
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4191939.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich, Ian_Gallagher_&_Mickey_Milkovich
  Character:
      Mickey_Milkovich, Ian_Gallagher
  Additional Tags:
      Gallavich_Week, GW2015, First_Time, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      Smut, Love, Kissing, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Explicit_Sexual_Content,
      Season/Series_03, Episode_Related
  Series:
      Part 1 of Gallavich_Week_2015
  Collections:
      Gallavich_Week_-_Year_3_(2015)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-23 Words: 2170
****** First glimpse ******
by Enochianess
Summary
     Gallavich Week - Day 1: First time (first time they do anything,
     canon wise or not)
     They stared at each other, panting, eyes wide open, as Ian bottomed
     out. This position was different, so entirely different to everything
     they were used to. It was perfect. Mickey was perfect.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
"Was I just invited to a sleepover?"
"Fuck you is what you were invited to."
 
Ian was nervous when he knocked on the old and worn Milkovich front door. It
didn't make much sense. Him and Mickey had been going at this thing for years
now. But still, something about tonight felt different. It felt weighted,
heavy, important. It was no small thing for Mickey Milkovich to invite him
over, to choose to spend the most of his night in an empty house with Ian. It
was no small thing that they were acknowledging this friendship, or whatever
the fuck it was, and opting to spend their free time together, fucking or
otherwise. No, it was no small thing, because tonight they were crossing all
sorts of lines and barriers and whatever else it was they had built to keep
this thing going on such strict terms. Tonight, they were erasing those
perimeters. And it was Mickey who had initiated it.
Mickey swung the door open, a smirk already fixed on his face. Ian stared
dumbly.
"Yo, Gallagher." He said loudly, a hand wafting in front of Ian's face to try
and capture his attention. "What the fuck are you doing? You coming inside or
you just going to stand there like a fucking ass-clown all night?"
Ian shook himself and brushed past Mickey, his face burning a little in
embarrassment. 
It was strange being in the Milkovich house when there was no one else in it,
no threat. It was almost eery in its peaceful quiet, the noises of the
southside streets not seeming to reach inside the thin walls. There were still
guns and knives strewn about, on the coffee table and the kitchen cabinets, but
they no longer made Ian feel nervous. They were just something familiar.
Accessories to the boy that was shifting from foot to foot as Ian surveyed the
small and messy space that seemed so different when the Milkovich clan weren't
there to fill it.
"Where'd you say your dad was?" Ian asked quietly, as if he expected Terry
Milkovich to burst in at any moment.
"Took my brothers on a run out of town." Mickey replied. "He's gone for a
couple days."
Ian looked up at him shyly, a smile tugging at his lips. "A couple days, huh?"
"Hey, I never said you can fucking move in ass-wise, so don't get any ideas."
Mickey grumbled.
Ian laughed. "Well, thanks anyway. For letting me crash, I mean. That place is
driving me up the fucking walls."
"You'd do the same for me, right?" He called over his shoulder as he went into
the kitchen.
"Course." Ian beamed. 
 
"You are out of your mind." Mickey exclaimed as he walked back into the living
room, hot tray in hand. "Have you seen that fucking ponytail? It's a powerful
ponytail, man. That's bullshit. Segal could totally kick Van Damme's ass."
"Oh, unless- unless-"  Ian replied, speaking out the side of his mouth because
of the cigarette held between his lips. "It's Double Impact Van Damme, 'cause
that's some Van Double Damme!" 
Mickey laughed, soft and sincere. "Mmm, I wanna fuck Van Damme."
Ian turned to look at Mickey and smiled happily at him as Mickey passed the
cigarette back over. 
 
By the time the movie had finished, the end credits rolling up the screen, Ian
and Mickey were pressed closely together, thighs touching, arms brushing,
shoulders knocking. They sat in silence staring at the screen, both waiting for
the other to make a move. 
Were they going to fuck now? That's what Mickey had meant when he'd invited him
over, right?
"So..." Ian said softly.
"Yeah." 
"Yeah?"
"You fucking deaf, Gallagher?"
Ian snorted but fell silent the moment he turned to look at Mickey. Blue eyes
were already fixed intensely on him, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed,
eyebrows furrowed slightly. He looked vulnerable, afraid. There was something
desperate in his gaze, as if he was trying to tell Ian just how much he wanted,
just how much he needed, but would never be able to vocalise. So, instead, Ian
nodded and leant forwards. He noticed with satisfaction the way Mickey's
shoulders seemed to loosen, the way he sank back into the sofa with a sigh when
Ian pressed their lips together, as if in relief. 
Their kisses started off soft and chaste, completely different to anything they
were used to, but they quickly became bruising, fast and needy. Their mouths
opened, Ian's head angling to slot their lips together better, and their
tongues tangled, softly stroking and probing at one another. Mickey moaned, the
sound lost between them, and arched up to press their bodies impossibly closer.
Ian ground down instinctively, his breath hitching when Mickey pulled roughly
at thick clumps of his hair. 
"I'm gonna fuck you." Ian murmured as he began trailing his lips down the
column of Mickey's throat, kissing, licking, biting, sucking, until his skin
was spattered with bruises. 
Mickey whined, turning his head to provide Ian with more access. He wrapped his
legs around Ian's body, his heels digging in at the top of Ian's thighs to give
himself better leverage to thrust up.
"Mick-" Ian began, his voice breaking off when Mickey grabbed at his ass.
"Bedroom. Come on."
"Why? There's no one else in the fucking house." He grumbled, but he let Ian
clamber off him and pull him towards the bedroom. 
The second they'd closed the door, Ian had Mickey pressed against the wall, his
hands grabbing at the hem of his tank and yanking it over his head. He was
expecting some snarky remark about how desperate he was, about how much he
wanted this, but Mickey said nothing. Mickey was breathing heavily and rushing
to take Ian's own clothes off. It seemed, for once, that Mickey wasn't going to
try and downplay this, act like he didn't need it just as much as Ian. 
They stripped quickly, watching each other shamelessly as more flesh was
revealed, eyes hungry. The moment they were naked, Ian tugged at Mickey's wrist
and walked backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sat
down, gaze locked with Mickey's, and pulled him forwards. He nipped at one of
Mickey's hips, his tongue running across his pubic bone until he could bite
down on the other one. 
"Ian-" Mickey mumbled.
Ian grasped at the base of Mickey's dick, squeezing slightly and running his
thumb up along the vein. He licked tentatively at the head, his eyes flicking
up to watch as Mickey's fluttered closed, his mouth falling open slightly, his
brows furrowing. Ian sank down, taking Mickey as far down his throat as he
could. Mickey was hot and hard and heavy on his tongue already, the salty taste
of his pre-come making Ian groan. 
"No, Ian- please-" Mickey whined when Ian pulled off with a small 'pop'.
Ian shuffled backwards until he was sat on the centre of the bed and patted at
his lap. 
Mickey frowned, confused. His eyes were hazy with lust.
Ian huffed and reached over, pulling at Mickey until he crawled on the bed in
front of him. Ian wrapped his hands round the backs of Mickey's thighs and
pulled him forwards until he finally got the hint and straddled Ian's lap, his
eyes wary and afraid. 
"What are you doin'?" Mickey asked huskily.
"Grab the lube." Ian demanded. "Gotta prep you."
Mickey stared at him questioningly, but he did as he was told, quickly
shuffling over to the bedside table and clambering straight back over Ian's
thighs, lube in hand.
Ian squeezed the bottle and coated his fingers, rubbing them together to warm
the liquid. He reached around Mickey's body and ran his hand down until his
fingers were brushing over his hole. Mickey wiggled impatiently, his teeth
pressing down sharply on his bottom lip. 
"Gallagher, will you-" He began before Ian pushed one finger past the tight
ring of muscle, effectively silencing him. 
Ian thrusted his finger inside a couple of times before Mickey huffed
impatiently and he pushed in a second. He scissored the two digits, carefully
stretching and opening him up. Mickey was panting, his eyes crazy and afraid at
the rawness of the moment, the intimacy. Sensing his panic, Ian leant forwards
and kissed him softly, trailing his tongue over the seam of his lips and
delving inside his mouth. 
"Please Ian-" Mickey murmured. "Just- just- fuck me already." 
Ian pulled his fingers out and poured more lube onto the palm of his hand. He
began covering his dick in the stuff, his breath hitching as he pulled at
himself. He placed a hand soothingly at the base of Mickey's spine, rubbing
gently in reassurance that he would take care of him, he'd fuck him soon. 
Ian wrapped one arm tightly around Mickey's waist and held his dick with the
other. He pulled Mickey down and lined himself up, his eyes locking with
Mickey's as he waited for the go sign. 
Mickey sank down with relief, his thighs shaking as he slowly took Ian in, inch
by excruciatingly perfect inch.
They stared at each other, panting, eyes wide open, as Ian bottomed out. This
position was different, so entirely different to everything they were used to.
It was perfect. Mickey was perfect. 
Mickey's arms wrapped around him as he began to lift back up until it was just
the tip of Ian's dick left inside him, one hand knotting in Ian's hair and the
other gripping the back of his neck. A shout sounded from deep inside his
throat as he dropped back down again, his cock brushing against Ian's stomach
on the way down. Ian's hands reached around to grab at his ass, apologising
with a wince when Mickey cried in pain. Right, bullet wound. Damn. 
"Drunk old lady, my ass." Mickey muttered. 
Ian squeezed Mickey's good cheek and slid the other to grasp at his shoulder.
Ian snapped his hips up, a smile spreading across his face when a cry fell from
Mickey's lips, letting him know he'd hit the right spot. Mickey's legs were
getting more and more shaky, his arms tightening around Ian's shoulders to help
keep him upright. 
"Get on your back." Ian grunted. "Lay down. C'mon. Quick."
Mickey whimpered, fucking whimpered, when Ian lifted him off him. He shuffled
back quickly, his legs spreading and his knees bending eagerly. 
"Fuck." Ian groaned as he watched Mickey's wanton movements.
He ran his hands up the backs of Mickey's thighs, folding him in half and
pushing back inside him in one long, deep thrust. He slid his fingers between
Mickey's and pinned their hands above his head, their foreheads resting
together. Mickey's pupils were blown wide, almost absorbing all the beautiful
sky blue. Ian didn't understand why they had waited this long to fuck face-to-
face. Nothing else compared to watching the reactions playing across Mickey's
face. He was so fucking responsive. 
"You look so fucking good, Mick." He moaned, taking Mickey's dick in hand and
beginning to tug him in rhythm to their hurried thrusts. They weren't going to
last. Not like this. The angle was too damn perfect.
Mickey's body tensed and he locked down around Ian as his orgasm rippled
through him. His nails cut deep into Ian's shoulder blades and Ian yelped as he
was dragged along with him, coming deep inside Mickey. 
Once the final aftershocks subsided, Ian collapsed down on top of Mickey, his
lips pressing hot, open kisses to his neck. He expected Mickey to push him off,
to grumble about something, to get out of bed and disappear for a smoke.
Instead, Mickey sighed and ran his hands up and down Ian's spine, his legs
falling down to hug Ian's hips. Ian knew he needed to pull out and clean up,
but he was more content laying on Mickey's chest than he'd been in a hell of a
long time.
"We're doing it like that again." Mickey said quietly. 
"You liked it, huh?" Ian replied, a little teasing.
Mickey hummed. "It was okay, I guess."
Ian chuckled softly, his breathing beginning to even out. "Thanks, Mick."
"Please tell me you're not thanking me for sex. That's just fucking weird man."
"No, for letting me crash here tonight." Ian said seriously. "I really hate it
at that home."
"It'll be okay." Mickey murmured, one hand reaching up to stroke the back of
Ian's head. "Fiona'll have you out in no time."
It was the first time Mickey had ever said anything like that, so openly kind
and comforting. It seemed tonight was a night of firsts. Ian hoped this was a
step forward and not just a one time thing. 
"Wanna go again?" Ian asked after a moment.
"Don't ask stupid fucking questions." Mickey replied.
Ian could hear the smirk in his voice. He didn't need to look up to know it was
there. But, he looked up anyway, and Mickey's smirk was like the fucking sun.
 
 
End Notes
     Feel free to contact me: http://enochianess.tumblr.com
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
