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Ian's tongue was his ally and knew how to extricate himself not only from difficult improvisations and life situations, but he also needed him in other matters.
Looking at Gallagher's tongue, Mickey sometimes felt like it was designed to lick, suck, do crazy things to his body, and then hold on to his teeth.
Mickey loved it when the redhead guy's tongue met his, intertwining like snakes for the right to take precedence. Ian's tongue has always won, taking possession of the stranger, taking him in a hot prisoner, sucking, pulling, pushing deeper, taking his breath away. Mickey moans into the kiss, breathing heavily. Long fingers, entwined with rings, intertwine with him, squeeze, press into a soft mattress, and a long tongue switches to the man’s neck, licks the Adam’s apple, biting his teeth, slides further: to the wreath, carotid artery, tongue feels for a pulse, licks, kisses, and then teeth are used, leaving marks, and the tongue immediately licks them. Mickey arches, groans, clenching his hands into fists, breathes heavily, watching from under lowered eyelashes how a foreign tongue passionately, imperiously circles over the beads of the nipples, covers them with his lips, sucks, bites, pulls and again touches them with his tongue, forcing the body bend under it, moan. Ian pulls away and then blows on them, making them tense even more, causing sweet pain.
"Bite... more... yes-ah," someone else's lips whisper incoherently, and the fair-haired head again bends over the wet beads to take them into her mouth again, biting and licking. Mickey whines, twitches his immobilized wrists, resting his cock on Gallagher's thigh. But the game is just getting started.
A long tongue frantically licks the collarbones, sometimes teeth are used, bite into a sweet pain that makes you rush around the bed under a hot body, moan louder, breathe faster. The wet track stretches further, causing goosebumps and trembling throughout the body.
Ian pulls away for only a second, pulling his own belt out of the belt loops on his jeans, and the long tongue crawls into someone else's mouth again, feeling like a full-fledged master there, while long arms make a loop out of the belt, tightening the older man's wrists, and fixing the other edge at the head of the bed.
The tongue does not stop for a minute, licking the tightened belly, pelvic bones, stretches lower under the elastic band of the boxers, and then the long fingers sharply pull off the extra piece of clothing.
Mickey licks his burning lips, watching how the alien tongue slowly moves down his penis from top to bottom - and back, touching every wreath, every fold, licks the salty head, sucks, penetrates the urethra.
The man from below breathes angrily, bites his lips, leans forward with his hips, forcing the guy to grab his cock with his lips, absorbing almost half, but the sweetest is yet to come.
The tongue slides down, licks the tight balls, sucks and returns to the oozing cock again.
“Ian…” Mickey arches, trembling, watching a barely perceptible smirk twist his lips. Of course, Ian knows what he needs, but he deliberately torments, excites, enjoying the groans and power over the desired body.
Long fingers clasp the partner's hips, squeeze the buttocks, force them to open up, and then hot lips press against the tight ring of muscles, suck, circle with their tongue, touching the sphincter, slowly penetrating inside.
Mickey screams, arches, tightening the belt until it hurts, hisses, feeling how the guy's long tongue takes possession of him completely. The mind becomes foggy, and there is almost nothing to breathe, it seems that the air has turned into red-hot lava. Following the tongue, the middle finger slides into the tight entrance, stretching the walls.
"Fuck, ah-ah-ah-ah!" Mickey whines, twitches his wrists, trembles in strong hands, painfully squeezing his hips, which he tries to reduce, dying of wild passion, and his tongue moves faster, sharper, penetrates deeper along with already two fingers. It pierces like a spear, makes you scream, moan, arch, sit down on someone else's tongue, digging your nails into your own palms.
Ian growls, smacks his lips, licks furiously, fucks with his tongue and three fingers deeper, sharper, to sweet pain, to moans of pleasure. With the other hand, he jerks off, abruptly pulls away and turns the man on his stomach, forcing him to kneel; sharply hits the elastic buttocks with his palm, backhand, one, two, three, not reacting to the screams, roughly pushing them apart and again falling with his lips to the hot passage, pushing his tongue and three fingers, and with the other hand continuing to jerk, enjoy the muffled groans, the bends of the wide sweaty back, continues to work his tongue, which, like the tip of a spear, pierces the stretched entrance, disappearing there almost half, and then Ian pulls away, and the man arches, his own ass feeling the heat of someone else's cock. Ian takes him hard - he pushes sharply to the full length, knocking out all the air from his lungs, grabs his hair, pulls him back, pushes forward sharply, cramming his lover into a soft mattress.
“Ian… I’m… mmm now!” The man shudders as he cums on the tangled sheets as he feels Ian cum and stretches out on the bed, laughing nervously.
A long, wet tongue trails across his cheek, and Ian leans back against the pillows, fumbling for cigarettes on the nightstand, lighting a cigarette and undoing a knot in his belts.
Mickey hisses, rubbing his wrists, and then takes the cigarette from the one lying next to him and puffs on it himself.
"And you're delicious even there. I feel your skin on the tip of my tongue." The guy leans down, taking the cigarette away, and again weaves their tongues with the taste of cigarette smoke.