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All it had taken was four words.
“So, about that blowjob?”
Seconds later, Mickey found himself crowding Ian into a cramped bathroom stall of the shitty diner they’d stopped at, pressing rough kisses to Ian’s neck and palming himself over the rough fabric of his jeans.
Ian grabbed at the back of Mickey’s neck whilst flicking the door latch, fingers dragging over the downy hair at his nape, feeling the whole structure of stalls shake as he was shoved roughly into the flimsy wall.
Hard, bruising kisses are pressed to the underside of Ian’s jawline, who can’t stop himself from tilting his chin up to allow Mickey easy access to the smooth, sensitive area.
“Fuck, Gallagher, you really couldn’t wait until we got in the car, at least?” Mickey huffed against his neck, pressing occasional wet kisses to the expanse of skin.
Ian tilted his head down to kiss messily at Mickey’s glistening lips, dark red under the dingy, flickering lighting of the bathroom. After a moment of teasing, slowly licking into Mickey’s warm mouth, lips parted slightly, Ian couldn’t help but retort, “Hey, Milkovich, whenever I want means whenever I want.”
Mickey does nothing but press closer, resting his head on Ian’s shoulder to hide his growing grin, muttering, “A deal’s a deal, I s’pose.” into the soft, worn fabric of a shirt that had originally come from Lip.
Smiling at the sight, Ian soon became reminded of the fact that he was, still, incredibly hard, as his dick remained pitifully trapped in his jeans. Throwing his arm back from Mickey’s neck and pushing off of the wall behind him, Ian manoeuvred to use the power of momentum to ensure that Mickey was now the one supporting Ian’s weight, Ian’s free hand coming to rest above the both of them on the wall supporting Mickey.
The stall gave a shudder as the weight of the men landed on it, but held reliably and allowed Ian to continue on his conquest of getting off. Ian resumed licking into Mickey’s mouth as he ground his hips down onto Mickey, seeking the slight relief that managed to brush through the multiple layers of denim and cotton underwear. It only took a minute or two before Ian was panting onto Mickey’s cheek, forehead resting on his temple. Mickey was pressing small kisses to the corner or his mouth and palming at both of their dicks with the hand that wasn’t roving over Ian’s waist and hip. Mickey brought his knee up to Ian’s crotch, and he swore he could see stars as Mickey ground it upwards.
Feeling the release building inside of him, Ian noticed his hips begin to stutter and his legs begin to shake. But shortly after, Mickey pushed him away completely, bar the hand on his hip, which soon followed, only to cup the side of Ian’s face.
Grinning, Mickey tilted his head and asked, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you cum before completing my promised duty?” His put-on regal air made Ian huff with annoyance – and strangely, arousal – but it was soon replaced with a gasp of pleasure as Mickey swiftly swiveled them round, sunk to his knees and wrapped his lips around the obvious imprint of the erection in Ian’s jeans.
The sensation was an entirely new one as warm heat fought through stiff layers of denim, ultimately meeting his dick as a rough friction that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Ian watched down with aroused awe as Mickey met his gaze, all while unbuttoning his jeans with one swift motion and beginning to mouth him over the cotton of his boxers.
Ian couldn’t help but throw his head back as the pleasure intensified tenfold. He snaked a hand to pull semi-roughly at Mickey’s hair, as the other hand flew up into his mouth. He bit roughly at the meat of his palm to stifle the groan that threatened to escape him as the lightning bolts of pleasure roved their way around his body. There were people eating, a few metres away, their only separation being a couple of layers of thinly veneered plasterboard and cheap swinging door.
All too soon, Mickey pulled away, and this time Ian’s groan of impatience could be heard even around his hand; the wet patch of saliva on his underwear felt uncomfortably cold in contrast to the feeling of Mickey’s tongue pressed against it. Dropping his hand and glancing down at Mickey, Ian could see that the other’s dark gaze was trained on him.
Mickey’s strong hand came up to grip his hip, as he spoke, “I want you to look at me, and I want to hear you,” as his hand clutched at Ian’s hip tighter.
Ian could do nothing but nod desperately as he held Mickey’s gaze, scratching his scalp lightly with his fingernails and holding himself up with a hand held out to balance himself on the stall door, to the side of him.
Mickey continued, this time disregarding Ian’s trousers completely, tugging the denim down to his ankles and pulling his boxers with them. Ian gasped as Mickey’s mouth engulfed him completely, not even hesitating to take his full length in. He fought the urge to throw his head back once again, but Mickey was such a beautiful sight, dark eyes, wide jaw and mussed up hair. Ian knew he wouldn’t have been able to look away even if he’d wanted to.
Mickey’s tongue slid over the underside of Ian’s dick as he took him deeper, then bobbed up and down for a minute, Ian desperately chasing the feeling by rocking his hips ever so slightly and gripping the fistful of hair tighter. Some fairly obscene noises came out of him, but at that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sweat beaded on his upper lip as Mickey pulled back slightly, swirling his tongue over the tip of Ian’s cock.
Ian noticed as Mickey reached down to palm himself, and decided that it wasn’t right. Whilst maintaining balance as steadily as possible, Ian moved his boot-laden foot over to Mickey’s crotch, working up a rhythm of Mickey sucking his cock, Ian thrusting into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey grinding against his boot, and Ian pressing down with his foot to ever so slightly build the pressure atop Mickey’s own dick.
Now the stalls really began to shake, as they both began to reach climax. They shuddered to the steady beat of their rhythm before Ian's hips stuttered once again.
”Fuck, Mick,” Was all that Ian could get out before sending his load into Mickey’s eager mouth. His legs shook as he came down from his high, and felt Mickey’s fist clench around the back of his thigh, finishing in his pants.
It was all too soon that they heard the door to the bathroom swing open, and Mickey managed to move at what seemed like the speed of light, pulling Ian’s trousers up as he rose from his knees.
“Get out! Now!” an angry voice yelled out, coming up to bang on the stall door. Ian doesn’t know whether to be terrified or laugh as Mickey rushed to unlatch the lock and hurry the both of them out of the stall. “This isn’t some dingy truck stop,” the old guy shouted, seemingly a worker at the diner. “You kids can’t just show up and use this as a free fuckin’ bathhouse!”
Ian’s heart was pounding as he made for the door on unsteady feet, but he slowed as he saw Mickey bend over the filthy sink, close to where the man was yelling.
Ian watched with bated breath as Mickey kept eye contact with him in the mirror, spitting out the load of cum he’d apparently kept. His stomach dropped as both his and the worker’s eyes widened, and he could feel his dick give a twitch in interest.
Before the worker could get an enraged word in, Mickey straightened, put a hand on the small of Ian’s back and bolted out of the door, out of the entrance to the diner and all the way to the truck.
Ian remained keyed up as they panted in unison, watching to see if anyone would follow them out, and when nobody eventually did, he chanced a look over at Mickey, who, to Ian’s surprise, was already gazing at him.
Ian’s mind buzzed distractingly for a moment, and all he could think to say was, “...That was hot.”
Mickey surged forward, and Ian vowed to return the favour he now owed Mickey for such a display.