[ closed ]

[wetblankets]

WHO: Ian and Mickey
WHERE: Heropa; the beach and/or their apt
WHEN: Now
WHAT: Swimming and sunburns
WARNINGS: PDA and language; will update as needed



[The few times Ian's been out of Chicago, the thought to mosey on down to Florida never crossed his mind. Why would it? There wasn't any reason to go. Now that he's here, in all its humidity and sun, he doesn't regret that choice. The only thing it has going for it is all the clear water and warm sand that he can see from where he's standing. And Mickey. Years younger, fresh from coming out, and not to the point that he's broken out of prison and crossing the Mexican border. Because of Ian. They haven't really talked about anything, not that he's desperate for that conversation.

- Yeah, yeah Mickey, prison, Mexico, and wait.. I didn't go with you, like I'd said I would. Decided that I couldn't live that life. No, you didn't seem pissed but kinda think it broke your heart a little. And guess what? I still didn't get back in the car. -

That'll go over well. Ian doesn't know how Mickey will react to something like that, doesn't know if it'll be good or bad. For as well as they know each other, he can't write out that thread of unpredictability that's always been a part of their lives. He doesn't even know if Mickey wants to hear about the future either. He tables the discussion altogether. If Mickey asks, Ian'll tell him and if he doesn't, then it doesn't have to be a part of this place. For now, he'll enjoy the clean slate he's got and a world where he can have Mickey, too.

Speaking of - ]

Strip down. [Boxers or naked. Ian's bent down, taking off his shoes and socks. Luckily, it was late enough that the sun was already hiding behind some clouds.] Let's see those nice legs of yours.

Comments

[gentrify]

[ ian gallagher, you're getting the finger flipped at you.

granted, it's while one hand is yanking at his shoe laces, and mickey's clearly laughing, but you're still getting the finger. we literally just talked about this, you douche. ] You're tryin' really hard to die today, aren't you, Gallagher?

[ once one boot is loose and pulled free, mickey lobs it at this asshole's head, but he's back to tugging off the next, kicking his socks off into the sand next to them, and stripping his shirt off after. once he's gotten down to just the dark cargo pants he'd had on, mickey lunges for him, tackling ian back into the sand, snickering like a giddy child, and trying to rub sand in his ginger, ginger hair. ]

You're gonna look fucking roasted by the end of this, you know that, right? Did you even grab sunscreen on the way?

[wetblankets]

Some guys don't know their best.. attributes. [Ian's smiling and not paying attention to what's going on right beside him.] Legs and ass. Not necessarily in that order.

[He's got his shirt off, tossed to the side, and his pants halfway down his thighs when the shoe grazes the top of his head.]

Real nice, Mic- [There's no avoiding it, he's caught off guard. Pants at his ankles and Mickey on top of him, unable to use his legs for anything other than trying to kick his pants the rest of the way off. Ian wraps his arms around Mickey's back.] Fuck, don't get sand in my eyes.

[He needs those, prick.

A laugh precedes Ian rolling them over, legs finally free and straddling both of Mickey's to pin him down. One hand grapples to grab Mickey's, trying to press it to the sand beside his head while the other pushes against his shoulder.]

And no, I didn't bring sunscreen.

[gentrify]

[ mickey's a fit of giggles and snickering, the kind of boyish glee that comes out of him only in times he's alone with ian like this, rolling around in the sand, among a bunch of strangers they've never seen before and likely won't ever see again. ]

Relax, pretty boy, I'm not gonna damage your shiny little eyenuts.

[ he laughs out, still rubbing at his hair, when ian sends them tipping over to the side. mickey puts up the best fight he can, but ultimately, ian's built like a tank, and as much more experienced as mickey is at brawling, army kid has that army know how and attitude to him.

there's some yanking around of limp, but eventually ian pins him, and mickey doesn't really mind at all behind underneath him like this, lungs heaving and eyes bright, smile wide. ]

None at all? You're gonna look like a lobster, Ian. We're gonna have to take you back home in an aloe vera tub.

[wetblankets]

[Jesus, he fucking missed this.]

You like my shiny little eyenuts.

[Ian doesn't even know what he's saying right now and he's pretty sure Mickey doesn't either. Eyenuts. He drops his full weight down on top of him, using that to keep him still so Ian can free up his hands. Propped up on an elbow, he presses a kiss to Mickey's jaw.]

It'd be worth it and you know it. [He kisses his chin.] Besides, kinda like the idea of you having to rub me down.

[His smile fades a little, a hand lifting to run the tips of his fingers past where his mouth has just been. A part of him worries that he's going to fuck this up somehow. He's done it before. More times in Ian's 'recent' than Mickey has but all he knows is that he doesn't want to. Mickey makes him feel alive when the meds cloud his mind and drape over him like a wet blanket.]

[gentrify]

[ mickey hasn't had a moment yet to miss this, experiencing it all new for himself, out in the open, doing whatever they want to do, loving each other in whatever way they want to. damn anyone else on the beach. ]

I do like your shiny little eyenuts. [ with ian settled on top of him, mickey stops putting up much fight, more pleased with where he is, and ian's lips against his jaw, grinning, as his head turns, trying to brush a kiss or two against his cheek. ] And all your other nuts.

[ ian smells like sand and sun and old spice deodorant and everything mickey remembers, and god, he could fuck him right here if they weren't likely to get arrested for public indecency. instead, he'll take playing around in the surf - something mickey hasn't even been able to do by himself anymore. the lake isn't much of a beach, not like florida is. ]

Wouldn't mind that. How good you figure aloe vera is for lube?

[wetblankets]

[Ian wiggles his hips until Mickey parts his legs to make room for him, not caring what this probably looks like to anybody else. They're having a moment and he's not gonna let anyone on this beach get in the middle of it.]

You sure know how to charm a guy.

[He nudges Mickey's chin up, kissing the soft stretch of skin below his jaw. Ian's not trying to start something, not really. Sex for them usually starts hard and goes fast, except for the rare occasion that they'd had time and space for something slower. He's just enjoying the warm sun on his back and the warmer body sprawled beneath him and how good it feels to kiss Mickey like this.]

I dunno. Suppose it's as good as anything else. [What's he even saying? They don't have any. There's no point discussing its use as a lubricant or looking it up online to see if it'd work.] How about I don't get sunburnt and you massage me later anyway?

[gentrify]

[ it looks like ian's about to dry hump him into the sand, that's exactly what it looks like. not that mickey has much of a problem with that either, not right now, not on this beach, not after all the crap at home, not after finally getting to a place where they can just be them, together. ]

Who knew you'd take so well to me and my brothers tryin' to murder you, huh?

[ he's all kinds of charm, said with a toothy grin, hands on ian's hips, sneaking up to prod at his sides, like seeking out ticklish spots, waiting for a chance to toss his off. ]

How's that fun for me? [ mickey echoes back the answer he'd gotten for the beads a while ago, but it's more a joke than a real answer. he pushes up on his elbows, takes a playful bite at one of ian's freckles shoulders, before headbutting his jaw lightly. ] Yeah, yeah, princess, you'll get your massage. Come on, let's go find some fish to chase.

[wetblankets]

[Ian grins, shrugging a shoulder. He never expected things to turn out the way they did. Showing up at Mickey's house, demanding the gun back, and the fight that, well, ended up with the two of them fucking for the first time. It wasn't how he'd thought things would go, but he couldn't find fault in the way it had. He got Mickey out of it.

He scrunches up on one side, trying to avoid those prodding fingers.]

Never said I wouldn't return the favor. [Ian grunts, rolling back and to the side into the sand. Always so rough with him, Milkovich.] Race ya.

[A hand shoots out, pushing Mickey back into the sand as Ian stumbles to stand and dart forward.]