27. Ethan

CHAPTER 27

ETHAN

Ethan came awake slowly, vaguely aware of someone slipping into bed behind him. Someone with shockingly cold feet. Ethan yelped sleepily and jerked his legs away from Mickey's cold toes on instinct. A slightly less cold arm wrapped around him and Ethan grunted with displeasure before rolling over. He pulled Mickey into him and held him tight.

"Why are you so cold?" Ethan snuggled closer, even tangling their feet together to try and warm him. "You didn't walk here, did you?"

"I got a ride." Mickey burrowed closer to Ethan. "I—it's going to sound stupid."

"I'm sure it doesn't."

"Well, you see, I wanted to be cold."

Ethan furrowed his brow, happy that it was dark and Mickey couldn't see the look of confusion on his face. "I feel like there's more to it than that."

Mickey twined their fingers together and pulled Ethan's arm tight around himself. "I guess I got stuck in my head earlier about what I have and what I deserve to have. It's hard to trust the good things. That they'll be there every time I open my eyes. That I didn't make them up."

"So you stood outside in the cold and the dark?" Ethan kissed Mickey's bare shoulder. He smelled like work, like beer and salt and sweat.

"I told you it sounded stupid."

It took some rearranging of bodies, but Ethan pinned Mickey down on his back and hovered over him, brushing kisses against his mouth, which was somehow also cold.

Ethan frowned. "How long were you outside?"

Even in the dark, Ethan saw the way Mickey cut his gaze away.

"Probably too long, but I tried to see if I could go back."

"Back?" The statement kicked Ethan in the stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he struggled to hold on to his composure. "Back where?"

"To how things were before I met you." Icy fingers trailed up Ethan's sides. "I?—"

"You don't have to go back to that. Not even if we broke up tomorrow. Which we are not doing, by the way. You have your own place. And a job. Your own money. Even if I made you leave right now, you'd have somewhere to go. You made sure of that. I'm so fucking proud of you, you know. For how you've kept going."

Mickey let out a shuddering breath. His hands were warmer now, and he slid them up Ethan's neck until he cupped his face. Ethan let Mickey draw him down into a kiss. Slow and searing, open-mouthed and delicate, but thrumming with need as they stoked the fires of arousal. The kiss was endless. Everything. Ethan poured all the things he felt for Mickey into that kiss.

Mickey wriggled beneath him and then suddenly Ethan's waist was encircled by Mickey's legs. Still cold, but not as frigid as before. Ethan broke the kiss, much to the dismay of Mickey, who let out a little sound of protest.

"Next time you need to stand in the cold, come get me. I'll stand with you."

"You'd stand in the cold… for me?"

Ethan smiled at Mickey's precious bewilderment. He supposed it wasn't fair to be amused by Mickey's lack of knowledge when he was the cause of it, but it was either be amused or be heartbroken at how little Mickey thought of himself.

"You're worth being cold for, Mickey. You're worth a lot of things." Ethan leaned closer and pressed a kiss against the corner of Mickey's mouth. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the moment. He wanted to remember everything about it, from the way Mickey slowly warmed beneath him, to how the sheets felt wrapping around them, to the way Mickey's touch had become so soft it was like angel feathers.

"I'd be cold for you. Hot for you." Ethan confessed. "I'd be and do a lot of things for you. You see, I'm so in love with you."

Mickey squeaked and suddenly his arms were around Ethan too and he pulled him into a kiss. Hot and deep and all tongue and clacking teeth. A graceless kiss, but perfect regardless, because it was with Mickey. Mickey, who stole Ethan's heart. Who made him feel alive again in the softest of ways. Mickey, who stirred things in Ethan he'd long ago buried and who'd brought up feelings in Ethan that he'd never imagined having before.

Mickey's fingers sank into Ethan's hair. Gripping and tugging at the strands, he broke their perfectly imperfect kiss. "I love you too. I love you and I'm so fucking afraid to love you, but I can't stop myself."

"Then don't stop yourself from being afraid. I'm afraid too."

Mickey scoffed. "Afraid of what?"

"Of my beautiful, sensitive, sweet boyfriend finally figuring out that I'm old." Ethan let out a laugh at the expression he saw thunder across Mickey's face. Even in the dim light, his displeasure was evident. But Ethan didn't care. Mickey loved him. They were in love and it felt like the sun coming out after a long winter.

"You're older, but you're not too old. Did you ever stop to think that sometimes I feel too young? That you're going to wake up one day and realize that I'm the same age as your kids? I wish I was older."

"My knees advise against wishing yourself older before your time."

"Ethan?"

"Yes, love?"

Mickey's fingers twitched gently in Ethan's hair, dragging softly against his scalp. "I'm tired of being afraid, but I don't know how to stop."

"Do you trust me?" Ethan asked. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer. He hoped Mickey trusted him and he didn't really know what he'd do if Mickey said no, but Mickey nodded.

"Yeah," was all Mickey seemed capable of saying.

Ethan traced the side of Mickey's face with his fingertips, smiling at the way Mickey leaned into his touch.

"Then trust that I love you. Trust that I love you exactly as you are. We're both wounded, Mickey. We might've hurt for different reasons, but we still hurt. We can go as slow as you need to go."

"He says, as I lay naked in his bed." The laughter had returned to Mickey's voice. Clearly his body wasn't the only thing warming up.

"I want to build something with you that lasts. And if that means we stay afraid for a while… well, we can be scared together. You're not alone, Mickey. Not anymore. Not ever again."

It was a big promise to keep, but Ethan would do whatever it took to make sure he kept it.

"Ethan…" Mickey's hold on him tightened, like he wanted to crush their bodies together until they fused. It was a sensation Ethan knew all too well, for he was struck with it now. The inescapable urge to consume and be consumed.

Mickey drew him down into a kiss, all tongue and breath and needy sounds that sent shivers down Ethan's back. Beneath him, Mickey rocked and writhed, chasing friction, pulling him down with the press of his heels into Ethan's ass.

"What do you need, Mickey. Tell me." Ethan pleaded.

Mickey answered him with a kiss that started out frantic and deepened into something less frenzied, but more intense. Bigger. Ethan doubted he'd been kissed with as much passion as Mickey kissed him with. It cracked him open and made him feel like old wounds had finally scarred over enough to allow new things, new people, to move in where the tender, bruised, broken memories still lived.

Ethan would always love Sarah. But she'd been gone for a long time. His memories of her were sad, but sweet, and most of the sting had gone. There would always be a hole where her life had been, but she'd be happy for him. She'd be happy that he was in love with Mickey. Lost in him. To him. He yielded control, liking the way it felt to have Mickey roll him over onto his back the way he felt equally powerful and powerless when Mickey pinned his wrists to the mattress.

Mickey gave him a heated, haughty look before swiveling his hips, grinding their cocks together in such a way that had Ethan wanting to arch off the bed. He didn't, though it was all he could do to hold himself back.

"That's right," Mickey crooned, leaning down to brush his parted lips over Ethan's exposed throat. "That's good." Mickey released Ethan's wrists only to twine their fingers together as he rocked forward. "That's so good."

There were a million things Ethan wanted, but none of them compared to the way it made him feel to give Mickey what he wanted. To be the vessel for his pleasure. Even if it was as simple as touching, grinding, panting, kissing. They didn't need more, even though Ethan ached with an emptiness only Mickey could satisfy.

They kissed forever. Until Ethan's face ached from it. Until his muscles grew weary and his stomach was wet with precum and Mickey's exhales were sharp against Ethan's skin as he writhed and wriggled on top of Ethan, humping and chasing friction and release.

"Mickey, please." Ethan heard himself beg, though he hadn't meant to. He'd meant to stay quiet and let Mickey find his release in any way that he wanted. But he was mindless now with pleasure. With a body that was riding the wrong edge of satisfaction. "Please, Mickey."

Mickey's movements slowed to a stop. Breath caressed Ethan's ear. Mickey's mouth was so close he felt his lips move on the shell of his ear when he spoke. "Please what? What do you want?"

Ethan trembled. Had Mickey been waiting for him to say something? To ask? To formulate words that were in any way coherent? Fuck. He sucked in a deep breath. Turned his head to brush his lips against Mickey's cheek.

"I need you inside me," Ethan confessed. His body burned fiery hot and every molecule in his body screamed when Mickey moved away from him. His skin was suddenly cold without Mickey, then hot when he returned with lube in hand.

"I wasn't going anywhere," Mickey assured him as he flipped the lube open and squirted some into his hand.

Ethan spread his legs. Nervous. Excited. Full of anticipation and this soothing sense of rightness as Mickey reached down between Ethan's legs. He held Ethan's gaze while his fingers went to work, sliding down behind Ethan's balls and across his taint before teasing the rim of his hole.

It was exquisite. Agony. Splendor and suffering all wrapped up in one big ball of anticipation. Ethan's breath caught when a single slick finger dipped into his hole, slowly spearing him. Mickey leaned down and kissed him, tangling their tongues together.

"Just breathe," Mickey whispered. "Trust me."

Ethan did. He trusted Mickey with so much more than his body. He'd already trusted him with his heart.

Ethan breathed and they kissed and Mickey slowly worked him open. One finger, then another, in deliberate, measured motions with fingers that still trembled and shook.

He thought he might die of wanting, but then Mickey's fingers disappeared and his cock pressed against Ethan's hole. Mickey tucked his arms under Ethan's thighs and lifted his legs, folding him not quite in half, but enough to lift his ass. Mickey's body was nothing but lean lines and sweat, the determined set of his jaw, and fire in his eyes as he slid into Ethan.

All Ethan had to do was breathe, but even that seemed like a tall order. And then Mickey was kissing him again. Kissing with lips that quivered and breath that shook and eyes that were scrunched closed. Ethan wondered if they were as glassy as his felt. If this was as big, as monumental for Mickey as it was for him.

When Mickey started to move, it was like lightning striking inside Ethan's body. Like thunder rolling through him, noiseless but powerful. Mickey's thrusts were short and sharp, hard and deep. He clung to Ethan with a strength and a desperation that Ethan felt down to his bones.

"Love you," Mickey whispered against Ethan's mouth, breaking an already sloppy kiss. "Please…"

"I love you, Mickey." He loved him deeply. Ferociously. Fiercely. With all the power and grace of the ocean. With all the power he possessed. He clung to Mickey, wrapping a hand around the back of Mickey's neck. He yanked him down into a kiss as Mickey continued to fuck him with those same short, sharp thrusts. Mickey let out a low keening sound and reached between them to jerk Ethan off.

Ethan came, his words of love still spilling off his tongue. He could no more stop his orgasm than stop telling Mickey that he loved him. He'd thought when he lost Sarah that he'd never love again. Then later on he feared that he couldn't. That he'd only been given one shot and it had been taken from him. And now, here with Mickey trembling and shaking, panting endearments against Ethan's skin, he felt a little less afraid.