18. Mickey

CHAPTER 18

MICKEY

Mickey had forgotten how good kissing was until Ethan kissed him back. He'd always thought that the whole fireworks thing in movies with the orchestral soundtrack was a bit ridiculous. But that's exactly what this felt like and Mickey wanted more of it. He was greedy. Insatiable. And if they did nothing but stand in the middle of the room and make out for the rest of the night, Mickey would be satisfied.

He did have other ideas, though. Better ones. Because he saw the way Ethan looked at him and it made his heart crash against his ribcage. He wanted to think that Lance had once looked at him like that, but everything Lance did was out of cold calculation. Ethan was all raw affection and vulnerability. A surge of protectiveness washed over Mickey and it caught him so off-guard that he nearly stumbled.

The jolt broke their kiss, but Mickey didn't stop. He kissed his way down Ethan's stubbled jawline and nuzzled the curve of his neck. God, he smelled amazing. It was a combination of all the things he'd done that day—coffee and soap and Ethan himself, a darker, richer undertone that made him irresistible to Mickey.

"Mickey," Ethan rasped, his hands sliding down Mickey's sides. Strong fingers dug into Mickey's hips. "Mickey, my head is spinning."

Mickey slowed the pace of his kisses. "Should we slow down?"

A strong hand splayed against Mickey's lower back, then swept upward, turning him to mush in Ethan's embrace.

"I just meant that I'm a little out of practice on the whole intimacy thing, and I need to sit down. I'm out of breath and I'm pretty sure there's no blood left in my upper body."

"In that case…" Mickey steered Ethan to the couch and pressed his hand against Ethan's chest until he sat. Then Mickey climbed onto his lap. Straddling him, he wrapped his arms around Ethan's neck and brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "Let me drive."

Before Ethan could protest, or talk himself out of it, or realize that he was miles out of Mickey's league, he kissed him again. This time he got his tongue in on the action and licked the seam of Ethan's lips. Teasing his way inside, Mickey fell into the utter bliss of just kissing someone and knowing that he didn't have to do more. Knowing that made him want to do more, but this was enough for now. A hard body underneath him. The proof of their arousal pressed together through layers of fabric. A pair of wandering hands that were caressing, not groping. Caring and soft and strong in the right way.

Not strong to hold him down, but to hold him together. To pick him up. Dependable and sure and capable of so much kindness that Mickey couldn't fathom it. Here was a man who'd lived more life than him. He'd raised a family on his own. He was steady and constant and Mickey had no clue what Ethan was doing kissing him. But he didn't want to stop.

Mickey toyed with the short hair at the back of Ethan's neck, sending out a mental cheer of victory when Ethan shuddered and pulled him closer. The tips of Ethan's fingers slid under the waist of Mickey's pants and skimmed along his skin. It was practically chaste compared to the things Mickey had done, and yet his blood was on fire for more.

Mickey moaned into Ethan's mouth. Undulating his hips, he ground their cocks together. Ethan's hands found their way under his shirt and Mickey gasped against Ethan's mouth. How the hell was this so hot? It was kissing. A bit of grinding. But Mickey could scarcely breathe he was so turned on.

It felt like Ethan was having a similar issue and Mickey slowed the pace of their kisses. Easing back, Mickey kissed the corner of Ethan's mouth. Then the other. He wanted this so bad he was shaking.

"Mickey," Ethan breathed against his neck. One of those strong, talented, capable hands Mickey was obsessed with cupped his cheek. "I don't have much here in the way of supplies. I haven't had sex in so long you could write in the dust on my libido. I don't know what you want. I barely know what I want." Ethan took a breath and ran his nose up the curve of Mickey's neck. "What do you want, Mickey?"

The answer to that was simple. Ethan. In this moment and the next—Ethan. Yesterday and tomorrow—Ethan. Ethan eternally, if he thought he could wish it into existence. Mickey had never felt so safe before. So seen. And maybe Mickey should be more careful about older men after what Lance did, but the difference between Ethan and Lance was the difference between an erupting volcano and an oasis in the desert.

"You." Mickey drove his fingers through Ethan's hair and crushed their lips together. Ethan's arms were around him again, then the room was tilting and Ethan was on his back underneath Mickey.

"This okay?" Ethan asked.

"More than."

Mickey dragged the tip of his finger down Ethan's whiskered cheek. There wasn't a thing about Ethan that Mickey didn't find attractive. From the more than ample grey in his hair, to the deeply etched laugh lines on his face. The lines themselves told the story of a life that had been filled with happiness and Mickey wanted in on that.

Ethan stared up at him, waiting. Mickey realized that Ethan would wait for as long as it took, just so he knew it was what Mickey wanted. And knowing that made him want Ethan even more.

This time when they kissed it was slow and deep. Mickey sank into Ethan's embrace and though the kiss was everything—breathless and magical and life-giving, easily the most memorable kiss that Mickey had ever participated in—it wasn't enough.

Mickey pulled back and sat up. Ethan blinked at him and watched in awe as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt on the right side with his left hand and, in one smooth move, whipped the garment up his body and off over his head.

Ethan laughed and immediately reached for Mickey, who was already working at the buttons on Ethan's shirt.

"God, look at you."

The tone of Ethan's voice did something to Mickey. The wonder he heard there made him want to beg Ethan to say it again. Mickey fumbled some of the buttons, but eventually got Ethan's shirt open. He pushed the fabric out of the way and ran his hands down Ethan's chest.

"Fuck my life, you're so hot." Mickey's heart felt like it might burst. Everything in his body vibrated with need.

The corners of Ethan's eyes crinkled and he gave Mickey a smile that was half amused, half embarrassed. "Not compared to you."

Mickey put his fingers over Ethan's lips. "Slander."

"Honesty," Ethan mumbled around Mickey's fingers.

"You're gorgeous, Ethan. You just don't see it because you're not your type. But lucky for me, you're mine," Mickey growled. Further protests were silenced by kissing Ethan again. Their hands roamed each other's bare torsos like they were starved for touch. For affection. For a connection that they didn't know they needed until they found it with each other.

"Can I touch you?" Mickey asked, his fingers twitching against Ethan's skin. He wanted to map every inch of Ethan's body with his hands. His tongue. Even his teeth. Until he knew it better than his own. Until it was so ingrained in his head that he'd never be able to forget it.

"Anything, Mickey. Anything you want."

Ethan lay there so still, so patient, so fucking perfect that Mickey couldn't resist kissing him again. Then he sat up and worked the button on Ethan's jeans loose. He struggled a bit with the fly, then told Ethan to scoot over and roll on his side.

Once Mickey had Ethan where he wanted him, he settled in next to him and brushed the tip of his nose against Ethan's. Their eyes met and Mickey let himself look, just for a moment, before he saw too much. Before he saw things that weren't there. Ethan met him when he angled his head for a kiss and their tongues battled together. Mickey skimmed his hand down Ethan's side. He'd left Ethan dressed, but undoing his pants allowed Mickey easier access.

Slowly, he slipped his hand into Ethan's pants. His fingers dipped under the waistband of Ethan's briefs and he took hold of his cock. God, it was thick and long, and pulsing. Ethan gasped into Mickey's mouth and let out a startled, strangled kind of noise that sounded like a mix of relief and mortification, and it was so fucking hot.

Ethan came. He came and came. Cum poured out of his cock like he hadn't had an orgasm in the past decade. And maybe he hadn't. Mickey barely had time to think about how hot that was when Ethan started apologizing.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." Ethan's eyes were squeezed shut and he clung to Mickey, still twitching and coming, looking like he loved and hated it in equal measure. Ethan's gentle laughter shook his voice as he continued to apologize.

"Don't be sorry." Mickey kissed Ethan, chaste and brief.

"It's been a while since…" Ethan's voice trailed off as he kept his secrets to himself. "It's been a while," he repeated.

"I told you," Mickey said. "No harm done."

Color flooded Ethan's cheeks. "I don't think I have another one in the tank."

He looked so adorable after he came.

"You don't need to come to enjoy this next part." Mickey kissed Ethan. Open-mouthed. Quick and dirty. He poured all his pent-up lust and want, all his secret little dreams and all the new things that he found he wanted into the kiss. When he pulled away, Ethan took a deep breath and stared at Mickey. His eyes were a storm of emotion and Mickey enjoyed not feeling like he had to look away. Mickey had a shit poker face and he'd learned that whatever he was thinking could be read in his eyes. He wasn't afraid of Ethan seeing what he was feeling.

Mickey wriggled around so he was on his back. Ethan slid an arm under Mickey, creating more room for him. It made maneuvering a little tricky, but Mickey managed to pop the button of his pants open with his one clean hand. He freed his dick from the confines of his pants.

"Watch." Mickey told Ethan as he took himself in hand, using Ethan's cum for lube. He heard Ethan's sharp intake of breath and a desperate, needy, sound that vibrated deep in Ethan's chest. Mickey couldn't see Ethan's face in their current position so he closed his eyes and set a slow pace, dragging the palm of his hand up and over the head of his cock as he switched grips.

Ethan's hand coasted across Mickey's bare chest. Calloused fingers traced Mickey's clavicle. Mickey's breath shuddered out of him when Ethan lightly brushed his fingers over Mickey's nipple.

This was his first time without Lance. Without someone snapping directions and disapproval. This was the first time in a long time that Mickey didn't hate what he was doing. He didn't hate Ethan watching him either.

Mickey was keenly aware of the way Ethan's hand trailed lower.

Before Mickey lost his patience, Ethan reached down and wrapped his hand around Mickey's. Immediately, Mickey released his cock and curled Ethan's fingers around it, then his cum-sticky hand topped Ethan's.

Ethan's touch was different and so much better than Mickey's own. Ethan's was hot and a little rough and strong. Even when he was handling Mickey with care, he could feel the undercurrent of power in Ethan.

Mickey cursed himself for wanting to go slow, for not knowing if he'd have more than this. He wouldn't blame Ethan if, once things were done, he told Mickey that they couldn't happen again. Mickey wasn't anything worth keeping.

"Hey," Ethan whispered. Mickey turned his head and let out a surprised squeak when Ethan kissed him. It was the first kiss he'd initiated between them. All the others had happened after Mickey threw himself at Ethan. Ethan was an equal participant, but this was the first one he instigated. The first one freely offered.

Ethan's hand was fucking divine on Mickey's cock. Mickey lamented the fact that he hadn't gotten them both naked. What he wouldn't give to be on top of Ethan, all bare in every sense of the word, grinding down against him, dirty and slick, and so fucking hot.

His release came almost out of nowhere. Mickey's brain short-circuited as he thrust upward, fucking the channel of Ethan's hand. His movements were anything but graceful. They were jerky and frantic and a little overwrought. Mickey panted and keened against Ethan's mouth as he spilled in his hand. They were no longer kissing, but still sharing that intimate space of mingled breath.

"Mickey."

He felt his name whispered against his lips as he came down from his orgasm high.

"I swear to God, Ethan, the next words out of your mouth had better not be thank you. It makes me feel weird, to be thanked for sex."

Ethan laughed again and Mickey found that he loved the sound of this laugh. The quiet one. The one that he hadn't had the privilege of hearing until now. It was intimate in a way that twisted Mickey up in knots for how badly he wanted to keep hearing it.

"How about I tell you how amazing you are?"

Mickey practically purred. "I'll allow it."

Ethan laughed again. That secret, post sex, intimate laugh that made Mickey feel like he was wrapped up in sunshine. He didn't want to think of what came next. The post-sex awkward dance.

The question of should he stay or should he go loomed over him and he ignored it all in favor of letting himself be engulfed in the sunshine offered to him by Ethan.

Logically, he knew he should go home. But his home was a half-painted, disorganized mess of an apartment, devoid of any life or personality. And Ethan. Call him a stage three clinger, but he couldn't stand the thought of leaving. He didn't have it in him to hope that Ethan would ask him to stay, though.