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Mickey settled back against his pillow and smoked his cigarette, too sexed-out to do anything else. He pulled a corner of the sheet he could reach over his middle.
Ian rested with his back against the wall and his long legs hanging off the side underneath Mickey’s. He was surprised the other boy was even allowing this much contact after the fucking was over, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he watched him take drag after drag, as a question circled his mind like a drain that lead to his mouth.
"You gonna spit it out, or what?" Mickey suddenly said, smoke expelling from his chapped lips.
Ian hadn’t known he was being watched, so he stammered, “Huh?”
Mickey rolled his eyes. “You got somethin’ you wanna ask?”
Ian thought for a moment if he should lie and somehow segue things back to what they did best. Mickey glared at him, waiting with his eyebrow raised. “Uh, yeah…”
Mickey waited, then sat up on his elbows and threw his hand out in frustration; eyes bulging.
"How come…" Ian started slowly, gesturing slightly towards the sheet covering Mickey, "…how come you always do that?"
Mickey squinted and spat out, “Do what?”
Ian tugged lightly on the sheet, as if he were going to pull it off and Mickey swatted at his hand. “How come you always cover up when we’re done?”
Mickey looked down and bit at his lip. The sudden flush to his skin gave him away further. “It’s fucking cold and I shrink,” he threw out as nonchalantly as he could. He took another drag from his cigarette and ashed it out on his dresser.
Ian couldn’t help but snort, “So do I, man.”
"Yeah, but—" Mickey cut himself off, not thinking. He looked away and pulled the sheet over himself some more, moving to a sitting position.
"But what?" Ian asked.
Mickey sat in thought for a long moment. He knew he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to answer. Especially about this shit. He let out a breath and busied himself with a loose string on the corner of the sheet in his lap.
"Just because my dick ain’t as big as yours, don’t mean I’m ashamed or something…" he said sort of fast.
Ian wasn’t expecting that. His eyebrows raised is surprise and he couldn’t help but actually look down at himself. “What?”
Mickey cocked his head and shrugged. “I know what I got, and it’s not like you or anybody else I fucked are complaining.”
Ian grinned a little and nodded, “That’s true…” Now Ian was looking right at the middle of the sheet where he knew Mickey’s junk lay just underneath. It’s not like he hadn’t seen it before, all the times they’ve dropped their pants together even if it was just to take a piss, and he honestly had never really thought about it.
But now he was, and it was making his admittedly-larger dick fill with blood again.
"C’mere," Ian demanded, lowly.
Mickey scrunched his eyebrows together in a face. “No.”
Ian grabbed the sheet and tried to yank it off of him. “C’mon.”
"Fuck off, Gallagher," he fisted the sheet to keep the redhead from pulling it completely off.
"Fine." Ian moved just enough so that his head was almost in Mickey’s lap, and buried his face in the thin sheet. He rubbed his nose and lips over the chubby bulge between Mickey’s legs, taking in the scent of dry sweat and cum. He mouthed at the growing head, getting the sheet wet and making the boy hiss and buck slightly.
"Mmmm," Ian hummed around the outline of Mickey’s full hard-on, as it tented the sheet.
"Ugh…shit.." Mickey panted, closing his eyes as Ian continued to rub his nose right where the head of his cock met the shaft. The wetness of the sheet and the warm friction was driving him insane. He was breathing hard and thrusting up into it. Ian ran his fingers up the inside of his thigh where the sheet didn’t cover, and he shivered.
Ian’s own dick was leaking against Mickey’s leg where he had it pressed, as he worked him to orgasm through the cloth bedding. He ignored it, though, and continued to mouth and lick until he was shaking and his toes were curling. He moved his hand to grab him through the sheet and started jerking him lightly until he was soaking it with his cum.
"Oh fuck!" Mickey gasped, falling back on his pillow and riding out the intense waves. He licked at his lips and ran a hand over his face.
Ian slowly slid the sheet away, although he liked the look of it, sticky and used. He licked the softening member clean and sat back in his original position against the wall. He sat a bit closer to Mickey now, though.
"Was that a pity job?" Mickey finally asked, reaching for a new cigarette and barely getting his fingers to work on the lighter. He took a drag and passed it to Ian.
"No," he inhaled the smoke and let it out, "…that was me not complaining. I don’t care how big it is, as long as it keeps doing that."
Mickey smiled slightly around his next pull.