along the underside of his cock.

“Like that?” Mickey practically purrs it. His voice is different than anything Ian has heard in his videos. He’s glad for that, he doesn’t want anything in the bedroom between them to be their porn personas. He wants to be able to feel stripped down emotionally and physically, both of them comfortable with showing their true selves.

“Yeah,” Ian punctuates it by a roll of his own hips, bringing his cock up tight between Mickey’s ass cheeks. Dragging the base of his shaft along the lumps of Mickey’s balls. His fingers have gone tight against the back of Ian’s neck, gripping there as he works himself like Ian’s dick is a stripper pole. Ian wants to flip them and take control, but he knows if he does he’ll lose himself in it and cum too quickly. As it is, this slow torturous drag of cotton layers between them is enough to have him leaking precum. He groans when Mickey presses his pelvis forward until his cock is rubbing along Ian’s abs. Getting up to his knees to rub himself along Ian’s stomach and chest. Ian lays back, letting Mickey ride him however he wants. Bending his arms behind his head he watches the play of his muscles, the expansion of his ribs when he gasps, and the pink splotches on his skin from desire running hot through his veins.

He wants to see his cock, he wants to touch it, hold it in his palm. Run his thumb over every piercing, but he’s going to respect what Mickey wants here, and let him run the show. Not fucking him will not be a problem. He has restraint, and respect and he has no reason to push for more. Taking it slow has been amazing. And while he’s horny as fuck, he knows patience will eventually pay off. Plus, it’s been a long time since he’s frotted to completion.

Every roll of Mickey’s hips has Ian groaning, wishing his hole was lubed up and the fabric of his briefs was soaked from it. Wishing he was dragging slick oils up and down Ian’s abs. He licks his lips, watches Mickey’s face when he tips his chin down and looks at Ian’s eyes. He is so fucking sexy Ian can’t hold back, lurching up to claim him in a kiss that is desperate and fierce. Chasing the flavor of wine in his mouth, drifting over top his tongue with his own, drawing back to trace over the surface of his lips. Diving back in to the heat and moisture of him, wishing his cock was feeling this he thrusts up against Mickey’s ass again. Punching a moan out of Mickey when his hands slip over his hips and hold him in place, thrusting again. Making sure Mickey feels the fat length of his cock. His eyes roll back in his head as Mickey’s hands trace over his back, around to the front of his body, tweaking his nipples. Rolling them in his fingers before he moves over to his chest to do the same. Ian breaks the kissing to look down, watch his sinful fingers twisting and torturing his nipples, fuck he needs to get those pierced. He’s noticed from his vids that he likes nipple play and obviously he gets pleasure from piercings, so it seems logical to Ian.

He leans out, just enough to bend until he’s mouth level with Mickey’s pink, swollen nubs. Placing his teeth around one, biting so gently, as his tongue flattens and pushes through to flick at the tip of his nipple. It has Mickey arching and muttering curse words, his hands scrabbling against Ian’s back, leaving tracks from his blunt nails.

Mickey’s pelvis drives down, grinding in earnest against Ian’s cock that’s so hard it hurts. If he grabbed it now, all it would take is a few strokes to have him cumming over his fist, spurting jizz against Mickey’s clad ass. Ian adjusts them to bring his knees towards his body, giving Micky leverage to rub himself not only on Ian’s cock but also on his thigh. He takes the hint quickly, bowing his back to rub his ass along Ian’s thigh as his cock is lined up against Ian’s through the fabric once again. Ian is sure his has been jostled through the barn door, he can feel the cool bedroom air against it. The sweeping of Mickey’s cotton briefs against his bare skin.

He bites back a sob when Mickey’s hands drop, taking his girth in his fist, removing his own cock from his briefs with the other and lining them up. Bare and dry, Ian is about to reach for the lube when Mickey spits into his fist, rubbing first along Ian’s cock. He’s sat back now, looking down and apparently liking what he sees, “fuck Gallagher. That is a nice cock.”

Ian tilts his head back, looking up at Mickey with the way he’s cradled in his lap, not hiding the grin and the pure delight at the view in his eyes. He wants to promise something stupid like his cock is all Mickey’s but he knows that’s a fucking lie. Shutting himself up instead by stealing Mickey’s mouth again. Using his fingers to twist and fondle his nipples, while he uses his tongue to taste every ridge of his lips.

Mickey’s hand is too small to fully encompass both their dicks so Ian drops one of his, completing the grip around them, pressing the long, fat flesh of the undersides together. The ridges of Mickey’s piercings dragging against his skin as he fucks into their hands has Ian shuddering. Imagining what that would feel like on his tongue, he sucks Mickey’s into his mouth for a moment before releasing to give him a hint as to what he wants to do next. Whenever Mickey is ready.

He feels Mickey’s lips twist into a sly grin before they’re mashing against his again and his hips are bucking wildly, grinding back against Ian’s thigh then forward to drag his cock in and out of the circle of their fists. With every bump and grind against Ian’s cock he leaks a little more precum, adding to the moisture in their grip. Fuck, he’s so close to cumming, he can only hope that Mickey is too. Even if he has plenty more tricks up his sleeve to make Mickey cum that don’t involve penetration, he really wants this to end in sync. He wants his pleasure to be timed to his partner’s. Especially now, when it’s this man.

He feels Mickey’s body shudder against his, his hips stuttering in their motions and he knows by the increase of precum dribbling between their cocks that he’s close too. Ian takes the opportunity to thrust up, to push and pull his cock into the tight circle they’ve created. To push Mickey’s jewelry along his shaft with the motion. It has Mickey gasping out of the kiss with a harsh, “fuck Gallagher,” panting out of his mouth against Ian’s lips. He feels their cocks pulsing together, the hot spurt of cum against his belly and chest where they’re emptying as one. He feels momentarily blinded by the sheer sexiness of it all, the intimacy that he’s never felt with anyone else.

Ian gives them both a moment to come down before he strokes his hand up Mickey’s back until his grip is on the base of his skull, tilting to get his forehead resting against Mickey’s. The sweat film between them and the heavy breathing against each other’s lips has him yearning for more, more contact, more kissing, more touching. He takes a deep breath and whispers, “fuck that was good.”

“Fuck yeah it was,” Mickey’s mouth is against his again, diving into his lips and chasing the very last drop of pleasure as they sink into the bedding still wrapped around each other.

Chapter Text

Ian wakes up on Saturday morning with Mickey spooned up tight against him, the hard line of his cock lined up perfectly with Mickey’s crack. His chest pressed tightly against his back and his arms moving up and down with Mickey’s breathing. He can tell he’s awake already, and just lying there letting Ian savor this.

Leaning down to press his lips against his shoulder he’s met with a sleep gruff, “morning sunshine.”

“Morning,” Ian leaves his smile against his bare skin. Knowing he can feel it there and know that he put it there.

Mickey’s fingers lazily trace over Ian’s where they’re dangling half off the mattress. Tickling into his palm and over his wrist.

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah. Guy could get used to this.” Mickey admits honestly, giving a wicked grind of his hips against Ian’s morning wood.

Ian groans, wishing he had not put a clean pair of underwear on after last night’s festivities. Sleeping naked would have made this much easier. He hides his face in Mickey’s neck as Mickey reaches back to grip Ian’s cock through his boxers. Ian’s hand flattens on the plains and hollows of Mickey’s chest, sliding down his stomach and gripping his cock in his hand. He takes a moment to trace over every piercing and admit, “I fucking love these.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to feel them on my tongue.” He tugs on Mickey’s cock, releasing it to move down his balls, toying with the hafada rings. Mickey moans through bitten lips and Ian moves his hand further down. Mickey parts his legs, welcoming the exploration as he fingers over the rod in his gooch. Pushing it back and forth through that thin skin. He hears Mickey’s breath pick up and he wonders against his neck, “can I finger you?”

“Fuck yes,” it’s moaned and just the thought of it has his cock jerking in Mickey’s grip.

He reaches over to the nightstand for the lube. Adjusting himself to get his left arm behind Mickey to toy with his hole, while his right hand slides up and down his shaft, smearing lube across his cock, over his balls, being generous with his motions to spread as much over him as possible. Mickey props one leg up, keeping his knee bent to allow full access to his hole. Ian flattens his palm, smoothes over his cheek, his hips, his stomach. Leaving trails of oil over his skin. He elbows the sheet off to get a full view of the pale expanse of his skin, the dips and curves of his muscles as they work and shudder under his touch. He knows he doesn’t need his right arm for much, he can get Mickey off no problem with just his fingers in his ass. But he keeps it snug up against his front, so he can grasp his cock blindly to know how hard he is.

Mickey’s hand is lazily tugging at Ian’s cock, keeping him in the game without much effort. He pulls away to lube up his palm, giving Ian a slick warm slide. Toying with the slit, hard short tugs punctuated with long languorous ones.

“Jesus Mick,” he grunts out, feeling like he’s already on the brink of orgasm, feeling it building quickly in his belly as he traces his hole with his index finger. Slathering the lube around his rim, dipping in just the tip to test the waters. Mickey moans, low and throaty and Ian does it again. He has access like this to all of him, him being on his side it feels like he wants more, he wants him sprawled on his back or on his hands and knees in the middle of his bed so he can torture him with his mouth, tongue, hands, and cock. But he only asked to finger him, not to fuck him. He’s not going to press for more until Mickey asks for it.

He strokes around the ridged outside of him until the blood flow gets moving, until his hole is already loosening up just from the external play. Dipping the tip of his finger into the hot clamp of his insides every third or fourth pass. His cock is pulsing in his loose grip, and Ian’s own cock is responding eagerly to the stimulation, to the heat around his finger, to the imagination of having that tightness surrounding his cock.

He listens to the clang of Mickey’s frenum jewelry as he strokes, up and down his shaft. Pressing the pad of his thumb to the head of his cock every time he presses his index finger into his hole. Mickey’s body is responding nicely, opening up for him as he writhes with his back against Ian’s chest and his hand gripping nicely on his cock. He arches his back and taps Ian’s cockshead against his spine a few times. Making Ian curse and bite his lip. The dirty smack of it echoing in the room.

Fuck, he wants to be inside this man. He wants to feel the ridges of his channel with his fingers, tongue and cock. He sinks his finger into his clench all the way to the knuckle and Mickey keens. His head coming back and his grip on Ian’s cock tightening. His rhythm begins to stutter as Ian circles another finger around his rim with twisting of his wrist. Feeling for his prostate with his index and stroking over it in sweeping motions. The tightening of Mickey’s hole around his finger, the bobbing of his balls and the pulsing of his cock all in tandem with the rippling of his pelvic floor with the internal stimulation on his prostate has Ian seeing spots when he closes his eyes.

He leans his mouth against Mickey’s shoulder, mouthing at his skin, up his shoulder, against his neck, towards the hard line of his tendon where his head is thrown back in ecstasy. He sucks against him, not enough to leave a mark since he’d have to explain it to V when he goes in to film this week. But enough to add some pressure, to remind him that he’s here and at Ian’s mercy while he sinks his middle finger inside his hole. Joining up with his index, he arches them and presses against his prostate. Mickey bucks and drags his cock through Ian’s hand with the motion. His breath is coming out in gusts of broken pleasure now and Ian is having a hard time not releasing his cock to strip his own.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He speaks into the hair at the back of Mickey’s neck. Some precum wetting his thumb when he trails over his slit.

Ian twists his wrist like he’s working the throttle, bringing his fingers over and back inside of Mickey. Picking up the pace to the sound of his broken gasps and choked moans. Mickey’s hand on his cock has gone still, only clenching and releasing with his full body responses to the stimuli. Ian starts thrusting his pelvis in and out of the hand that’s braced against his lower back.

“Mmm yeah,” Mickey urges him on, “cum on my back.”

Ian’s status as a top with porn quality stamina is in serious question when all it takes is that demand from Mickey to have him spurting hot jizz over Mickey’s fist and onto his back. The effect of it has Mickey clenching and pulsing in his grip, Ian presses against his prostate, stroking it to milk him. The feel of Mickey’s hot clench in his channel and the pulsing of his cock in his hand is enough to have Ian seeing stars and wishing he could rebound quickly enough to just keep this going all morning.

He pulls his fingers free of Mickey’s hole when it stops clenching. Mickey groans with it and reaches to drag his fingers through the white streaks Ian left on his back. He spreads it along his spine, down his cleft and smears some across his hole. Pushing a little of it inside of him with the tip of his finger.

“Fuck,” Ian groans, wanting so badly to see his hot load leaking out of Mickey’s ass, gaped open hole red and puffy with use. It’s nearly enough to get his cock twitching again but Mickey pulls himself out of bed, stretching his arms above his head and swaying side to side. Ian watches the play of his muscles in the morning light as he cracks his neck and gets to his feet. The bouncing of his hot ass when he walks across the bedroom’s hardwood floors with Ian’s jizz spread out on the canvas of him.

“Now that is a sight I could wake up to every morning,” he announces right as Mickey is disappearing into the bathroom.

It should be embarrassing how far gone he is on this guy already. But since he’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual, he’s not at all embarrassed.

Chapter Text

It feels natural to have Mickey sitting at his breakfast table, eating eggs scrambled with veggies and whole wheat toast after they go for a morning work out in Central Park. “What you got planned today fire crotch?” His eyebrow darts up when he takes a sip of coffee.

“Nothing. Just planning on spending the day with you. I usually plan out my week on Sundays, but Saturdays are just whatever.”

“You and your fucking schedule,” he smirks. His eyes twinkle and Ian is pretty sure he looks like a puppy in love right now but he can’t be bothered to care when Mickey is teasing him in a such a good-hearted way. If he’d put a label on it, he’d say in the way couples do.

“Why, what about you? Big plans? Or you want to have a naked weekend?”

“Naked weekend, huh?”

“You know, if you’re comfortable being in the nude around me,” Ian grins.

Mickey scoffs, shaking his head with a little pink in his cheeks. He admits, “I was going to do something today, and was hoping you’d come with me.”

“Of course.”

“That’s it? Not going to ask what it is?”

“Unless it’s dumping a body in the river, or throwing it in a barrel of acid I can’t imagine anything that I’d turn down when it comes to you.”

Mickey tosses his balled up napkin at Ian and tries to hide his blush behind his coffee mug as he gets to his feet and collects plates off the table.

###

Two hours later, after a long sensual shower that involved lots of hand-work, Mickey is sitting in the piercing chair.

“Both nipples,” he’s telling the piercer and Ian barely stifles a groan when he feels some blood rush to his cock at the thought.

“And you have…”

“Plenty of piercings. Don’t need the rundown on aftercare and shit. Just clamp those fuckers and push that rod in.”

That barely stifled groan exits Ian’s mouth now. With Mickey’s brows up and his pretty pink lips pressed together before his tongue darts out to lick them. Looking right at Ian when he said that. Ian has to turn his head and breathe in the scent of disinfectant and medical grade cleaning substances to will his rod back to an appropriate level of chub.

“Alright then,” the piercer agrees, the sound of her stool wheeling across the floor to get to work on his skin. “Your partner going to pass out on me?”

“I hope not. It’d be a pain in the ass to drag his dead weight off the floor.”

She snickers and Ian flips Mickey off, responding, “no. I’m good. Just going to be over here breathing.” He lets his eyes wander over Mickey’s pale torso, thinks about how hot it would be to lick his own cum off his belly, then watches as the woman’s gloved hands mark his nipples, hand him a mirror and he nods his approval.

Mickey doesn’t exactly seem like the type that needs a hand to hold for this, but Ian moves closer anyway. Then he can watch, see how this shit is done. And be there, just in case. Be close enough for his arm to brush up against Mickey’s as the girl prepares.

“On three, or just do it?”

“Give me a breath.”

“Alright,” she adjusts herself closer, leaning in towards his chest and she takes a deep breath herself, then tells him, “out.”

He breathes out as she pushes the piercing needle through followed by the rod. And fuck. That is hot the way his breath shudders and his abs quiver like he’s barely holding back an orgasm from the stinging pain of being pierced. Maybe that’s the appeal. There’s minimal blood, Ian’s not sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely different than this. Different than being turned the fuck on in a piercing parlor watching his friend? boyfriend? partner? coworker? getting his nipples mutilated.

When the second one is done and the girl tells Mickey to stay seated for a few minutes, while she cleans up and probably makes sure he’s not going to pass out on her. Ian reaches out and clamps a hand down on his shoulder. His head turns, his gaze aimed up and there’s a level of hope in his eyes that Ian feels a need to give him, “that’s hot,” as a supportive vocalization of the decision. He’ll tell him more later, and he’ll fucking certainly show him more when they’re healed up and he can lave attention to them.

###

The fucking great thing about him having fresh piercings on his nipples is that he spends the rest of the weekend shirtless. And sure, his nipples look irritated and are a little crusty with blood, but the rest of him is a sight to fucking behold.

“Thank you,” Ian mutters into the back of his head when he’s spooned into his arms that night.

“For what?”

“Sharing that part of you with me.”

“What part?”

“Getting a piercing is kind of a private thing. And really, it’s a kink and you’re into it and it’s fucking sexy. So thank you for sharing that moment with me.”

“You’re a fucking cheesy motherfucker, aren’t you?” His head is turning and his shoulders are shifting to press back, looking at Ian with a perfect smile on his lips, his twinkly eyes in the nighttime are more than enough for Ian’s cock to respond. That, and probably the line of his entire body against Ian’s, nothing but bare skin between them. Mickey punctuates his words when a wicked hip roll, “that so?”

“That is so,” Ian responds, half-muffled as he’s leaning in to capture his lips, chase his tongue and taste his mouth.

Mickey’s hand rises, soothing through Ian’s hair, grasping at the back of his head and bringing him even deeper as his hips keep rolling against Ian’s hardening cock. Plumping up with barely any coaxing from Mickey. Ian is starting to think this whole thing was a fucking horrible idea, he’s starting to think he’ll have trouble getting hard for work on Monday. Getting hard for someone who isn’t Mickey.

Ian’s hand slides down the plains of his stomach, finding his cock hard and ready when he traces a finger down the ridges of it. He grips in motion with Mickey’s hips, he feels like he doesn’t have the time or coordination for lube right now so he breaks the kiss to spit in his palm and start jerking him in a tight grasp as his own fat cock rides perfectly the cleft of Mickey’s ass.

Mickey moans as Ian’s thumb slides over the tip of his cock. Sweat beginning to gather on the skin between them. His breath beginning to quicken, shorten and pant out. His kisses already growing sloppy while his orgasm builds in Ian’s hand. Fuck, Ian rolls his own eyes shut and focuses on the sensations of Mickey’s skin against his, his ass grinding on Ian’s cock, and the feel and weight of his cock in Ian’s hand. It is a good cock. Ian is typically more interested in the assets that make a bottom a good bottom and he doesn’t really have expectations for a cock, but this one is amazing. He wants to feel it on his tongue, see if it stretches his lips when he sucks it down, see if he can take the whole thing without gagging.

He gives in to his impatience and reels up to his knees, sending Mickey to his back before he can process the change in position Ian is sucking a line of open mouthed kisses down the center of his body. He can’t wait for those nipples to heal so he can push those rods back and forth with his tongue as he fingers his asshole. Mickey doesn’t fight it, in fact he sinks down into the mattress immediately and his hands come up to Ian’s hair, holding both sides of his face like he’s impatient to feel how his cock feels on the other sides of Ian’s cheeks.

He circles his bellybutton with his tongue then does the same to the tip of his cock. Mickey’s moan sounds like it’s punched out of him and he angles his head to take it down in one quick swallow all the way to the base. Fuck, that is a mouthful of cock. It’s the best thing Ian has ever experienced while giving head.

Mickey’s knees come up off the bed and his feet plant themselves on Ian’s shoulders. Tilting his ass up off the mattress, saying without words that he wants a finger. Ian is more than happy to oblige. But this he will stop long enough to grab lube for. Or at least stop his hands, he’s suctioned on to the girth of Mickey’s cock and he’s not planning on releasing until Mickey is spilling down his throat.

His hands fumble for a moment in the nightstand but not long enough to draw his focus away from swallowing around Mickey’s cock. Sliding up his shaft until he’s tonguing at the tip and flicking at the slit. Mickey’s body is undulating under the stimulation and Ian wants to bathe himself in the image of it.

His muscles tense in waves of pleasure at the sound of the lube cap. Ian smears a generous amount around three of his fingers. Knowing exactly what Mickey is capable of but he’s going to take this slow and drag it out. One finger sliding the circle of his hole, as he laves a line down the ridge of his cock then back up and taking it down his throat at the same time pressing into his tight heat. Mickey’s hands go tight on Ian’s jaw, dipping fingertips into his soft places and then back out, relaxing in waves as he tenses again in the same rhythm of Ian’s finger sliding in and out of his hole. Ian’s mouth sliding up and down his shaft, swallowing at the base every time and tonguing at the head on the way up.

He slips a second finger in alongside his first and the moan that cuts through the air in the loft is enough to have his cock twitching and drooling where it’s hanging heavy between his legs. He fucks into the bed for a moment to get himself some friction and sweep his fingers over Mickey’s prostate. Back and forth, then circling and pulling back out. This time adding the third.

It’s a tight fit and Ian moans around his mouthful at the feel of it pulled taut around his fingers. That ring of muscle stretched and ready to be stuffed. He brings his head up, tastes the precum on his tongue as he gathers it in his mouth before pressing back down to the base, sliding fingers over prostate and dragging another moan out of Mickey when he crooks his fingers. The bend of his knuckles putting even more pressure on his rim, Ian’s cock is dancing with the white heat rolling through his belly, up his legs and right to his groin.

He’s sure he’s going to shoot off as soon as he has a mouthful of Mickey’s jizz. He sucks down harder, hollowing his cheeks now that his own release is imminent. Arching and dragging his fingers over his prostate, feeling the tight stretch of his hole and moaning around his shaft is enough to do it. A blinding heat sparks out through Ian’s body as he feels Mickey’s release sliding down his throat. Swallowing it all quickly and continuing the overstimulated ministrations on his prostate as Mickey gasps, and twitches underneath him. He pulls off his cock when he’s swallowed the last of his cum, kisses his way back up his center and rests his fingers inside his tight wet heat.

Mickey’s body is flushed with pleasure, his hands guiding Ian to his lips as his legs wrap around his hips and pull his body between his legs. He grinds his hips a few times to spread his jizz along Mickey’s inner thighs, so he knows he came from pleasuring him only.

Mickey sighs into the kiss and then attacks him like he’s trying to find any last lingering drop of his own cum inside Ian’s mouth. Ian’s cock twitches and drools his final drops out, he keeps his fingers in snug against his prostate, pressing slightly every so often to remind him he’s still there.

“Fuck,” he groans into Mickey’s opened mouth, slack and kiss tortured when he pulls back to look at him. “I don’t want tomorrow to be Sunday.”

Mickey snickers, not bothering to open his eyes, just jerking his head to motion Ian back into the deep, slow, sensuous kisses.

Chapter Text

Sunday sucks. It’s amazing, truly, but it sucks. Knowing that the weekend is over and Mickey will go home this evening. Ian will have to sleep alone and they’ll go back to work on Monday, he’ll have to fuck someone else and pretend to enjoy it. When it’ll only be Mickey on his mind.

It all feels so damn domestic. To get a morning run in, to share breakfast, and have a long walk around the city in the afternoon, stopping to grab lunch and a couple drinks on the patio as Spring is starting to settle in the city. They walk back to the loft fingers linked in fingers, mostly silence between them as they watch the city go by.

Mickey slings his bag over his shoulder when he’s ready to leave and it clenches something hard in Ian’s gut to watch him leave. He kisses him so long and hard at the door that he’s breathless as he’s watching it click shut behind him. And fuck, he’s already got his phone in his hand to text him before he’s even made it to street level.

Thanks for the great weekend. Let’s do it again sometime.

He forces himself to set the phone down and get to work on his Sunday routine of cleaning, scheduling and meal prep. Knowing Mickey probably won’t respond until he’s back at his place. And he needs to keep himself busy to make sure he doesn’t look obsessively for that response. Sure enough it comes in as he’s chopping veggies.

whenever you want

Ian swallows his heart when it starts to beat in his throat. He’s not going to play games and act like he didn’t read this text immediately, but he needs to chill and think about it before he types something stupid like, next weekend then?

Too late. It’s sent and he’s staring at the phone in horror at his own boldness when it vibrates with, planning on it.

“Holy fuck.” He tells the empty loft.

###

As he thought it would it’s hard to focus at work all week. It feels so different now to fuck someone else, knowing the level of transparency between them in their relationship, it’s not like he’s cheating or like Mickey doesn’t know he’s fucking someone else right now. They talked about the shoot and how Ian was going to handle finishing it when he’s not entirely certain it’s in his comfort zone. But every actor pushes their comfort zone from time to time, how else does one progress? So he reminds himself that this is acting, this is Curtis not Ian. This is Curtis the personal trainer who sometimes fucks his clients. And in this case, has a threesome with double penetration. It’s different, and in a way it’s insanely sexy to be rubbing cocks with another actor while inside a tight channel of heat. He knows all parties are actually enjoying themselves but there’s just something missing.

V pulls him aside after shooting all day on Wednesday, tugging him into her office on his way out the door, motioning him towards a chair. When he sits, she pours him a drink and cheers him before she wonders, “where were you all week?”

“Hmm?”

She taps her head. “In here. You were a million miles away.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I think I might have bitten off a little more than I can chew with this scene.”

“Tap out whenever Ian. You know the rules.”

“I know. I do, I just wanted to extend my body of work and I still do. it’s just… an adjustment I wasn’t prepared for.”

“You know how we are around here. Even if we’re in the cutting room after all is said and done you can still withdraw your name. We can reshoot the entire thing with someone else if you’re not comfortable with it at any time. You can call cut whenever you want, no questions asked.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. Truly. I’m honest when I say I still want to do this. The set is comfortable and I know these guys. I just…”

“Fell in love,” V interrupts him.

“What?” It catches him off guard, then it starts to settle in his throat. Like he’s eaten the notion off the silver platter she just served it on and it’s slowly slipping down his throat and settling in his belly with a type of heat and warmth that spreads through his entire body. Lighting his cheeks in a blush. He takes a deep breath, averts his gaze and feels her hand close over his on the desk where he’s got it wrapped around his shot glass.

“Baby I will never make you do a damn thing you don’t want to do. So sleep on it. If you don’t want to finish this one, let me know in the morning. If you want to partner back up with Owen, he’s open next week. If you want to take a few weeks vacation, fine. If you want to float the idea of partnering with Milkovich, then ask him.”

“Wait, how did you even…”

“I have ears. And eyes. It’s not hard to see something’s been going on with you two since the Cocksuckers.”

“Oh.” He can feel the flush creeping up to dangerous levels, trying like hell to swallow it down.

“There are no rules for not dating coworkers here. Hell, the more intimate partner porn the better,” she winks at him when he dares lift his gaze. “Not every person watching porn is a single male who just wants a quick jerk. We cater to everyone here,” she reminds him.

And shit, she’s right. There are no official couples who shoot together here. Not yet anyway. He feels the blush beginning to break and his mind being overtaken with possibilities. But he needs to get a hold of himself before he gets carried away before even discussing the possibility with Mick. He’s made it pretty clear he solos only, but they haven’t talked about it since they started hooking up. Well, not that he can rush into this either. This is a big decision and they’ve only just moved their relationship to the physical level this past weekend. And well, there’s the whole falling in love thing that he needs to sort through for himself too. Love? Huh. That’s a new one.

###

He has the entire walk home to think it over. To think about if it’s true, if he loves Mickey. Does he think about him pretty much all the time? Yes. Does he want to be around him when he’s not? Yes. Does he want to put him first and not feel guilty about it? Yes. Does he make him smile, laugh, feel like he can come to him with the shitty stuff too? Yes.

Fuck.

By the time he’s walking into his building and forgetting to greet his doorman, he’s leaping up the steps instead of taking the elevator and buzzing with an energy he has no idea what to do with. Maybe he should put it to use by getting in a second work-out. Or maybe he should call Fi and ask for advice. Or maybe he should just call Mickey and out it. No. Way too soon. How could he even approach that with Mickey? The evidence is there, if he thinks hard about it, Mickey’s demi. He only has sexual attraction to people once he has an emotional attraction to them. So yeah, he wouldn’t have been getting down and dirty with Ian all weekend if he didn’t already feel the romantic spark.

Holy fuck.

His heart is pounding, head is spinning, and his breath is caught in his throat when he makes it up the last flight of stairs and nearly trips over his heart eyes when he sees Mickey sitting in the hallway. Back against the door jamb, thumbing through his phone, a dish of something covered next to him. And a bag.

Holy fucking fuck.

“Hey,” Ian tries to play it cool but he’s sure he missed that mark.

Mickey’s got an eyebrow up as he’s getting to his feet. Ian might be coming at him like he’s a damsel tied to the train tracks but he can’t stop himself long enough to care. Mickey takes about one step in his direction, his mouth lifting into a smirk as Ian steps directly into his space and leans in to kiss him. He doesn’t bother holding back. Diving into his mouth until their tongues are tied up and Mickey’s bottom lip is flat against his. Diving so deep that he’s pretty sure he’s trying to melt and run down his throat instead of just staying on the surface of this.

Mickey’s hands have risen, are stroking through his hair, cupping the back of his head as he reciprocates every ounce of passion that Ian is pouring into him. Ian keeps stepping into him until his back is against the door. He nearly considers gripping his thighs and lifting him to wrap around him. But he holds himself back.

Only breaking the kiss when he needs air, uttering, “Hi,” against his lips and diving back in for more before Mickey can respond. The weirdest part of it is, sex isn’t even on his mind as much as just kissing him, being near him, getting to talk over the day with him, hold him in his bed until they both fall asleep with throats raw from talking.

Mickey’s hands have slid from his head to his back, stopping on the nape of his neck and the small of his back. Ian’s hands are restless and can’t stop covering as much of him as possible. Over the clothes and across his bare neck, down his chest, finally settling on his hips.

He draws back, watching Mickey’s eyes as they open. Revealing twinkling blues that Ian feels like he’s staring at an endless sky.

“Hi,” Mickey grins and the twinkle only intensifies. “I brought dinner.”

“And your overnight bag.”

“Yeah. If that’s cool.”

“That is cool,” he leans in to touch his forehead to Mickey’s. “It’s very cool,” breathing against his lips.

Mickey is silent for a moment, letting Ian take his calm and breathe it in until the urgency subsides. Then he wonders, “hungry?”

“Yeah. Yes I am. Fuck.”

Mickey chuckles, swats Ian’s ass and wriggles himself free of his grasp. “Let’s fucking eat then.”

###

“You, ah, have a long day or what?” Mickey wonders when they’re loading the dishwasher together after an amazing veggie based lasagne.

“Yes,” Ian sighs. Quickly turning his head to peck a kiss on Mickey’s temple. “It’s not the physicality of this shoot. That’s not my problem with it. It’s actually really fucking sexy. But I just, I don’t know. It feels wrong. But not the action. The… emotion?”

“You asking me? Or telling me?”

“I’m telling,” Ian laughs, feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I have no trouble getting turned on or participating in the sex. It’s just the thought of it all, I guess, I feel very disconnected.”

Mickey shrugs, setting the last plate in the dishwasher and turning to lean his ass against the marble counter. “You actually want to be there for you or for your career?”

“What’s the difference?” Ian takes up the same relaxed stance against the kitchen island, leans back enough to cross his feet at the ankles.

Mickey rolls his eyes and watches Ian for a moment while he decides how to word it. “I know the career is also personal because money is what makes the world go ‘round. But you’re clearly at a comfortable place money wise,” he eyes the loft and all the high end furniture, decorations that Ian isn’t even certain he likes. They’re just status symbols. “So is the shoot for your own personal growth, is it something you wanted to do? A kink you wanted to explore in a safe place? Or is it just to line your pockets by reaching more of a fan base?”

“Well when you put it that way,” Ian shifts on his feet. “I thought it was a good career move. You know, press on my boundaries and reach a wider viewership. It’s not something I’m repulsed by or afraid of, or anything negative at all. But it’s not really anything I ever had goals to participate in either.” He props one elbow on the other to rub at his chin. Watching Mickey watching him while he thinks it over. He debates telling him the truth. That his heart isn’t in it anymore and he’s not sure it ever will be again unless Mickey would agree to partner with him. But he’s not going to put that out there and put that kind of pressure on him. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. “Fuck,” he finally sighs.

Mickey steps up into his space, rubs his hands up and down Ian’s arms soothingly. “Did you talk to V?”

“Yeah. She pulled me aside actually. And reminded me I can tap out whenever.” Ian drops his arms, lets his hands find the handles of Mickey’s hips and rest there.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, but if you’re not comfortable with it for whatever reason. Then step out. It won’t be the last opportunity you ever get to DP, shit, that stuff is common as hell. And it feels fucking amazing,” he adds with an eyebrow quirk that has Ian swallowing his tongue.

“You’ve done it? I thought…”

“Relax tough guy, I got the chance to try out a fucking machine. It was two dildos.”

Ian takes a deep breath and has no shame in making it well pronounced so Mickey knows he’s insanely relieved that his hot ass wasn’t being destroyed by two cocks and neither of them were his. “You film it?”

“Na. But I might,” his fingers trail over Ian’s chest, gripping his chin to tilt his lips for a quick kiss.

“Fuck,” Ian groans. Just thinking about watching a double headed sex machine fuck the hell out of that hot ass. “That makes me a little jealous.”

Mickey grunts out a laugh and leans back to watch Ian’s eyes. Biting at his bottom lip for awhile before he announces, “I say we put that jacuzzi to use and just chill tonight.”

“Fuck yes,” Ian leans into Mickey’s forehead for a long breath. Letting his heart calm and his entire body just center with this man and his presence in Ian’s life. He won’t ask him yet, maybe he’ll never ask him to partner up with him in front of the cam. But for now, he has this, and Mickey understands the life. He won’t pressure Ian to change, and he’s pretty damn sure he’ll never pressure him to step outside any of his own boundaries. So Ian won’t do that to him.

Throwing away this much time spent on this short film seems unnecessary at this point. So he’ll finish the project. Hell, it’s almost over. He can suck it up and get himself more into the mindset to be present in the film. Then maybe he’ll do what V suggested and take a little time off. Get back into it in a few weeks with someone he’s familiar with like Owen. See if he can get the Curtis persona back. If he can play the part of the single man knowing he has the sweetest piece of ass waiting for him at home. And in the meantime, make sure that sweet piece of ass knows he’s in this and he’s it for Ian.

Chapter Text

“It’s not bad at all.” Mickey adjusts his cock in his underwear, leans back against the headboard and tilts his head to watch Ian. “Can kind of tell you aren’t fully invested in it, but that might just be because I know your fully invested in it face,” Mickey elbows him.

They just watched the final cut of the DP. Ian went through with it, like he thought before - he could suck it up and finish it. It wasn’t against his morals or anything, it was just the added boyfriend (maybe) that had him thinking differently about scenes. The next project is back in his comfort zone with Owen, they started going over scripts and positions this week and the filming will start next week. He feels better about this one, it’s second nature at this point being with him for as long as he has at work.

But this, this right here with Mickey lounged back on his bed, his hard cock in his hand, cock made hard from watching Ian’s project. This makes it all worth it. He leans towards him and plants a kiss on his sweet pink lips, fully planning on going south and planting kisses on his cock, balls, and sweet pink hole.

“So what’s your big scene for this week?”

Mickey shrugs. “Planted the seed with V for a fucking machine shoot. Not that it’s anything new in the porn industry, but it’d be new for me,” he thumbs at his nose. Ian knows this as a nervous tell so he waits it out. Knowing Mickey will admit whatever it is that has him nervous. He laces his fingers through his while he waits, laying his hand down over his hard cock, outlined and hugged in his briefs, the tip of it lifting the waistband off his stomach. Ian’s own cock never gets hard watching his scenes, it’s not really much of a turn on to watch himself. No matter how hot his scene partners are, he already lived it and felt it and was turned on in the moment, it’s different once it’s said and done and he can sit back and watch what he did right, what he did wrong, what he needs to work on for next time.

He rubs his wrist along the ridged edge of Mickey’s cock through the cotton spandex. It seems to coax the words right out of him, “I was wondering if you’d be willing to be in the scene with me.” He averts his eyes, thumbs his nose again with his free hand and stares at the wall while he waits. Does he really think Ian is going to shoot him down?

“Hell yeah.”

“Hell yeah? That easy?” Now his orbs dart back over, looking skeptically at Ian, “you already have your week all scheduled out, and you’re just going to…”

“Hell yeah,” he leans in to seal it with a kiss. Short and sharp and to the point, but he lingers close to his lips as he whispers, “hell yeah.” One more time.

Mickey smirks, sliding his hand though Ian’s hair, lingering on the back of his neck, “you wouldn’t be fucking me.”

“Kind of figured that much. I feel like our first time together shouldn’t be on cam.”

“Yeah. I just feel like it might add another layer to it if the machine fucks me while I suck your cock.”

Ian’s cock tingles at that and he rolls his eyes shut, stifling a groan by bringing a fist to his mouth.

“Like that idea?” He fucking purrs it.

Ian doesn’t bother responding vocally, he grips Mickey’s hips and layers himself over him, dipping them both into he bed while he rubs his cock against Mickey’s. Letting it plump up unabashedly while he sucks on Mickey’s lower lip.

Mickey chuckles this breathy, throaty thing that has Ian’s heart doing somersaults. And his dick wanting to be sunk into his tight heat. He has to take a deep breath to control himself.

“Want to practice?” Mickey wonders. “I should probably get a good idea of how much your cock stretches my lips before we put it on film.”

Ian groans, trailing kisses down his throat, his chest and tucking his hands under his ass, cupping at his cheeks, kneading the muscles there. “Makes me wish I had a dildo, you could fuck yourself with it while you suck me off.”

“Careful what you wish for tough guy.”

Ian’s head snaps up at that, looking at the coy expression on his face.

“Got one in my bag.”

“You came prepared,” Ian grins. Leaning forwards to lick and suck at his bare skin. Those nipples need a few more days before he can toy with them the way he wants to, but just the sight of them now that they’re mostly healed has his tongue tingling with anticipation.

“Always.”

Ian grabs him, tugs him down the bed until he’s flat on his back, yanking his briefs off and looming over him with a smile meant to torment as he works his fingers in a loose grip around his cock, stroking, teasing and making it clear he wants to draw this night out.

Mickey’s hands are already working at taking Ian’s boxers down, then sliding back up his back and down his chest, skimming over his abs and leaving nothing but a breeze over his hard cock dangling heavy and ready. Apparently two can play the tease game. Son of a bitch.

Ian dives in, being the first one to break doesn’t really shock him since this is Mickey he’s with. Mickey who grunts when Ian takes him to the base without any warning. Ian doesn’t mind sucking cock, but he prefers eating ass. If he’s being honest. Though when it comes to Mickey he’s pretty damn sure he’d be happy as hell to do any or all of the above.

“You want to 69? Let me eat your ass until you cum?” Ian mutters when he slips off the tip of Mickey’s cock with a wet pop. Then slides back down, working his tongue down the rungs of his ladder as he goes, letting his upper lip trail along behind, moving over to his balls, sucking one into his mouth as his fingers dip down to his gooch. There is something so sexy about the clicking of his cock jewelry when Ian pumps his hand up and down his shaft, and it’s more erotic than he ever thought it would be to feel the metal of it against his tongue when he swallows his cock down. If he had any inkling whatsoever to bottom he knows that would feel fucking amazing massaging his prostate if he let Mickey take him from behind. Maybe it’ll be on the list of things to do someday, but not today.

Mickey’s fingers tangle in his hair, when Ian tilts his gaze to look at him, his head is already thrown back in pleasure, mouth parted with a look of ecstasy. Ian feels himself smile before he works his way back up his shaft, stops to tongue at the tip, and then kisses and licks his way up his belly and chest.

He settles between Mickey’s knees when he spreads his legs to let Ian in. Arching his pelvis to rock against him with his cock nuzzled up tight against his cleft. He breathes into Mickey’s neck to watch goosebumps rise on his flesh as Mickey begins to rock his pelvis in response to Ian’s rhythms, getting his own angle for his cock to drag on Ian’s abs while Ian’s rubs along his balls, his ass.

“I asked you a question Milkovich.”

Mickey puffs out an amused sigh. His eyes roll open slowly, lust blown pupils barely focused when they land on Ian’s. “I’m thinking.”

“It’s too late for thinking.” He punctuates it with a roll of his pelvis so sharp it has Mickey crying out and bucking up against him to extend the feel of his cock sliding past his hungry hole, through the trench of his cleft.

“Rim me until I cum then.” He gasps it and it makes Ian’s dick twitch and drool.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He rears back to his knees and flips Mickey by his hips on the bed. He goes willingly so it’s not like he has to fight for it. But fuck, he can’t get there quick enough. He takes a hold of his pelvis when Mickey brings his knees in and presents himself. Ian licks his lips just looking at his perfect puckered hole. His dick is hard and he imagines burying it in that tight heat as he presses forward and goes straight for it. Flattening his lips along the ridges of his circle, pressing the very tip of tongue inside then drawing back to flatten it and press, cover the entirely of his rim. Pressing and laving around it, slicking it up with spit and working that muscle loose enough to point his tongue and press past the rubber band tightness of him. Mickey moans and arches, his ass so sensitive already. This won’t take long. Ian wants it to. He wants his jaw to be tired, his tongue to be burning with exertion and his lips to be swollen by the time he’s done. He wants Mickey to be keening and whining, bucking away from his grip while he twists and turns his tongue inside him, sweeping pressure over his prostate with every pass along his gooch.

He takes pride in being the kind of guy who doesn’t even need to get fingers inside his partner to get them cumming. Using his tongue just to loosen that muscle, work Mickey into a frenzy with every lick. He sucks at his delicate puckered flesh, then flattens his tongue and takes a long swipe from his hungry hole, down his pierced gooch, and suckling at the seam of his balls. Then back up. Diving with a pointed tongue into that heat, that clench of muscle as his balls draw up on pure sexual instinct.

“Fuck me.” He hears Mickey groan into the pillow that he’s probably got in a death grip right now.

And fuck yeah, he’d love to. He’d love to fuck Mickey. But he knows that is not the actual offer he’s making. So he fucks him with his tongue. Licking, sucking, and laving over his hole until it’s pleasured and loosened enough to drive his tongue. He places both hands on his ass cheeks to pull them open, to give himself more space to work with. Mickey’s moaning uncontrollably now, his back bowed, head buried in his bent arms. He’s having a hard time holding himself still so Ian praises, “good. Just like that.”

One hand slides down his ass cheek, grasps at his balls, feeling them tucked up tight then takes a good grip on his cock to crank it once. The sound of his jewelry clinking under his dry grasp and Mickey’s garbled moan goes straight to his own neglected cock.

It’s tempting to stick a finger inside him, to get him shooting off, clenching hot and tight around Ian’s finger. But he holds himself back. Traces his rim with the tip of his tongue, flicks his tongue when he’s as deep as the angle, the length of his tongue and the tug of his hands holding his ass open will allow. Fuck, he wants to stretch this ass, he wants to see it swallowing down his fat cock, pulled tight around him, puffed and taut, gripping him in that clutch. He moans at the thought of it, the vibrations of it against Mickey’s hole that’s been severely punished with oral pleasure making him cry out. His hole twitches, and clenches so slightly, just enough to make Ian certain he’s hitting the right nerves.

He fucking loves doing this when there are no cams around. When there’s no angle or lighting to worry about. When he doesn’t need to take any breaks he can just fucking go to town on a willing and open ass. A greedy little hole that would take anything he could press into it.

He drives his tongue in and out, in and out then pulls out to watch his hole clench on air and his back bow even more deeply, knowing his cock is twitching and his body is revolting at the empty feeling, at the cool air rushing over him where a hot mouth just was. His hole is puffed up nicely with extra blood rushing to the area, with the sucking Ian provided. It’s a sign of a really fucking good bottom that Mickey is still arched back fo him like that, waiting, letting him watch, letting him jerk his cock a few times while he clenches air now purposely.

Ian has to drop his dick before he slaps that hot hole with it. That was not the agreement. The agreement was to rim him. And Ian is not going to cross any boundaries. No matter how badly he wants to.

So he distracts himself by diving back in. Holding his ass open with his hands and driving his tongue forward again and again, laving at his gooch. Letting every drop of spit gather between his tongue and that hot hole, pressing it into him and letting it slick up his gooch, roll through the wrinkles of his balls. Driving his tongue once, twice, three times and then pulls back. Watching the show Mickey makes of clenching, yearning for more, for something to fill him up and fuck him until he’s shuddering. Ian will do that in the future.

Fuck, he wants to stuff that hole and see how much Mickey could take before he’s begging for release. See how many fingers he can take before he’s begging for Ian’s fat cock.

He swats his ass. Gently, not enough to leave a mark. Just enough to make it echo in the loft and Mickey to startle, gasp and roll into it like he wants more. Instead, Ian plants his hand there, going back in to fuck him with his tongue. He lets himself loose now, unleashing his full assault on Mickey’s rim as Mickey pushes back against his face like he can get his tongue deeper. He knows he’s close and he just needs that tiny bit more to push him over the edge so Ian drags his bottom teeth over that thin delicate skin that’s stretched around his tongue. The sharp feel of it as his soft tongue fucks into his hole. He’s clenching hot and heavy, gasping while his entire body goes taut in a wave and his cum releases in spurts across the satin sheets. Ian probably should have put a towel down but he also really doesn’t give a fuck if the sheets are stained with Mickey’s cum.

He draws his tongue back when Mickey’s hole releases it, hums his approval against his oversensitive hole. A hum that has Mickey bucking, but Ian holds him steady with his hands on his pelvis. Watching as the last of the tremors work their way down his back, through his clenching hole, and his twitching balls and cock. Imagining what it would look like for his own cum to be seeping out of that rim.

Mickey pays no mind to the extended viewing session. Ian darts forward once it’s all over and licks a stripe up from his gooch, across his hole, and up his cleft. Making Mickey cry out and twitch at the overstimulation. He rolls him gently to his back and settles himself between his legs. Dragging his still hard cock against his thigh, slotting it alongside his softened one as he takes his lips, tangling his tongue and chasing his moans around inside his mouth until Mickey gets his wits about him and starts pressing to get up from underneath him.

Ian rolls to his side, letting Mickey go. Assuming it’s his turn now. But Mickey surprises him by getting off the bed completely. Ian waits in silence, watching him walk across the room with sweat dotting his skin, pink marks from Ian’s hands on his ass cheeks and his pelvis. He bends, bowing his back to present his hole. Ian bites back a groan as Mickey digs through his bag. He nearly opens his mouth to remind him he has plenty of lube. But then Mickey’s straightening, turning with a dildo in his hand and a coy look on his face.

“Ready for your audition fire crotch?”

Ian nearly slaps a hand down on his face, the image is too fucking much. Mickey’s mused hair from being tongue fucked, his sweat-filmed skin, and the play of his muscles as his knees land on the bed and he starts crawling up it towards Ian to bend down over his cock, licking a stripe up the back of it, circling the head and coming further still. Settling with his legs parted, straddling Ian to rub Ian’s cock against his ass crack as his soft cock drools out the last drops of cum from his first orgasm.

He leans in to tongue fuck Ian’s mouth while he grinds his hips and rolls his pelvis, creating the slow and sensuous drag of Ian’s cock through his cleft that has Ian twitching and yearning for more but still somehow fully satisfied to just do this. Let Mickey ride his raging hard cock without penetration while his tongue explores every part of Ian’s. He doesn’t pull away until his cock is hard and ready for round two. Then he reaches for the lube with one hand, the dildo with the other. Making a good show of sitting back between Ian’s knees and dripping lube on the dildo, letting it slide down the purple shaft of it until it’s spilling down into his fist that’s gripping the base. Leaning over Ian to set the lube back down on the table, he grips it with his second hand and smears the liquid up and down, up and down. His eyes tracking the movement of his hand, over the head of the silicone and back down the shaft. He twists his wrist a few times in a mock of how he’d jerk his own cock and Ian’s cock twitches in yearning.

When he’s got it spread to his liking, he turns his body, putting a knee on either side of Ian’s hips, setting the dildo on his stomach, gripping the base of it to hold it there as he slowly sinks down. Ian bites down on a groan, reaching out to push his asscheeks out, open for the fullest view he can get. He bites down on his tongue, giving himself a sharp wince of pain to keep himself from cumming before Mickey gets his sinful lips around his cock. Once Mickey’s to the base of it he settles. Releases his grip with his hand and just rocks. Back and forth, side to side. Riding the silicone dick on Ian’s stomach as Ian’s cock twitches and lurches where Mickey has it lined up with his own now. Taking them both in the grip of his hands and slicking them up with lube remaining on his fingers. Ian can’t hold back the bucking of his hips.

“Not so fast tough guy,” Mickey grunts. His back muscles playing a teasing game as he adjusts himself, grips their cocks, rolls his entire body with a move so mouthwatering that Ian nearly chokes on his spit. He takes a deep breath, puts his hands behind his head and leans back. Letting Mickey ride the purple dildo and jerk their cocks. Ian has to focus as hard as he can to not cum. He can’t fucking wait to have that hot mouth sucked tight to his cock, his breath puffing against his balls, and his ass in his face again. This time with a dildo stuffed in it.

Ian moans when Mickey slips a thumb over his slit. Feels precum leaking and Mickey turns his head, a cocky smirk on his face. This is different than his Terry persona. It’s still very Mickey. It’s a Mickey that is confident, bordering cocky, but has all the right expressions to make Ian know that he is in complete fucking control of this room. Fuck, it gets him riled up inside to know he’ll be fighting Mickey for dominance in every version of their sex life. He offers a smug smile in return as he rolls his hips, letting his abs move in a wave to press the dildo deeper and arch back to let it slide out. Mickey tosses his head back and practically wails with it. Ian wants nothing more than to slam him down face first on the bed and fuck him raw with the dildo. But that look Mickey is wearing, like he’s got Ian right where he wants him, makes him pause. And just let him ride it out. Literally.

He tucks and rolls his pelvis a few times, letting his abs move the dildo in and out until Mickey releases their cocks in his hold. He tips his chest forward and slithers his ass back towards Ian as he comes to his hands and knees over him.

“No touching,” he announces.

Ian whines. Having that tight hole stretched around the base of a silicone cock, he wants to drag it out, push his tongue in, push his fingers in. Then push the dildo back in. He presses his hands between the pillow and the headboard, forcing himself to take that option off the table.

Mickey leans down, arching his back so his cock is closer to Ian’s mouth than his ass is. Ian tilts to lick at his piercings and it makes Mickey moan just as he’s lowering his own mouth to the tip of Ian’s cock. Swirling his tongue around the head, laving a line down the length of the hard ridge as he lets it lie there on his belly. Hard and yearning for a tight heat to enclose it.

Ian tilts to suckle at Mickey’s balls and Mickey apes the movement. Fuck, Ian has to let his head drop back again. Closing his eyes for just a moment to conjure something non-sexy before he can open them again and watch Mickey’s body from the ass end as he comes down with his chest to lean his chin on Ian’s stomach, his hands beside his hips on the bed and tucking his tongue under the head of his cock to lift it away from his abs. He curls his tongue and pushes Ian’s cock into his mouth, closing his lips around the head of it.

“Fuck,” Ian hears himself curse. It sounds broken and he’s certain that is exactly what Mickey was going for. Fuck, he wants to reach out and start driving that dildo in and out of the hot clutch of his ass where the base of it is held snug to his rim, his tight ass keeping it there. His fingers tingle with want behind him and he grips at the pillow.

Mickey hums around the tip of his cock. One of his hands lifts off the mattress and reaches back, gripping the base of the dildo, pulling it back just a tiny bit, and tipping it. So it tugs down on his rim and shows off the stretch of his hole.

“Jesus Mick that is so hot,” Ian gasps and chokes out the words as his cock tingles while Mickey’s tightly drawn lips sink further and further down his shaft. Torturously slow en route to the base of it until he’s buried in his throat. Mickey hollows his cheeks and swallows around his cock. Ian has to fight with all he’s worth to keep from bucking off the bed and fucking his mouth.

Mickey’s hand presses the dildo back down to the base and his entire body shudders. Driving Ian wild with lust. His self control is on the brink of shattering but fuck, he does this for a living, he can take direction, he can wait. He takes pride in his partner being fully satisfied no matter the scene, or the personal connection. And this one is fucking important. Not only for a mock job interview but also for his life. This guy is more than Ian ever thought he’d be to him. And he’s a little fucking terrified of how fast it all seems to have happened, but fuck, it’s real.

Mickey draws back, just as slowly as he slid down. This time his hand is moving the dildo at the same rate and depth that his mouth is moving on Ian’s cock. Making it even easier to imagine being dragged out of that hot clench. He draws back until his mouth is only around the tip of Ian’s cock, until the dildo is just past the ridge of it’s head, tugging at his rim.

Ian hears him take a breath through his nose and then he’s down. Fucking the dildo quick to the base and taking Ian’s cock at the same pace. It has Ian twitching, his belly hollowing and Mickey’s body rolling in visible waves of pleasure.

“Fuck, Mick, I’m not going to last.”

Like he cares. Ian is pretty sure he’s lost in the pleasure he’s giving himself and the joy he gets from having a fat cock in his throat. All it takes is three more stokes like that with both of them moving in the same rhythm and blinding heat is ripping through Ian’s body while he watches the dildo sink to the base, the stretch and pull of Mickey’s hole and feels the heat of his mouth, the tightness of his throat and lips around his cock and he’s cumming. His eyes rolling back in his head, feeling Mickey moaning his encouragement around his cock as it twitches and releases down his throat.

He also feels the hot spurt of Mickey’s cum landing on his chest and stomach. And fuck, that is hot. Mickey leaves the dildo buried in his ass when he pulls off Ian’s cock, laving at the tip to get every last drop of his jizz.

“Got any plugs?” Ian wonders when he thinks about how hot it would be for Mickey to sleep beside him with his hole plugged and stretched.

“Not this time.” Mickey’s voice is raw. He plants both hands on the bed beside Ian’s hips again, turns his head to look over his shoulder at him and orders, “fuck me with it.”

Ian’s jaw drops. Three orgasms? Are they working towards three? Or does he just want to be fucked out of his mind with overstimulation?

It’d be stupid to stop and ask questions so he just lurches forward, licks around the diameter of the dildo and frees one hand to fuck that tight little hole with it until Mickey is shuddering and falling apart against him. Then he flips him, settling between his legs, slowly pulling the dildo in and pushing it back out while he kisses over his stomach, chest, neck. Rubs his cock that’s hard again into his groin. Watching Mickey’s pleasure blown eyes and fucked-out expression on his face well into the early hours of the morning.

He’s pretty fucking sure he got the part.

Chapter Text

It ends up taking a couple of weeks to get the shoot scheduled. Ian finishes the current project with Owen and Mickey gets another solo vid out. Those weeks between the offer made and the start of shoot are spent mostly together. It become commonplace for Mickey to spend the weekends at Ian’s loft. Sometimes he’s there on weeknights when Ian gets home. He ends up giving him a key, there’s no sense in making a show of it, it’s just the right thing to do when he wants him there and he thinks it’s silly that he’s waiting in the hall every time.

It’s so easy to fall into a rhythm with this man. He fills the empty spaces that Ian always thought he wanted to remain empty, he’s quickly realizing that he doesn’t want that at all. Slotting in against his back at night, spooning in tight against him even when they don’t fuck around before they sleep, it’s more than Ian ever thought a relationship would be.

Mickey reveals to Mandy that they’re dating, but he doesn’t fess up to his work life just yet. But Ian knows that Mandy is a smart girl, and she’s not going to be in the dark about this much longer, if she hasn’t already figured it out that is. He tells Mickey as much. Mickey sighs heavily and admits that he feels guilty as fuck about her not knowing, he’s just afraid of how she’ll respond. Her being his only family member that he’s in contact with anymore, and not only that but his friend too.

By the time they start filming, they’ve become so intimate the it’s just second nature to be naked together, and touching, caressing, kissing. But this is work, and Ian needs to keep himself grounded in that. To understand the logistics of the scene and work them that way. Mickey is his hot neighbor that Ian sees pleasuring himself on a regular basis through their windows, and one day he just can’t take it anymore. Banging on the door until a moaned out, “come in,” responds. When he opens the door, there he is on hands and knees on the floor getting fucked out of his mind by a fucking machine. It’s not hard to get into it. It’s not hard to get hard. Fuck, he’s hard before he even knocks on the door, just knowing that Mickey is already blissed out and fucked loose. He does have to pull his expressions, Ian would be instantly lust blown and charging in to suck Mickey’s cock. But Curtis, he’s surprised and caught off guard yet interested and hopeful that he’ll be invited to join in.

He stands in the entry way, letting the door click shut behind him, watching for a moment as his cock plumps up in his jeans, he presses at it with the heel of his hand as Mickey’s head hangs low between his shoulders, the fucking machine pounding him, punching moans and groans out of him. Rippling his muscles with pleasure, and making sweat bead on his skin. Fuck, he’s so beautiful. Ian could get off standing here watching, not even touching himself. But Curtis, he’ll need to get in on that action.

The remote for the machine is right next to Mickey’s knee on the plush carpet. His cock dangling heavy, and hard. His balls slapping back and forth with the rhythm of the machine.

“Excuse me,” Curtis clears his throat, averts his gaze out of respect but licks his lips and palms his cock, “you said ‘come in’, you must have been expecting someone else. I’ll just…”

“Come in,” Mickey lifts his head and it’s clear on his face that he’s in Terry mode. That cocky, egotistical expression held steady and believable. It makes Ian shiver a little, knowing that it’s going to be different to feel hs mouth around his cock, it’s going to be less intimate and more mechanical. He knew that would be the case, and it’s a good thing really, considering if he was softer in the eyes or around the edges of his mouth he’d be Mickey and it’d be too easy to cum. This is porn after all, he needs to make himself last.

Curtis shifts on his feet, takes a few steps towards him and watches his eyes watching him. Terry jerks his head, motions that Curtis take his shirt off. He dials the machine down a bit, to a whirring, slow fuck as he licks his lips and watches Curtis reveal his muscled midsection.

“Mmm hmm,” Terry bites his bottom lip and his pupils dilate as Curtis starts on his pants, whipping his belt out of the loops. The sound of it makes Ian’s pulse pound, wondering if Mickey would ever be into whips. “Come closer,” Terry orders, rolling his neck like he’s either walking into a fight or holding back an orgasm.

Curtis takes the steps, letting his jeans slide down around his hips, revealing his naked body beneath. His cock hard and ready. He slips his hand down over it, giving it a good tug to show his neighbor what he’s working with.

Terry’s eyes go wide and he moans, dialing the machine up a notch. Cam A is on his hole, catching every in and out of the dildo as the machine pumps it into his hot gape. Cam B is on Mickey’s face and torso. It’ll be the one that’ll get the blow job angle that will be the most important one to focus on. The side angle, where they can really get a good view of how far down Mickey is taking Ian’s fat cock. Where they can get the hollowing of his cheeks and pan out to get the view of the dildo fucking into him and his body spasming with pleasure. They’ll cum together, as Ian shoots down Mickey’s throat he’ll release his load, letting it splatter Ian’s shins and the carpet beneath them. Then he’ll lean down and lick what he can off of Ian’s skin. Chasing down the taste of Ian’s jizz with his own. Fuck, the idea of it makes Ian’s cock twitch. As Mickey is eyeing it and looking hopeful through the cocky facade, he’s wondering how much of his personality Ian will be able to find, if he’ll let that vulnerability show through, if he’ll let his true pleasure seep into his facial features or if he’ll be able to keep that mask on. Ian knows he himself will have a hard time keeping the mask on.

Ian feels himself moving, going through the motions of the script. Stroking his cock until Terry gives him the go ahead to come even closer, to sit down, to touch his arms, stroke his neck and fondle his cock as he lies down and Terry looms over him. The machine whirring in the background of it all, pumping in and out, in and out. Punching moans out of Mickey that Ian recognizes and it takes all he has not to cum as soon as his lips are sealed around the head of his cock. He has to close his eyes and focus on the sound of the machine, the sound of the cameras, the presence of V. Mickey’s shoots are closed shoots, so it’s only him, a single camera person, and V when they’re solo. They set up the right angles and the right distances for the cams that won’t need to zoom or re-angle throughout the shoot. And then they use one person to run a moving cam. One that will track his every movement and stay mostly steady on his hole as he pleasures it.

This is the most people Mickey has ever had on set with him, Ian is grateful to him for trusting him with this, for allowing him into that part of his life, to be active on screen with him, and be his first partner shoot. He hopes it bodes well for their future, but being in this with his Terry persona has it’s challenges as well, keeping himself steady as Curtis when he wants to stroke through Mickey’s hair and whisper words of encouragement, when he wants to lean down and kiss his head, when he wants to step out of the shot and watch the machine work him over, cum in his pants just from the sight.

Mickey moans around Ian’s fat cock when he’s got it swallowed to the base, his eyes drift up to meet Ian’s over the expanse of his bare skin and Ian has a hard time not reaching for him. He’s planting one hand on the carpet and the other on Mickey’s head, being the control hand that he isn’t actually using to push or pull but it’s got to look that way for the scene. So he’s got his hair gripped in his fingers and he’s flexing his digits accordingly, as he looks up it’s his cue to flex as though he’s pushing his attention back down to his cock. But Ian finds himself getting lost in it. In the sight that he’s seen now a handful of times, but never stops being so fucking sexy. His pink lips stretched wide around his cock, his throat open and stuffed full, his eyes a little glossy and shimmery. His lips will be red soon, and swollen, they’ll be glistening with spit.

Ian watches his hand rise off the carpet, like it has a mind of it’s own, stroking across Mickey’s cheek, feeling his cock there as Mickey lifts until only the tip of it is in his mouth, he traces a thumb over his lower lip and licks his own. Wanting so badly for him to pop off his cock so he can tongue fuck his mouth with the machine fucks his ass. He tips a finger under his chin, pulling up to guide him as he moves his body closer, closer until he can bend and seize his mouth with his own.

Ian flattens himself down so he can slide under Mickey’s body, getting himself squared up with his hips, his cock bouncing with the pounding of the machine in his ass, drooling and dripping precum and Ian reaches down and smears over the tip of his shaft. Lets his fingers dance over every piercing. He’s tangled in Mickey’s tongue and Mickey’s hands are planted on his shoulders now, using Ian to keep himself at the right angle as his back bows and Ian’s free hand rises to toy with his nipple rod. Pushing it back and forth, back and forth, rolling it with the pad of his fingertip until Mickey cuts off the kisses with a gasp. A gasp that Ian has become intimately familiar with in the last few weeks that have turned into months of getting to know his every moan, and broken gasp and what each one means. He’s about to cum. It’s enough to make Ian’s dick twitch and precum bead at the tip even though he’s not touched it since it pulled out of Mickey’s mouth, the spit now drying there and the cooling sensation making him shiver.

Mickey’s hand flattens on his shoulder, traveling down the length of his chest, abdomen, rising goosebumps in it’s wake as he makes his way to Ian’s cock. His grip tight, and sure as he strips the hard length of it in time to the machine fucking away at him. Ian is jealous of a goddamn machine right now. Getting to be buried into that wet, tight, heat. Just the thought of it combined with the grip of Mickey, sure and fast on his cock is enough to have him shooting off, his jizz hot when it hits his chest. The pool of it soon becoming doubled as Mickey’s entire body goes taut over him, his belly quivering and his breath gasping out harsh and dry before he dives back into Ian’s mouth to kiss him rough and dirty. The machine fucking at his overstimulated prostate has him going weak, and jellied overtop of Ian, melting into his chest and using this entire body as a pillow as the dildo keeps slipping in and out, in and out. Mickey could stop it at any time. But he’s not. Which leads Ian to believe they’re going straight into round two. He has no problem with that. And he realizes as he tangles his tongue with Mickey’s and runs his hands up and down his sides, over his hips, down his thighs, towards his ass to pull his cheeks open wide that he’s completely lost Curtis and there is nothing in this that is anything like Terry either. But no one has called cut yet, so he just rolls with it.

In fact, no one calls cut until there is a veritable slip-and-slide of jizz on Ian’s stomach, seeping around the ridges of his abs, pooling in his bellybutton and Mickey is barely holding himself up, with the help of Ian’s hands on his pelvis. The drone of the machine finally cuts off and he hears the pronounced snick of the dildo pulling out of Mickey’s ass. He wishes he could see that sweet little hole clenching air, but he’s here instead to catch Mickey’s body weight when it lands on him, letting him go completely boneless against his frame.

The slippery mess between them is hot and provides a layer between their bare skin that Ian doesn’t mind being there in the least. The product of their combined pleasure. He lets Mickey collapse completely against him as he rubs hands up and down his back, leans his face into the top of his head. He’s completely forgotten the cams are even there until V snorts, effectively breaking them both out of their trance. Sort of anyway. Enough that Ian turns his head and he hears Mickey groan.

She’s holding out a bottle of water that Ian grabs with steady hands, waiting for his heart to slide back out of his throat and into his chest where it belongs, underneath Mickey’s head. She offers no words, only a look of equal parts amusement and annoyance before she flips her hair over her shoulder and walks out mumbling something about being very late for dinner.

The camera guy, Alex, is shaking his head to himself with some kind of enjoyment that Ian doesn’t have time to decipher as he tips Mickey’s chin up to push him out of his place on his chest, tipping the water bottle to his lips and pouring enough down for a few sips. He’ll have to get him to drink more when he’s up and moving. But for now they can take it easy.

Alex is packed up and leaving before Ian even decides to take in his surroundings, there are no windows to the outdoor life from here, but he’s pretty damn sure darkness has fallen. And it’s summertime. Fuck. He shakes his head to himself, adjusts some of Mickey’s weight overtop of him, “ready to get up and shower off?”

Mickey grunts something unintelligible but starts shifting to his knees. His ass has got to be raw and it is taking all of the willpower in Ian’s body not to grasp his hips, turn him and perch that hot thing in his face, torture him with his tongue. But he’s pretty damn sure they flubbed this and they need to reshoot tomorrow, so he needs his hole pampered tonight not pushed past overstimulation to a point where he’ll start the day swollen and puffy tomorrow.

“Head home? Take a cool water jacuzzi?” Ian wonders, slipping his hands up and down his back when he’s up to hands and knees over him.

Mickey nods, his eyes blown and sweat clinging to every tiny hair along his brow line, speckling his cheeks and creating a sheen on his neck. Ian leans up to capture his kiss-swollen lips once more. Holding back the passion he feels for him, only pressing lingering support against him until he’s drawing back and getting to his feet.

Ian slings an arm around his waist, letting him sway tiredly against him with every stride as he guides him to the showers, lifting the water bottle to his lips every few steps. He’s sure Mickey will come back to himself soon enough and swat his help away, but for now while he’s still lost in that hazy pleasure fogged post-orgasms glow, Ian will take the opportunity to care for him the way he deserves.

Chapter Text

“You have two options.” V holds up two fingers when she enters the filming room the following day. “One: reshoot the first bit so it flows into boyfriends having sex. Two: reshoot the sex so it reads as enemy neighbors having sex for the first time.” She puts her hands on her hips and waits.

Mickey crosses his arms, his eyes having found some focal point behind her while he waits for his reprimanding that he knew was coming. They didn’t really talk about it when they got home last night, just took care of the things they needed to take care of and fell so hard into bed together that neither of them stirred until an hour after their typical wake time.

Ian sighs, hoping that V will give her two cents about what she’s looking for. If she wants to put her name behind one more so than the other. She’s silent for awhile, looking back and forth between them, finally huffing an annoyed sigh and announcing, “I’ll give you some time to talk about it, but if I were you,” she turns to exit with a pointed look, “I’d reshoot the beginning.”

She leaves them with that. Standing in the middle of the room with the same set up as yesterday. Ian finally sighs, reaching out to squeeze Mickey’s shoulder, “what do you think?”

“Fuck.” His fingers come up and rub into his eyes, defeat in his stance.

So he feels like he failed. And Mickey hates failing, this wasn’t what he had in mind when he asked Ian to share a scene with him.

“Okay, this was my fault,” Ian announces. “I let the persona slip first. So it’s up to you, whatever you want to do, I’m game.”

Mickey’s breath shudders and he shakes his shoulders out, effectively shaking Ian’s hand off him. He turns to face him, expression hard to read but his immediate concern is them, it’s not about his career. “There’s no easy solution to this. I never should have asked you. I should have known this would happen, it’s not like two people can fuck like they love each other in real life and then fuck like strangers on cam. That was,“ he shakes his head, “fucking stupid, man. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize to me. I am in this, however you want to play it out. And if you want to scrap the whole shoot, then don’t worry about me. I spent a day fucking a guy I might love, so it’s not like it’s lost time.” His face twists into a grin that he knows is ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to make Mickey’s eyes snap in his direction and a look of wonder cross his irises.

“Might love?” It’s a gruff demand, not some breathless statement that would be accompanied by a swooning chest-grasp if their life was a rom-com. The gruffness is what makes Ian sure. It makes him sure that the might is a big fucking lie.

“Love,” he asserts. Holding Mickey’s eye contact to make sure he gets it. “I love you.”

“I -“ he starts, but doesn’t finish it right away, his breath choking off and a hint of panic rising in his eyes.

“Don’t respond if you don’t want.” Ian’s stomach might be flipping and his chest constricting but he knows what he feels and he needs Mickey to know what he feels, there is no sense in hiding it.

“I do. Want to respond, that is. I just…”

“It’s fine.” Ian holds up a hand between them, “no pressure if you…”

“Love you. Too. I love you too.” His eyes twinkle and he grins, cheeks flushing, “shit, that is hard to say.”

Ian giggles, it’s a nervous giggle but relief is rolling through him from head to toe, bringing chills down his core and goosebumps prickling his flesh.

Mickey rolls his eyes at Ian’s very childlike response, shakes his head and steps into his space to press his body against Ian’s in a warm line of muscle and sex appeal. Fucking shit, Ian feels like he might melt into a puddle at his feet or maybe grow wings and fly away with all the tangled emotions that are coming at him. But the one thing he can narrow down and focus on, is Mickey. Mickey’s mouth turned up into a soft smile, his eyes twinkling and amused, his hands - one on the back of Ian’s head and the other on his chest. The feel of his body heat inside Ian’s bubble through their layers of light Summer clothing.

Ian takes a deep breath that does nothing to calm the flutters, and leans his head down, meeting Mickey’s lips to linger there, letting the plush pillow softness of them cradle him and overtake his entire body with a type of calm, thrumming want, trust, and affection that he’s never felt before with anyone else and knows he never will. Even once the kiss breaks, he still lingers, just leaning his forehead into Mickey’s and wishing he could silently share his thoughts. He finally speaks them grudgingly, “so the question when it comes down to it is whether we want to basically be a reality tv couple falling in love in front of an audience.”

Mickey snorts, drawing back from his space and plops down on the set’s couch. It’s not comfortable, it’s rare that prop furniture is. The ones that are used for having sex on usually are, but this thing is one of those only-for-looks types. Ian sets himself down beside him anyway, leaning thigh against knee and waiting for his mouth to start running.

Mickey’s hand scrubs his face while Ian listens to the rough scratch of his palm over the bits of stubble that he hasn’t shaved off yet since V called them in immediately to have a quick meeting before letting them prep.

“Well, we’ve probably got enough reel from yesterday for a solid clip if we just reshoot the beginning bit. Won’t be hard. Just,” he thumbs at his nose, eyes flitting over to meet Ian’s, “probably should watch it and see if we want that level of intimacy handed out to viewers. Might backfire on you, make people think that it’s not okay for you to be with someone else on cam or something.”

Ian drops his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He’s right. People do grow affections for certain couplings and he’s had commenters on vids before that have bitched about him not being with Owen. It might be a bad thing if he’s on something super intimate with someone else after his main fanbase has gotten so used to him with Owen that some probably have plenty of theories of them being a couple behind the scenes or are living the fantasy that they’ve set up for the audience.

“Fuck.” He slides a hand over his face and closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” Mickey agrees. His hand comes down gently on Ian’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “I have no problem with scrapping that either. Like you said, it wasn’t a waste of my time, still got a couple good orgasms out of it anyway.” He’s smirking when Ian dares open his eyes and look his way.

Ian grunts out a laugh, letting himself give in and fall against Mickey’s shoulder.

###

“That’s… yeah,” Ian sighs. Blinking at the screen after it fades to black. Not daring meet Mickey’s eyes or even attempting to meet V’s. She was there, it’s not like she didn’t know how intimate this all played out, but damn. It’s kind of embarrassing to have his real personality shining through that blatantly to people who have seen his Curtis persona so many times and have come to expect a certain thing from him. If he’s being truly honest with himself then no Curtis isn’t really that far removed from Ian, at least as far as technique and posturing, pleasing his partner, things like that are concerned. Personality wise, yes Curtis is different, he has to be otherwise Ian wouldn’t be able to have sex on camera day in and day out and allow hundreds, hell thousands of people to watch it. Does he really want thousands of people to see how far gone he is on this guy? How obvious it is on his face? In his actions? Does he really want to reveal his true personality when his fans are used to Curtis?

V heaves out an exasperated sigh when no one says anything for long enough, “I have shit to do. Both of you go home for the afternoon. Let me know before the weekend if we need to scrap this. Or if you want to reshoot. Or if you want to just pair up. Whatever you decide, as long as you finish out your contracts because buying your own time back is going to be expensive and I have a lot of site subscribers riding on both of you.”

###

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mickey keeps muttering under his breath, his pace picking up to a full strut as Ian hustles down the sidewalk behind him. He lights a cig, only stopping in his stride long enough to suck down a big inhale of smoke then getting right back to his chanting. He didn’t exactly invite Ian to follow him, but he’s going to. Even if he doesn’t want him in his apartment, Ian is at least going to walk him to his door and make sure he’s okay.

The breath gets knocked out of his lungs when Mickey turns at the door to his place. He’s got tears clinging to his eyes and he looks so insanely defeated that Ian is wondering if they somehow had a massive miscommunication and he thinks Ian is pissed. Ian is actually not at all pissed, he’s mostly just concerned about Mickey right now. Sure, they have some shit to figure out, but he’d give up the rest of his career for Mickey in a fucking heartbeat, of this he is so suddenly and irrefutably certain.

His hands rise to grip Mickey’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length and ducking so slightly to get even with his eyes without making him feel small or like Ian is trying to belittle him. “I’m not mad. I’m barely upset, I just, I want to know what you’re thinking and what you want and I…”

“I should have fucking known better, Ian.”

“No, this is not your fault. I should have known, if we’re playing the blame game, then I should have known that I wouldn’t be able to be on cam with you and hold persona. We’re not playing the blame game. Alright?”

Mickey’s eyes water, he blinks it back and bites down on his bottom lip. He looks for a long moment like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead nodding, turning quickly and tossing the door open. Ian follows, enters the apartment when he leaves the door open after he walks in. Mandy is home, and one look at her brother has concern knitting her brows before anger takes over and she storms over to Ian, getting right in his face and demanding, “what’d you do to him?”

Ian doesn’t exactly blame her for immediately thinking it was something relationship related, since of course she doesn’t know anything about the job. He takes a deep breath, opening his mouth to respond, but Mickey interrupts, “not his fault Mandy. Work stuff. And I need to tell you about that shit, might as well be now.”

“Oh,” she takes a tiny step back but doesn’t drop the death glare aimed at Ian. “Okay,” narrowing her eyes and waiting for Ian to do something, anything. He shrugs, trying to show his innocence or lack thereof, he’s not even really fucking sure at this point since he’s been taking part in the lie to Mandy by knowing all along what Mickey actually does for work and he feels guilty as hell for that and he feels guilty as hell for what’s happening right now with Mickey so… fuck.

Mickey is making himself busy taking down shot glasses and pouring them to the rim with tequila. Double fuck. Fuck. He hands them out and Mandy takes hers down with a raised brow but doesn’t argue it. Ian is just going to let Mickey take the lead and be here for support, whatever kind of support that means even if it’s getting drunk on a Tuesday in the middle of the morning.

Three shots in rapid succession later and Mickey’s plunking himself down in a barstool, looking at Mandy with kind of a dazed expression that’s probably equal parts alcohol, stress, and concern.

“I’ve been lying about my job,” is what he blurts.

Mandy takes out a second stool, resting her elbows on the counter and propping her chin on her hands to watch him. “Okay?”

“Maybe okay?”

“Do you like this job that you’re afraid to admit to?”

“Yeah. For the most part.”

“Then okay. As long as you’re not like a hitman or something,” she shrugs, and then backpedals, “actually you know what? Fuck it. Even if you are a hitman then that’s cool as long as you enjoy it and can live with it morally, which we both know,” she laughs, “your morals are a bit, shall we say loose?”

Mickey rolls his eyes at her. “If I was a hitman, don’t you think I’d be doing most of my work with a lot more equipment and probably with the cover of darkness?”

“Good point. Oh, no animal testing. I’m not cool with animal testing. Or, like, exploiting other people. Human trafficking, that’d be a bad one too.”

Mickey leans back far enough to cross his arms over his chest and glare at his sister. Ian is just trying not to laugh.

“But what I’m trying to say is, if you’re happy, or if you’re even mostly happy then you’re already one step ahead of most everyone else, so…”

“Porn.”

“Oh.” Her face goes completely blank, then she tips her head, studies his face probably looking for any signs of teasing. Finally she shrugs, tipping her head towards Ian, “that how you guys met?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you do a scene together and then fall in love?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“No.”

“Oh,” she sighs, props her chin on her hands again and drums her fingers on her lips. “I thought you hated being in front of the camera.”

He shrugs. “I hated it when it was forced on me and it kind of ruined our childhood, yeah I did. This is different. I have control over this. Completely.”

Mandy swoops her gaze in Ian’s direction. “He’s a bossy bitch isn’t he?”

Ian snorts out a laugh, finally puling out the last stool around the bar and seating himself. “He solos actually.”

“Oh,” her eyes light up with dawning all over her face. “Of course he does. The grumpy ass control freak that he is.” Her hand comes down to reach across the bar, sliding up Mickey’s arm and finding his hand to give it a squeeze. “I’m not going to judge you if that’s what you’re waiting for. Like I said, if you’re happy doing it, then good for you. I’m not mad. I kind of wish you had told me, I wish you didn’t feel like you had to lie to me.”

He squeezes her hand back just as tightly as she’s squeezing his. Relief flooding his expression while he looks at her. “I just didn’t want you to think that I was still doing what Dad had been doing to us all those years. You know, selling our looks, our bodies. Living off something I hated.”

“Of course not. I’d know if you hated your job, you realize that, right? I’ve known you my whole life, you asshole, you think I don’t know when you’re happy?”

The cutest fucking blush rises in his pale cheeks and he averts his gaze, thumbs at his nose with his free hand.

“Plus,” she grins. Her hand releasing his to reach up and tap the tip of his nose when he stops pushing at it, “Mickey’s in love,” she sing-songs it.

“Jesus, Mandy,” now he walks away. Flipping her his middle finger on his way to the bathroom. “Pour me another shot and get over yourself while I’m gone.”

She laughs, smacks the bar top with her hand and grins at Ian. She lowers her voice and her expression changes from playful and happy to threatening in a breath, “if you hurt him…”

“I won’t.” Ian throws his hands up in the air in innocence. “I swear I won’t.”

“Okay.” She studies his face intently and then blinks and is right back to happy and playful as she pours another round.

Ian is going to regret the alcohol when it comes time to shoot tomorrow, but for now, he’s just going to let himself relax and enjoy the company. By the time the afternoon is over, they’ve reveled to Mandy what the big plot twist is (in no graphic details because no one wants to know those things about their siblings even if it is just job stress mostly) and why they’re both having trouble deciding what to do. Mandy offers some insight that neither of them had thought of, including how many zeros would probably come along with the paychecks if they agreed to let their relationship unveil on screen and do the intimate boyfriend professional porn that the industry is lacking. She holds nothing back when she talks about porn preferences for most women and how she’s no expert on gay men, but she’s pretty sure there’s a fanbase for intimate real life couple porn if they decide to go that way. And also, she has to wonder how in the hell they could get serious about each other in real life and never end up jealous, knowing Ian is still fucking other people.

Mickey shrugs off the last statement, claiming it would never happen. He knows the guys, the costars and he’s seen Ian with them enough to know there’s no caring there, there’s no spark, nothing beyond friendship. Ian admits silently to himself that kissing other guys has a totally different meaning now that he has Mickey to kiss with meaning. Just like everything else, he has a harder time not feeling guilty, has a harder time getting into the scene, has a hard time pushing back thoughts of Mickey when he’s balls deep in someone else. He keeps it silent, it’s a conversation for later when it’s just them. Or maybe when he comes to terms with it on his own and decides what he’s willing to put himself through in order to keep his career.

They cook dinner together, the three of them in a little domestic bubble that makes Ian miss his siblings, miss the sound of a house full of people, and the ribbing and jabs that can only come from siblings.

By the time they’ve fallen into Mickey’s bed together, Ian feels like their bond is just that much stronger for spending the evening the three of them in their apartment instead of just the two of them in Ian’s loft. There’s no feeling of sex in the air, it just feels good to wrap his arms around Mickey, facing him in his smaller bed and watch him, talking to avoid the big topic, talking about shit that doesn’t matter but it matters so much, talking until his voice is cruddy and both of them are fighting tired lids. Ian holds out the longest, wanting to watch the moment when Mickey gives in and falls into sleep. The complete and utter comfort in his bed, in Ian’s arms and knowing he’s reached some level of assurance in his own mind about their situation that he’s giving up for the night knowing that Ian will be there in the morning. Ian falls asleep shortly after watching Mickey’s entire body go slack, his lips part slightly and his breathing shift. Ian falls asleep with a smile on his face, knowing they’ve had their first big hurdle that they’ve reached as a couple and they’ve made it over the first part of it still together and comfortable with each other. There’s still plenty more to hash out, and a few decisions to make, but they’ve proven to each other that they are capable of talking it out and handling their first big issue without breaking down or breaking each other down. It’s a good damn sign for the future, one that Ian is looking forward to even more with every passing day.

Chapter Text

The following morning they’ve finished a nice, hard paced run to burn off the previous day’s alcohol as quickly as possible. They’ve done some stretching and some isometrics in the grass when both their phones ping with a message from V.

One word for your consideration: documentary

“The fuck does that mean?” Mickey wonders, his face aimed at the phone with murder brows before his gaze lands on Ian.

Ian shrugs. “Probably a breaking the fourth wall thing. Only even further than that. Boyfriends in porn,” he grins, an attempt to break some of the icy demeanor that keeps coming over Mickey when they talk business today.

Mickey is silent as he chews his bottom lip, watching Ian for any tiny hints of what he wants. Ian is open to whatever. Whatever Mickey wants for the short, whatever he wants for a documentary. Though he’s pretty sure it’d be way too much pressure on a budding romance to have a film crew following them around. And he’s never wanted to be a reality star. But it’s Mickey so…

“You keep saying it’s up to me, it’s my decision, I can tell you to back off whenever I want. All this shit that makes it sound like you’ll just do anything I say. And while I like that in the bedroom - “ his brow rises and he cracks a smirk for a moment before turning serious again - “relationships go both ways. This is your career too. The scene we filmed, it’s not up to me. It’s up to us. I want to know, just off the cuff, what do you want to do with it?”

“Fuck,” Ian shrugs. His hand comes up to slide over his sweaty head and push his hair back. He knows he’s been a little indecisive and kind of a push-over letting Mickey take the lead for the bulk of the things they’ve done together but he also knows he’s happy if Mickey’s happy. And Mickey has harder boundaries, Ian is up for respecting that. He lets his focus linger on Mickey’s eyes, on the complete and total impassivity on his face. He is waiting for an answer, and Ian knows this is a negotiation and any good negotiator will come to the table with more than what he expects to walk out with. Knowing he won’t get all his demands but if he raises the bar high then it won’t hurt him to lower it a little bit to meet the other side in the middle. But then again, looking at Mickey and knowing he’s having a hard time being intimate with anyone else and it’s his fucking job to fuck. Fucking on camera would be easier if it was Mickey and Mickey only. Damn it.

He takes a deep breath, thinks about what he wants, what he can live without, and what he can actually ask for without pushing past the boundaries to a point of no return. He gets it all sorted out in his mind, deciding that yes he could ask Mickey to just reshoot the opening scene of their short, see how it plays out with their respective audiences, with their subscribers. He’s still got the podcast going, he could have Mickey on with him the week they drop the vid and they could talk about their relationship there. They could assure their fans that they’re still them, they’re still filming the same features that created that base of support. They are still in the job. But then he thinks about the job. He thinks about how many men he’s fucked in the last few years. He thinks about how easy it’s always been, and how much fun it always was. And he thinks about how it’s never been hard to miss his mark, he’s never forgotten his angle, he’s never slipped the persona. And then Mickey happened and now it’s… different.

So instead of all the well thought-out points he has worked out in his head, he blurts, “I want to fuck you and you only so if we do that on cam we still get to keep our jobs and…” the rest of it is cut off by Mickey’s mouth landing on his. Pressing desperately to either cut off the words he wasn’t ready to hear, or agree wholeheartedly and Ian isn’t sure of which it is, but he’s not willing to let the kiss stop. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t even stop it when Mickey shifts his weight and it knocks Ian off balance and they end up in the grass in a heap laughing against each other’s teeth with Mickey laying half overtop him.

When the laughter subsides, Ian slides a hand over Mickey’s cheek, propping his chin up to get a good look at his face. “I don’t know. It’s just, being with you is so fucking wonderful that I have a hard time even thinking about being with anyone else. And when I am with someone else, it’s you I’m picturing. So if you’re comfortable with me onscreen, then maybe we should try it?”

Mickey sighs, lingering where he is hovering over Ian’s face. The sun behind him making him look like he’s got a halo. It’s ridiculous. Ian is ridiculous, this whole thing is. It’s happening so fast but too damn slow at the same time. He’s ready to throw his career away for this man and he’s not even the slightest bit afraid of that.

“So maybe we reshoot the opening scene. We do another podcast and talk to our fans about the behind the scenes relationship. We see how it’s received and go from there? Or…”

“I knew there’d be an or.” Mickey rolls his eyes. So far he’d been nodding along, looking like he was all in on this plan.

“Or,” Ian grins. Propping one hand behind his head and the other on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Or we keep doing what we’re doing and keep our offscreen life off screen. I keep fucking other…”

“Fuck.” Mickey’s voice shakes and he leans back. Sitting back on his butt. Ian follows suit but doesn’t let their knees lose contact. He’s scrubbing into his eyes and they’re blurry when he pulls his fingers back, blinking until Ian is back in focus and admitting, “it is all I can do when I’m in the studio and I know you’re down the hall fucking someone else to not walk down there,” he cracks his knuckles, “drag you off the guy and beat the living hell out of them.”

This sudden admission of jealousy does something to Ian’s cock that he’s not wiling to own up to. But he will admit, “I was jealous of a fucking machine, Mick, I think it’s time we try fucking each other and see how it plays out.”

Mickey looks like he’s either going to smack him or kiss him and Ian is pretty sure he’s up for either. It turns out to be the latter and it doesn’t stop until it has to before it becomes indecent in public.

###

“So the documentary offer? Is that…”

“Just a thought.” V puts her hands down on the top of her desk, flattening some paperwork there. “Nothing that needs to be decided right away. I’m just glad we got this scene figured out and reworked to something worthy of my stamp of approval.” There’s a playful ‘I told you so’ in her tone.

Mickey rolls his eyes, sucks in his cheeks and Ian already knows that’s a tell for losing his patience. It never takes long, especially when it comes to talking business.

So Ian carries the conversation without letting him get snippy with their boss. “What would be expected with something like that? Would we have a film crew following us around 24/7 or would there be limitations on that? Would we be filming amateur porn at home for the doc and then still coming in for real shoots?”

“It’s just a thought at this point,” V responds. “Nothing in stone, nothing planned about film time, not a single word put to paper yet. It was just an idea I had earlier that could be a lucrative offer. It’s not like it’s ever been done before. But, I also understand what a new relationship is like and adding a film crew to it would be incredibly stressful. So no pressure. We can take this week by week. Like we always do. Ian, you are already on schedule for being Cox’s prop man next week. Mickey, you’ve got…”

“Yeah, yeah. I also have some thoughts here on this documentary. Like the fact that I’m working toward production and I have some filming experience. Therefore no film crew if we agree to it. We film ourselves, we cut it and edit it on our own. All you’d have to do is provide the equipment. And your stamp of approval,” he adds grudgingly.

V raises her eyebrows. She looks like she’s mildly impressed but also pissed about being interrupted. “Should I draft up some contracts or…” her eyes flit over to meet Ian’s. And he’s not sure, he’s nowhere near sure. But if they did agree to doing it, and they did have that much control over it - basically all of the control - then it might not be that bad.

“Let’s take a little time to think it over,” Ian responds. “I mean, we still have our official contracts for the rest of this year to get through and I was hoping to be considered for a long film.” He can feel Mickey’s eyes on him, burning holes through his head but he’s kind of afraid to look at him, afraid to see disappointment or hurt on his face. But this all suddenly moved into the category of moving way too fucking fast. And Ian needs to take a step back, think it over, hell having sex with Mickey in their offscreen life might be a good start. Jesus, what if they’re not actually compatible beyond the things they’ve done?

“Take all the time you want,” V assures them. “I’ve got my short out of this. Now can I, as a friend and not your boss, give you a piece of advice?”

Ian nods and he sees Mickey shrug out of the corner of his eye.

“You two have a spark, something that people are drawn to, and it’s beautiful. If you did this documentary, I know it would be a huge success. But you do not owe anyone that experience. You only owe yourselves to do what’s right for you.” She taps the desk between them and Ian nods. He opens his mouth to thank her but she raises her finger and shakes her head, then tips it towards the door to silently tell them to fuck off now.

###

Mickey doesn’t seem like he wants to talk on the walk back, and he doesn’t seem like he wants to stay the night either. So they part ways with a kiss and the silent understanding that they’ll figure this out, and whatever they decide it’s going to be what’s best for their relationship, not their careers.

Chapter Text

They finish up their short film and manage to avoid the documentary topic and the what’s next topic while they work together. They take the weekend away from one another, but damn it, it is the hardest thing Ian has ever done. He’s gotten so accustomed to Mickey being in his space, his arms, his bed that it’s the loneliest he’s ever been. But if some space to clear their heads is needed, then he understands that. And it’s not like they don’t contact each other, they’re not iced out, they’re texting. But it’s different.

Ian tries to occupy himself by talking to his siblings, getting various advice from both Lip and Fi. They both circle back around to whatever makes you happy is the answer. But that’s the problem - Ian has no idea what will make him happy other than being with Mickey. For the first time since he started his porn career he is seriously regretting that choice.

###

He meets Mickey in Central Park for the Sunday run, there’s no hesitation to kiss a greeting and get to chatting as soon as they fall into stride side by side. It’s such a damn relief after spending the weekend with a knotted stomach and whirring mind. He’s here, by Ian’s side and he’s calm, easy to be around, it’s like he’s able to breathe again just by being in his presence.

With exhaustion thrumming through him and sweat dripping in his eyes, he takes in the full picture of Mickey as they settle in the grass to stretch. He is damp with sweat, he’s pink with heat, he looks tired and soft. Ian wants to press into him and kiss away any worries he has racing around in his mind. He wants to find a solid answer, one that he knows for sure will be the right one. The right thing for them. But he doesn’t know what that is.

Walking back towards home with Mickey’s hand lazily laced in his, he doesn’t pull away at the corner. He sways along with Ian, right up the steps to his building, up the elevator and into the loft. They cook breakfast side by side at the counter, sit down and have their meal in companionable chatter. It’s so easy. And Ian doesn’t want to break this trance.

The shower water is warm and the air in the loft is chilled with air conditioning. Summer fully seated now on the city, mid day heat creeping in. Ian traces beads of water over Mickey's shoulder with his mouth, his hands grasping at his hips like he never wants to let go.

When Mickey turns in his arms, his hands slide through his hair and his smile is soft, certainty in his eyes, “get out of here Red, give me a minute and I’ll join you in the bedroom.”

Ian can pick up on what that implies so he complies. Stepping out of the shower with a kiss left on Mickey’s forehead. He dries himself quickly and heads to the bedroom, part of him wanting to go overboard and pop a bottle of champagne, toss some flower petals over the bed and plan a proposal. But he tamps that down and instead gets the practical needs. Water bottle, lube, a rag. He’s hoping this means sex, but he’s also terrified of sex. What if it breaks the trance? His cock is filling just thinking about it, and his practical mind knows it’ll be great. They are professionals, they know how to fuck. But he also knows that this has nothing to do with professionalism. This is so much more than that. This is two people who have managed to fall in love when they probably shouldn’t have. But love is funny that way.

So Ian knows that if they’re having sex, right now, today that it needs to stripped down. Just the two of them. No props, no dirty talk, nothing more than two people who are quickly becoming the one thing the other can’t live without.

He unties his towel from his waist and sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t have to touch his cock, doesn’t have to tug it even once to know it’s ready, all it’s going to take is one good long look at Mickey’s body and it’ll be achingly hard. He shudders on his exhale when he hears the shower turn off. Bare feet padding across the floor, the door opening and the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing there. Pale and pink and shining with the dampness of the shower. His hair still wet, mused from toweling it. His eyes twinkling and hopeful as they skim over the bed, over Ian’s naked body, rise up to linger on his eyes.

Ian nearly pats his legs to order him over, but instead he smiles, offers a pleading, “come here.”

Mickey’s dropping the towel from his waist as he takes the steps towards him. Fuck, Ian feels like a virgin all over again. The quiet fear, the anticipation that overrides nearly everything else, but the worry still there just beneath. He takes a deep breath and his cock twitches as Mickey gets even nearer, stopping when he’s standing between Ian’s ankles. His feet warm along the edges of Ian’s and his bony knees leaning against where his knees are bent. He reaches out, plants his hands on Mickey’s hips while he’s still standing there. Leans in to press lips against his chest, his sternum, trailing over to his nipple to push that rod back and forth with his tongue. Working Mickey up is the best part of all this, knowing where his sensitivities lie. He takes his time, nudging and pressing, rolling the rod with his tongue. Then moves over to the other, taking the same achingly sensual motions as his hands remain steady on his hips. Mickey’s have landed on his shoulders and are tightening and releasing with his waves of pleasure that Ian is causing with his mouth. It makes his cock twitch every time and he’s so afraid he’ll lose it long before the act if he’s already this worked up and hasn’t even touched himself.

Moving over to the center of his body again when both nipples are sufficiently puffy and perked up. He points his tongue, leaves a trail down the center of his abs, angling his head to slip right down the length of Mickey’s hardened cock. Mickey moans, his fingers tightening on Ian’s shoulders as he swallows him down. Breathing through his nose and relaxing his throat, taking the whole of him and holding him there as he swallows, the fuzz of his groomed pubic hair tickling his nose. Mickey shivers and Ian releases, sliding up the length to tongue at the crown. Licking at the slit until he tastes precum and then sliding all the way back down in one smooth motion that has Mickey crying out, his hands flitting from his shoulders to his hair. His stance shifts on instinct, parting his legs to offer space for Ian’s hands. He takes the hint, moving his hands down his hips, around to caress and squeeze the thick round globes of his ass as he begins moving his head in rhythmic ups and downs.

He lets his fingers slide into the cleft of Mickey’s ass, dipping against his hole but not pushing in. A dry tease meant to pique his interest. Holding his ass open with the palms of his hands as he skirts his fingers down his crack, over his hole, toying at his balls. Then back up with the rhythm of his mouth on his cock.

When he glances up, and Mickey has his head thrown back, throat working around panted curse words aimed at the ceiling is when he pulls back. He pops off his cock, and quickly spins him in his place. Pushing his asscheeks apart with both hands and diving in with his mouth.

Mickey doesn’t resist in the least. Bending forward to present himself. This guy was fucking built to bottom and he knows it. The perfect globes of his pale ass, the ease at which his hole opens and accepts pleasure. Ian flattens his tongue and laves around his rim, pressing in with the tip as soon as he’s wet enough and loose enough for it. Pulling back out and fucking around his rim with just his tongue. He’s going to work him loose, loose enough to accept his tongue and three fingers before he’s going to be comfortable pushing his cock in. Even knowing what Mickey is capable of, what he’s eager to accept, Ian still wants this to be so good. He wants Mickey to be begging for his cock by the time he gives it, he wants him to be near cumming before he even pushes the tip past his rim.

Ian shudders with the image in his lids and doubles down on his efforts to push and press and lick, and suck at the tight furl of muscle. Mickey’s hands are clamped down on Ian’s bent knees, pressing bruises into his flesh.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Mickey grunts as Ian pushes his tongue past his rim, pulling back out to press at his gooch in order to stimulate his prostate. Ian hums his agreement, feeling pride blooming in his chest. He pulls back to watch his hole clench as he holds him open with his hands.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, leaning back in towards that fucking hot hole to push his tongue back inside the heat of his channel. Flicking then circling then pushing back in and flicking again. Mickey’s body is so responsive it has Ian’s cock drooling where it's pressed between his legs and abs and he’s sure if he stroked it once or twice it would be all it would take to have him shooting off.

Mickey arches into it, greedy for more tongue even when Ian is giving all he has. He clenches and curses and rolls his pelvis against Ian’s lips when he pulls back to flatten his tongue and let Mickey ride it against the cleft of his ass, over the puffy pleasured skin of his hole, down the metal pierced through his gooch and then back up. There’s sweat rising on Ian’s body just from doing the tongue work by the time he brings himself to find the lube and slick up his fingers. He removes his tongue and watches the show Mickey puts on of clenching on air, hungry for more before he slips both index fingers into that greedy hole. He doesn’t waste any time pushing against his prostate, rolling the pads of his fingers over that gland and getting Mickey’s back bowed and lip-bitten curses rolling out of him in strings of nonsense. Pulling him open to slip his tongue between his digits, bending his knuckles to pull his rim out of the way and resume his tongue attack.

He could do this all day, he’s sure of it, if Mickey would just stop with the sexy fucking curses and moans that have his pathetic cock dripping with precum and twitching at every single sound that passes his lips. Ian draws his tongue back and quickly replaces it with his middle fingers pushing and stretching alongside his index fingers. He’s met with zero resistance and that is so fucking hot. Four digits deep, pushing and pulling and sliding in and out, grazing over his prostate with every pass, opening his rim wide, wide enough that he can see the hot red insides of his ridges. It is porn living and breathing right in front of his face and it is so much hotter than anything he’s ever filmed or anything he’s ever watched before. His cock twitches and Mickey moans a broken thing that has him shuddering and driving himself back on Ian’s fingers. He nearly dips a ring finger in to see if he’d take it, but maybe another time. If he doesn’t get his cock inside this man right now he will be cumming on his own stomach and chest.

“Fuck me Ian,” Mickey moans as if he knows Ian is nearly jizzing already. “I want to ride that fat cock bareback.”

Ian has to reach down and pinch the tip of his cock in order to avoid early release. Pinching his eyes closed and trying to think of some unsexy things as he draws his fingers back. Opening his eyes in time to watch the clenching, greedy neediness of Mickey’s hole. He groans with it and doesn’t look away until Mickey is turning his head, peering over his shoulder and arching an eyebrow like he’s waiting for Ian to comply with his order. Bossy fucking bitch. Ian loves it.

He backs up on the bed until his back is flush with the headboard and gets himself comfortable as he watches Mickey climb on, hands and knees on his way up the bed he stoops to lick a stripe up Ian’s cock. Ian’s toes tingle with it and shoot a dart of lightning up his spine. He shivers and takes a hold of Mickey’s hair to tug him, up and away from that nonsense. He doesn’t need it, he is prepped and ready just from prepping Mickey. Mickey is stubborn about it, of course he is. Taking the time to swirl the tip of Ian’s cock with his tongue before he moves up his stomach and chest while he spreads his legs to straddle Ian and lean towards him. Engaging his lips with a dirty kiss as he strokes lube up and down Ian’s shaft, turning his entire spine into liquid and a rolling ball of want landing square in his groin. He shudders against Mickey’s body heat as Mickey hitches his legs closer, nudging his legs in tight against Ian’s thighs and lining up his cockshead with his hungry hole. Ian’s hands clench down on Mickey’s hips like he can steady himself by steadying Mickey but he’s not kidding anyone, he is not going to last long as soon as he’s fully sheathed in Mickey’s hot wet channel.

Mickey doesn’t stop to ask if he’s ready, he just leans his head back enough to look at his face, to cock an eyebrow and slowly start sinking down the length of Ian’s cock. Ian is so suddenly bombarded by every thing that he feels for this man, and the heat and tightness of him, the eager acceptance of his cock and the way his eyes light up while Ian is watching. The thin rim of blue around his blown pupils is fogged over but somehow dancing with a type of emotion that Ian has never seen before in any partner. Maybe that’s the physical embodiment of love.

Mickey lowers himself until Ian is fully seated and feels like all he’s going to have to do is rock a tiny bit and he’ll be painting Mickey’s insides. He stills, and his eyes roll shut, a moan that sounds like it’s pulled up from his toes sounds in the bedroom and Ian has to distract himself, this image itself is too much. But the feeling with it, fuck, it is too much.

When Mickey angles his pelvis so that his cock brushes against Ian’s abs, he leaves behind a wet streak of precum and Ian knows he isn’t the only one on a hair trigger. He nods his approval over being marked with Mickey’s cum and Mickey grins, a wide and mischievous thing that has Ian’s cock twitching in his ass. He releases the grip he has on Mickey’s pelvis only to stroke a hand across his face, tipping his head to bring him closer, closer to capture his lips and tangle his tongue as he begins to rock on Ian’s cock. Little motions that dig deep, fall into Ian’s stomach and boil up his chest, tingle through his toes and have him moaning into Mickey’s mouth. A couple snaps of his hips and it’ll be over for both of them, Mickey seems to know that so he keeps his movement slow and lazy, wanting this to last, to linger. It’s not like they can’t go another round, but he wants this first one, this first time together to leave an impression. Maybe it already does just with the complete immersion of it. He’s never really taken the time to simply be buried to the hilt inside anyone else and let them rock so slowly that barely anything is dragging or sliding. He’s never really taken the time to watch what each movement does to the pupils of anyone else. He’s never felt this truly bare before.

He cups Mickey’s head with his hands when he draws back from the kiss, just to lean his forehead against his and breathe his air. Gathering the strength to allow himself to fully invest in this, in this love. Love. Fuck, that is something. Ian leans back, waiting until Mickey’s eyes meet his and admits, “I love you.”

And even though they admitted it already, it feels so much deeper now when they’re physically connected in ways he’s never been with anyone else. When he’s buried so deep inside Mickey and trying so hard to make it last. When he’s watching his face and listening to his breath. And Mickey says, “I love you too,” and then they’re kissing again and he’s rocking again. The kisses grow passionate and needy like they’re trying to slide down each other’s throats and live in each other’s bodies. The rocking slowly picks up until Mickey is riding him in earnest. Every time he draws his warmth away from Ian’s cock, he has to fight the urge to chase him, to fuck up into him and never let him go. And then he’s back, enveloping him in his tight channel and clenching around him, dragging his cock over his prostate and gasping with it, open mouthed moans against Ian’s mouth. It grows and grows until it’s a battle that is not winnable and they’re both cursing and cumming together. Shuddering in a sweaty mess against each other and gripping each other like they are unable to let go.

Mickey doesn’t move, doesn’t lift his ass off Ian’s cock even as it’s growing soft inside him. He stays there, straddling him and kissing him until he’s soft enough to slip out. Mickey cries out against Ian’s mouth at the loss. Ian lets a hand slide across his hip, down the cleft of his ass and dipping two fingers into his gaped hole. Mickey’s body takes them in greedily so Ian pushes and pulls until they’ve switched positions and Ian is looming over Mickey splayed wide open on the sheets. Fuck, he’s beautiful like this. Sweaty and sated. But still yearning for more.

He precracked the seals on the water bottles so he pops the top off one with his free hand and brings it to Mickey’s lips. Mickey rolls his eyes at the care, but takes a few long drinks any way. Ian watches his throat work and leans down to lick away a bead of sweat that’s fallen into the hollow of this throat before he takes a few drinks himself. His fingers are stroking lazily over Mickey’s overstimulated prostate, gaining half-sobbed moans for his effort. But Mickey is so pliant and languorous, he could easily lay here all day and stroke him, keep his fingers buried in his wet hole, sliding his own cum over that gland, smearing it along his rim and fucking into his hole. Dipping into his lips to leave unhurried kisses as he feels his cock stirring back into life, knowing he’ll be getting Mickey there soon too.

A weekend apart to think about their situation culminating in a Sunday afternoon spent fucking? Ian likes where this is headed.

Chapter Text

Ian’s cock is raging hard again, his fingers still sucked in tight by Mickey’s greedy hole. Lying behind him now, spooned against his chest as he strokes in and out, over his prostate and smearing what’s still wet of his cum all around his rim as it leaks out with the motions of his fingers. He presses kisses to his neck and shoulders. Three fingers, fucking in and out, in and out. Watching the play of Mickey’s back muscles as he does it. Eventually he rolls his hips forward enough to brush his cock against Mickey’s thigh, showing him that he’s ready for round two.

He reaches over his hip with his free hand to tug at his cock. Listening to the clinking of his piercings as he strokes. The sound of piercings jingling together are becoming a Pavlovian response for Ian. He’s hard and a thumb cresting his tip proves he’s leaking already too. Ian presses a moan against his neck as he thinks about all the steps they still have yet to take in their relationship. But for now, fuck, he's one of V's vanilla tops for a reason and now he's got love thrown in the mix and all he wants to do is pleasure his boyfriend until he's blind with it.

Mickey’s head turns and nudges Ian out to look at him. He cocks an eyebrow and then his hand is on Ian’s cock, fisting it hard and quick. “You going to fuck me again or just finger me all afternoon?”

“Both,” Ian grins around his answer and engages Mickey’s mouth in deep, wet kisses. Tangling his tongue and fighting him for every last ounce of control. He slips his fingers out of his ass and Mickey’s whine is muffled against his tongue. Ian draws back enough to chastise, “patience baby. I’ll give you what you need.” Then covers his lips with his mouth before he can respond. Part of him wanting to jerk him until he cums and then slam his cock into his hole when he’s still coming down from the orgasm. Part of him wanting to take him apart slowly. This time lasting longer, fucking harder than they had earlier.

When he releases the kiss, he leans back just far enough to look at his hole. It’s the perfect amount of swollen and sensitive. Ian can’t help himself, he brings himself down the bed until he’s close enough to fuck him with his tongue. Open and loose, still lined with Ian’s cum. He presses his tongue into his hole eagerly, Mickey keening with it, the overstimulation, the continuous touch and rub, stretching and keeping him wide open. Ian moans against him when he thinks about plugging him after this round. Keeping him loose and open all afternoon to fuck him again later.

Mickey’s hips buck back against his face at the stimulation of Ian’s reverberating vocalizations. He drives Ian fucking crazy with his neediness. He presses two fingers in deep, scissoring him between licks and twists of his tongue that lave over every reachable inch internal and external. Mickey is practically whimpering when he finally pulls back. He’s got him exactly where he wants him. Over-pleasured and hazy with it. He’s pretty damn sure he’s proven to him why he was in the running for best Asslicker. He kisses, licks and nips gently on his way back up Mickey’s body. Wanting to tell him that if they were fucking only each other, if they moved this to the studio that they’d be able to leave bite marks, belt marks, whip marks, hickeys, cuffs, bruises any time they wanted. But for now, he has to make sure the pressure is only enough to feel, not enough to leave behind a claim.

He presses Mickey to his back when he’s hovering over him, gripping his legs to hitch them over his shoulders and draw his ass into his lap. His rim is so open and lax that it catches on Ian’s cock when he slides him over. Ian groans with it, thinking his own cock is still way too fucking sensitive for this. He rocks his pelvis in swaying circles, rubbing his hard cock all over Mickey’s ass, feeling it every time it glances across his hungry hole. Ian releases Mickey’s legs, trusting that he’ll keep them perched on his shoulders so Ian can grasp his ass, spread him open and rub his cock up and down his cleft. Over his hole, teasing.

Mickey grunts and moans, his curses coming out broken already. His hands are buried behind the pillow but Ian is sure they’re white-knuckled. His mouth open and lips pink. Ian watches his tongue dart out and wet his lips. He kneads into his asscheeks with his hands as he glances over his hole over and over with his cock. Releasing his ass with one hand to grasp his cock, sliding up and down, up and down. The clinking of the jewelry rising tingles in his spine. He finds himself wondering again what it would feel like to bottom for a cock like that. He wonders if Mickey ever tops. It’d be almost a shame since he’s such a fucking receptive bottom to waste a load on topping, but those piercings must feel so fucking amazing every time they slip and slide in and out, already knowing how they feel on his tongue. Ian wonders if he’d ever have a threesome. Fuck Mickey while Mickey fucks someone else. It curls jealousy in his stomach just thinking about it. He opens his fist, thumbs at the rings, spinning them and watching Mickey twitch and moan as they slide around sensitive nerves in his cock from the inside. He tips his hand, angling so he can fuck with his gooch piercing as well. Good fucking hell, it’s working Ian up too, enough that he pushes his shoulders into Mickey’s legs until he lets him press all the way to his chest and tongue at his nipple piercings too. Fucking with all three major areas as he sloppily pumps his pelvis, keeping his cock teasing at Mickey’s hole as best he can now that he’s changed up the angle. He’s not sure how much longer he can tease himself like this, he’s ready to bury himself in his slippery channel and fuck him until he’s knocking his head off the headboard.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey huffs. His eyes fly open with a wild look of need as he orders, “fuck me already you fucking tease.”

Ian can’t help but let a giggle escape. He feels fucking high off this. He leans down, pressing his smile against Mickey’s pursed lips. They’re pursed in annoyance right now, but pretty soon they’ll be bitten red from pleasure. Ian adjusts his body to slide between Mickey’s legs. Hitching his knees up to his armpits, Mickey goes without hesitation. Flexible and eager, he is the best fucking bottom Ian has ever been with. Fuck, it drives him crazy.

He positions his hands beside Mickey’s head, he’s going to let his pelvis do the work, knowing Mickey’s hole has been gaped and stretched and worked open enough that he doesn’t need his hand to help his cock. He just needs to catch the exact right angle and, fuck, there it is. The head of his cock is enveloped eagerly and Mickey is arching back to swallow the rest of it up quickly. Ian presses into it, letting Mickey take him to the base like he so eagerly wants to. Fuck, he loves it when he works a partner into such a sloppy mess that it just slides right in. He bites at his lip to keep himself from cumming, humming against Mickey’s neck and pulling out only to slam back in. He’s going to make this one felt, he’s going to fuck him hard on this round.

“Fuck, Mick,” he grits against his neck as he arches up into it. As he wiggles his hips and tilts his pelvis. As he draws his knees even closer to his chest, deepening the open channel and flattening his pelvis to make it even easier for Ian to draw all the way back and push in with a punishing rhythm. This man is going to drive him fucking crazy. His cock tugs on his rim every time it gets to the head, then he’s back in, sunk in deep in the hot clutch while Mickey moans. His hands have made their way out from beneath the pillow, landing on Ian’s ass and pressing him closer, deeper.

The sound of skin on skin where his thighs are slapping Mickey’s asscheeks with every thrust, the slick squelching of his cock and balls as he drives his pelvis with all the strength built up from topping in the porn industry for a few years. He’s so fucking grateful for that stamina right now, knowing he has a hungry bottom that no unpracticed top could satisfy.

“Mmm fuck, you’re so fucking good.” It’s muffled against the sweat slick crook of Mickey’s neck but he knows he heard him.

Mickey’s hands are suddenly on Ian’s face, steering him out of his neck and into his lips. Seizing his lips, his tongue, exploring his teeth deeply and demandingly. He might be pliant and overstimulated to a point of near exhaustion but he’s still going to make damn sure he’s got control in this, knowing damn well that it’s his responses and his eagerness that are going to make Ian blow it. He holds out as long as he can, pumping into him with slower more determined thrusts now. Making sure that part of his cock is against Mickey’s prostate at all times. He can feel the hard line of Mickey’s cock pressed between their abs, he can feel the cool metal of his jewelry as it rides his washboard.

Ian pulls more of his weight up with his abs and the strength of his shoulders to grip Mickey’s hips while maintaining the dirty, hot kisses. Using his hands now to control the motions instead of thrusting, gripping Mickey and tugging his pelvis closer, deeper, then swiveling his hips in a circle. Mickey’s moans sound like they're punched out of him and he’s shaking, quivering to his very core with every circle Ian makes. He pumps his hips as he circles and that does it. Mickey clenching tight and desperate around his cock, suffocatingly tight. His fat cock spilling cum all over between them as he breaks the kiss with a near cry of a moan.

Ian fucks into his channel with a few quick, short pumps and he’s spilling too. Spurting another load of hot jizz into the insides of Mickey.

“Fuck,” he pushes himself back and pulls his cock out of Mickey’s hole when Mickey puts his feet on his shoulders to give him the show. He’s clenching and oozing cum out, it’s dribbling down to his crack and Ian traces it with his finger, pressing it back into his greedy hole that’s still spasming. He trails his eyes up Mickey’s body, the cum that’s pooled in his abs, in his bellybutton. The glimmering shine of his nipple piercings, the sheen of sweat on his flesh. His hands have fallen to the pillow beside him again, this time palm up, fingers open like he can’t even summon the energy to grasp the pillowcase as Ian pushes cum into his puffy hole.

“Goddamn Mick, I want to plug that ass.”

Mickey grunts his agreement, eyes opening lazily with a promise of, “next time I’ll bring one.”

Ian halts his ministrations with his fingers to press his cock back in before it softens completely. It has Mickey’s entire body twitching and spasming with aftershocks and total overstimulation as he drags his cock in and out a few times, pulling his jizz out and pushing it back in with his fat girth. Mickey curses and hums with it, his hand falling to stroke his own cock a few times. The clinking having that response in Ian, he’s almost convinced he could go directly into a round three if he keeps his cock buried deep while he listens and watches.

Mickey’s demand of, “come ‘ere,” with his head cocked has Ian’s thoughts of round three derailing. At least for now. For now he needs to settle between Mickey’s legs, linger over him and kiss him until they have no choice but to get up and get something going for dinner. Or maybe order take-out, that sounds better. Take-out to eat in bed while they recharge for a third round. Fuck yes, Ian thinks as he traces his sloppy rim with the head of his softening cock before he pulls out completely and covers his body like a blanket. Sinking into the mattress and into his kisses.

Thoughts of round three and take-out go out the window as soon as Mickey gets out of bed, walking like a baby deer. Ian tamps down on the swell of pride that he did that, and instead starts planning how he can get Mickey to settle in the jacuzzi and let him cook him dinner without feeling guilty for not helping.

###

His Sunday routine has been tossed and he finds as he’s rushing around getting his schedule planned and food prepped for the week, that he doesn’t mind it in the least. Especially when Mickey wanders out of the bathroom looking exhausted and soft, and takes a seat on the couch to flip on the game while the afternoon turns into evening and slowly fades to night.

Chapter Text

The little bubble of bliss and domesticity they spent Sunday in pops on Monday as Ian knew it would. It’s Monday, time to talk business again. It comes up when they’re in the middle of running. He nearly expected that too, since Mickey likes to bring up the important stuff when it’s harder to make eye contact.

“So the long film? You know, the goal you have of being in a long film.” He trails off and lets Ian think about what he’s getting at without having to finish his sentence.

“Yeah. I’m going to need a long film in the books before I will ever be considered for Best Top Cocksucker.”

“And you have any scripts in mind? Any thing that’s been offered your way?”

Ian shrugs, nearly tripping over a rock when he looks over his shoulder at Mickey. Mickey is looking straight ahead, acting very unaffected by all of this. “I’ve scanned over a few that V has open casting for, but nothing really struck my fancy.” He admits slowly, with a light tone to his voice. Making it open for conversation, and Mickey’s input.

He’s silent long enough to fall back into stride and pick up the pace a bit as they follow the blacktop around the bends. “Thing is, if we do the documentary and we have control over it. It’ll be a line on my resume, maybe it’ll be the foot in the door for production. It could be groundbreaking as far as being the first ever. And if it’s done right, it’ll be much more than something that just looks like two wannabe reality stars fighting with each other for fame. It can be a real, raw, and true documentary. Not just navigating porn life, but also navigating a queer relationship that is partially in the public eye. People know our porn personas. More people know our faces than would ever approach us on the street since porn is still taboo, but a documentary about porn would not be nearly as taboo. And it’s not like what you said, you know, about filming us fucking each other at home and being amateur porn stars as well as professionals. It’s not like we’d be setting up our own scenes in the privacy of the loft or wherever. There would be the backstage access to porn industry, the shoots that we have with other people or with each other or whatever. And then of course our home life and the discussions between us of what’s okay and what’s not, where our lines are when it comes to professionalism. And more than that. The life of a porn star isn’t glamourous. We work hard on our bodies, follow strict rules for diet, the grooming and all that shit. Memorizing scripts, the acrobatics involved in cam angles. It could be a really good thing for the porn industry in general, taking actors more seriously. And showing people the top notch rules, safety guidelines and respect that V and Kev treat their employees with. And our sex life at home stays off film. That’s a hard line I’m drawing and keeping solid.”

Ian hadn’t really thought about that aspect of it. And the more the words Mickey just spoke sink in, the more he thinks that he’s absolutely right. This has the potential to be about so much more than just them, than just sex, than just a blip of porn actors who end up reality type stars for five minutes and ride the fame wave for as long as they can. It could truly change the face of the porn industry. And change the way a lot of people view it. Proving that porn you pay for is the only way to get studios to treat actors right, with respect and dignity that they deserve.

“We’ve got time to think about it.” Mickey offers after Ian is silent for a long moment. “Just a different way of looking at it.”

“Yeah, that’s,” he sighs. The end of their trail is in sight and he’s ready to stop running so he can start talking. “Everything you said, is right and I hadn’t thought about any of that. It’s intriguing when you put it that way.”

They slow down to a cool-down pace and when they stop to stretch Ian wants to tell Mickey that it’s up to him, it’s whatever he wants. But he remembers what he said the other day about this being their decision. “I want to do that. I want to do it with you. And I want to do it right.” Is instead what he blurts. He knows it’s true, he’s not just speaking on some endorphin high from the work-out and the possibility of having a real impact. He wants this, for both of their careers and for the people they would be representing.

Watching his words settle in Mickey’s mind and work their way into his expression is like watching the sun rise in the morning. He blows out a soft breath while his eyes light up with hope and finally he grins, “okay then fire crotch. Let’s do it.”

The deal is sealed with a kiss. One that is soft but meaningful, it makes butterflies flap like crazy in Ian’s stomach, feeling like he’s standing on the ledge of his future and goddamn, it looks more amazing than anything he ever imagined.

###

It’s not an immediate thing, it takes time to rewrite contracts and finish up the open projects they both have going. But the immediate thing is when Ian asks Mickey to make it official and move in with him. He gets nervous about it, of course he does, and he over prepares the romantic dinner and probably lights way too many candles and it looks more like a proposal with the chocolate dipped strawberries and the seriousness in the air, but Mickey either isn’t reading it that way or he’s not freaked out by it so it’s a pretty simple and immediate answer when he cocks his brow and grins out a, “yes.” That has Ian’s heart leaping into his throat but his stomach relaxing with the relief of knowing he’s not pushing too fast. They don’t even manage to make it to the bedroom before they’re fucking. On the kitchen floor with dinner still cooling on the table, candles dancing lights across Mickey’s flesh as he rides Ian slow and sweet. Ian’s back on the cool floor, digging into his bones but he doesn’t care. Mickey’s mouth parted on his orgasm in the shades of the candles is worth any bruises he’ll have on his tailbone in the morning.

###

He also convinces Mickey to come to Chicago for a weekend to meet his family. It’s another thing he gets nervous about, and probably overdoes it, but he agrees so easily like he was expecting it. And he completely fits in with Ian’s siblings, he doesn’t judge their South Side lifestyle, it’s so fucking refreshing.

###

The green Summer leaves have begun to shift to oranges, yellows, and red by the time they finally set up for the documentary. By then, Ian has found a long film that he’s interested in, he’s done the first reading for and he’s sure he’s a shoo in, but every time he brings it up with Mickey he’s met with a cool demeanor that he really doesn’t like.

So he kind of corners him one night after dinner. He’s doing the dishes and looks so natural there, Ian steps into his back, leaning his chin on his shoulder and placing both hands on his chest. He’s aware that the Cam is catching this, they have one set up in the kitchen, one in the living room and the rest of it is going to be done with body cams that they wear when they leave the house. It’ll take months to get all the footage they want, and any of Ian’s scene partners have to sign consent forms before he can film anything behind the scenes. Mickey has agreed to let the doc catch one of his shorts.

“So,” he sighs, watching it rise goosebumps on Mickey’s flesh. “Can we talk about the long film?”

“What about it?”

Ian feels the stiffening in his frame as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “We’ve talked about work life and home life and the balance between the two. But we’ve not really talked about having each other’s approval for projects. I guess. I want to talk about that.” He lets it hang there, hoping Mickey will just take the bait and carry on the conversation from there. But he doesn’t, so Ian continues, “I just don’t want to commit myself to something that’ll take months of filming if it’s not something that you are comfortable with me doing.”

Mickey sighs, wipes his hands on the towel and then scrubs into his eyes. Ian takes it as a hint to get the hell off him and give him some space. So he takes a few steps back and leans against the counter.

“Long film is a lot of moving parts,” is finally what Mickey says. He’s blinking Ian back into focus and when his gaze lands on his, he knows what he means. It’s a lot of different guys, a lot of different scenes and usually a group scene.

“This one I read for is three partners for the entire thing. I don’t know who else has read. But if you’re not comfortable with it…”

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t achieve your goals,” he blurts it with a little fire that makes Ian’s breath catch. Taking a deep breath and another step back, putting even more distance between them, it feels like a dagger in Ian’s chest. “Just, forget about it, it’s…” he scrubs into his eyes again and Ian quickly steps forward to grasp his hands when they drop from his eyes.

“It’s important,” Ian finishes. “It will always be important to me what you think, and how you feel about anything career related. There’s nothing in my career that could ever be more important than you.”

He watches the way the words settle in Mickey’s features. How his face goes from guarded to soft, his body relaxes against Ian’s grip and he just kind of sags with it. Like he’d been holding his breath over the topic for months and not sharing his opinion.

“Don’t ever forget that either,” Ian holds his gaze steady and waits for him to nod. A quiet tear has sprung to his eyes and Ian is certain that Mickey has never been put first in his life, and he’s still not used to it. That’s okay, Ian has time to get him used to it, to being the number one thing always. He slides his hands up Mickey’s arms until he can close them around his shoulders and pull him into an embrace. Mickey’s arms immediately encircle Ian’s waist and his head quickly ducks under his chin.

He stands there for a long moment before Mickey finally admits, “I’m not comfortable with you doing a long film,” he takes a deep breath like he’s waiting for Ian to immediately break up with him over having an opinion. “But,” the exhale shakes a little and he burrows deeper into Ian’s neck, “I read a script the other day V wrote that was basically inspired by the sex club party at the Cocksuckers. It’d read as a long film, and it would basically take everyone on contract with Ball Kings to pull it off. So it’s possible by the beginning of next year there’d be an opening for a long film for both of us. And since V is the one writing it, she’s got parts pretty catered to each dude’s preferences.”

Ian’s heart thumps with joy and excited anticipation at the prospect. Putting it all in V’s hands and using only Ball Kings employees, it sounds like the perfect kind of long film that Ian has been waiting for. He stokes a hand up Mickey’s back, cupping the base of his skull to tip his gaze out of his chest and kiss his forehead, “I will withdraw my name from the one I read, and I’ll talk to V about this project and throw my full support behind it.” He leans down to kiss Mickey’s lips, closing his eyes to the sight of relieved tears clinging to his lashes. When he pulls back he wonders, “so how’d you end up privy to this?”

“I might be, um, sort of helping her write it.”

“What?! That’s fucking awesome Mick!”

A sweet pink blush mottles his cheeks and he hides it in Ian’s chest again.

“My one-hundred percent support is behind this thing and I am so fucking excited about it.”

Mickey grunts something unintelligible in response and Ian knows if he keeps laying on the praise he’ll eventually pull out of the embrace and walk away. So he bites his tongue and makes a mental note to praise the hell out of him in the bedroom later.

Chapter Text

“So, where do we start?” Ian leans back in his chair, looking over at Mickey who’s brows are up.

Mickey shrugs, “how about we tell our listeners why we did a film together?”

“Oh that, yeah,” Ian grins. Their short film drops today so they’re doing a live podcast to get their subscribers up to speed before they watch it. “Mickey, or as you know him Terry, and I we did a short film together because we are together in real life. We’ve been dating for a few months now, we’ve moved in together, and most recently started filming a documentary.”

Ian watches Mickey’s blush growing as he speaks, his hand rises to thumb at his nose. Ian can’t help but grin even wider. They answer listener questions and shoot the shit for the rest of the hour, then shut everything down and clean it up together. They’ve fallen into sync so easily it’s almost like a dream. Ian never imagined someone fitting into his life so easily.

###

“A whole weekend with nothing to do, what do you say we get crazy and take a drive upstate?” Ian wonders over breakfast on Friday morning.

Mickey smirks over his mouthful of fruit, “you really want to mess up your precious schedule with something last minute, off the cuff?”

“Hell yes. I do.”

###

The drive upstate is beautiful with the colors of Fall in full display. They drive with the windows open and the sound of wind blurring any conversation. Ian can tell Mickey is in day dreaming mode and enjoying the scenery, the gears in his mind turning as he sits in the passenger side. Not wanting to disrupt the creative process and hoping he’s thinking about the long film and the technical aspects of it that’ll get him noticed behind the scenes, get him a good foot in the door to start the career he wants in production.

When Ian rolls to a stop at a sign, Mickey feels his eyes on him and darts his gaze in his direction. Ian can tell he’s about to snark something at him, put a crabby edge on a ‘what the fuck are you looking at?’ kind of thing, so Ian quickly leans across the center console and kisses him before he can get a word out.

###

They take the chance to avoid any and all work talk. They are simply tourists this weekend with a posh hotel room and an opportunity to fuck in a new place. They christen every surface by Saturday night and Ian has Mickey positioned on his hands and knees in the middle of the round glass-top table. He’s already worked over from the morning round, the noon round and Ian has been toying with him, over-sensitizing him and making him sweat for about an hour now. The prints he’s already leaving on the table are doing nothing but whetting Ian’s appetite. He walks the perimeter of the table, pulling out all the chairs to give himself room. Mickey is on a stage right now, and Ian plans to fully take advantage of it. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Ian runs a hand up his side, “you’re so fucking good,” he tells him, watching as his skin mottles with goosebumps under Ian’s touch. His cock is hard and hanging between his legs. Ian circles the table, touching fingertips over Mickey’s back as he goes, layering a palm down his arm. His muscles taut, some deep shaking from holding himself back, but nothing he can’t handle.

Ian stops alongside him, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it. His cock should be spent, but with this display in front of him there is no way he’d not be rock hard. He’s still lubed up from earlier, smearing it around and giving Mickey a show from his peripheral. He takes the steps closer, wrapping his free hand around Mickey’s cock. Stroking them both in rhythm, listening to the sound of Mickey’s jewelry clinking like wind-chimes that send thrills down Ian’s spine. Slipping his lubed up palm down Mickey’s balls, pressing a long index finger alongside his gooch so that the very tip of it leans against his rim. Mickey shudders as Ian circles the loose muscle that’s still greedy for more. Mickey is insatiable and Ian fucking loves it.

Leaning forward to drag his tongue along Mickey’s hip, along his side, tipping his head to tongue at his nipple rod. Then back up his side, along his ribs, mouthing at his hip as he rounds the curve of his body and tilts his head, parts his lips to rub the hard flats of his teeth along his pale skin that’s slicked with sweat and leftover lube.

Mickey shivers and Ian reassures, “you’re so good,” as he travels over the crest of his ass and down his thigh with a flattened tongue. He’s going to lick every surface of him while he’s up here on this pedestal. Ian should have set up some mirrors so Mickey could see how fucking hot he is and what exactly he does to Ian just by existing.

“Can I blindfold you?” He wonders as his tongue crests the ridge of his hard muscled thigh. If he doesn’t have mirrors to prop, then he might as well be blind.

“Fuck yeah.” Mickey responds and Ian watches it move through his body. The excited quiver in his stomach when his belly hollows and Ian breathes out against his hole, making it clench and hunger for more.

Ian has no desire to leave this sight here alone, but he’s got to find something that won’t cut into his skin, something he can tie tight enough it won’t slip off, something that’ll be dark enough. He ends up using a t-shirt, not having the proper material or a real blindfold, he needs something soft and reassuring when Mickey is trusting him like this. Blindfolded on a glass table-top. He stands in front of Mickey while he ties it, so he can get a good look at his eyes and make sure there’s no bluffing in his agreement, read the true depths of his excitement when he asks him, “you sure?”

“Fuck yes.” Mickey responds with a glint of sheer anticipation and lust in his blue eyes.

Ian feels himself grinning as he layers the shirt over his eyes and snugs up a tight enough knot against his head to keep it there. He’s not planning on moving the blindfold from the table, so he at least doesn’t have to worry about Mickey's head moving against a pillow or a headboard or anything that would untie it and shake it loose. And Mickey is such a good fucking partner, that he’s not going to fight it.

Ian takes a deep breath to steady the butterflies invading. Fuck, he wishes he had restraints, just imagining Mickey with his hands lashed down on top of this table with a blindfold on. Fuck, Ian shivers without even touching himself, his cock twitching and reminding him that it’s still rock hard and jumpy to get back in the game.

Ian walks the circle of the table again, stopping at Mickey’s ass to press down on his lower back, coaxing him to present. He does as he’s urged. Showing off his hot hole. Ian has to fight the urge to bury his face in it right now. But this is about the tease. This is about slowing it down and making it ache, yearning and passion and pure attention to every detail.

Ian walks along the other side of his body. Reaching out with a fingertip to trace the line of his muscles along his side. Mickey’s breath shakes with longing when Ian draws back. Ian’s light on his feet, the sound of the gas fireplace whooshing, his footsteps and their breathing the only things that Mickey can hear. His sense of hearing being heightened now that Ian took his sight. Ian purposely holds his breath as he reaches back, making his motions as quiet and smooth as possible. His fingers this time landing on Mickey’s spine, Mickey shudders and leans into it, arches up and Ian smacks his ass. Mickey jolts forward with the motion. Proving his point, he pushes back into his lower back to dip that curve and keep his hole up and presented. Mickey obliges and Ian runs a soothing hand over the red mark of his palm.

“Good,” Ian praises. Letting his hand slip down his thigh. He eyes Mickey’s cock, still rock hard. The smears of lube and sweat across the glass top already, from Mickey’s hands, the sweat dripping down his arms and legs, leaving splotches by his hands and knees. Fuck that’s hot. Next time an opportunity like this is presented, Ian will certainly be putting a mirror on the floor under the table.

Ian pinches the tip of his cock, reeling back the surge of want that rolls through him when he thinks of that image. Or when he looks too long at the image in front of him. Fuck. His hands both reach out this time, taking hold of Mickey’s hips, then sliding down his thighs, back up, around the globes of his ass, down his sides, towards the center of him, grazing over his nipples and pressing some pressure against his piercings, then down his stomach, avoiding his cock, back to his hips. When he takes both hands away, Mickey makes a noise that sounds a lot like a whine at the loss of contact but he does’t move. So he’s still doing so, “fucking good.”

Ian makes his steps heard as he walks around the table again. Reversing his direction to take another circle without touching. Letting it well known that Mickey is being appraised. The fucker preens with it. His chest puffing out and his back dipping dangerously low to present his hole.

This time Ian stops at his ass. Slapping one hand down in the center, making certain his fingers contact his hole. Making his hole shudder with the contact as Ian pulls it away, then puts both hands on his cheeks, spreading it wide to see the depths of his insides. He’s already loosened and messy from earlier, so Ian urges, “push out for me.”

Mickey obliges, pushing out just a little bit more of that pink skin. Shiny with lube. He’d need more physical stimulation for a true rosebud, but he shows Ian just enough to tease him. Fuck. Ian’s breath shudders and he releases Mickey’s cheeks, swats them both playfully. Mickey’s body reacts with a tremble. Ian is certain he’s biting his lip now.

Fuck, he did not come prepared for this. He should have a real blindfold, he should have a feather, he should have a whip. He should have a gag and a cock cage. He closes his eyes and chases all the rising images away, knowing neither of them actually need those things to get the most enjoyment out of this possible but fuck they’d add a layer. Next time.

Ian watches his hands reaching out, trailing up Mickey’s thighs again, grasping at his muscles that are trembling now with holding the position. He rounds the curve of his asscheeks with his hand and then darts forward with his face. His tongue making first contact, tracing the rim of that hungry hole. Mickey gasps and lets out a curse through clenched teeth. The give that is already there makes it easy for Ian to drive his tongue in, past the rubber band feel of his rim, and right into the depth of his heat. He pulls his cheeks open with his hand and gives himself the space to go deep, to drive in and out, in and out. Tracing ridges and wrinkles inside Mickey with the soft, spit-slick texture of his tongue.

Drawing his tongue back to suck on his gooch. Drawing blood rushing towards the area before he drives his tongue back in and out, in and out. Laving at every centimeter of him that he can reach. Mickey keens, a high reedy sound and Ian pulls back. Leaving him empty and bereft of heat. His hole spasming and clenching at air, but he’s not cumming.

“Good.” Ian reminds him. Stroking hands up and down his sides. Hand on his cheeks, he dips his thumbs into his hole, pulling out the rim, tugging open as far as he can and letting himself enjoy the view of the red insides as Mickey clenches.

“Fuck, Mick you’re so good.” He’s darting forward again, this time keeping his thumbs there to pull him open. The tight feel of him wanting to fight Ian’s thumbs, but the ease at which he opens himself for Ian’s tongue. He’s not going to touch his cock again. Mickey will have to cum untouched for this round as well. It’s not a feat, it’s just prostate and anal play and good bottoms never need cock stimulation to get off. It helps sometimes, sure, and in later rounds it’s sometimes necessary, but Ian refuses to give Mickey the easy way out this time. He’s going to tongue fuck him until he’s on the verge, he’s going to draw it out, edge him again and again.

He’s able to drag it out, to get him clenching and spasming, his muscles trembling so hard he’s shaking. His hands and knees slipping on the glass surface as Ian rims him, pressing at his prostate, holding his hole open to grasp at air. Tucks his thumbs in, drags them back out. Finger fucks him with three digits. Pulls him open with index fingers and tongue fucks him some more.

When the trembling in Mickey’s muscles gets to a point where Ian is concerned about his hydration levels and the safety of being on the slippery surface, he leans into him, burying his face and tongue deep in his ass, taking his legs one by one to secure them over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around his hips. Pulling him closer and closer until Mickey is pushing back with his hands and crawling delicately across the slippery surface. When he’s on the edge he rolls his body up tight, tucking his head along Ian’s side until he has the leverage to remove him completely from the table. Mickey’s arms wrapping around Ian’s hips in return, as he noses at his cock until he finds it blindly. Immediately taking it down his throat. That blindfold won’t last, but at this point it doesn’t fucking matter.

Ian aims his body towards the chair across the room, starts taking careful steps with Mickey wrapped around him, his cock buried in his throat. Ian suckles and tongue-fucks in driving patterns as he keeps his eyes on the route laid out in front of him. He doesn’t stop walking until Mickey’s shoulders make contact with the seat of the plush chair. Mickey being the good partner that he is, rolls his body accordingly, letting Ian lean over him and lave at his tortured hole as he fucks into his mouth. Mickey’s hands now grasping Ian’s pelvis, able to push him away if he needs it. He won’t need it though. Ian is not going to last long like this. Fuck. Begrudgingly he pulls way, removing himself from Mickey’s hot, tight throat and taking the steps to the backside of the chair. Mickey’s ass in the air, his shoulders buried in the seat. Head laying back, relaxed and hanging towards the floor now.

Ian slides hands up his thighs as he moves, not stopping until he’s behind him, and able to plow into his hole with his tongue again. This time grasping his cock for a few quick jerks. Mickey’s body shudders in a wave of pleasure and he knows he’s close. So he pulls back again.

“Fuck,” Mickey curses him out with a broken voice. Rough and raw from panting and being face-fucked no matter how briefly.

“So good,” Ian reminds him. Moving around the chair to retrieve a bottle of water. Pulling Mickey up with a hand on his neck for support as he flexes those delicious abs to keep his head at a drinking level. Ian brings the bottle to his lips and watches him take a few short swallows. It’s not a great position for taking long chugs, so small sips will have to do just to wet his whistle before Ian lets him back down and takes a few drinks himself.

Coming back over to Mickey to tighten up the blindfold, “still good?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Ian kisses him. Upside down at a weird angle, but it’s still Mickey so they click right away, mapping out each other’s tongues and teeth for a long deep moment before Ian releases him to trail kisses up his chest, his trembling stomach, flattening his tongue and dragging it over his cock, tonguing at his piercings, suckling at his balls, then dipping into his gooch and pushing past his rim. Mickey moans and Ian places a leg on either side of the chair to drag his now leaking cock along Mickey’s abs. He leans back out of his hole, watching it clench and hunger for a filling. Lining up their cocks as he adjusts his body to the right angle, he lets his drag along the length of Mickey’s, feeling the jewelry along his own shaft as he closes them together in a half-open fist, enough to keep contact as he thrusts a few times.

Releasing to grasp at Mickey’s hips, pressing until he rolls his knees into his chest. Presenting that perfect, loosened and hungry hole. Ian drags his pelvis back to leave a trail of precum over Mickey’s cleft before he lines up and pushes in. Immediately burying himself to the base in one motion. Mickey moans, a deep aching moan. His hands come up to grasp at Ian’s wrists for something to hold onto.

Ian has to close his eyes as he draws back, back and back until just the tip of his cock is being squeezed by the rim of Mickey’s hole. Then he swivels his hips, opening space from side to side as he slowly moves forward. He swivels and pushes until he’s buried again. This time Mickey’s body shuddering, his breath panting out in harsh gasps and whispered curses.

He draws back, now until his hot clutch is emptied. And Ian’s cock is alone in the cold air. He pulls his cheeks open to peer into the depth of Mickey’s body as he clenches. “Push it out.” His voice is nearly broken with wonder. Mickey obliging and giving Ian a little bit more of his red insides. Ian traces it with his thumbs, holding his rim open as he lines his cock up again and pushes in deep with one thrust.

The cool air being quickly overtaken by the tight heat of Mickey’s body has Ian moaning. Throwing his head back. His line of control over the tease is starting to crumble. His orgasm-seeking mind wanting to let loose, wanting to pound into him until they’re both cumming in spent and overstimulated spurts.

He presses his eyes closed for a deep breath as he swivels his hips, leaving himself buried deep. He hears Mickey’s half-broken sob of a moan when he thrusts shallowly and thinks it’s a sound he’d love to hear every moment for the rest of his life. But, fuck, it sends him over the edge of want and has his hips snapping faster before he can hold himself back. Fuck. He drags himself out and off, watching that brilliant hole empty again and thirsty for more, untangling them from the chair and sliding them both down onto the floor. He rips the makeshift blindfold off Mickey and settles between his thighs, facing him, “hi.”

“Hi.” Mickey snickers, surging forward to press his lips against Ian’s hungrily as Ian rolls his hips, bringing himself to his knees as Mickey’s legs lock around his lower back. He’s going to find his hole easily now that it’s so fucked out. Rubbing and gliding along the smooth underside of him with his cock until it catches on the open rim. He pushes in slowly, torturously slow, allowing them both to feel every single inch of his cock as it gets buried in that wet heat.

It has them both moaning and shuddering when he bottoms out. Mickey’s breath hot in Ian’s mouth and his kisses getting sloppier with every thrust Ian takes. He’s thrusting slow and methodical. Knowing that every single drag over his prostate is an overstimulated sensation that’s making Mickey’s body feel like warm maple syrup. Every thrust he pulls back just enough for the head of his cock to drag slow over his prostate, before he buries himself again.

It takes awhile like this. with the slow thrusts and the lazy kisses, but Ian is sure he could stay here all fucking night. it’s dreamlike when they finally cum together. On a down trust that has Mickey spasming and breaking the kiss to cry out with a moan that’s on the brink of pain. The feel of his tight clutch and the sound of his gasp has Ian following him off that ledge immediately. Melting into his body on the floor of the hotel room and lingering there until he’s sure both of their bodies are starting to lock up. Ian only drags himself as far as the water bottle before he leans back over Mickey and pulls him up to make sure he finishes the fluids. Then he kisses him long and dirty until the last drops of water are swirled around between them and shared between their tongues.

“Fuck.” Is the only profound thing either of them can offer when they finally drag themselves up off the floor and stumble to the shower, Ian looping an arm around Mickey’s back to give him the support he needs but will most likely refuse to accept. Turning his head to quickly plant a kiss on Mickey’s temple.

Chapter Text

Driving home at the end of the weekend is bittersweet. Having just spent the most spectacular weekend he’s ever had, Ian doesn’t want it to end. But he’s got Mickey’s hand lazily looped through his on the center console so he knows it’s only the first opportunity of many for a weekend like that.

###

Monday brings an absolute avalanche of fan-mail at the office. V unloads a horde of emails on them, and directs them towards the comment section on their vid that they’ve been ignoring all weekend. Support, more support and love it’s so beautiful. It has Ian thinking that pairing off in front of the cam is the right thing to do for their careers. If their existing fanbase is this supportive, then they’d probably love some boyfriend videos. The only question remaining is if they can live together and work together and not end up carrying the stress of one over into the other.

He watches Mickey that evening sitting at his computer in the loft, the little office space in the window corner that Ian carved out for him when he moved in. He’s deep in thought as he filters through some of the shots that he’s cutting for the documentary. He’s mostly been sorting on Mondays and Fridays since those are rarely filming days for him and it gives him the most flexibility to open his mind to the creative process when Ian is gone.

Ian had a few scenes to reshoot this afternoon, after V assigned Mickey with writing a scene for their long project. The long project that no one else is supposed to know about just yet. It seems as though this is a close to the heart project for both of them and V doesn’t want the input of the other actors who where there to cloud the vision they have for this.

Mickey’s got some film of the weekend up, they wore the on-body cams that they agreed to wear whenever they leave the loft or are in a shoot that they have the signed permission of all parties to be on film. The on-body cam that Mickey told Ian he's got to talk to, narrate some of the shit he's doing when he's alone so the audience isn't just watching what he's seeing with no context since the scenes that he picks for the doc will be mostly tidbits from here or there, it's not like a day in the life type thing that follows him from out of bed to back in bed at the end of the night. Which, yeah it's been weird talking to himself basically, but he's not exactly unused to have cams on him, so it's not really that big of an adjustment. And they had one cam set up in the room.

Ian busies himself with preparing dinner and setting the table while he lets Mickey work, headphones on and fingers typing at random bursts of speed on the keys. Ian keeps his music low and lets the sounds of Mickey’s office music become his background soundtrack as he sways to the rhythmic grunts and keystrokes. It’s when the keystrokes stop and Mickey falls completely silent for about five minutes that Ian cranes his head to look across the way. Sure, having Mickey see some of Ian's dialogues has probably exposed a few things he didn't know about him before, but Ian's got nothing to hide. Mickey had laughed and thrown a balled up piece of paper at him when he realized through the eyes of the cam that Ian's "helpful work-out tips" were just an excuse to touch Mickey and they had nothing to do with his already perfected form.

Up on screen is Mickey on his hands and knees on the glass table. Oh shit. Did Ian leave his cam on? Or was it the main cam and they forgot to turn it off? Not that it’s really that big of a deal, there’s a reason they’re the only ones privy to this footage until they’ve edited and cut it according to what they’re comfortable with passing along to V. But the way Mickey has completely stilled has Ian’s spine straightening and his stomach knotting.

Ian creeps over slowly, worry starting to cloud his chest but when Mickey tugs off his headphones and turns his head he’s got a look of wonder on his face. Nothing is hardened off or pissed. He actually grins at Ian and waves him over.

“You’ve got to watch this and tell me what you think.”

“Um,” Ian was there, he saw it. He doesn’t need to watch it, but he’s not going to turn down watching it. And really, with that image burned into his lids for every single future jerk session he’ll ever has in his life, it’s not really a problem to him to have it on film. “So, don’t delete this. I want it for my private sessions.”

Mickey smirks, swats Ian when he’s within reach and admits, “Wasn’t going to delete it. The opposite actually. I was thinking we kind of made some hot porn here and if we wanted to write this into a scene and film it with V, I doubt she’d turn it down.”

Ian’s not too proud to admit that his cock twitches at the thought. “I’m in.”

Mickey’s smirk turns grin, his eyes soften and Ian leans in to kiss him quickly. “You want to do this? For real? Let’s stop taking other projects. We’ll do the long film once it’s written, both our parts will be mostly be solo anyway. And then take on…”

Ian cuts him off by kissing him. Long and soft, deeply investigating every taste that’s in his mouth, every slippery surface of his tongue and every ridge of his teeth before he draws back and answers, “I’d love that. And I'd love it even more if the part of the long film that is not solo, is with you.”

Mickey’s cheeks flush but he shrugs it off, “I mean, it’s undeniable we look pretty good on film together,” eyebrow arched as he looks over at the screen again.

Ian chuckles and settles in beside him to watch the show.

###

“As long as you are both sure this is where you want to go with your careers, then I’m backing you.” V leans back in her chair to study them both one by one. “I fully support having boyfriends on my staff that are willing to fuck each other on cam. I just need to be sure on a personal level, that you are both well aware of how doing these projects might put a strain on your relationship. And if you were to break up, there would be a whole lot of drama to unpack and that shit is not getting unpacked in my house.” She points her pencil at both of them, lingering on either one until they nod.

“Yes Ma’am,” Ian responds with his nod.

Mickey most likely rolls his eyes with his nod but by then V is already talking again, “alright, let’s get this on your schedules and remove you, Ian, from casting listings with other men.”

The butterflies swoop in Ian’s belly and he nods without a second thought, “sounds good.”

“This scene is going to be a money-maker,” V rubs her hands together excitedly before she starts sorting through the papers on her desk.

Ian doesn’t bother pointing out that it’ll get Mickey a writing credit, he knows Mickey doesn’t want the spotlight. So he reaches out and rubs his leg, giving him a tight reassuring squeeze on the knee before he withdraws his touch and gets to work signing papers.

###

“So, the idea that if we break up at a future date,” Mickey starts then stops. They’re on their morning jog, of course, it’s his pattern to bring shit up when Ian can’t look at him. Either that, or this is when his head is clear and he’s able to think through his own tangled thoughts when he’s running so he uses the advantage to get the dialogue open. “Maybe we should talk about that, you know, work through a way we could still keep our jobs and…”

Ian stops in his tracks, doesn’t care that they still have two miles to go and he’s about to slow his heart rate and let lactic acid creep in. Mickey stops when he realizes that Ian did and takes the paces back to him, his eyebrows risen, eyes only briefly locking on to Ian’s before they dart away again.

Ian reaches for his hands when he's close enough and Mickey’s eyes shoot up at the contact, staying on Ian’s while he listens to Ian’s words, “I’m not going anywhere. Break up is not a term that is in our future. I’m all in. I mean that. I wouldn’t have agreed to take this turn in my career if I wasn’t all in. I wouldn’t have asked you to move in if I wasn’t all in. Mickey, I love you. There is no one else for me. Ever. So there is no need to talk about break-up fail safes in the workplace. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Mickey’s cheeks are turning an adorable shade of pink but he hasn’t lost the eye contact so Ian takes it as a good sign. He takes it as an even better sign when Mickey stops chewing on his lower lip to agree, “I’m all in too. Have been for awhile now. I just… thought, I don’t know what I thought,” he laughs at himself in a good natured manner and steps into Ian’s space. Pressing right into his sweat filmed chest as his hand rises, landing on Ian’s jaw and sliding back to the nape of his neck before he pulls him in for a kiss.

A kiss that has Ian’s heart in his throat and when he pulls away and starts down the path again, it has his mind reeling towards marriage. Fuck, that’s fast. That’s so fast, but it doesn’t seem fast at all. It seems right. Nothing more, nothing less. Just right.

Chapter Text

With contracts signed and no open projects on the schedule, they go home to celebrate with champagne and drunken sloppy sex that no one will ever be making a porno out of. Summer is fading into Fall and there’s such a warm homey feel in the loft that Ian has no desire to leave it ever again. Tracing over Mickey’s thighs and stomach on Sunday morning in all the dips where the slowly rising sun is leaving golden kisses. He’s so fucking soft and beautiful in this light, it’s impossible to look away.

###

Getting started on the glass table top shoot right away on Monday is exactly what Ian expected. He’s nervous to show himself, fully himself with no Curtis to hide behind. But it’s Mickey. And the only people one set are two cam operators and V so the only real exposure he’ll have is once this thing hits the site. And by then it’ll be edited and cut, it’ll be gorgeous considering the canvas he’s working with.

This time it’s a real blindfold and he’s got a feather to tease Mickey with. He’s got to focus on angles and sure, to an extent it takes the pleasure factor down since his mind isn’t fully in the sex acts because of that. But it’s probably a good thing to have the focus split, since this time he doesn’t have the advantage of having fucked Mickey twice already, so he’s on a hair trigger by the time he traces his rim with his tongue. Without being fucked loose he’s so fucking tight, it’s painfully perfect. It’s not hard to back up and admire the view while the cam zooms in.

Monday is spent with nothing but tongue work. When the room is clear of equipment and they’re alone, Mickey sucks him off with so much eagerness that it doesn’t take more than a minute to have Ian spilling down his throat.

Tuesday there’s more tonguing and finger work. The shoot for the day ends on the penetration on the table. But they won’t be able to use that cum shot since the film ends on the floor.

Wednesday begins with Ian already buried to the hilt at the edge of the table, so he had to do the terrible task of prepping Mickey’s perfect pucker beforehand. What an awful job he has. He might be smirking to himself when he thinks about it halfway through filming that he gets to fuck his boyfriend and get paid for it.

Thursday is the part of the scene in the chair. So by the end of today Mickey will really be sore, hanging in that position for hours with minimal cuts called. They factored that in and gave them Friday off. So they spend Friday mainly in the jacuzzi with Ian’s hand kneading into Mickey’s shoulders and upper back.

###

It takes the entirety of Monday and Tuesday the following week to finish the filming with the scene on the floor. With the eye contact and the loving thrusts that finish off the short film. Sometimes they shoot out of order, sometimes V lets the scenes run long if everyone is still comfortable, so they can just flow. The actors can improv and go with whatever feels right. But this film was simple enough to shoot in order.

By the end of the week they’re editing and making tweaks, knowing they’ll have a minimal amount of reshooting to do. But it’s no skin off Ian’s back to have to reshoot with Mickey. Three weeks of fucking each other on film. Sure, by the time Fridays roll around and they’re both exhausted and can’t even imagine fucking again for at least twenty-four hours, it kind of sucks. But at least they’re exhausted from fucking each other all week now, instead of working with other people or props all week and having to bow out on the weekend with each other to recharge from the week. It’s actually kind of fucking awesome.

Being openly in a relationship and packaging the porn as boyfriend porn makes it a little less technical. They still have to hit the right marks, be aware of angles and lighting but they don’t have to follow a script, they can say whatever comes naturally and to a certain extent do things much more naturally. No one is faking anything - not that Ian ever really did and he never got the impression that his partners were either when it came to the pleasure part of it. As much as the Curtis persona got him where he is today, and he’ll always be grateful to that name carved on the wall in a bathroom stall, he’s not sad to see it go. Sure, it’ll be the name on his films and his Ball Kings profile for the rest of his career, but he doesn’t have to act it anymore.

###

Fall’s color show has hit the ground and there’s a nip of snow in the air by the time the short featuring the glass table is released. It’s the number one debut on it’s first day, it holds steady all week at the top of the web and it’s the most viewed for the entire month. It’s rating hangs in there at 99% well into the holiday season.

Thanksgiving is spent with Mandy joining them at the loft with her new girlfriend. Ball Kings did a special meal for the guys, like they do every year, before they sent them all off on break. When they return it’ll be to start shooting the long film that V and Mickey have been working on. The Sex Club. It doesn’t include any storylines surrounding an awards show. It’s focused on the night at the club like last year’s Cocksuckers and then breaks up to follow each guy and their respective partner or partners long into the night. So Ian and Mickey have their solo parts in the Club scene and then they’ll film some boyfriend scenes that are set directly after the party. With the removal of the plug that Mickey danced with in his ass half the night, some soft fucking, and some aftercare. Some of the other guys are taking on some group scenes with each other, and some will be set as porn stars with VIP’s post party.

The film doesn’t stand a chance of being complete in time to be nominated for any Cocksuckers this year, it is quite the expansive project, but Ian is sure by the time they finish it up next Spring and get it out to the fans mid-Summer it’ll be well worth the time spent. In order for no lag time, since the entirety of Ball Kings is working on the long film, they’ll have to rotate guys in and out of short films, scheduling everything in a manner to get shorts still up and posted at regular intervals while still working on The Sex Club. Ian isn’t actually sure what the title of the film is yet, the script is ‘untitled’ but he’s been calling it The Sex Club in his head ever since Mickey told him about it so his lack of creativity makes it a good thing he’s not the one in charge of naming it.

Not only will they be nom'd for upfront categories across the boards after this thing premieres, but he’s sure Mickey will be in production categories as well. He couldn’t be fucking prouder.

###

The work load between Thanksgiving and Christmas consists of a short film of rimming only. Ian rims Mickey while he’s bent over the kitchen counter on set until he cums, then rims him until he cums again with his hands braced against the bathroom mirror. It’s written so that they got distracted while cleaning up after the first round. And fuck, it doesn’t take long for Ian to cum with his fist around his own cock when he’s got Mickey against the mirror.

This one is out and debuts at number one in the entire industry just under the wire to be eligible for Cocksucker noms. If he doesn’t get Best Asslicker this year he’ll hang up his hat. No way anyone has better rimming scenes than he does this year.

###

Fuck, Ian loves Christmas in New York. But they promised the Gallaghers that they’d be in Chicago for it this year. There’s a different sort of warmth that emanates in Ian’s chest when he brings Mickey home for Christmas with his family. Fuck, he’s smitten and he doesn’t care who knows.

###

They are back in NYC in time to spend New Years in Times Square. Mickey with champagne sprayed on his coat and confetti in his hair, his cheeks pink from cold is the most beautiful thing Ian has ever seen. The ring he had Mandy help him pick out is burning a proverbial hole in his pocket but he’s got plans for a perfect proposal and he’s not going to fuck that up. So instead he soaks in the sight of his partner, in life and in work, in the beauty of a New York New Year’s and knows that this coming year will be the best one yet.

Chapter Text

The first month of the New Year is a whirlwind of filming, podcasts, ironing out timeframes for the documentary, the long film, and making appearances for the Cocksucker noms. As suspected, Ian is in the running for Asslicker and their glass table top scene is in the running for Best Couple Performance in a Short Film. Mickey is nom'd for Best Solo Short Film off a scene he did sans Ian while V still had the fucking machine available. And yeah, Ian is still jealous of that goddamn thing, it’s like it watches him every time he watches the vid. Like it’s nodding its purple silicone head at him with a cocky sneer, saying ‘look who I’m fucking. I’m fucking your boyfriend. I’m making him cum’. Fucking fucking machines.

Mickey’s been spending more time at the office in the evenings. It’s the only time V has freed up to discuss the long film and work on writing scenes together. They've titled it Coming Undone in Paradise and a few scenes have started shooting, but Ian and Mickey probably won't be on schedule to start until early March. It’s been hard to adjust to. For a guy who thought he’d never want someone living in his space and sharing his bed on a nightly basis, he has gotten so used to Mickey being here when he is that it’s lonesome as fuck when he’s not here. A particularly lonely evening has Ian trying everything to distract himself, calling Lip and shooting the shit, digging the ring box out of his closet and trying to work out the perfect dialogue in his head. He can’t be too sappy even if sappy is how he feels when he’s with Mickey. The actual proposal is going to be sappy enough, he doesn’t need to scare him off before he gets a chance to answer. Hell, maybe he’s going overboard as is, but he needs this to be big and it might as well involve the industry that introduced them.

Ian finds himself pacing the hall by the time Mickey finally comes in the loft on Friday evening. He’s got his laptop in a messenger bag and he looks so fucking adorable with his creative side let loose that Ian can’t help but step into his space immediately, back him up against the doorjamb and knock into his mouth with his lips until he opens and gives Ian access to every nook and cranny of his wet tongue, the chase and the high that Ian craves so desperately it’s not even funny. He doesn’t pull back until he’s fully hard in his pants and he’s sure Mickey is too. Mickey’s lips are kiss abused and his eyes are a little hazy when they focus on Ian’s. Ian grins out a, “Hi,” and then dives right back into where he left off. Kissing Mickey senseless is almost as good as fucking him senseless but neither one of those are what he really intends on this night to end with.

The shoot that took up their week still probably has Mickey a little on the sore side. Stretching him to the max with four fingers, loosening him enough to take Ian’s cock along with a finger, then his cock with a dildo. Mickey suggested fisting, but Ian wants to work up to it. Play out the foreplay for a bit with as much as they can both handle before he slips his fist past that pretty pink rim. Fisting vids are fairly popular on the site but there’s no one in Ball Kings that does boyfriends fisting. So well, if Mickey’s ready to take that step then Ian is too. It’s not the first time he’s sunk his hand up to the wrist in someone’s ass, it’ll just be the fist time he does it with love behind it.

So with some soreness certainly still lingering even if Mickey won’t admit it, and with Ian’s drive through the roof after thinking about that goddamn fucking machine, he doesn’t want to blow each other, or jerk each other off, he wants the full service. It’s been weeks maybe months by now that he’s been thinking about it, about the way Mickey’s ladder feels in his fist, in his mouth and wondering how it’d feel in his ass. If he’s ready to make that offer, if Mickey would be willing to take it. He’s never asked him how he feels about topping, and Mickey has never asked Ian to bottom. But damn it, he’s going to marry this man some day (soon if he has any say in it) so why not take that extra step? Ian can’t imagine he’d ever want to be fully vers, but might as well try it. Who knows, maybe he’ll really enjoy it and it can just be another thing that they do. Flip-fucking would change up the stimulation and most likely they’d both last longer if they were able to change up which pleasure zones were being stimulated midway through a fuck. Or maybe not, maybe it’d be the opposite effect and they’d both be so turned on from feeling with all zones that they’d be overstimulated and eager to cum.

This time when he pulls back on his attack on Mickey’s mouth, it’s Mickey who speaks first, “Miss me?”

Ian rolls his eyes, “Obviously.”

That smirk is something that Ian wants to wipe off his face. That’s the smirk he loves, it’s pure Mickey and it’s got a playful edge to it proving he’s comfortable here with Ian. And Ian loves seeing it. But he wants to wipe it off his face because he knows the only reason it’s there is because it’s like a silent dare from Mickey.

Since he has no desire to break Mickey’s laptop, he steps back far enough to let him take off the bag and Ian brings it over to the desk for him while he’s removing his boots. He wonders nonchalantly over his shoulder, “You want to switch things up tonight? Fuck me?”

“You saying that because you want to get fucked or you saying that because you don’t think I can handle getting my ass reemed again today?”

“Oh I know what you can handle, that’s not a question and I’ll bend you over and fuck your sloppy little hole right now, it’s probably still loose and lubed.”

“Mmm,” Mickey hums it with a little purr at the very end like he’s truly thinking that having his ass fucked again would be amazing. Maybe it would be.

“I was just thinking,” he returns to Mickey as he’s standing up to hook his coat on the rack. Putting his hands on his hips to grind against his pelvis, holding them close together, “might be a good night to try it out. If you’re interested.” He dips into Mickey’s lips for a gentle kiss before he can respond.

When he pulls back, Mickey is tipping his chin up to lean his head back against the wall and watch Ian for a moment. Chewing on his lip as he thinks over what he’s going to respond with. “Thing is I’ve never topped before. So not to say I don’t know what I’m doing, it’s not like it’s a hard thing to figure out. But if you’re…”

“I’m into it.” Ian grins, presses in to seal their lips together and let that sink in through Mickey’s mind before he pulls back again, “If you’re into it. If you don’t want to, just say so. I’m not exactly an experienced bottom so…”

“So it should be good for you, and I don’t know if I can do that.” Mickey interrupts with pink roses blooming in his cheeks.

“What?” He heard him, he just can’t really believe that Mickey would ever doubt that being with him is the right move. Experienced or not, it’s about the two of them, about how well they meld together and Ian knows they will. It might not be a fucking rocket to the moon the first time, but he’s not expecting it to be. The only part that matters is it’s with a guy who cares about him, will do whatever he can to make it comfortable for both of them, and will listen to the words Ian is saying and the ones he’s not saying too. “It’s you, Mick. Of course it’ll be good,” he leans in far enough to nudge his own against Mickey’s and whispers gently, “think about it. Offers on the table, and so is dinner. If not tonight, maybe another one,” Ian swats Mickey’s ass on his way out of his space and back into the kitchen to pull dinner out of the oven.

###

When Ian is hands deep in soapy water, scrubbing at the casserole dish while the dishwasher runs quietly beside him, Mickey steps up. Leaning into his back, his face resting between Ian’s shoulder blades. Dinner was typical, talking about work, talking about life, talking about everything and nothing that fills the empty spaces and makes Ian’s life feel so fucking lived in in a way he never thought he’d experience. And now Mickey is leaning against his back like he’s got a weight that’s too heavy to bear and he can’t hold it up alone any longer. But Ian knows Mickey well enough by now to know he’s behind him because he doesn’t want to look at his face while he says whatever it is he’s about to say. So he stays where he is, keeps scrubbing the pan, bracing himself for being turned down on his offer. And it’s not like it’s big deal, people turn each other down all the time in the bedroom, it’s nothing to be ashamed over, or end up with hurt feelings. The problem here is the why. Why Mickey thinks he couldn’t please Ian if they switched things up. Why he thinks he’s not good enough. Or he’s worried that Ian will reject him.

After a third exhale stirs the hairs on Ian’s neck and raises shivers up his spine, he loses his patience and spins to face Mickey, wiping his dirty dish soap hands on his t-shirt as he scrubs from the base of his spine to the base of his skull, taking his head gently in his hands to steer his gaze, “People have uninspiring sex all the time, just because we haven’t had it with each other yet doesn’t mean we won’t someday. And when we do, it won’t change a damn thing about the way I feel about you.” He kisses his nose, watching as Mickey’s eyes goes soft, “thing I know for sure is - we’ll never have bad sex. You and me, we’ve seen and done a lot with each other and with props and with other people and we know it can be awkward and uncomfortable, it can push limits and make you feel dirty in a bad way, in a good way and every way in between.” His hand rises to stroke through Mickey’s jet black hair, cupping the base of his head as he tips it up further to look at Ian from his place in his arms. “But there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you could do or say or turn me down for that’ll make me respect you less, or treasure you less, or fucking love you less, alright?” He knocks their foreheads together as Mickey takes a shaky inhale.

“Okay,” he finally responds, turning his head so his forehead slips along Ian’s and he tilts to capture his lips. It’s gentle and languid and it lasts for a long time, speaking words that Mickey can’t seem to find with his voice. But by the time he pulls away from Ian’s lips, Ian knows they are on the same goddamn page.

###

Well, douching is weird that’s about all he can say about that. But seems very necessary for a first time. If he wants to tempt Mickey to do this again in the future he’s pretty sure it’s going to have be as enticing as it can possibly get. By the time Ian makes it to the bedroom, Mickey is already lounged back in the center of the bed, hand behind his head, bare chest pink with a flush like he’s a nervous virgin averting his eyes from Ian every time Ian looks at him.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out to lay it on Mickey’s thigh. The soft hair there, sparse but dark, soft under his fingers as they sway back and forth in what he hopes are soothing motions. Mickey’s head falls back against the headboard, taking a deep breath before he rubs at his lids then drops his hands - one to grasp Ian’s and the other to land on Ian’s shoulder giving him a slight tug to come closer.

This feels a little ridiculous for the amount of butterflies flapping around in his chest and the amount of nerves that seem to be rising off Mickey in overwhelming waves. As long as none of this feels pressured, then it’ll be fine, they’ll find their groove and they’ll either want to do it again or they won’t, either way it’ll just be another part of their relationship that they’ve tested and tried limits, found them and kept loving.

Ian’s hand rises, stroking across Mickey’s jaw, his fingers landing along the ridges of his ear, down his throat and over to the center of his neck, feeling his spine beneath his skin. Mickey shudders with the contact. Ian moves in towards his Adam’s Apple, leaning his lips softly against it as it bobs and he swallows, moving along the soft vulnerable skin there that Mickey’s head tipped back has stretched and made a perfect beacon to Ian’s hungry lips. With his nose tucked up against his chin he presses lips and sucks light marks into his white skin. Marks that’ll gone by the time filming picks back up on Monday, but they’ll be there for the weekend for Ian to internally preen over. Moving down to his collarbone, the center of his chest, parting to each nipple to fawn and tickle, to press the jewelry back and forth with his tongue. Planting his hands on the bed beside Mickey’s hips so he’s not tempted to use them as Mickey arches towards the heat of Ian’s tongue and the slick of his spit, leaving a drying trail to rise goosebumps in the bedroom air.

Ian stops in his ministrations to adjust himself, removing the towel and placing a knee on either side of Mickey’s legs, hovering over him to get back to work on his stomach. Each defined line of his abs, tonguing his navel and nosing along the fabric of his briefs breathing hot damp air through the cotton where his cock is nearly fully hard beneath. Ian is sure the only reason it’s not full hard yet is the pressure Mickey is putting on himself to please. But Ian is also sure that by the time he’s done working over his body, he’ll have forgotten all of that and just be in the moment.

He mouths at his cock, noses at his balls, and lets his hands get to work on his nipples. The front of his briefs damp from Ian’s breath he toys with the temperature by drawing back, focusing on his stomach and chest again to let the briefs cool. Mickey whimpers just slightly under the attack on his nipples, as Ian laves and sucks, twists the metal and nips gently around it.

Hands on Mickey’s hips to hold him still, to keep him from bucking or reaching for his cock to stroke. His hands are behind his head, eyes rolled shut and moving beneath his lids. His lips parted, bursts of air with tiny gasps mingling with every exhale. Goddamnit, he’s beautiful.

Ian nudges into his neck, kisses along his jaw and leans into his mouth to tangle tongues, to chase tastes and surfaces, to feel every inch of his warm insides up here when he can’t feel them down there. Fuck, part of him wants to toss the idea of bottoming, and just get in that hot heat that is Mickey but he does truly want to try this. Elevating them to yet another level of sharing their bodies with one another, sure it’s not as important as sharing thoughts and worries, words and experiences, feelings and love; but it is yet another stone in the stepping stone path of their lives.

When Ian draws back from the kiss, his hands fall to Mickey’s cock, feeling the full rigidness of his fat girth now. It’s a relief, but Ian won’t voice it, won’t remind him of whatever concerns he has in his head already. He watches as Mickey’s eyes open, slowly and lazily, pupils lust blown and blues foggy.

“This going to be okay?” Ian wonders, sliding a hand under his briefs and gripping his cock, grasping to drag his hand up and down as much as the tight cage of cotton will allow.

“Yeah,” his voice is light, quiet but steady.

“You, um, want to do the honors?” Ian asks as he’s reaching for the lube from the nightstand, “Or should I?”

Clearing his throat, eyes searching Ian’s as his hands slide up and down Ian’s bare back now, “I’ll do it. Just, um, you’ll have to be vocal.”

“Can do,” he leans in to press a light kiss against those pinked up lips.

“Okay,” Mickey sucks in a breath then arches up and in to capture Ian’s lips in a deep, hot, needy kiss as he takes the lube in his hands and Ian hears the cap pop open. It’s different knowing he’ll be on the receiving end of the stretching, probing, and prepping fingers but not a bad different. A little ball of anticipation has built up in his chest and Mickey’s fingers are trailing down his spine, dipping into his cleft leaving goosebumps in their wake. He breaks the kiss with a gasp when a rough-surfaced but slippery finger circles his hole. It tingles and spreads warmth through him, the fingers trailing over to his gooch, his balls, then back to his hole. Every time Mickey glances off his rim it makes him shudder, every time he presses fingertips to his gooch it makes him press towards it, chasing the sensation.

“Fuck,” Mickey’s voice husky with want is muffled against Ian’s lips where he’s just been reduced to leaning against his face breathing on him. Mickey doesn’t see to mind, “I gotta get these fucking underwear off.”

Ian laughs in spite of himself. Getting so into it already, without even having much for contact, without even getting Mickey naked first. He’s a damn pro here and he’s acting like an amateur!

He rolls to the other side of the bed, laying back on his back while Mickey tugs off the briefs and tosses them aside. Leaning over Ian now, his body a hard line beside him, his hard cock against his hip and his hand stroking down Ian’s thighs where he’s bent his knees and drawn his feet towards his butt. Mickey stretches to kiss Ian’s lips, his slick fingers cresting his sac, stroking his cock, cupping at his balls, then back up the shaft to spread a fingertip over his tip. Just the feel of Mickey’s fingers on him make him want to chase the release, even after spending the day filming with him. He shudders when Mickey’s lips drop to his neck, his chest, his stomach, drawing his cock into his mouth as he settles between Ian’s knees. He teases at the tip, then sinks down in one smooth move to the base, swallowing around his cock as he breathes out his nose, stirring the thatch of fire red hair there. Mickey’s free hand rises to twist and pull Ian’s pubic hair, his other hand moving down his thigh again, taking a swipe into his cleft and tracing over his hole. He pulls back on his cock until he’s sucking just around the tip, one hand splaying out on his lower belly, the other circling and circling, dipping a little, just a tiny pressure on Ian’s ass. Circling just the rim externally, his middle finger curled and pressing tenderly against the skin as well.

Mickey pops off his cock, flattens his tongue and laves the length of it, suckling at his balls and then dipping into his gooch. The pressure of his mouth, his tongue flicking at the soft delicate skin there, the sensitivities externally and the stimulation of his prostate have Ian wanting to arch down and towards his finger, taking it in without giving Mickey the control. But he fights it, wants Mickey to make all the decisions here. Wants him to have the confidence, to know that he’s pleasing Ian.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Ian praises. His voice embarrassingly pitched and raspy already. Mickey laves at his gooch, Ian instinctively curling his thighs towards his chest. Making it well known he’s ready for whatever Mickey wants to give him. He trails his tongue lower, working circles with it pointed along his rim, mimicking the motions his finger was doing a moment ago. Loosening that muscle ring and slicking it up with spit. Rotating between licking and sucking, drawing a rush of blood to a pleasure zone that is well underused on Ian. Fuck it feels good. Better than he imagined.

Ian’s hands have planted themselves on his asscheeks and he tugs just a little to spread himself, giving Mickey the permission silently to try for more. With Mickey’s upper lip open and flattened against his gooch and his tongue fucking around his hole, he pushes it past the rim and Ian’s eyes roll shut of their own volition. Mickey’s hand closes around his cock, his thumb dipping down behind his balls to stimulate his prostate with pressure and back and forth motions while he focuses the rest of his efforts on loosening and opening his hole.

“Fuck Mick, that is good,” he repeats. This time it’s panted out in a harsh whisper that has Mickey’s free hand landing overtop of Ian’s and giving it a light squeeze before traveling up his stomach, pressing on his abdomen as he slips a finger past his rim and sinks it deep.

“Fuck,” it sounds punched out of him. Mickey’s finger is still, his hand on his abdomen massaging gently and his tongue moving over his gooch. “Mmm hmm, keep going,” Ian urges.

Mickey’s finger swipes across his prostate while his mouth puts the pressure on from the outside and Ian nearly sees stars. He takes a deep breath, forcing the orgasm back. He nearly wants to tell Mickey to give him some cock now, he won’t last long enough through this if Mickey keeps up the pressure, he’s going to cum long before his cock is sheathed. But he doesn’t need to get pushy and needy, he wants Mickey to lead this show and feel like he treated Ian right when it’s all over. As pushy and demanding as Mickey can be when he’s bottoming, he always allows Ian to have his pride, to know that he’s pleasured him right and he’s making decisions that impact them both. It’s always been a give and take with them. Fuck, it’s perfect.

Mickey works him with one finger, sliding in and out, swiping over his prostate, getting him used to the intrusion for a long time. Laving attention over his balls, his cock, his stomach, his inner thighs, every surface he can reach without having to move away from his position between Ian’s thighs.

Ian finds himself getting lost in it. In the rhythm and flow of Mickey’s motions and the breath on his bare skin every time Mickey exhales through his nose. The heat of his hands on him, the damp of his mouth covering every inch he can reach. The second finger slips beside the first without Ian even realizing it, he’s so lost in everything else that Mickey is doing. The third one provides a stretch he wasn’t quite prepared for but it feels good, it feels like a kind of pleasure/pain he could get used to. Mickey stills the third finger while he moves the other two in hooking motions inside Ian’s channel, making him keen and pant.

“Good, fuck, Mick, that’s good.” Reassuring him when starts moving the third finger also, skittering across his prostate and making his back arch uncontrollably. He should probably be on hands and knees to accommodate the primal instincts that his body wants to twist and arch into.

When Ian’s body is accepting of three fingers, Mickey begins moving up his body with his mouth, trailing over balls, cock and stomach with his tongue and lips, settling his hips between Ian’s thighs and taking his mouth in a languorous make-out session while he fingers him. Drawing in and out, arcing over his prostate and making Ian’s cock twitch and yearn for the tight clamp of Mickey’s hole. But he knows this, having his partner’s cock inside him, it’ll be good.

“I’m ready,” he whisper-pants, and wishes he didn’t sound like a virgin. Mickey draws away from his lips, his face hovering over him with a softness in his eyes, brows lifting asking a silent reassurance that Ian is eager to give, “I’m sure. Just like this.”

“It might be more comfortable…”

“No. Just like this.” Ian inches his knees up closer to his chest, lifts his pelvis off the bed and waits for Mickey to lodge his bent knees beneath him before he lowers. Resting on Mickey’s thighs, bent to a point where he can reach his mouth without much effort, a few pillows behind him keeping his head and shoulders lifted and close to Mickey’s face and chest. Sure, there would be more comfortable positions for this, but call Ian a softy vanilla sappy motherfucker all you want, he wants to do this in the most intimate position there is. Vanilla as the day is long. He feels himself grinning against Mickey’s lips at how much of a lovesick teenager he sounds in his own head.

Mickey’s fingers are pulling free of Ian’s hole and as soon as they’re gone he feels like he’s been cheated of something. Knowing he’s about to get his cock, he can’t convince his body to ache for being full of him now. Right now. Never in a million years did he think he was going to be a needy bottom, but he is. And he feels no shame in it.

Mickey’s hand is shaking a little, he can feel it against his asscheek as he grips his cock, as he lines it up and rests the head of it against Ian’s hole. He’s pulled back from the embrace momentarily so he can see what he’s doing. Ian wants to remind him to breathe, instead he avers, “so good Mick. It’s so good.”

The assurance seems to be all he needs. Pushing the head of his fat cock through Ian’s rim. It burns. Making it feel like Ian is about to rip. He breathes through it, gripping the backs of his thighs and flattening his spine. Mickey leans to press kisses to his bent knees, the insides of his thighs as he pushes inch by torturously slow inch. Every metal rod in his cock massaging little tugs at his rim as they pass. There’s a burning heat coiling through Ian’s lower back, and spreading into his chest making his heartbeat pick up speed. He breathes through it, focuses on Mickey’s lips, on his hand that’s rubbing soothing circles on his lower abdomen. Turning to grip at his cock every third pass. A light stroke, a gentle touch, an awe-struck look on his face when Ian glances up at him. He’s buried to the hilt and it feels like nothing Ian has ever experienced before. It hurts, sure, but as he starts to move very gently, rocking his hips without pulling in and out, just moving his cock against the tight grip of Ian’s channel, nudging his prostate, the beaded jewelry rolling over his insides.

“Fuck,” Ian’s breathless and wanting more at the same time wanting it to stop. Both of Mickey’s hands move now to knead at his thighs, down to his ass, spreading loving touches everywhere he can reach as he so slowly drags his cock back a minuscule amount. Enough to have Ian shivering as he pushes back in.

Mickey’s hands closing around Ian’s cock now, slowing the palms up and down the length of him, circling his fingers around his head. Sure, his erection flagged a little with the initial pain, burn. But now with Mickey’s tenderness it’s waking right back up.

“Mmm,” Ian’s only response to it at this point. The burn is starting to subside and Mickey’s slowly beginning to rock, his cock covering a little more distance with every pull. The jewelry feels fucking amazing against Ian’s insides and he’ll have to remember to tell him that later when he can speak. It’s a weird sensation when it tugs past his rim, but not necessarily bad. It’s going to take a pretty deep thrust to get it pulling back and forth through his rim anyway, and he’s pretty sure Mickey is not going to get very intense tonight. Just that slow, shallow rocking has Ian shivering and shaking, ready to blow it at a moment’s notice as Mickey’s hands enclose Ian’s cock.

“Come here,” Ian cocks his head to catch Mickey’s attention and get him hovering over his lips. Capturing them effortlessly as Mickey sinks into it. Knowing without a doubt that Ian is into this, he’s melting into the feel of it, arching a little every time Mickey pulls back, chasing his pelvis to keep his cock buried deep.

Pleasure bursting inside Ian in a very different way than any other orgasm he’s ever had, it spread so hot and slow. Taking longer to build but he’s certain when he cums it’ll be blindingly intense. As Mickey’s pace begins to shift, Ian’s body open and pliant now, his kisses deepen and intensify. Ian drops his thighs, letting his heels dig into Mickey’s asscheeks, drawing him in every time he pulls back. Pushing into the meaty muscle of his perfect ass. Ian’s hands moving up his back, pressing into his shoulders and keeping his upper body sliding through the sweat between them.

Every nerve in Ian’s body feels raw, all the blood in his system being pumped to his prostate and blinding bolts of heat pooling inside him. His voice chokes off when he breaks the kiss to warn Mickey, or plead with Mickey, or something he’s not even sure, all that happens is, “Mick, I…”

“I know,” he’s pressing into Ian’s lips again, searching his mouth and biting down on his bottom lip as everything inside Ian feels like it’s splintering, like the world is shattering and falling to the floor, broken pieces swirling together and building back into one solid thing, the only solid thing he can grasp: Mickey. The feeling of his heat, his weight, the pressure of him on and in his body as Ian’s orgasm rolls through him, his hole clenching uncontrollably as his cock twitches and spurts hot jizz between them. He can feel the responding pulsating of Mickey’s fat cock inside him, spilling a hot load down deep in his ass.

Ian can’t catch his fucking breath, can’t get the spots in his lids to recede, doesn’t want to. His mouth wide open, his body feeling wide open and ravaged. But so fucking sated. He doesn’t dare open his eyes until every last pulse of his ass and his cock have gone calm. Then he takes a deep breath and presses into Mickey’s mouth again before drawing back, letting himself fall into the bed, into the pillows, sinking deep while he lets every single muscle in his body turn to complete mush.

“Holy fuck,” is the only coherent thing he can get passed his lips. Mickey sighs, releasing his full body weight on top of Ian with a laugh that’s a little shaky and a little relieved and Ian wonders immediately if he should have been more vocal, more reassuring.

But he feels Mickey’s smile when he presses it against his neck, “wow.”

Ian can’t help but laugh, thinking they’ve both been fucked stupid. He lifts a lazy hand only far enough to trace idle patterns on Mickey’s back, announcing, “next time we do that remind me that if you’re behind me, I’ll be able to feel your jewelry on my prostate.”

Mickey’s laugh is muffled against Ian’s chest, “I can do that. I can definitely do that,” then a huffed out, “fuck,” follows as he begins to shift. Ian knows he’s going to pull out and he doesn’t want him to, but it has to happen eventually. Now that he’s started to go soft it’ll be easier. He breathes with it as Mickey rises up to cage him in, taking his lips again. Staying there, lingering for so fucking long that they’re both blinking back sleep when he finally lifts himself and gets them cleaned up. Ian’s never been on the receiving end of the aftercare, it’s kind of awesome. Mickey wiping his stomach clean, telling him to just relax and let him do the bottom end too. Bringing him water and spreading himself out next to him, propping an elbow beside his head to kiss him again, kissing until they’re both so exhausted they have no choice but to settle into the pillows and into each other. Ian falls into sleep that night with the thought that this is it, this is the man. Every night and every morning. The last thing and the first thing. Every single day. And he couldn’t be more excited about it.

Chapter Text

The week of the Cocksuckers fires off just like it did last year. Meet and greets and rubbing elbows with well-knows in the industry. But unlike last year, Ian knows he’s bunked up with Mickey this year, he knows there isn’t even a question of whether or not he’ll participate in VIP shows, there’s nothing to worry about as far as pleasing the customers. He’s a taken man and by the end of the week he’s hoping to be wearing that declaration on his finger.

He’s got it all set up for two nights before the award’s show. The night that the rest of the Ball Kings will be entertaining VIPs at the sex club. He had to enlist Foxy’s help with the technical aspect and he had to pull a few of V’s connections to find the perfect spot for it. But he knows it’ll be fucking amazing.

Their fanbase is sweet and supportive at autograph signings. They’re booked for a Q&A session with some top fans, it should be easy and chill. Just a sit down with about twenty fans who’ve paid for the event. And just him and Mickey. Because apparently boyfriend porn is a completely different level of porn and people just want to hear about their relationship. So yeah, the documentary is a good fucking idea and Ian’s glad he signed on for it judging by the types of questions people ask at the Q&A. Ian’s never felt more connected to his fanbase, it’s incredible.

###

They take a day to hike in Red Rocks too. Taking a longer trail since they’ve got it planned out in advance and they have less obligations to the Ball Kings this year. It’s more like a vacation than a work affair. Revisiting the first place they spent any real time together, the first place they dropped the veils and just got to know each other, it’s transcending. Ian feels like it’s the beginning all over again, and in a way it really is. Since tonight is the big night. They have an early dinner at the diner, and instead of heading back to the hotel Ian takes them to a sketchy old building in Old Vegas. One that has Mickey raising his eyebrows and silently appraising Ian from the passenger seat of the rental Jag.

They’re both wearing sweaty hiking clothes, they’re sunburned and tired, but the theater is dark and they’re alone in it. Ian slips his hand into Mickey’s when he leads him to the front of the old-school set-up where there’s a table, set with a single flower in the center.

“Just trust me,” Ian whispers as Mickey side-eyes him, silently wondering what the hell Ian is up to. Pulling out his chair and ushering him to seated, Ian pops the top off a bottle of chilled champagne, pouring them both a flute before he takes his own seat. Butterflies are flapping so hard and fast in his chest he’s certain he’s going to choke on them but he gives Foxy the signal over his shoulder. And from the booth in the back comes the sound of an old movie projector clunking to life, the light flickers across the screen, the room dims and the reels turn. Starting with photos of this convention last year, a few selfies Ian had taken on their hike last year, a few scenery shots, some of Mickey from behind as he’s walking up the rocky trail in front of Ian. A few candids that he never did have the brass to share with Mickey since they were so fucking beautiful of his face and he was so unaware of the phone in Ian’s grasp being aimed right at him as he took in the nature surrounding them.

Mickey’s breath chokes off audibly as the images flash across the screen, as audio cuts in of conversations they’ve had on podcasts, some clips from their scenes together that weren’t the actual porn but the parts after the initial cut when the cam had kept rolling and they’re just chatting or watching each other with ridiculous heart-eyes, cracking jokes and having a good time.

The last scene is the end of the glass table top short where they’ve both lying on the floor, Mickey’s arms and legs wrapped around Ian’s body, their faces so close to one another that Ian can practically feel it again just watching it. Breathing each others breath as they grin their fool heads off.

Mickey’s hand has found Ian’s on his leg under the table, lacing fingers through fingers without losing his focus on the screen in front of them. It’s back to photos now, things Ian has snapped in recent weeks, some shots of their life together. The everyday domestic shit that people get bored of eventually but Ian still finds and knows he’ll always find it fascinating. He’s in love with this man. He’s always going to be.

The very last photo is a selfie on NYE. Confetti in their hair, cheeks pink with cold, Ian’s face turned into Mickey’s cheek to press a kiss there and Mickey’s shy smile lighting up his face. His eyes so intimately blue that Ian couldn’t text the photo to anyone, his intention originally having been to text it to his family with his New Year’s wishes for them, but the expression was so intimate that he knew it was only for him and he’d never share it with anyone.

Ian slides out of his chair, taking a knee next to Mickey. His hand conveniently still laced in his. Ian’s heart beating so loud that he’s certain Mickey can hear it over the sound of the film reel clicking off and low music coming up. He tweaked and poked at his thoughts, wrote himself a speech and then burned it, thought and overthought and finally decided to let the film reel do the talking for him.

“Mickey Milkovich,” sliding the plain black box off the table that was strategically placed there behind a menu by Foxy. He takes a deep breath, focuses on Mickey’s eyes that have gone so soft it’s hard not to lean in and capture his lips, kiss him slow and sensuous while the music plays softly behind them. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Mickey’s hand squeezes his reassuringly when Ian’s voice falters. Giving him the strength to ask the burning question, “Will you marry me?”

Mickey’s eyes are brightening with joy, his cheeks flushing, and his mouth lifting into a gentle smile as he nods slowly, “Of course I will.”

“Fuck,” Ian surges forward and up, taking Mickey’s lips with his own. He opens quickly and willingly, hand rising to slide down the back of Ian’s head and cup his skull as it deepens.

Ian only breaks it off when he’s breathless and realizes he’s still holding the ring in his hand, “I, um, thought it would be silly if only you were wearing an engagement ring, so I got two. If that’s…”

Mickey cuts him off by kissing him. Long and deep and sweet, “I’d like that,” he finally breathes when their lips part, “if you’d wear one too.”

“Of course.” Ian grins, knocking their foreheads together, letting his free hand slide over Mickey’s jaw, through his hair and just holding him there for a moment while he centers himself. Allows himself to calm, to settle into the feeling of being engaged. Of having a fiancé. “He said yes,” Ian would shout it if he wasn’t right in Mickey’s space right now. So he leans back, just enough that he can shout, “He said yes!”

The only other person in here is Foxy but he reacts with claps and a shouted, “Congratulations bitches!”

A surge of joy so pure and high rides through Ian’s body and he’s scooping Mickey out of the chair, taking him for a spin to the beat of the music. Foxy cranks up the tunes and starts blaring some upbeat shit that has Ian wanting to reconnect with his original Curtis and do a damn striptease for his fiancé right here.

Ian rented this place for exactly one hour so they make the most of it. Foxy playing DJ and giving them the warning of time’s almost up by slowing it down to ‘Make you Feel my Love’ the Adele version. Ian sighs into it, bringing Mickey into his chest and leaning his cheek against his head. Swaying against him with his hand on the small of his back where sweat has risen and dampened his shirt. Ian knows they look a fool right now. Such a fancy setting and the two of them sweating through their already soiled hiking clothes, but he can’t be bothered to care. This man just agreed to marry him. And that’s all that fucking matters.

###

Ian also had a surprise up his sleeve as far as room arrangements are concerned. He paid Foxy to pack up their things and he went for broke renting out the honeymoon suite for the rest of the time at Porn Week. He blindfolds Mickey in the elevator, guiding him down the hall and into the swagged out room. Flower petals strewn across the carpet, the bed. Chilled champagne, chocolate dipped strawberries. And yeah, Ian is really fucking glad this is two nights before the awards show, because he’s going to be bloated and sugared up from all this indulgence today and still to come tonight. But well, you only get engaged once.

He lets his fingers hook the blindfold, sliding it off Mickey’s face and dropping his hands to the man’s hips, holding him close to the front of his body. Leaning his chin on his shoulder as Mickey hums his approval of the place, “Didn’t spare any details did you?”

“Hell no,” Ian’s tongue darts out to lick the shell of Mickey’s ear, sending a visible shiver ripping down his spine. He turns in Ian’s grasp to face him, diving into Ian’s lips and chasing his tongue until they’re a tangled mess of tongues and teeth, their limbs intertwined as they stumble through the unfamiliar room and towards the bedroom.

Mickey falls back on the bed with a groan and a laugh that’s light and airy, “We still stink from our hike earlier.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ian climbs over him, nosing at his neck as he layers his body on top of Mickey’s pliant one, “I smell like desert sun, maybe a little dirt, and like the guy you’re going to be sleeping with every night for the rest of your fucking life.”

Mickey’s eyes are dancing when Ian pulls back to look at his face, smoothing his hair off his forehead, “Sounds like the kind of guy that should get in me.”

“I think so too,” Ian grins, not holding back any of the glee in his expression. Capturing Mickey’s lips as he lets his hands wander under the fabric of his shirt, over hard abs and defined pecs. Thumbing at his nipple rods as he arches up to meet Ian’s clothed thrust down into him. His cock already at full attention, he ruts against Mickey as his hands cover every reachable surface of him. Yeah, sure, they fucking stink. So he’s not going to rim him, or suck him off, but it’s not like his hands can smell. And his hands are hungry to feel every part of his fiancé. They’ll clean up and do it right later, but now there’s an urgency to it that wasn’t there before, now there’s a need to be connected in the most intimate way to the man that said yes, he said yes. He fucking said yes! Ian is still grinning when he pulls away from Mickey’s mouth, just long enough to tug his shirt over his head, just long enough to tug his pants down and peel off his own clothes. Laving kisses over him between each action.

Mickey’s legs parted, hooking around Ian’s hips, planting his heels into Ian’s butt, rocking their pelvises together so their cocks slip and slide past each other. Pressed between their bellies. Ian draws his knees in tight to Mickey’s ass, getting the right angle to put more pressure into the frotting. “Mmm,” he’s pretty fucking sure he could get off like this right now, or maybe rub off between Mickey’s thighs, but he wants the whole thing, he wants to be inside him. He wants to feel his hot, wet, tight hole grasping hungrily at his cock.

Ian’s hand slides down Mickey’s thigh, dipping into his cleft and giving his hole a dry tease just enough to have him spasming, asking for more. Ian presses deeper into the kiss, fucks a little faster against Mickey’s abs while he reaches for the lube. Thank fuck fo Foxy having stocked them properly, it is right there in the nightstand drawer. He’s going to have to pass him another fifty for going the extra mile.

Mickey’s cock jumps between them when Ian pops the top, drizzles his fingers generously. His heart is beating hard in his ears, passion rushing through him desperately wanting to be inside his man. He feels his eyes rolls back in his head and the kiss breaks on a pant as his first finger is greedily accepted. Fuck, he’s ready for two already. Ian obliges, pushing through the tight rubber band of his rim and being sucked right into his depths immediately. Mickey arches with it, his cock dragging alongside Ian’s. He can feel each ridge of his ladder and he wants to close them in their fists together and jerk until they’re cumming all over Mickey’s washboard abs.

“Give it to me,” Mickey demands as Ian strokes his prostate, bending and arching his fingers to make space.

“Not yet.” Because as desperate as Ian feels to get inside him, he doesn’t want to hurt him.

“Now. I want the burn. I want to feel this for hours, I want you to stretch me out on that cock.”

Is there any way to turn that down? Ian groans, buries his face in Mickey's neck while he tries not to cum just thinking about it. Slipping his fingers free to the sound of a needy whine in Mickey’s throat. That noise goes straight to his cock, tingling through his core as he lines them up. He lifts his head to watch Mickey’s face, pushing the fat crown of his cock through his rim and lingering there where the pull will be the most impressive. Mickey huffs out a breath, his eyes dart open, pupils wide so wide they’ve practically swallowed all the blue. Fuck, it’s a beautiful sight.

Mickey’s hands slide down Ian’s back, grasping at his asscheeks in a bruising grip, forcing something in Ian to give, to let his primal need to fuck hard and fast override his want to drag this out, make it slow and sweet. His hips snap and roll. Mickey’s groan is a panted cry that has his lips parting and his eyes closing.

Planting his hands on the bed beside Mickey’s head, giving himself the leverage to set a pace that has them both gasping and panting, biting at each other’s lips between moans and cries of pleasure. Mickey’s legs have fallen open, his hands still gripping marks into Ian’s asscheeks. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of Mickey’s tight hole, the slapping of his balls on Mickey’s cleft, the skin slick and sliding against each other. Mickey’s cock lying hard and untouched between them spurts off without any warning and Mickey’s entire body spasms, his hole clamping and gripping around Ian. Milking his orgasm out of him long before he wanted it to happen.

“Fuck,” Mickey throws his head back into the pillows and Ian lets his arms give out, his weight landing squarely on Mickey’s body as they both come down. Ian only lifts his head far enough to mouth at Mickey’s nipples when a rumble of a laugh rises up in Mickey’s chest. His hand rising from Ian’s ass to stroke through his hair as he moves to the other nipple. “Had enough of the taste of salty sweat yet? Ready to shower off?”

Ian hums with one pink nub between his teeth, giving the rod a roll with his tongue while Mickey bucks under him. Then sucking it into his mouth to flick the tip.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Mickey sighs when Ian pulls off with a grin.

“Yeah,” shrugging with a smug smile taking over his features as he gets to his knees and tugs Mickey up to seated. Taking his lips for a long drag and slide of tongues before he steers them off the bed and towards the shower, “I plan on rimming you until you cum all over the shower.”

“That sounds like a good fucking plan Gallagher.”

“Then maybe I’ll take you down to the Club and show off my fiancé by fucking you in the dancer’s cage.”

“I’m listening,” his eyebrow is arched when he looks over his shoulder with a cocky smirk on his pretty lips.

“Maybe I’ll plug you first, so your tight little hole is gaped open before I let anyone else see it.”

“Mmm,” Mickey’s bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as his eyes roll shut, “Now we’re talking Tough Guy.”

Ian has no fucking idea if they’ll even make it out of the shower, it sounds amazing to show this ass off to every guy here for the convention, it sounds fucking amazing for them all to know it’s Ian’s ass. But the problem with going down there is that he’d have to get clothed again, and right now he’s got a naked Mickey at his fingertips, at his tongue and right in front of him for all the fucking they can both handle. It seems ridiculous to interrupt that to put clothes on.

Ian watches Mickey sway through the bathroom door, cum dripping down his inner thigh. Fuck, his cock stirs at the sight. He hustles over to the champagne, grabs the tray of strawberries too and follows his goddamn fiancé into the shower to rim him until he’s fucking crying with pleasure.

Chapter Text

They make it down to the club by the skin of their dicks. Fuck it is hard to pull himself away from the room where they have privacy to do whatever the fuck they want, but Ian really wants to show off his goddamn fiancé to everyone and anyone. It made a big difference in his decision making process when Mickey reappeared from the shower with a cocky smirk and set of deluxe Ben-wa balls strewn over his shoulder. Ian was on his knees following him out the door, hands framing his ass as he crawled after him as dramatically as he could muster. He had to turn around and grab his gold shorts once Mickey was already in the hall.

Now he’s got Mickey center stage and about a dozen set of rapt eyes on them, even more than that glancing back and forth between them and their own sexual encounters. Ian feels like a god with Mickey on his hands and knees, his back bowed deep to show off his hole that’s still loosened from earlier. The only thing that would make this any better is if Ian’s cum was still in there, oozing out with every stroke of his finger as he slips it along the circle of his rim. Mickey’s oiled and the sheen on his flesh is making Ian want to lick every muscle line.

Kev was surprised when they showed up, welcoming them with open arms telling them they could use some livening up at this hour of the night. Ian was quick to steer Mickey to the main stage. Ass like this needs to be on full display, none of that sideshow cage dancing for this King this year.

Looking out over the crowd, all the oiled muscled bodies. The lack of clothing, hard cocks and loose holes. Sex, blow jobs, 69ing, ass-eating, face-fucking; everyone in the crowd having a great fucking time. It is exhilarating. There’s a relief in it this year too, knowing Ian has no reason to let anyone else touch him, no reason to feel any pressure to take on a VIP. His stage partner and his partner in real life both on lockdown with a ring on it and a contract signed. Fuck, a couple of contracts really. Though Ian knows that if anything went to hell for them personally, V would let them opt out of their contracts or rewrite them. But Ian is confident that they won’t need to. As he slides a hand down Mickey’s back and Mickey leans into his touch, he knows without a doubt that the level of love and trust they’ve achieved is not something to take lightly.

They talked about it before coming down, how the music would be loud and the adrenaline would be pumping. That Ian has been the prop guy plenty of times but just because it works one night doesn’t mean it works the next. So instead of a safe word - or in the case of being on set calling cut - they have to have a gesture. So Mickey’s got a de-thorned rose in his teeth and if he drops it, then it’s time to stop.

He’s blindfolded, which Ian is pretty sure he only suggested to be able to mute the crowd for himself. He said he was comfortable with the display, that he wanted to do this. And of course Ian knows he’s not lying, but he also knows Mickey. And he knows the job. He knows that sometimes comfort levels get pushed, and sometimes a performer will extend themselves past their comfort levels in order to please the crowd or the scene partner.

Ian runs his hand down Mickey’s back, to his shoulder, crouching down next to him to remind him, “I’m right here. All the way.”

Mickey nods and Ian leans forward to press a kiss against his temple. He leans into it for a moment, Ian’s hand sliding down his asscheek, dipping into his cleft and toying at his rim. Mickey’s entire body shudders with anticipation and Ian grins. Left hand glancing over top of Mickey’s where it’s flattened against the mat beneath him. He closes his hand just enough for their matching engagement rings to bump together, then trails his fingertips up his wrist, forearm, biceps all tight and shiny. His shoulder, around to his chest to prod at his nipple. Ian’s right hand with an extended index finger circling his rim, dipping in with just the tip then dragging back out to circle, to press a line down his gooch, trail over the seam of his balls. And back up.

He pushes the nipple rods back and forth, back and forth, stimulating his nipples one by one. Beside him, on his knees so the crowd can have the best view of his fingers against Mickey’s hole. Dipping tips into it, tracing the circle from the inside. Pushing out to stretch and then release. Letting him clench and silently beg for more. This time when he traces his rim he does it with two fingers, dipping and toying, sliding in a little further every time. Greedy hole sucking him in with breathtaking neediness.

Thumbing at his gooch, pressing stimulation into his prostate externally. Mickey told him to give him the fat round balls without much prep. But Ian refuses to stuff this man until he’s licked him out. He cranes his neck to get a glimpse at the crowd. Head thrown back in pleasure, dudes riding other dudes, some solo cock-strokers with their eyes glued to Mickey’s body. It sends a chill down Ian’s spine, being the guy who gets the coveted position up here with this perfect human specimen.

He withdraws his fingers, pulling Mickey’s cheeks apart to show off his little gape, letting him clench air as Ian massages the globes of his ass. His balls hanging heavy, the silver glint of his jewelry catching the club’s lights. His cock is hard, a solid line that Ian wants down his throat. Adjusting himself to get behind him, but still giving the crowd the best angle possible. He reaches between Mickey’s legs to tug his cock, once, twice before opening his hand and palming at his balls. He can read Mickey’s muscles like braille now. Knowing when he’s struck a chord. Knowing when he’s got him yearning for more. When he’s got him satisfied. When he’s got him frustrated. And when he’s got him on that ledge that only Ian can walk him back from, or leap off with him.

Ian positions himself on his back, shimmying until Mickey allows him to lie down beneath him, between his knees. Sucking down his cock, letting hungry moans escape his mouth that he knows only Mickey can hear. His hands pulling open his cheeks, keeping his hole wide. The beads are laying in a basket beside them. Along with a bottle of lube, soft towel, bottle of water. Fuck, those beads are fat, Mickey’s going to love them.

Ian works Mickey’s cock, letting him thrust a little, setting a pace that’ll get him on the verge but not cumming. Ian is hard as hell, cock aching in the gold shorts. He drops one hand to his own crotch, heeling at the line of it, letting his fingers trail over his balls and trace the outline of his generous package for the audience. Sliding his fingers past his waistband, letting the tip of his cock land on his belly, fingering the ridges of his head and spreading precum along the exposed skin. It’s an odd angle for the bulk of the audience but anyone with a side view or anyone on an elevated surface will be able to see it.

Fuck, Ian loves his job. He loves his life. He’s fucking high with this already and they’ve only just begun. He’s going to have to keep himself in check when they really get rolling, make sure he’s checking in on that rose often. When the bittersweet taste of precum coats his tongue he pops off Mickey’s cock, shimmying his way back out from beneath him just far enough to coax him to sit on his face. Both hands on his asscheeks moving over to his hips to guide him in. Mickey doesn’t hesitate, raising himself to his knees to crouch over Ian’s face. Balls against his nose, gooch on his mouth, hole in tongue’s reach. Opening his lips, suckling at his balls, sliding down to his gooch to suction and lave and kiss until he knows there’s been a rush of blood to the area. Lighting up his prostate. Hands guiding hips still, giving him the traction to ride Ian’s face when he’s ready. It doesn’t take long. A few slick slides of his tongue, pushing spit up around his hole, sloppily sucking at his gooch piercing, laving at his delicate skin.

Mickey starts rocking, slowly at first. Guiding Ian’s tongue, setting the pace to his liking. Ian nips gently at his piercing, making Mickey buck and arch. He can’t hear him moan but he knows it’s happening. He lets Mickey have it, have all the control until his fingertips are itching to grasp him and steer him. Quickly pushing out on his pelvis and up on his hip bones to get his cock bouncing off Ian’s face, he cranes his neck, tilts his head and takes it back down his throat. The jewelry that feels so fucking good against his prostate and tugging through his rim, is slipping past his lips, against his tongue. After a few passes down his throat he pushes back out on Mickey’s pelvis, steering him back to get access to his ass again.

Ian’s cock is twitching, even with the waist of his shorts cutting into it. He drops his hands off Mickey to tug them the rest of the way off, giving the crowd a few good cranks of his hand over his fat girth. He’s fucking ready to cum already. Fuck.

He slips out from beneath Mickey, pushing up on him to get him to all fours again. Sliding hands up and down his back, soothing him as he leans down and kisses along the notches of his spine. When he’s at his ear, whispering, “ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” it’s muffled around the stem of the rose, sounding gritted out and fucked half out of his mind already just from the light foreplay. Ian slides his cock up and down his cleft a few times while he reaches for the basket. Stepping back to give the audience full view of what he’s about to do. Turning the lube bottle upside down and letting it drizzle all over Mickey’s hole, his asscheeks, leaving a slippery trail down his sack, some of it falling to the mat. Then he covers his palm with it, retrieves the Ben-wa balls and dangles them. Trailing the rounded edge of the smallest ball down the length of Mickey’s spine as Mickey shudders and his arms quake. Ian knows he doesn’t want much warning, doesn’t want the full prep work, doesn’t need it. So when the ball is dangling against his hole, Ian reaches down and coats it with slick lube. Leans it against Mickey’s hole for a split second of a warning, watches Mickey’s body, his muscles reacting and his breath expanding his ribcage as Ian pushes quick and easy. Making the first ball disappear. Ian groans at the sight. The ease at which he takes it, swallowing down his pleasure unabashedly.

Ian pinches at the tip of his cock with his free hand, tugs a little on the string of balls, letting the very top of the internal one show through his hole. The hot clench of it trying to play tug of war with the bead. Ian presses it back in with the tips of his fingers. Lets his fingers slide into the loosened hot red insides. Scissoring him open between the balls on the string. Showing the crowd how big the next ball is by palming it with his fingers still inserted in Mickey’s ass.

Pulling out his fingers and rounding his hand, pushing the second ball past his rim. So easily he takes it. His body going taut and lax again. Ian spreads both hands out on his asscheeks, pulling his hole open until the dark curve of the ball is visible. Fuck.

Ian peers over Mickey’s sweat slicked shoulders to check for the rose. Still there, still between his teeth. “Good, you’re so fucking good,” he croons towards him. Dipping both thumbs into his hole to pull out his rim. The third ball is bigger yet. He’s going to feel the fullness in his abdomen with this one. The stretch will be tight, and the weight inside him will be heavy.

Ian takes his hips in his hands, gently positioning him to show off his assets a little more. He’ll cave with the fourth ball, knees will give under the weight and he’ll want to drop to his belly to fuck his cock against the mat. So for now, Ian is going to need him to present.

“Good,” he reminds him, stroking soothing hands down his sides, then back to his ass, pulling a little on the string until his rim is stretched from the inside, then letting him suck the balls back in. Pushing the third bead against his rim, twisting it and tracing the circle so Mickey can get a feel for what’s coming. He watches him take a breath and then he pushes. Ian’s eyes roll back in his head when the third ball disappears without a hitch.

Smacking his ass now, leaving red handprints and making Mickey tremble. Then pulling his ass open again, showing the audience at every angle possible how much his tight little ass has swallowed down with no effort whatsoever. Ian moves now so he’s standing with one foot on either side of Mickey’s knees. Facing the crowd and pulling up on the string. He lets the top half of the ball tug open his rim, and lay there for a moment, half in and half out. Knowing it’s a stretching burn that Mickey fucking loves. Leaning down and forward to trace it with his tongue, to dip into his gooch, flick at his skin. The moan Mickey makes is barely audible over the music but it shoots straight to Ian’s cock and almost makes him spill.

Leaning back up, massaging his asscheeks with his hands splayed wide now, watching him suck that ball right back into his wet heat. Fuck he’s glad there are only four on this string. Anymore and he’s be choking to death on his own hammering heart.

Ian squats down, letting his pelvis rock to drag his cock over Mickey’s back, nestling the crown of it against his cleft as he teases with that fourth ball. Pressing it tenderly against his puffed up hole. Pressing and circling. Rocking his pelvis, his left hand stroking it in earnest. His eyes drift over the crowd. So many stages of awe and pure fucking sexual bliss. Some couples in post-coital come-downs, still watching with hazy eyes.

Ian holds the fourth ball just far enough away from Mickey’s skin that he can slide his cock in and out of the space between Mickey’s ass and the ball. The slick slide of his cock making passes over his stretched hole still hungry for more. Anchoring with his other hand, stripping himself just enough to shoot off his load, coating the remaining ball with hot jizz before he shoves it quick and easy into that greedy ass. Mickey’s entire body immediately goes taut, every muscle giving in to the pleasure and the burn, the full feeling inside him, the absolute stuffed to the maximum that he can handle. And he’s cumming, trembling with it as his knees give out and his body wants to sink to the mat. Ian grips at his pelvis, keeping him presented to the audience as his hole clenches. Opening and closing, opening to the dark sight of the ball in his ass, the red insides of him, the pink outsides clamping down tight. It’s fucking magical.

Ian takes a deep shuddering breath and when the intense spasming is over, he lets Mickey’s hips down. lets him slide to the floor. Keeping his ankles up, knees bent as his thighs spread. He peers back to see the rose still pinched between his teeth. Ian gets to his hands and knees over Mickey’s splayed body. Kisses a trail up each thigh, across his asscheeks, down his spine, lingering at his ear to wonder, “good?”

“Fuck yeah. Keep me full.”

Ian groans his response, “No can do. Got’a pull these out real slow. Let the audience see just how fucking good you are.” As he’s whispering, he’s reaching for the bottle of water to bring to Mickey’s lips. Removing the rose to let him take a few pulls.

Ian gives Mickey some time, to bask in the feeling of fullness, to roll and arch his pelvis, fuck against the mat. He can buck all he wants to get the internal rub that he’s desiring, every little shift in the overstimulated channel making him whine. Ian crouches next to him, rubbing hands up his thighs, his ass, his back, arms. Back down to pull his hole open to show the audience. Fuck he’s gorgeous, and this entire club full of horny fuckers knows it now.

“Ready?” Ian leans back into his ear to wonder.

“Fuck no,” it’s harsh and gasping like he’d go wild to have this pleasure extended, to have this feeling for hours or days.

Ian swats his ass, lets it jiggle, lets the crowd see his handprint, “Well, we can’t stay here all night. But I’ll fuck you again in the room if you still want more by the time I’m done torturing that hole with those beads.”

Mickey’s entire body shudders at the words and he nods. Ian soothes a hand down his back, trailing down his cleft and inserting his index finger to pull his rim open. Slipping inside so easily to circle the round globe of the ball still lodged in his ass, arcing his finger to cover as much surface as possible. Rubbing and stretching, pulling as Mickey sways underneath him until the ball starts coming loose. Starts moving towards his rim, “Push it out.”

Mickey hesitates, if only because the greedy bastard can’t bear to lose the fullness. But he does it, the ball slowly rolling towards his rim, pushing out enough for Ian to shove it back in. “Push it out for real,” he orders, this time with a smack on his ass.

Mickey grunts, and Ian leans forward to kiss his spine. Pushing out this time until the ball is nearly back out, Ian shoves it back inside his tight hot clamp. Mickey’s body spasms and his hands wrap around Ian’s ankles like he needs something grounding. Ian isn’t planning on doing this all fucking night, but damn it, if he could he would. Especially with this monster of a fourth ball, this one that stretches his rim so prettily. When he pushes it back in a fourth time, he lets his hands trail over Mickey’s pelvis, rubbing at his abdomen and feeling the balls inside him from his belly. Ian’s cock stirring again at the feel. Fuck, he’s full. And it’s so hot.

Ian bends to lave with his tongue at the puffy, abused hole, dragging over his gooch, down his balls then back up. Suckling and driving his flat tongue all over the delicate skin to shoot sparks of pleasure though Mickey’s body. When he pulls away, that hole is clenching again, this time with the ball visible just past his rim. Ian dips his fingers in, pulling that rubber-band out to the sides, stretching him as much as possible to help that ball come free.

Mickey grunts a tortured moan but the rose is still secure in his lips when the ball is freed of his clutch. Ian takes it in his hand, stroking it against his hole, circling and dipping just the very edge of it back inside but not reinserting it. As much as he’d love to do this all night, the crowd will eventually want a new show. And Mickey will eventually get too sore. That doesn’t mean he makes it quick, or takes mercy on his ass. He knows Mickey loves the stretch and burn so he’ll have it.

By the time all four balls are removed, Ian’s cock is hard again and Mickey is still bucking towards his body like he hasn’t had enough. Leaning into Ian’s touches. Bending down to ask him as he brings the water to his lips, “You want this cock now?”

Mickey takes a few long pulls off the water and pants out, “Fuck yes.”

Ian’s not one to deny that. So he puts the rose back in his mouth, flips him on the mat so he’s on his back and pushes his cock into the loose, sloppy mess he’s made of Mickey’s hole. It’s hot, wet with lube, and over-sensitized to a point that has Mickey clamping uncontrollably, his body shuddering and arching against Ian, hands tight on his back, legs grasping his ass and controlling his thrusts. Ian can’t take the blindfold anymore, pushing up to his elbows to remove it. Mickey’s eyes are blown with lust, pleasure and madness that only comes from this kind of extended fucking. It takes Ian’s breath away and he can’t hold back any longer, diving into his lips and tangling up his tongue, hungry kisses that last the entire time he fucks him.

By the time he’s done he’s forgotten where they are, that they’re not alone, that they’re not on a bed, that there is anything else in this damn world other than that string of eye contact that Mickey offers, the heat of his clench, and the strength in his grip around Ian’s entire body. Well, it’s a good fucking thing he has no Curtis persona to have to hide behind anymore. He checked that persona at the door of V’s office when they signed their newest contracts that made them scene parters. And he has no desire to go back and put that coat back on. Ever.

Chapter Text

Ian thought that he was prepared for a winning speech, or a gracious loser face or whatever the moment required but actually hearing his name and having his scenes flash up on the big screens is so much more than he ever thought it would be.

“Holy shit,” he hears himself breathe, feels Mickey’s hand clamping down on his leg and immediately tracks his focus over to his blue gaze. “Holy shit,” he repeats, breathless and frenzied in his head. Every word he had mapped out for a speech is just gone, just like that. The scene that’s on the screen now is the tabletop one and Ian knows it’s his best work of the year, possibly of his career. No, scratch that, certainly of his career. And he has the man next to him to thank.

He leans in to kiss Mickey quick and hard, a smile splitting his face as he forces himself to his feet to head to the cock shaped stage to accept his Best Asslicker award. And holy fuck, his hands are shaking and he can barely breathe. He’s not even sure who the presenters are, he knows them of course, he knows of them, has probably spoken to them in past years or maybe this year, or maybe they were at the big Club party the other night. But his adrenaline is pumping so hard that he can’t even make out their features.

“Holy shit,” is the first thing that comes out of his damn mouth when he leans into the mic. His siblings are going to give him hell for this for sure. He swipes his free hand across his forehead and sees himself on the screen beside the stage. He knows he looks good. V dressed him up in deep green this year, pants and vest and nothing else. But what catches his eye, is the glint of his engagement ring as his hand rises to wipe sweat off his brow.

“Well, I guess I need to start by thanking people,” he grins, takes a deep breath and finds Mickey’s eyes in the crowd. Locking onto his gaze to give him the confidence to do this, “First off I need to thank my production company. Ball Kings, V, Kev you two are amazing. Foxy, you can’t be beat. All the guys I’ve worked with throughout the years. Everyone behind the cams. I can’t say enough for the company. My family. Of course, my siblings who are going to rib me for months over saying ‘holy shit’ when I very first walked up here. And I’ll never hear the end of this: He said yes!”

His face is twisting into a grin that he knows is idiotic but he’s been so busy this week that he hasn’t had time to call his siblings and let them know the news, so now’s as good a time as any. Even though he’s telling his siblings, the crowd erupts in clapping and cheering. Ian can feel his face flushing and he knows he’s going to look like a complete lovesick idiot but he doesn’t care. He has no cares at all other than the blue eyes that are still locked on his from across the auditorium.

“Fuck, who knew that winning a porno award could be so emotional? But the thing is, porn gave me this man,” He sweeps his hand out towards Mickey, “I never would have met my fiancé if it wasn’t for Ball Kings. So I owe them more than just my career. I owe them my entire future,” He can barely speak over the tingles that have invaded his chest and he knows his time is ticking down and he really needs to acknowledge the fans still, “Thanks, of course, to the fans who voted. And the fans who offered so much love and support over the least few months of making these career decisions that I’ve made for personal happiness. Thank you.”

The music is coming up and he knows he’s being cut off. At least he got the most basic of the words out. Fuck, he wishes he had the actual words to describe the magic of the last year. But he’s pretty sure, when he looks at Mickey, that there is not a single word in the English language that could encompass the entirety of their relationship and the immense amount of love Ian has for him.

###

The night doesn’t end there. They win performance for their short too. And if Ian thought accepting his own award was special, it’s quadruple that when he gets to walk up the stairs with Mickey on his arm. The speech is a little of a blur, but he knows Mickey says, “It’s funny to me that this is for couple’s performance in a short film. I sure as shit wasn’t performing,” He’s got his brow up when he looks at Ian and Ian feels himself blush. Tugging Mickey closer to his side and keeping his hand possessively wrapped around his hip.

Mickey’s solo nom gets passed up for a guy that in Ian’s opinion ain’t got shit on Mickey. But, well, there’s always next year and if Ian has anything to say about it then Mickey will never be nom’d again for solo performances and they’ll be leaving the stage next year with armloads for performances and for behind the scenes categories. Mickey’s been working so hard already on the future long film, Ian knows he’ll get the recognition he deserves.

###

He’s right, he doesn’t hear the end of it from his siblings for a really long ass time. All the, “You could have called or texted!” And the, “Maybe you should get your tongue out of Mickey’s ass and use it for speaking every once in awhile.” But the bottom line is that they’re proud, and excited for Ian. The know how over the moon he is for Mickey and how much just having in him is life has affected him, his career, and his happiness. Sure, there are bound to be bumps in the road at some point. Every couple has them but Ian can’t for the life of him think of a single thing that could make him love Mickey less.

###

*Five Years Later*

Ian kicks back on the sofa in the loft, propping his feet on the ottoman, his hand instantly finding Mickey’s thigh, head turning instinctively to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Long day?” Mickey wonders, lacing his fingers through Ian’s on his thigh.

“Long, sweaty, exhausting,” Ian grins. “But not so exhausting that I won’t be able to please your insatiable ass tonight, so don’t get any ideas.”

Mickey chuckles, “Well being a fitness trainer to the stars is hard work, all those tight sweaty bodies in your face all day.”

“Mmm, but not nearly as tight and luscious as the one I come home to,” Ian leans into the pillow softness of his husband’s lips. The only lips he’s kissed in a little over five years, and he has no intention of ever kissing another set.

They rode the porn wave for a few years, have a mantel full of Cocksuckers to show for it. Ian won the coveted Best Top the year the long film was in the running, the long film put the spotlight on Ball Kings, brought some unknowns into the big time and attracted even more fans to the company. They ended up being able to expand the studio and V and Kev have become the most sought after company for ethical porn. They’ve elevated the industry and Ian couldn’t be prouder of his friends. It doesn’t hurt that Mickey is still employed by them. He’s made quite a name for himself on the production end of things. The documentary that he put so much work into editing, laying it out and being involved from start to finish was nominated for an Academy Award. It didn’t win, but that’s not going to hold Mickey back. He’s got a taste for filming and Ian knows he’ll be able to accomplish anything he puts his mind to. The documentary also shot them to a weird type of fame that Ian wasn’t ready for. They managed to weather the storm and it wasn’t all bad, but it was part of the reason they decided to take a step back from the industry. It was just too much attention. They were too busy trying to balance appearances and interviews, while still filming and navigating a new marriage. Ian knows it’ll be awhile before anyone picks up the torch that they left behind at Ball Kings by being boyfriends in porn, but he likes to think he and Mickey helped change that aspect of the industry as well. Sure, they might have broken a few bubbles that people had of the fantasy by doing the doc but if anything, it highlighted the need for production studios like Ball Kings. Studios that treat their actors like people, respectfully in all ways.

It’s been a bit of an adjustment to no longer be a porn actor. But Ian loves his job as a personal trainer. It was Mickey who suggested it, of course. When Ian very first mentioned he was starting to feel like it was time for something different. Sure, Ian would go on fucking Mickey on camera for the rest of his life, but it’s just more satisfying to fuck him in the privacy of their own home. Without having to hit marks, pay attention to lighting, or be on set, or have to share the view with a camera. They both could probably get another decade or more out of their looks, it’s not an issue for either of them to maintain a healthy diet and a work-out routine that keeps them fit. But there just has come a point, where Ian just no longer wants to fucking share his husband. And he’s entitled to that. It wasn’t only his decision, nothing ever has been only his or only Mickey’s in the entirety of their relationship, Mickey was over it too. Wanting to spend more time writing and producing. Wanting to make a name for himself behind the cam.

Ian is pretty sure they’ll be somewhat legendary in the industry for a long time and he sleeps easy knowing that porn gave him so much, including the love of his life, and he doesn’t owe it or the fans any more of himself.

Mickey finally pulls away from the languid kissing session to run a hand over Ian’s jaw and tap him on the cheek, “Ready for the big show?”

“Hell yeah,” Ian digs into the spread of food that Mickey had set out already when he came in the door from work. This domestic life is pretty fucking good, Ian’s not going to pussyfoot around that. It’s fucking amazing.

Mickey flicks on the TV, the screen lighting up with porn stars, sexy bodies barely clad, the stage, the lights, the whole spectacle that is the Cocksucker Awards. While Mickey was nom’d in production categories this year, he opted out of attending. And Ian’s got to admit, sitting here in the comfort of his own home, eating a home cooked meal next to his husband while they watch the extravaganza unfold from a distance, is the best goddamn Cocksuckers experience he’s ever had.