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“You’re such a dumbass.” He mumbles as he wanders into the kitchen. Ian’s cooking breakfast—eggs, toast, and coffee.
“The fuck did you just say?” Ian turns around, setting the spatula down on the counter.
“I said that you’re a fucking dumbass.” He repeats, louder, and grabs one piece of already buttered toast.
“Put that down.” Ian scolds as he takes a bite.
“Too late.”
“What’s your fucking issue?”
“I don’t have one; you’re just a dumbass.”
“Why would you say that?”
“What is this, therapy? You look fuckin stupid cooking breakfast like that. That’s why I said it.” He turns around and heads for the coffee pot.
“Well it’s not like you’re gonna cook it. Would you rather starve?” He asks as he crowds him against the counter.
“Shut up, man, I’m over it now.” He tries to push past Ian, but he grabs his wrist and tugs him back.
“You can’t just start a fight and walk away.”
“I didn’t start shit; you’re the one who keeps talking about it. You’re an Alpha and you look stupid cooking me breakfast. That’s it.” He tries to tug his arm free from his grasp.
Ian’s fingers tighten around his wrist and he presses his thumb into his pulse point. “And then I asked if you’d rather starve. There’s nothing wrong with me cooking if you suck at it.” His voice is low as a warning but Mickey ignores it, struggling to take his arm back.
“Fuck you, I don’t suck at it.” He shoves at Ian’s chest.
Ian reaches around with his free hand and grabs Mickey’s hair. He tugs, hard. “Stop struggling, Mykola.”
Mickey snorts and slams his knee into Ian’s stomach. He takes advantage of his distraction to get away from the counter. He has about two seconds before Ian recovers and makes his move. He whips around just as Ian reaches for him. He takes a handful of Mickey’s shirt and pulls him close. His free hand curls in the back of his hair and he clenches it in his fist. It hurts. It hurts enough that his eyes feel wet.
Ian is dangerously close, nose brushing nose, and his eyes are dark in what Mickey is familiar with as his “Alpha Look”. “The fuck is your problem, huh?”
“The fuck is my problem? The fuck is your problem, asshole?” Ian’s hand flattens on his shirt and then wraps around his upper arm.
And it hits him. It hits him before Ian can say anything. It’s all fun and games until the Alpha comes out to play. He bruised Ian’s Alpha pride and now he’s being punished. Oh shit.
He’s heard about it happening. He thinks Terry might’ve said some stupid shit about it when he was younger. When an Alpha’s Omega does something to actually upset the Alpha, it'll punish the Omega.
“Oh hell no, get the fuck off me, asshole.” He pushes at Ian’s chest and is about to knee him in the balls when the hand in his hair tightens even more. “Ow, fuck, shit. Get off of me, shithead.”
“Shut up.” Oh not this again. God dammit. Of course Ian would fuckin use this. “Go to the bedroom, strip, and wait for me on the bed.” Mickey stares at him hard for a long time. He’s definitely sleeping on the couch for a fucking year when he comes back to himself.
But he has to do it. He does do it. He feels shame and embarrassment burn his face and in his chest as he walks to the bedroom. He strips his clothes from his body, throwing them in the hamper because he doesn’t want to give Ian’s Alpha any more incentive to be upset with him. He sits on the bed and stares at the door.
He stares at the door for what feels like hours. What feels like days. What feels like years. And he loses his sense of time. He watches the door for so long that he has no idea how much time has passed, if any at all.
And then Ian is there. He threads his fingers through Mickey’s hair and tugs gently to get his attention. He sits next to him on the edge of the bed, “I want you across my lap.”
He could say no, he realizes. Obviously Ian hasn’t completely lost himself to biology. He doesn’t want to say no, he realizes. And it’s not that he wants Ian to stop being upset with him. He’s just really fucking curious as to what he’s planning on doing.
So he lays himself across Ian’s lap and waits. And it’s so awkward when Ian starts rubbing his hand along his ass. “What the fuck?” He blurts and is about to sit up when the first one comes.
The sound resonates through the room. It sounded worse than it really was, he thinks. It stings, though. His ass cheek stings like it’s been spanked and at the moment he can’t remember if he’d ever been spanked as a child.
And then another one comes. And another. And another. And as Ian continues the spankings, the harder he smacks. It hurts worse with each one. But holy fuck he’s totally rock hard right now. He’s so hard and he wonders if it’s got to do with his own body reacting to the dominant pheromones Ian’s putting out right now. He can’t be sure.
Ten. He counted. He was spanked ten times. And now Ian is rubbing his ass again and he’s rocking his dick against Ian’s leg. It kinda burns a little because he’s got jeans on and that’s not the softest material to rub your dick against but who cares? He’s fucking horny. “Are you gonna fuck me?” He breathes, finally.
Ian freezes above him, fingers dangerously close to his crack. Dangerously close to his hole. And he wishes he were close to a heat because then he’d be wet enough to do this without much preparation. “Do you want me to?”
“Do you not feel my fuckin dick against your leg?” Apparently Ian’s back.
“I just… though you’d be upset.”
“Ian, shut up and fuck me.”
“Yep.”
Mickey sits up and pulls at Ian’s clothing. He glances down at Ian’s own erection straining against his jeans. He wonders how the hell he didn’t notice that.
Ian grabs at him, pulling him close and their lips together. Tongues and teeth and spit and Ian why the hell aren’t you naked yet!?
“Fuck.” He gasps for air as they pull away and Ian flips him onto his stomach, spreading him. “Ian, shit.” His tongue flirts with the rim of his asshole. It’s wet and warm but cold at the same time and it feels so good. So good but not enough.
He flattens his tongue and drags it all the way up to his lower back. Mickey feels his hole twitch. “Shit, do something, Ian.”
“Do what, Mick?” But that’s not what he wanted. He didn’t want Ian to take his tongue away, he just wants more.
“Anything, just get on with it.”
He goes back to teasing, though. He licks along Mickey’s reddened ass cheeks and then flicks his tongue once, twice, three times against his hole. “Tell me what you want.”
“Shit, I don’t care, just more.” He sounds like such a bitch.
Ian hums low in his throat and then he hears the snap of a cap. The lube is cold on Ian’s finger when he pushes against the resistance of his muscles. The stretch burns but Ian’s so skilled in finding his prostate that it doesn’t hurt about point two seconds later.
He fucks himself back on that finger. He fucks himself on that finger so hard that he feels gapingly open when Ian removes it to add the second one. And then he fucks himself back on those two as well. “Fuck, Mick, slow down.” Ian mumbles behind him and uses his free hand to brush along his dick.
One more finger pushes in beside the other and works him open. It doesn’t burn anymore, it just feels like a hindrance. He wants a dick. He wants Ian’s dick. He wants more than the fingers jabbing at his prostate.
“Wanna suck you off.” He manages to say when Ian removes his fingers again.
“Let me finish prepping you.”
“No, Ian, now.” He demands, staring behind him.
He sighs but moves away, “Come on then, suck me off.”
Mickey grunts as he shifts. His ass is slicked wet with lube and it rubs together in a really uncomfortable way, but he ignores it. He ignores in turn for Ian’s dick. And fuck he loves the way he tastes. Loves the way his smell invades his nose and the way his cock is hot and hard and heavy on his tongue. He licks over the precome greedily and Ian snorts something that sounds a lot like “you’re such a fucking slut for it” but he’s too far gone.
He blames his biology for how needy he gets during sex. He blames his biology for the way he craves Ian’s cock in him wherever he can get it and how impatient he is.
He sucks down whatever fluid his head releases and brings his hand up to fondle at his balls. Ian grunts and he would smirk if his mouth wasn’t full of dick. “Fuck Mickey.” Ian groans.
He brushes his teeth gently against the head as he pulls off, “Fuck me now, Gallagher.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Mickey waits for Ian. Watches for Ian. Ian grabs him and pushes him onto his back. Oh fuck, he hates it like this. Ian grabs their bottle of lube and rubs it over himself. He glances down and watches as Ian sinks into him. He watches as he swallows Ian up. “Oh fuck.” He groans.
Ian’s long and thick and he feels full. He feels full of cock and wants to present. He wants to push himself onto his knees and show Ian what a good Omega he can be. He wants to have Ian pound into him at an unforgiving pace.
But Ian slips in slowly and then pulls out slowly. He snaps back trying to get him to go faster but Ian presses against one hip to push him into the mattress. “Stop,” His voice is low and breathy.
“Come on, Ian, fuck me.”
“I’m going to, just be fucking patient.”
He’s trying. The slip and slide of the lube and Ian’s dick is stimulating but not enough. He wants Ian to press against his prostate. Right against it in a way that will always be too much. And he wants Ian to take his dick and jerk him off because he feels like he’s been on edge forever. “Faster, come on.”
“Wait, you’re still too tight.” He says.
He looks down to watch instead. His own cock is red and swollen. It’s twitching with need and oozing precome. He reaches in between to jerk himself off. He gets one, two strokes before his Alpha swats his hand away. “Fucking wait, Mickey. I know where you need to go and I’ll get you there, just fucking wait.”
He looks passed his own penis to watch Ian’s. The small dusting of red curls is what he first sees and then his shaft moving in and out and in and out. He can't see the stretch of his hole but he can sure feel it. He can imagine the way he looks, spread open and grasping onto Ian.
Finally, finally, he starts to move for real. He snaps his hips forward so suddenly that it startles a moan from Mickey. “Fuck yes.” He gurgles and Ian reaches for his dick.
He changes angles and then he’s hitting his prostate too much. It’s too much and he really wants to cum but he won’t. He wants to wait but it’s really hard. His cock is really fucking hard, too. “God, you’re so hot like this. So fucking hot.” He looks up at Ian who’s flushed red with arousal and slick with sweat.
“Shit, gonna cum.”
“Do it.” Ian groans in response and speeds up. He does. He comes hard and fast and all over and it’s a fucking mess. And then Ian follows. And he realizes they forgot a condom.
“Shit,” He breathes as he feels it fill him. It’s warm and wet and when Ian pulls out he feels it trickled down his thighs.
“Forgot the condom.”
“Good thing I'm on birth control.” He mumbles and shifts closer to Ian who’s lying beside him.
He hums his agreement and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You wanna take a shower so I can clean you up?”
“Mm, yeah. Don’t ever fuckin do that weird Alpha thing again, though, okay?”
“You liked it.”
“Fuck off.”