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dynamic-power · 7 months

Text

Coming Soon to Home Video

Here's my second kinktober fic!

You can read it here on ao3

This is for the bingo spaces Masturbation and Video, plus a free space with Edgeplay. Which means I've got my first bingo!

Rated E

Words: 2.5k

CW: sex tapes; mutual masturbation; spit kink; anal sex; edgeplay

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The second time he hears a suspicious sounding moan coming from Mickey’s phone, Ian looks over the top of his own. Mickey is lying across the couch, holding his phone over his face. Ian can only see his naked top half from where he is, but he can tell Mickey’s whole body is squirming.

Ian hears his own voice, followed by the deeper sound of Mickey’s reply. He can’t make out words, but he still has a good idea about exactly what Mickey is looking at.

“Whatcha watchin’?” he asks anyway.

“Nothin’,” Mickey grunts back over the sound of his own laughter. It’s a lie and they both know it. Mickey doesn’t look up at Ian as he crosses the room, pausing at the arm of the couch where Mickey’s feet are tucked beneath a pillow. Ian grabs it and tosses it at Mickey. His husband grunts as the pillow lands on his stomach, finally looking up at Ian. “What?” he snaps.

Ian hears himself say, “roll over, baby, let me see your ass,” and he grins. “I said,” he catches the pillow as Mickey chucks it back at him and throws it behind him, “what are you watching?”

“Fuck, Ian.”

Mickey’s face is flushed and the hand that isn’t holding the phone reaches down to cup his dick through his boxers. He lays his phone on his chest and Ian hears himself curse. Mickey smirks up at Ian. “Wanna see?”

“Fuck yeah,” Ian says, shoving at Mickey’s feet. “Move over.”

Mickey sits up and Ian drops down beside him, close enough that their thighs press together. Mickey turns the volume all the way up as he tilts the screen and his moans fill the room.

“Another.”

Ian has Mickey on his elbows and knees with his ass towards the camera. The angle isn’t perfect, but they’d managed to prop the phone up on the dresser and had turned themselves in a way that the camera catches it all. Ian’s got one hand spreading Mickey’s cheeks and two fingers of the other are buried in Mickey’s hole.

There’s something about seeing it on video that is almost as obscene as seeing it in person.

“I have a great ass,” Mickey comments.

Ian laughs. “Yeah, Mick, you really do.”

Ian presses a third finger into Mickey and they both let out satisfied sounds. Ian leans over Mickey’s back and says something, not loud enough for the camera to have picked it up, but whatever it is makes them both laugh. Mickey’s laughter dissolves into a whine as Ian crooks his fingers.

It’s watching this, the familiarity and ease they’ve found with each other, even in such intimate moments, that has Ian hardening in his jeans. What they have is so good, and getting to see the visual proof of that seems to be doing it for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mickey slip his hand into his boxers. Ian undoes his belt and gets his pants open.

“Think that’s enough?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Wanna flip over?”

“Nah, I wanna see what we look like with my ass up.”

Ian growls as he grips Mickey’s hips, leaning over him again. He murmurs again and Mickey makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh.

“Were you serious?” Mickey asks. His hand is working himself over slowly. The tip of his cock is leaving a damp mark in the front of his boxers and it takes Ian a moment to realize what Mickey is asking him. “About getting a mirror to hang in the bedroom?”

That is what Ian had said, what had made Mickey laugh. “Fuck yes,” Ian says, rutting his own clothed dick into his palm with a hum. “That would be so fucking hot, fucking you in front of it.”

The phone tips as Mickey lays it down on Ian’s jean-clad thigh just long enough to shuck his boxers off and kick them away. Ian looks over, eagerly taking in the sight of Mickey’s naked form. His hard cock is laying against his soft, plush belly, the tip red and wet and drooling precum into the hair below his navel. Ian wants to get off the couch and kneel between Mickey’s legs, get his mouth around him and suck him down, but he also wants to watch the video, so he stays put.

Mickey props the phone up again with his free hand. Once it’s off his own leg, Ian shifts his hips up enough to get his jeans and briefs down to mid-thigh. He glances back at the screen in time to see-

- Ian grips the base of his dick with one hand, keeping Mickey’s ass spread with the other, and guides himself to his hole. There’s only a moment of resistance before the tip slides in and Ian and Mickey both moan -

- Ian and Mickey both moan, the chorus of four voices filling the room. Ian is about to dig into the cushions for their hidden tube of lube, but before he can, Mickey leans forward. Ian watches, fascinated and extremely turned on, as Mickey lets saliva collect on his tongue and drip from his mouth. His spit lands on the head of his cock, drips down the underside towards his balls. There’s a string connecting his mouth to his length, until his tongue swipes at his bottom lip. He uses his hand to spread his spit, making his next strokes a little smoother. He leans back against the couch, eyes on his phone, but Ian can’t tear his eyes from Mickey.

It’s filthy and fucking sexy as shit and Ian doesn’t realize he’s said anything out loud until Mickey looks at him again, grinning.

“That get you hot, Gallagher?”

“Everything you do gets me hot,” Ian grumbles back at him. He finally, finally, gets his hand around his length and gives himself a few rough tugs.

“Fuck, Mick, so fucking tight. You were made for this dick, weren’t you?”

Ian has a hand on Mickey’s hip and the other tracing shapes on his back. He’s set up a steady pace and already Mickey is matching it, thrust for thrust, pushing back into Ian. It’s not too rough or too soft, just familiar.

They look fucking great together; that familiarity bleeds into every movement. This is two people who know each other’s bodies intimately, know how to give and take pleasure, and love every minute of it. This is Ian and his fucking husband.

“Ah, fuck, E, right there. There, there, shit.”

Ian reaches beneath the cushion, grabbing the lube. Mickey might be fine using spit and pre like they’re still sixteen, but Ian prefers the small luxuries provided by being an adult. He warms it in his palm before stroking himself again. It’s smoother now. Warm, syrupy pleasure replaces the rough scratch and he moans, settling back into the couch. Mickey is still jerking himself slowly, eyes trained on their video.

“Can I-” Ian starts, reaching his empty hand towards Mickey’s cock, but he’s cut off when his husband pushes his hands away.

“Nuh uh, tough guy,” Mickey chides without looking at him. “You’re supposed to be watchin’ , not touchin’.”

Now that he’s been told no, Ian desperately wants it. He wants to envelop Mickey’s small hand in his own, stroke him together, get his own hand covered in the mess of spit and precum that Mickey has made of himself.

“Keep up with me,” Mickey says. It takes Ian’s pleasure addled brain a moment to realize what Mickey means, but when he does, he obeys, stroking himself at the same pace as Mickey, up and down and up and down-

“Wait, wait.”

Mickey and Ian both pause, holding their breath.

Ian halts his thrusts. “What?”

“Wanna see you.”

Ian chuckles and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “such a romantic.” He pulls out, cock bobbing as the tip slips free. Mickey’s hole gapes for a moment, clenches a couple times, before he rolls himself onto his back. His thighs immediately wrap around Ian’s waist and he makes grabby hands at Ian.

“C’mere.”

Ian doesn’t need to be told twice, sinking back into the heat of Mickey’s body. They can kiss now, and they do. The sounds of their mouths almost drown out the sound of Ian’s hips hitting Mickey’s ass.

The new angle means that Mickey’s leg blocks the view of where Ian’s cock is splitting him open, so the new focus is Ian and the muscles of his ass and thighs as they start fucking again.

Mickey’s fist speeds up, dragging Ian’s attention away from the phone. He speeds his own hand up, losing pace with Mickey to instead twist around his head every few strokes, getting his own precum mixed with the lube.

“Fuck,” Mickey grunts. The tip of his dick is turning a dark red and his whole body is writhing and his knuckles are turning white around the phone. He’s close, Ian can tell, and he’s glad for it. His own pleasure is mounting, heat turning in his gut, and he’s not sure how much longer he can go before he comes.

But then Mickey is removing his hand, letting his erection bob against his torso again.

“Ian,” Mickey says sharply. It’s a command , a direction, and Ian huffs out a whine as he does as he’s told, letting go of his own cock. It twitches and his hips cant up in a fruitless search for the lost friction. But then Mickey says, “good boy,” and it’s worth it. He shuts his eyes and sinks into the warmth of that small bit of praise.

“Wanna change it up one more time?”

“Fuck. Uh, yeah.”

“You’re not too close?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Wanna see you ride me.”

“Fuck,” Mickey moans, drawing the word out for a few beats. “Yes, yes, want that.”

At this point, they’ve forgotten the camera entirely, rolling to the wrong direction and cutting half of themselves out of the frame.

Ian doesn’t care; he’s too focused on Mickey’s twitching fingers, waiting to come down from their near shared orgasm enough to start up again. Mickey’s eyes are still trained on the phone, and he grins at it. “Gonna have to film it again, we missed the best part.”

“What a shame,” Ian says absently. He really couldn’t care less about the damn video, he just wants-

Mickey nods, and Ian growls again as they both grip their own dicks. Ian matches Mickey’s pace again. He’s panting by the time Mickey spits into his palm. He wants to snark about the lube that’s still within arms reach, but then he feels the rolling wave of his climax approaching again. He holds it off, waits for Mickey to tell him to come.

“Hands off,” Mickey says, and Ian lets out a devastated groan as he does what he’s told. Half of his mind is pleased to see Mickey is doing the same, edging himself just like he’s edging Ian, but the other half just wants to come . “One more, E, one more and then you can come, okay?”

“Okay,” he grinds out. His pulse is racing, his cock is throbbing, his balls are tight, and all he wants is to come, but he can do one more for Mickey.

Mickey gives him the go-ahead too soon, and it only takes a few strokes for him to be staring over the edge of that glorious cliff again. This time, he lets go a moment before Mickey tells him to, body screaming at him as he avoids his orgasm one last time. Everything is on fire; his fingers are tingling, his limbs feel heavy already, his stomach is tense. He squirms as he glances at the phone one last time.

Only one of Mick’s thighs is visible, and the thick muscle is trembling as he works himself on Ian’s cock. Ian’s hand is everywhere; his hip, his ribs, his hair, his calf. Soothing every overworked muscle that he can.

Any words that may have been falling from Mickey’s mouth have been replaced by the little, “ah, ah, ahs” that mean he’s close. Ian has devolved to moans, too, though his own sounds are hard to hear over Mickey’s.

“Come for me,” Mickey tells him, and Ian only has to stroke himself one, two, three times before he’s coming, hard, ropes of cum painting his shirt. His vision spots as wave after wave of intense heat roll through his whole body. He continues to fuck into his fist, drawing out every bit of pleasure he can, before he sinking into the couch, completely boneless.

He looks over at Mickey.

He’s abandoned the phone, dropped it to the floor, and is staring at Ian’s spent cock and soiled shirt. He grunts as his hips fuck up into his fist, no real rhythm, just a desperate chase of his own release.

Ian finds just enough energy to push himself up, twist himself down until he’s knelt in between Mick’s thighs, and wraps his mouth around the tip of his cock.

His eyes squeeze shut as he comes, shooting off into Ian’s mouth. Ian takes it all, savors the familiar taste of him, swallows. As Mickey comes down from his high, Ian laps at his softening dick, adding his own spit to the mess of Mickey’s groin rather than doing anything to clean him up.

“Fuck,” Mickey says, nudging Ian’s head away with a laugh.

Ian finally kicks away his pants and peels himself out of his sticky shirt. “Any notes?”

“Not on my masturbation technique,” Ian says, hoisting himself off the floor and settling into Mickey’s lap instead, straddling his thighs. Mickey winces as their soft cocks drag together, near painfully sensitive. Ian loops his arms around his shoulders, delving his fingers into Mickey’s hair and messing it up more. “On the video.”

“On what?” Mickey asks, blinking down at him. His cheeks are pink and his hair is a little disheveled and the blue of his eyes has been almost entirely swallowed by his dark pupils. He’s beautiful . “You hardly did anything other than touch yourself .”

“Oh.” Mickey considers it for a moment. “That angle works if you’re taking me from behind, but we gotta work on how to catch other positions.”

“A mirror will help.”

“Fuck yes.”

Ian glances down at the phone, abandoned on the floor.

They’re in the middle of a good post-coital cuddle. Mickey’s on his stomach, and his ass is just visible, Ian’s cum leaking from his hole. The only part of Ian’s body that can be seen is his hand, drifting across Mickey’s back in mindless loops, occasionally dipping down to feel his spend in Mickey’s ass.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be expecting a round 2, Firecrotch.”

“We should turn your camera off.”

Mickey’s head whirls up, eyes comically large as he stares directly at the camera. He collapses back down in a heap of giggles. “I’d completely forgotten about that.”

“I’m sure you’ll make good use of it later.”

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Thanks again to @gallavichthings! I'm having a ton of fun with these.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #fanfiction ao3 #kinktober 2023 #dyno writes

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