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Everything was silent. The proceedings a blur. Mickey barely acknowledged the Judges words. Or heard the bang of the gavel. Too busy trying to block out Mandy's sobs. He caught his sister’s eye, nodding, attempting to reassure her and silently tell her that everything would be OK. Because she was free. And that's all that mattered.
----
Mickey had already felt the sting of that cold, hard, metal against his wrists before. Although most major crimes were committed by alphas, Mickey had spent time in juvie. Mixed in with omegas and betas of course, always separated from the alphas. Even if you're a convicted criminal, the state had a duty of care and allowing alpha prisoners to mix with omegas or betas, well they might as well just execute you right there in court.
And so, the state of Illinois had two main prisons, the smaller being solely for omegas and betas, housed on two separate wings. While the much larger (and much more secure) "c-max" prison, housed alphas. Mickey had visited various siblings and cousins over the years, even visited his dear old dad too. Mostly at the "c-max", considering the large majority of Milkovich men are alphas. Mickey being the exception.
Luckily for him, his official status as a beta meant he would escape that hellhole. Not that Mickey was a pussy, far from it. But the tales he had heard, would send shivers up the spines of even the hardest, toughest mother fuckers around. His own father would joke about raping and stabbing and generally terrorising the cell blocks. It was kill or be killed, from what he could tell, with gang violence often overlooked by the guards.
He must have dozed off on the bus, which was surprisingly empty, transporting only himself and two other inmates. They looked terrified, and while Mickey was pretty damn scared too, he wasn't about to show it. That was, until he noticed the signposts outside. The bus wasn't heading in the direction he was expecting.
"Wait, where are we going," he called out to the guard, "this isn't the way, you fucking lost or something?"
The reply came in the form of a hard slap to the face, which knocked him sideways. The burly alpha guard brought his face close to his, Mickey attempting to stretch out his throbbing jaw.
"It's your lucky day, Milkovich, special orders. Consider this karma. You really think you could hide it forever? That Terry could hide that shit? Thing is, he made a lot of enemies, including the warden, so guess who requested your sweet little ass," the guy brought his mouth to his ear now, chuckling darkly, whispering, "your omega ass".
----
Panic set in. All three prisoners were struggling, shouting, trying to escape but it was no use. The other two men were taken in a different direction, leaving Mickey alone, and at the mercy of the asshole who had just hit him. He knew. Mickey accepted that there was no use in denying it. But that didn't mean he had to play nice and make it easy on them.
"Fuck you," he spat, attempting to head-butt the guard, "this is illegal, you can't do this, fucking kidnapping, people will know, my family...."
A dark laugh rang out, "your family? Who do you think kept the warden informed of your case? You killed your own father, Mickey. You really think the rest of the Milkovich clan are happy about that? You really are an omega, so naive, so stupid. So fucked".
He was dragged forward, towards the imposing, bleak looking, grey building. His head swimming, as he thought of Mandy, she cared, she would never have betrayed him.
"My sister will be coming to visit, how do you expect to explain this?" he muttered, feeling defeated already because seemingly this wasn't the first time the prison had done this.
"There's always explanations, no visitations this week due to lockdown, flu going around, Mickey had an accident and is in the infirmary. Oh no, Mickey had a really bad accident and has gone bye-bye".
The asshole, whose uniform said "Thorne", cackled and caught his eye again, shoving him through the first security door. "People don't kick up a fuss. Especially for poor, trash from the South Side. Do you know how much a good lawyer costs these days? Guessing not, seen as you're here".
"You can't just make people disappear". He argued, though his fight was wavering, knowing that assholes in positions of power could do whatever the fuck they wanted. And usually, they got away with it too.
"Not people, just you. Those other two, the real betas, they got jobs to do. As long as they keep their heads down, they'll get out of here. Eventually," another sharp laugh, "you on the other hand, Mikhailo, you're all the way fucked. And I mean that in all ways. Terry fucked shit up for the warden, rocked the boat, messed with the order of things, got the other crews all roiled up. They need to be appeased. You, you're the peace offering. Terry's death, not enough, the warden needed something extra special, and Terry's omega bitch son...well, there's gonna be a welcoming party for you, pal".
----
Keep it together, he repeated, over and over in his head, as he was manhandled through corridor after corridor, room after room. Begrudgingly handing over his belongings and getting a yellow jumpsuit shoved into his chest.
"I said fucking strip," Thorne barked out, smirking, a second guard standing next to him. Both alphas eyeing him fiercely, lips twitching, almost curved into a snarl. Mickey had been taking his meds regularly, to mask his scent and block his heats, so he knew his omega nature was hidden. But in a matter of weeks, they would wear off. And he shivered when he thought about the consequences.
"You fucking deaf, I said strip or I'll do it for you". With trembling hands Mickey started to remove his clothes, a smart blue shirt and black pants that Mandy had helped him pick out for the court. He sniffed back tears, determined to save face in front of these assholes. But as he revealed more and more of his pale skin, the two alphas inched closer, eyes wide, mouths open.
"Even now you smell fucking good," Thorne growled, his voice low and threatening, "don't think the warden will mind us having a little taste..."
He made to step forward, Mickey backing up, preparing to fight for his life when the door behind the guards flew open.
"Who said you speak for me?" A suited man, with salt and pepper hair and glasses spoke, eyes briefly taking in Mickey's appearance but not lingering. He stared down Thorne and his companion, a much younger guard called "Ryan". "Mickey, please, get dressed. We have much to discuss".
----
His blue eyes swept around the large and surprisingly fancy office. The warden, Phillip Monroe, was a reasonably handsome man. Early 50's, slightly greying hair, steely ice-blue eyes, sleazy wide grin. He had the look of a politician, a snake, a man not to be trusted. And Mickey had noticed how the guards instantly obeyed his commands. Yeah, he was completely terrified and uneasy sitting there, in that dark-red leather armchair.
"So, Thorne explained why you're here? Don't worry, the guards won't mess with you, I've ordered them not to. You're not here for them". That sleazy, dangerous looking grin again.
"Great. So it's just the thousands of crazy inmates I have to worry about. If you think I'm gonna cry or beg or crack, you got me wrong. Fine, I admit it, I'm omega. Guessing you've known that for awhile. Was Terry's idea to hide it, you can imagine why," he snorted, "didn't think I could pass for alpha so settled on beta. How the fuck did you find out anyway?"
"Prisoners talk. Somebody told somebody about a rumour...rumours spread...and Terry's reaction, well it was volatile. Shanked anyone who spoke about it. About you. I looked into it. Asked around. Money can buy anything. Even secrets".
"Fucking great. And you think no one will miss me, ask questions of their own," he laughed dryly, "you can't actually think you'll get away with this?"
"Have before. No one will miss you, Mickey. Perhaps that pretty, brunette sister of yours. But we wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would we. You play ball, play nice with your new friends and maybe you'll get to see her again. But make trouble, inside or outside these walls, and it's not just your own ass you need to worry about".
"Friends huh, that what you call rapists in this joint? You think I'm just gonna bend over, I'm nobody's bitch, especially not yours".
Monroe simply stared back at him for a moment before rising to his feet. He came round the table and gripped Mickey by the chin, forcing his mouth open.
"Really do have a mouth on you. Heard you gave the arresting officers a hard time. The sooner you accept this, Mickey, the better. Your ass belongs to me now. And your time can go the hard way or the fucking brutal, wish you were dead way. Your choice".
To hammer home just how hopeless his situation was, Monroe opened a large envelope and spilled a series of photographs across the table. Images of him and Mandy, mostly of Mandy. At the salon where she worked, at the coffee shop she loved to visit on her break, even pictures taken on her last date.
"Terry owes me. And I'm grateful he's gone, thank you for that Mickey. I hope it hurt when you shot him, five times I believe? But the thing is, he almost destroyed the order of things in here, tried to take over. Thought he was the man in charge, not me. Gave the other big dicks in here ideas, notions. Ones that are above their station. I need to restore that order. News of his death helped, but I need a peace offering. A gesture of goodwill. Once the prisoners get back in line, we can get back to how it used to be. A mutual understanding".
Mickey raised his eyebrow, almost chuckling at the bullshit he was peddling, "So, basically Terry made you look weak, embarrassed you, that about right? Messed with your order; code for you turning a blind eye to their shit while they turn a blind eye to your shit? Which I'm guessing means what, you're helping them run drugs? Got some illegal sweatshop going on, something along those lines right? And Terry, asshole that he was, wouldn’t submit to your rules, wouldn’t bend the knee ‘cos he was an arrogant, greedy motherfucker who didn’t like to share. And the other big dicks, see this low-level Nazi fuck, standing up to the big boss man, demanding more, making them question the status quo..."
Mickey was silenced, with a full-fisted punch to the face, causing him to fall sideways out of the chair. As painful as it was, he enjoyed hitting that nerve and rattling the fucker.
"That's enough out of you. Good mind to break you in but the cartels were promised undamaged product," he smirked while gripping his face roughly again, "guess they'll have to excuse the bruises. Not like there won't be more of them to come".
----
Mickey walked tall, despite the terror he felt, and despite the impending danger he faced. He was painfully aware that he was likely the smallest guy in that prison, one with a particular type of scent, sweet and inviting. Least it would be, in time, as his meds wore off. Then the heats would come, and he wouldn't even care, he would want it, crave it, seek it out. Be grateful. Even now, the wolf whistles and shouts rang out, as he was led across the communal area and up the metal stairs, towards the row of cells. His eyes widened, when he came to an empty one.
"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of visitors, no chance of you getting lonely". Thorne laughed in his usual obnoxious way, before he pulled over the heavy door, slamming it shut with a loud, unsettling bang. It was only then he released the deep breath he had been holding. Fuck. The room, if you could call it that, was suffocating in how small it was. Just a bunk and a sink and a toilet. With the tiniest of windows above, barely allowing a hint of light. Mickey didn't do well in confined spaces, having been locked in cupboards and closets many times as a child by his cruel father. Just one of his forms of punishment.
But as he lay on that bottom bunk, counting in his head, then switching to naming the states in alphabetical order - an attempt to remain calm- it wasn't that cell that terrified him. It was what lay outside. The noise. The voices. The threats. The prisoners. It had been made crystal clear, he was now fresh meat. The latest play thing. A toy. And Mickey could fight it, his predicament, fend off his attackers. But only for so long. It was inevitable. His dark fate. A last parting gift from Terry Fucking Milkovich.
----
Mickey was woken to a buzzing sound, his cell door opening, the prison starting to wake. Thorne appeared, shouting “breakfast" as he walked by each cell, dragging his baton along the doors. He wasn't sure he had even slept properly, just dozed on and off, on alert, listening for the clink of his door opening. But he was left alone, for one night at least. He pulled on his yellow jumpsuit, zipping it right up, hoping that he could still pass as a beta.
But it seemed futile, considering a) the alphas wouldn't care, still viewing a beta as easy prey and b) it sounded like his secret was already out. Not that everyone knew his face, but Mickey wasn't stupid, he figured his name was already out there. Mikhailo Milkovich. The youngest son of Terry. The omega parading as a beta, the shame of his family. The Judas who had killed his own father. Yeah. Mickey was well and truly fucked.
----
He shuffled along, having been ordered out of his cell by Thorne. Mickey was hungry but would rather starve to death than enter the lions den. Fuckers didn't even let them use shoe laces, so he was already contemplating the ways he could do himself in. But then, Mandy would suffer, hate him, never forgive him. And it would be the easy way out. The cowards way. Terry having the last laugh. His omega bitch of a son too scared to take it up the ass. And the warden, that asshole Munroe. He'd see it as a win too, think of him as a pussy. Might even hurt Mandy out of spite for fucking up his plan.
No, Mickey would take whatever was thrown at him. With his head held high, with his smart mouth and his will power and his resilience. He'd been abused and degraded all his life. He could take a hit. And stay standing. He would never let anyone wear him down or break him. Not Terry. Not Munroe. And not some jumped up Al Capone wannabee. He might be omega but he was still a Milkovich after all.
----
Mickey remembered a time back in school when he was just this scruffy, scrawny little kid. Poor as fuck, always dirty and not very academic. So, he was a prime target for school bullies. Only, one day he snapped, kicked the biggest one right in the nuts, then pounded him with his fists until a teacher pulled him off. He was never picked on again. You're either the prey or the predator.
And suddenly, that communal area, was starting to look more and more like a schoolyard. Mickey just had to figure out who the biggest, baddest bully was and strike first. He ignored the expected comments, the lip licking, the low snarls and greedy eyes. The atmosphere was already starting to heat up, the alphas circling, waiting, barely restraining themselves. Mickey gripped his tray in his hands, an alpha on each side of him in the queue, dangerously close.
"Heard we were getting some pussy, fuck, can't wait to try that sweet ass out. And that mouth too. Gonna wreck you, pal, use you up real good". Despite his heart beating out of his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey managed to keep his cool. He expected this, posturing, threats. But they couldn't rape him right there in front of the kitchen staff and guards. Least, he hoped not.
"Hey, talking to you bitch," the guy put his hands on him now, turning him around, "that's right, you're gonna learn boy. You're nothing in here. Not Terry's kid. Not some errand boy. Not a beta. Yeah, word got around. You're just an omega bitch. Our bitch". Mickey felt his fear vanish, swiftly replaced by anger. That term. How he despised it. Been called it ever since he presented. By his father. His brothers. His uncles. Even his own mother sometimes. It was a trigger. Made him see red. And maybe it wasn't wise, maybe he would be killed on day one of his sentence. But in that moment, all he felt was blind rage.
"I'm no one's fucking bitch," he growled, before smashing the tray into the guys face. And then he was on him, gnashing with his teeth, not as sharp but still pretty deadly. His fists flying too. Until he was pulled off, another alpha holding him upright, his strong arms wrapped easily around his chest. The alpha he had struck rose to his feet, smirking, wiping blood from his lips before he landed a hard blow to his stomach. Winding him. Stealing the breath from his lungs.
"Got spirit and a strong arm for an omega, I like that. Like a bit of fight in my bitches when I fuck 'em. You can squirm and cry and struggle all you want, boy. Only makes it feel better". Another punch, to his face this time. And fuck, the pain was blistering, a bruise already formed there from his earlier interaction with Monroe. His head was woozy, the room spinning, blood trickled out of his mouth.
"Alright, you've had your fun," it was a different voice, not Thorne’s, younger, maybe Ryan's, "you know the rules, no fighting out here. Sit and eat or fuck off back to your cells". Mickey was released, slumping to the floor. Eyes blinking open to find the blond, boyish-looking guard watching him, a hint of pity there.
"Thanks," he whispered. Spitting blood onto the ground, and finally getting back on his feet. "Don't thank me, inmate. Just doing my job. Besides, I can't keep an eye on you all the time. And after breakfast, is shower time".
----
Mickey had tried his best to avoid it, to flee in the direction of his cell but no such luck. Thorne had blocked his way, telling him he had no choice in the matter, all inmates were to shower at the designated time. He'd opened his mouth to argue, when the asshole had pulled out his baton, forcing him into silence once more.
"Move," he ordered, tapping him on the back with the baton, propelling him forward. As he reached the large open shower room, Mickey felt it. Alphas. Pheromones. Heat. Power. Danger. He couldn't do this, no way. Strip off and parade around naked in front of what looked like thirty of them. But Thorne blocked the exit, Ryan trailing behind like usual but barely looking him in the eye.
But other eyes were on him now. So many pairs. Naked bodies which he hated to admit were causing a reaction, a stirring inside. Muscular, wet, glistening. All different types, pale, bronzed, scarred, tattooed. Some of the ink he recognised immediately, as gang tattoos, signifying the cartel they belonged to. Others, bore white supremacist symbols and he couldn't restrain the laughter that bubbled up inside.
"Wow, guess I really am special, bringing Mexican gang bangers and Nazi fucks together. Monroe was right, look at us all coming together in peace". One of them stepped forward, knocking off his shower head. And he looked vaguely familiar, Carlos something, he'd had some run ins with Terry. Then again, who hadn't.
"Think you mean pieces, Milkovich, least that's what we'll be doing to you. Taking you apart piece by piece". Others started to shut off the water above their own heads. But then Carlos (or whatever the fuck he was called) ordered some of the inmates to leave, those not affiliated to either gang. Some appeared put out, but mostly remained quiet as they passed by Mickey. Sniffing him off course, some even copping a quick feel. Assholes.
"See, only a few of us get the privilege. The top dogs. Munroe’s friends," Carlos continued, stepping closer, just a few feet away now. Mickey backed up but hit a wall, Thorne. Panic set in now, he was surrounded, no way out. And then they grabbed him, two alphas, lifting him over to the showers, tearing down his jumpsuit and shoving him onto his knees. Yet he forced out a smirk, determined not to show fear. The Mexican stood in front, hands slowly zipping down his own jumpsuit. Someone grabbed his arms and held them behind his back, while another gripped his black hair, lifting his head up.
"Now, I'm gonna fuck that smart mouth of yours and you're gonna take every last inch. Swallow every drop. Then my boys are gonna have their turn".
"Gotta warn you," he spat, "I can get a little bitey".
But the guy just laughed, before Mickey’s mouth was invaded. And that's what he hated about his status, his goddamn omega nature. He didn't want this. It was rough and unwanted, violent, an assault. But some tiny part of him, deep down inside reacted. Maybe the meds were already wearing off, but there was a slight hint of warmth in his gut and dampness between his legs. His body readying itself for the alphas. These rapist assholes who laughed while he spluttered and choked. Who called him a "bitch" and slapped his face and yanked on his head, forcing him to take more. Carlos fucked his mouth, grunting and growling, using him, degrading him. But then a Nazi fuck stepped closer, whispered in his ear and Carlos nodded. And the other alpha walked behind. Mickey knew of course, it was inevitable.
But still he struggled and he fought and tried to bite down but there were too many. Too many hands. And he was naked from the waist down, pushed onto all fours, being breached, violated in the worst way. The tears came now, no holding them back anymore. And the sick fucks laughed and cheered and high fived, as he was brutalised. Two down, maybe another ten to go. But he wasn’t counting, he was some place else. With Mandy. Safe. Happy. Free.
----
"You assholes know how it works".
A voice rang out, a different one. Deep, commanding, frightening. And surprisingly, they stopped. Pulled out. Mickey collapsed on the floor, automatically curling up into a ball.
"The fuck you talking bout Irish, he's ours, Monroe said..."
"Don't give a fuck what he said. I run the pussy in here. I say who fucks what and when. You run drugs, you run weapons or whatever the fuck you Nazi pricks do these days. Hoes are mine. All of em".
Mickey was barely keeping up, his body spent, but the atmosphere had changed. Snarls and growls were heard and he could smell them, stronger, ready to attack.
"Not him. Not this one. He was promised, as part of the deal. He's Terry's kid, you know. The omega. It's done. You can't go against the warden. You can't just waltz in here and take him".
A dark chuckle and then they were brawling, Mickey's eyes opening wider now. A redheaded alpha tearing chunks out of the Mexican cartel boss. But not enough to kill. A warning, to the others. They backed up now, hands in the air. The alphas eyes, green, but dark, his pink lips bloodied. Menacing, throaty growls still ringing out until his attackers fled, snatching up their clothes on the way out.
Then Mickey was left alone, with him. This stranger. A rescuer or another enemy? He wasn't sure. So he flinched away from his outstretched hand, big and pale and freckly. And he could see why he was called "Irish", something he'd normally joke about, if he wasn't naked and vulnerable.
"It's Mickey, right?"
And he dared to look up, at those green eyes, lighter now, mesmerising. And that face, freckled, and surprisingly attractive. A strong jaw but enough softness that he was almost too pretty for such a powerful alpha. He smiled, but not like those others, not a smirk, nothing sinister behind it.
"How'd you know..."
"I know everything. Especially when there's new blood. You hurt, injured, need help?"
Mickey could feel his eyebrow quirk up and he quickly pulled his clothes back on, "I'm fine. I mean, I'll be fine. Not your business anyway".
"Kinda is though. What I said to them, that's the truth. It's the only play I had, pull rank, in a manner of speaking".
"The fuck, so you're a pimp. Well, hate to break it to ya Red, but I'm not a hoe and I ain't looking for no pimp daddy. Got it?" A soft laugh reached his ears, and it was a pleasant, inviting sound. Somehow his body finally relaxed, feeling a little safer, like maybe this "Irish pimp" wasn't a rapist. Just an old fashioned sleaze bag.
"Mickey, you're an omega. In an alpha supermax prison. What other options have you got? I can protect you. From everyone else. You just fuck who you want to fuck. And occasionally, who I need you to fuck".
He snorted out a laugh, "are you fucking kidding me with this shit. You just saved me from that fucking gang bang, only to try and force me into other horrific shit. Ooh, my fucking hero. Here's my counter offer," he stood up, legs still a little wobbly but he tried to hide it. He faced him. Head tilted up. And as attractive as Red was, and smelling as good as did, Mickey stuck to his guns.
"I'm not a bitch for sale. So why don't you go fuck yourself instead, tough guy". He raised his eyebrows, challenging him. So over all this bullshit already. If he was going to die at the hands of some asshole alpha prisoner, he might as well just get it over with.
Red grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air and slamming him against the tiled wall. "Thought you'd be fucking grateful. You think I'm bad, I'm nothing compared to the rest of them out there. I'm offering you a choice here, some freedom, some protection. Unless you enjoy looking over your shoulder. I got rules, they don't. For them it's a free for all. People in my circle, they get taken care of. All I ask is for something in return".
"Yeah, my ass. Or my mouth. Rather die. Just do it," he squeezed on the alphas hands, who appeared surprised, "just get it over with 'cos I'm not gonna be anyone’s little bitch, alright. Not yours. Not anybody's. Been a bitch all my life. To Terry. My family. A fucking coward. Well no more, goddammit. Fuck all you alpha pricks, taking what you want, shitting all over everyone else. You're not all that, you're no better than us. Just bigger, stronger. Not better. Not better than me. You fucking hear me. So just fucking do what you assholes do and kill me already, 'cos I'm done being a slave". He trailed off. Only then realising the tears that were falling. And how the alpha had loosened his grip. His chest heaved up and down and those green eyes were dark again. And those sharp teeth were bared. Fuck, this was it. He'd grant his wish. Rip out his throat instead.
But then he rubbed up against Mickey, hard as a rock. Mouth buried in his neck, not kissing, just sniffing. Inhaling, deeply. "Fuck. You smell so good. You're incredible. I'd make some money off of you". Red tilted his chin up, "But I guess money isn't everything". Then he backed up. Confusing Mickey once again. He turned to leave but paused. "You coming or not, Milkovich. I'm sure I can find some other use for you. You are a convicted felon after all".
"Wait, what?"
A faint sigh, the sound of a frustrated man, "look, I heard you. Nice little speech, made me all mushy inside. I won't force you to do anything you don't want. But I'm not gonna just let you waddle off back out there, to be eaten alive. Maybe even literally. You know there's an actual cannibal on your block?".
"The fuck?" And Red was smiling again, a beautiful sight, even if the asshole was annoying as all fuck. "Yeah, Pete, nice guy, when he's not eating people's faces," a chuckle, " I'm being serious Mickey, I can protect you. Don't want your death on my conscious. Plus, I hate the warden, so you not getting passed around like a joint at a frat party is a win-win for me".
"But why, what's the catch? You gonna keep me as your own personal sex slave, that it?"
"Is that an option, 'cos I'm all in".
"Fuck you, asshole," he paused, thumbing his bottom lip, "how do I trust you, how do I know you ain't gonna do what those fuckers just did, you and all your pals?". Red cornered him again, using his height and athletic body to his advantage. Fuck, he smelled good. And Mickey's breath caught in his throat. His cheeks flushed with colour. His damn body was reacting again.
"Firstly, I don't have pals, I have my crew. Secondly, I'm not and never have been a fucking rapist. That's why I took over the running of pussy in here. They get to pick their clients, for the most part, and there's strictly no violence or abuse of any kind. If there is, well that's what a shiv is for. I'm no fucking hero, I'm a realist. I do what I can. At least my hoes don't get pinned down in the showers, ten guys on one".
"Fuck you," he shoved him, hard, but he barely moved. Just grabbed his hands and held them above his head, against the wall.
"Not mocking you, Mickey. That shit is fucked up. It shouldn't happen. But it does. And the guards and Monroe don't care, hell sometimes the guards join in. But I've got a rep, I've got numbers, we’re not untouchable but it's something". They locked eyes, blue on green. Warm breath being exchanged, chests rising and falling, almost touching. His body was firm and strong and warm. The omega inside him wanted his arms around him, offering him safety and protection. Maybe there was no better option. Maybe sucking this guys dick or his homies dicks was the only alternative.
"OK," he whispered. Red let go, back up a little, an act that somehow disappointed him. The alpha smirked smugly, eyes flickering all over his face and Mickey started to wonder if he had just done a deal with the devil. "So, how's this work. We're on different blocks, right?"
"Leave the logistics to me, Mick".
"Mick? Getting awfully familiar there, Red". Another bright smile, the alpha leaning in close, "not familiar enough in my opinion. Fuck, you're really something else, can see why Monroe wanted to dangle you in front of those assholes, bet you could make anyone your bitch, your slave. Make an alpha lose his mind". He was sniffing Mickey again, growling low, practically vibrating. And it was doing things to him, annoyingly so.
"Just fucking hold your horses, freckles. You gotta get something through your head alright. Me and you, never gonna happen. You're just a means to an end. A business partner. I'll scratch your back, you scratch mine or whatever. Until I get outta this shithole". Red pressed up against him, rubbing, almost rutting. And embarrassingly, the persistent alpha managed to pull a deep moan out of him. "Yeah, I don't believe you. You keep lying to yourself, Mick. 'Cos I can smell it already. Your body. It wants me. Just like I want you. And we got time. Lots and lots of time".
"Whatever, Red," he managed to croak out, much to the alphas amusement, who leaned back in. His mouth brushing seductively against his ear. "And its Ian. Figured you should know. You'll be screaming it soon enough". A laugh bubbled up, Mickey shaking his head in disbelief, as the alpha turned to leave.
"So, what happens now?". Mickey noticed how Thorne stepped aside, allowing Ian to pass by.
"Get some sleep, and don't worry, I'll spread the word. You're mine now".
----
The next morning Mickey woke as usual, to the bustling sounds of cell doors sliding open and inmates heading off to breakfast. Only this time, Ryan greeted him at his door. "No breakfast for you, Milkovich. Grab your stuff, you're being moved".
"Huh?" He answered, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You're being moved. Got friends in high places, apparently". Then it registered. Ian.
He pulled on his jumpsuit and snatched up his few belongings, not much, a toothbrush, comb and a picture of him with Mandy. Following the young guard, he could feel the glares from nearby alphas, hear their low growls, even hear some of their heartbeats. He didn't have much time. A few started to approach, aggressive, dangerous.
"Step back," Ryan ordered, wielding his baton, his stance firm and steady. The most impressive Mickey had seen him look. "Anyone makes a move and I'll put you down. Then I'll put you in the hold. For a week".
"C'mon man, you're an alpha too, how can you protect him. He's only good for one thing, you can't stop us, it's our right". Ryan's light brown eyes met his for a moment, and Mickey tensed up, suddenly worried for his life. But instead, he moved, his hand raised up, striking the nearest alpha to them.
"Yeah, I'm an alpha but I'm also a fucking guard. Your boss. So when I say something you fucking listen, got it?" His eyes drifted around, and though many of the inmates appeared furious and ready for a fight - their need to mate fuelling their aggression - none stepped forward. Likely accepting that a beating and trip to solitary confinement wasn't worth a piece of ass, even if it belonged to an omega. Ryan spoke to another guard, ordering him to drag the alpha away. Before they set off again, across the wing, to cell block B.
"Cell block A is for the very worst offenders," Ryan spoke after a minute or two of awkward silence, "mass murderers, serial killers, child rapists...its why Monroe stuck you in there. Not a guy you want to piss off".
"Never even met the guy. Taking his bullshit out on me," he muttered, in annoyance. Thinking, how Terry was still fucking up his life, even from beyond the grave.
"Anyway, don't be thinking these guys over in B are angels. They ain't. Just your regular murderers, drug dealers, pimps, human traffickers, arsonists, armed robbers..." Ryan trailed off, his feet slowing, as they stepped up another flight of stairs. The cells were mostly empty, the inmates still not returned from breakfast. Much to his relief. And then they stopped at the cell at the end of the row. "Have fun," is all the guard said, with a hint of a smirk, before he shoved him inside.
Ian rose from the chair he sat in, an actual chair, nodding at Ryan who quietly turned and left. "The fuck is with all the cloak and dagger shit," he mused, trying to sound sure and cool. When inside, he was anything but. The redheaded alpha grinned and stepped closer, eyes flickering all over his face.
"I got top, so I guess that means you're on bottom". A genuine laugh snorted out, "you're something else, you know that?" "Could say the same about you, Mick".
Mickey swallowed thickly, still unsure of Ian, whether he genuinely wanted to protect him or rather, wanted to keep him as some sort of personal concubine. "So, you got your own cell? You some sort of big deal in here, huh?" Ian rummaged in the corner, and then Mickey noticed he had his own coffee jug. He poured him a cup, handing it to Mickey with another of his boyish grins. Who the fuck was this guy?
"I know people. I know things. More importantly, I know the right things. I don't just trade in people or cigarettes or drugs, Mick. I mainly trade in something much more valuable". Ian eyed him intensely over the rim of his own cup, exquisite green eyes, that were hard to look away from.
"Yeah, like what, smart guy?" The alpha chuckled, seemingly amused by his attitude, an act that caused him to blush a little.
He closed the distance between them, whispering in his ear again, practically purring. And Mickey shivered involuntarily, flushed more, felt his breath hitch with how Ian's warm breath tickled his skin.
"Secrets".
----
That first day was spent getting a lay of the land. Ian introduced him to his inner circle, a mix of lower-level criminals but still not the type you'd want to cross. A diverse crew of different backgrounds, drug dealers, pimps, gang members, the sort of people he'd crossed paths with many times over the years. Mostly, they hailed from the South Side too, knew Ian and his family apparently, the Gallaghers. Mickey was familiar with the name but they weren't a family of hardened career criminals like the Milkovich clan. No, they were more like grifters, con men, schemers and scammers. Least, they used to be, last he heard.
"I'm only gonna say this once," Ian had stated, loud and firm, his tone causing a shiver to shoot up Mickey's spine. "Mick is mine. Only mine. No one touches him, not unless I say so and only with his permission. He's not for sale. Not a hoe. Not a piece of ass. He's one of us". There was silence, then murmurs, then a lone voice. Quiet, unsure, questioning. Mickey was surprised the guy hadn't raised his hand.
"But boss, and I'm just spit balling here, he's an omega...and we're...you know...he ain't mated...already I can smell him...fuck...why do you get to decide who he belongs to or not...Monroe brought him in to share around, didn't he?"
Mickey shuddered, at the raw sound that came out of Ian, an animalistic roar, like nothing he had heard before. His teeth were bared, shoulders down, his stance clearly communicating that he was ready to throw down.
"Did I fucking stutter, Jay? Do I need to repeat myself, 'cos you know I hate to have to repeat fucking basic instructions. You guys want me to start spilling blood? Or maybe I should start spilling my guts instead? Won't have to worry about one little omega when everyone in here knows all your business. Shit that people would kill for. Now, anyone else got anything else to add or are we clear about Mickey being off limits?"
The small crew of inmates, exchanged glances, before heads slowly nodded up and down. And it was an impressive display of power. One that had his stomach swooping and moistness starting to gather between his legs. A few of the other Alphas started to sniff the air, their eyes darkening, bodies reacting. Ian stood directly in front of him, his scent being released, covering Mickey like a blanket. He pulled a shiv out of his waist band, snarling protectively. Readying himself for battle.
"OK, Ian, we hear you," another voice spoke up, a dark-skinned man with tight curls and tattoos inked from head to toe. Mouse, that was his name, Mickey remembered because he laughed when they were introduced and the guy joked about them being "related". It took him a second, until he got it, Mickey Mouse. Fucking comedian. But it did break the ice and Mickey thought the guy seemed alright, on the level.
Though the man appeared to be struggling to restrain himself, his eyes looked genuine, and he raised his hands in the air. Even backed up, then grabbed a few others by their jumpsuits to make them snap out of it. "Mick belongs to Ian," he confirmed, eyeing the rest of the crew, "we got a good thing going here. Let's not fuck it up over a piece of ass, alright guys".
Ian growled menacingly, causing Mouse to chuckle but immediately raise his hands again. "Sorry man, poor choice of words. He's more than that. One of us, like you said. He's off limits, we hear ya, loud and clear boss".
Mickey touched Ian's shoulder, the alpha appearing to relax immediately, "they got it Ian. Besides, I’m in here for murder, not against killing any one of these assholes if they try anything". He took the shiv from Ian's hand, "pretty handy with one of these. Anyone tries anything and I'll cut their nuts off. Make them the bitch". Mouse snorted, but grinned and nodded approvingly. The others appearing to fall in line, a mix of confusion, annoyance and disappointment fixed on their faces though.
"Definitely related," Mouse chuckled softly, before trying to wrangle the crew, "get over it. He's not that pretty or special anyway". Mickey laughed as the tall, black, muscular man winked at him, but Ian wasn't laughing. He was growling again. "Jesus Christ, Red. It's over, fucking relax. Maniac".
"But that was...disrespectful" He laughed harder now, Ian blinking and straightening up, the cloud lifting from his eyes. The alpha coming back to himself.
"Was a fucking joke, dumbass. Besides, apparently, we're cousins and I ain't into incest. Got nothing to worry about there, tough guy". The look of confusion that flashed across that scrunched-up, freckled face was hysterical. And cute as all fuck too. Ian Gallagher. Cute. That was a new one.
"Cousins...the fuck...what's..."
"C'mon, let's finish off that coffee and I'll tell you all about it".
----
It wasn't all plain sailing. Alphas still tried on a daily basis to get at him. Some got physical and had to be restrained by Ian's crew or by guards, depending on where it happened. But Ian always seemed to figure it out, even bribing whatever guard was on duty to let them shower alone. Mickey didn't understand it all, how it all worked, how Ian could just make things happen.
Now, as they showered, Mickey was in hell once again. Body turned away, eyes diverted from the incredible, wet alpha in the next stall. While Ian could make most things happen, so far getting omega drugs into the prison hadn't proved quite so easy. His last shot was wearing off. It was close, so fucking close. And he was utterly terrified.
"Mick" The voice was impossible to ignore, luring him, commanding him.
"You're going into heat," Ian growled, possessively, stepping into his stall, "I can smell it on you. Feel it. I'm not gonna be able go stop them, not that many, not all of them. They'll be driven crazy. Just like I am. Every damn day".
His breath caught in the back of his throat, his eyes peering up at the tall, redhead, who hovered over him. Cornering him again. Pushing him back, until he hit the wall. Ian’s long fingers trailed down his cheek, across his bottom lip, then landed on his throat. Not gripping, but holding, gently. The reaction was immediate, and intense. His skin tingling with desire. Stomach flipping and growing warm. The water mixing with his slick, that was gushing out now, running down his thighs.
"Please, Mick". His tone was so unexpectedly soft, but desperate, painful almost. The alpha begging for permission, fighting some internal battle, preventing himself from doing something terrible. Something unforgiveable. Ian was breathing sharply, eyes squeezed shut, head shaking from side to side. Mickey took a deep breath in and cupped his face, forcing his head up and his eyes to open.
"Ok".
Ian didn't even reply, with words anyway. He crashed his mouth against his, greedy and ferocious, a frenzy. Snarls and growls getting swallowed up by the deep, sensual kisses. His mouth was buried in Mickey's neck now, drawing a whimper from his lips. He was so vulnerable, so exposed. But somehow, he trusted Ian completely. Not to take advantage, not to exploit, not to cross that line.
"Fuck, Mick, want you so much," hissed the alpha as he picked him up, supporting his body. But Mickey wrapped his legs around him, helping him out. Completely gone now, no turning back.
"Ugh, oh, fuck, Ian". It was rough, and hard, and frantic. Taking his breath away. How big, how long, how thick. Stretching him out, filling him up. Like never before. He held on to Ian’s shoulders, nails digging into that pale, freckled skin. Head rolled back. Eyes squeezed shut. A series of broken moans and shaky, breathy whimpers coming out. Ian pumped in and out, growling against his neck, muttering filthy, almost incoherent words.
"Fucking...omega...shit...feels so...Mickey...yeah...take it...so wet...so tight..."
Then he was flipped around, bent over slightly, his hands splayed against the tiled wall. Grunting as Ian thrust back in, dragging his hips back to meet his movements. Repeatedly, until he cried out, coming untouched.
"Oh shit, Ian, fuck, fuck..." Ian rammed into him, once more, stilling, a deep throaty growl echoing around the shower room. As he pulsed once, twice, three times. His warm seed coating Mickey inside. The alphas still throbbing cock, drawing more shudders and whimpers out of him. A gentle hand ran up his spine, before he was flipped around again, and warm lips met his.
"Lucky we don't need lube," Ian murmured, seemingly not done, his skilled fingers trailing down his chest, along his length which was springing back to life, before they slipped back inside. "Alphas in here," he continued to whisper, his head resting against his, as his fingers pumped away. "They can't produce slick, gotta use whatever they can...which isn't much. But you, fuck, you're so wet, so ready, so fucking hot".
He groaned, as Ian found that sweet spot inside, his other hand jerking him off in time with his fingers. With skilled and determined movements, Ian locked eyes with him, urging him on. "Yeah, got another in ya, wanna watch your face this time, Mick". He was almost there, forcing his eyes to stay open. But he wanted Ian there too. He grasped his hard cock, drawing a gasp of surprise from his delicious mouth, which he captured in his. Filthy grunts and moans once again being swallowed up, as they stroked each other to a second climax. Ian had a particularly fond expression, eyes so green, so bright.
"Jesus, you're fucking beautiful". Mickey laughed off his compliment, shoving him lightly before he turned around, to face the flow of water. Pretending to he washing himself off but really he couldn't stand the way the alpha was gazing at him. He jumped, when Ian's mouth found the back of his neck, leaving a trail of delicate kisses there, his arms wrapped around him. Careful hands caressing his skin, tenderly. And this time, he didn't push him away.
----
"Ian" Mickey released a broken moan, his hands cuffed behind his back, face pushed down into the mattress.
"You need to be punished, Milkovich". His jumpsuit was yanked down, along with his boxers, his ass pulled up into the air. He yelped as a large hand came down on his cheek, then the other. Already he was leaking, aching for a release. Ian was still fully clothed, rubbing his hard cloth covered cock against his ass.
"Gonna ruin my uniform, inmate. But I'm gonna ruin this ass, so guess that makes us even". More slick rushed out, Ian rutting and grinding against him. Then he felt a finger slipping in. Two. Three. A broken groan came out, muffled by the mattress beneath his face.
"Yeah, you love it. Not so smart now". His ears pricked up, upon hearing a zip being lowered. Then a warm tip was sliding between his cheeks. Ian was playing with him, toying with him. Driving him insane with need. He knew he was moaning pathetically, as he jerked and tried to push back, seeking out more. Two firm hands pulled him onto his knees, "gonna take what I give you," another slap, the sound so filthy in his ears. And then, warmth. So full. So stretched.
"Ugh. Oh. Fuck". He muttered expletives, as the redheaded alpha pounded him mercilessly, gripping his hips, dragging him back with each hard thrust.
"Need to...hands..."
A dark predatory chuckle, "No you don't. Got my cock in you. That's all you need, omega. Gonna have you exploding all over yourself. Like the needy little bitch you are. You wanted this. So show me how good I feel".
Ian sat back, holding him against his lap, pumping his hips harder and faster, nailing his sweet spot over and over again. Then, Mickey gasped one last time. Teeth biting down, piercing his skin. The alpha marking him, claiming him. And it was all over.
----
"What the..."
Mickey woke up in his bottom bunk, skin damp with sweat, shorts soaked with slick. And cum. Holy shit. It was just a dream, though it felt real enough. The fragments coming back to him. Cheeks blushing with embarrassment when he remembered he wasn’t alone. A warm, firm body was pressed against him. Ian. Fast asleep, coiled around him. After the events in the shower room, it seemed pointless to sleep separately. Not that Mickey had a say, when the alpha just slid in next to him and held him tight, preventing his escape.
"What's up, can tell somethings wrong?" Ian nuzzled into his neck, something he didn't mind, something that felt surprisingly nice. Comforting.
"Nothing, go back to sleep". He attempted to release Ian's hold, laughing in frustration when it appeared to be futile. "Hey asshole, can you let me go, need to get up?"
"Mmm, why, still dark, middle of the night".
Although Mickey didn't know him long, already he was finding layers to the man. And such contradictions. So commanding and powerful in public but then so goofy and affectionate in private. All these versions of Ian, and Mickey liked every single one.
"Gotta piss or whatever, unless you want me to go right here?" A faint chuckle and he was finally released by the sleepy alpha. He quickly took a leak, then pulled out a fresh pair of shorts, discarding the ruined ones. Only, he wasn't aware he was being watched.
"Why you changing?" asked Ian, one eye open, the second slowly revealing itself, as he propped himself up. Fuck. His cheeks burned and he tried to think of a valid reason, but saying he pissed or crapped himself wasn't any better.
"Fuck, fine. Had a dream, you know...a vivid one...probably 'cos my heat is coming on". Ian sat up further, grin breaking out, "oh, what kind of dream? Sounds like it was a good one?". Mickey rolled his eyes and flipped him off, "Fuck off. Was a sex dream, obviously". He held up the soaked shorts, causing Ian to break into teasing laughter.
"C'mere, wanna hear all about it". Ian smirked, beckoning him over and throwing the sheet back to reveal his raging hard on. Fuck. It was a thing of beauty. He slipped in next to him, facing him but eyes darting away.
"It is about me, right? 'Cos if it's about Mouse or one of the guards I might have to kill a mother fucker". Mickey chuckled, finally relaxing enough to catch his eye, "course it wasn't. Well, was about a guard..."
Ian's eyes darkened a little, his grip around his waist tightening, "who? Who's the dead man?" "Christ, you're ridiculous," he laughed, "you, you were the guard. Stupid uniform n everything. Though, you didn't look very stupid in it," he smirked, enjoying the surprised look on Ian's face. "Looked fucking hot. Not as hot as that yellow jumpsuit though".
The alpha growled softly, more like a purr, his hands rubbing up and down his back, then landing on his ass. Massaging it and grabbing handfuls of flesh. Mickey was just as hard now, as he recalled the dream, the parts he could remember. "Tell me more, Mick..."
"Well, there were handcuffs involved, my hands behind my back. Face down. Ass up. You kept the uniform on. Just took your cock out, enough to fuck me. Then..." He trailed off, not sure if he should continue, possibly opening up a can of worms. But Ian was worked up, rutting again, kissing his neck, clearly enjoying the imagery. "Then what..."
"You, uh, bit down, there, you know" Those big green eyes flew open, even wider. "I claimed you? Fuck. That is hot".
"Felt real," he laughed, "real enough to blow my load in my sleep". A dark chuckle, as Ian rolled him onto his back, "how about I make you blow your load again, I'll even pull on my jumpsuit if it helps".
More laughter, deeper, easy. Green eyes locked on blue. Ian looking down at him like that. All goofy and sweet but equally sexy. And Mickey smiled back. Pulled him down. No resistance anymore. Fuck. What was happening to him?
----
They had to wait until the cells were locked for the night. Mickey's skin was burning, and he wasn't really focused on anything other than the slick between his legs and the hunger growing in his belly. Ian spoke quietly to Ryan, before they were ushered into a different cell, further away. He wasn't sure of the distance because he was practically being held up by the alpha. This cell was even more bare, smaller too. There was no bunks, just a mattress on the floor and a toilet with a small sink on top. It was dark, no window. And he probably would've felt scared, like he was suffocating in such a confined space, if it weren't for Ian.
"Solitary?" he whispered, as he lay down, eyes never leaving the alpha, who set down two bottles of water, that he hadn't even noticed him carrying.
"Yeah, won't be disturbed. Safer. No one can get in. Don't worry". A warn hand swept his dark hair back off his face, and he writhed, his own hand dropping, lower and lower.
"Fuck, need it," he hissed, impatiently shoving down his suit, so he could tug at his throbbing cock. "Hurts, need to come so bad, Ian". A low growl and the alpha was removing his clothes completely, quickly followed by his own. Mickey was making sounds he'd never made before, pathetic and desperate mewling sounds. Whining. Begging. Almost crying. This heat was stronger than ever, washing over him, consuming him. But that familiar, calm and reassuring voice soothed his spirit.
"I got you, Mick. Gonna take care of you".
The first time was rough and quick, Mickey coming in seconds, Ian a minute or two later. But already he was hard and craving more, needing another release. It was like a hunger that couldn't be fed, a thirst that couldn't be quenched. He was on top now, not a position he was usually comfortable in. But not now. No other thought invaded his mind, nothing else, only fucking Ian into oblivion.
He threw his head back, a deep, long groan spilling out, as he clenched around Ian and exploded, untouched. His release coated his beautiful skin, glistening in the dark, like a string of pearls. The alphas large hands interlinked with his, still resting on his chest. Green eyes gazed at him in wonder and Mickey had never felt so powerful before. So sexy. So wanted. But cherished too. Cared for.
"You didn’t finish" He leaned down, kissing him, enjoying how Ian's fingers skimmed up the side of his head and then weaved through his hair. "Don't worry about me, this is about you. Making you feel good. Getting you through this".
"Fuck". The word rushed out in a puff of air. That reply rendering him speechless. Alphas were supposed to fuck you like a rabid animal through a heat. Like a fucking machine, over and over, until your body gave out and they left. Least, that's what he was led to believe. But Ian was stroking him tenderly again, always caressing, always touching, always checking in. Making sure he was OK, making it about him. His pleasure. But sex wasn't one sided, took two to tango or whatever the fuck. And Ian had made him feel so good already. Twice.
"Your turn, Red," he grinned before shifting lower and swallowing him whole. Choking a little, the noise seemingly causing an intense reaction in Ian, who tugged on his hair and fucked his mouth a little deeper.
"Jesus fucking christ. Knew you had a mouth on you...but fuck...soooo good baby". That term took him by surprise, pulling an appreciative moan from him. But it was barely audible over the sound of his slippery mouth moving up and down, and Ian's feral grunts and groans. "Shit, gonna make me come so hard. Yeah, let me fuck you, that OK?"
Ian caught his eye, Mickey nodding enthusiastically. He relaxed his mouth and throat, allowing Ian to take control. Trusting him completely. He gagged, then moaned, breathing heavily through his mouth, tears falling from the corners of his eyes. And it was mostly just biology. But some part of it, he accepted, was pure emotion.
"Beautiful," Ian sighed, before he stilled, shooting into his mouth and down his throat. His thumbs swiped across Mickey's cheeks, then over his messy lips, before he pulled back with a pop. "So fucking beautiful".
----
It wasn't until three days later, when they finally returned to their own cell, that Mickey noticed just how many marks and scratches were dotted up and down his body.
"For fucks sake," he grumbled, while turning around in front of the small mirror that hung on the wall. Made from some sort of plastic of course, not real glass. "You fucking dick," he exclaimed, turning to face the seated alpha, "look like a fucking whore".
A cackle, then a flash of that boyish grin, the one Ian knows makes him weak. "Hey, I'm a pimp remember, nothing wrong with being a whore. Least you look the part now".
Mickey's eyebrows flew up to the sky and he grabbed a hold of the nearest item, a book, to fling at Ian's smug face. But his damn reflexes meant he dodged it at the last second. "This isn't funny, asshole. And you joke about me being a whore one more time and I'll..."
Fuck, he could move fast. Up and across the room in a second, holding Mickey's arms above his head. Pinning him to the wall. And usually he would be looking to fuck in this situation. But right now he felt more like fighting. It wasn't the heat, that was subsiding. It was just Ian, being a cocky fucking alpha, marking him up like he was his property. Yeah, Mickey was pissed.
"You'll what, finish that sentence?" "I'll make you regret it". One of Ian's eyebrows quirked up, "oh yeah, what you gonna do, seems I got the upper hand here. Can't help it that I'm bigger and stronger and...oh, fuck".
Mickey head-butted him, then punched him in the gut. His chest rising and falling, anger seeping out. They might have been fucking like bunnies, but that didn't mean Ian owned him. A fierce growl shook him though, Ian's green eyes darkening, lips curving into a snarl. He lunged at Mickey, grabbing him, throwing him towards the bunk but Mickey struck out, grabbing him round the waist, both men wrestling for control. But it was naive and stupid to try, he was never going to beat an alpha in a fight. He was pressed down against the bottom bunk, hands held behind his back, not unlike in that dream he'd had. Ian straddled him, panting harshly, evidently turned on, from what Mickey could feel pressing into him.
"The fuck is your problem, Mickey. Why did you do that, you're lucky I give a shit about you. Anyone else and you'd be dead".
"Right, you just give a shit about parading me around in front of your buddies and the rest of the assholes in here. Show them where you've been, how you've had me. I'm not yours, never will be. Never belong to any fucking alpha. You're all the same, man. All about who's dick is bigger, posturing bullshit".
Somehow, the past few days, which he had once thought were sort of beautiful were slipping away. He was angry and scared, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. But seeing his body look like that, had triggered something in him. Something dark and violent.
"You will be, Mick. Mine. You can't fake what just happened. You don't like the marks, fine, I won't do it anymore..."
A sharp laugh, "anymore? Damn right, ‘cos this is over. Don't need you trying to fucking save me anymore. Knew this would happen, you thinking I owe you shit, gotta pay up, in the only way I can," he was rambling now, in fight or flight mode, panicking. His voice trembled and shook, stupid fucking tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm not gonna be used like that anymore," he yelled now, half sobbed, Ian's grip loosening as he continued to rant and struggle beneath him, "not a piece of meat, fucking currency, product, I'm not..."
It took him a second to register the alpha had removed himself and sat back, not until he rolled Mickey over onto his back.
"Hey, hey". Mickey continued to lash out, punching and scratching and yelling. But Ian grabbed a hold of his flailing arms, holding them against his chest. "Mick, open your eyes, look at me". His commanding alpha voice was hard to ignore, so he did. "I'm sorry ok. It wasn't like that. That wasn't my intention. It was a heat. I haven't shared one with anyone before. Got carried away. Was like I wanted to consume you. From the inside out. Feel what you were feeling. Can't explain it. But it wasn't to fucking degrade you or brand you or anything like that. I know you're not mine. And I was joking, you're right, I'm a dick. I don't see you like that, ok. I know you're not...that. You're so much more. It sounds stupid, ‘cos we barely know each other. But you make me feel...something...and it fucking scares me, Mick. When I found you in that shower room, it was like everything in me was compelled to protect you. I'm just sorry I was late. I'm so fucking sorry".
Now it was Ian who rambled, voice cracking towards the end of his monologue. Mickey hands were still pressed against his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart helping to steady his own. "I should have been there, to stop them, what they did...fuck..." Ian's head shook from side to side, his glassy eyes lowered now, looking away. Guilt.
"Wasn't your fault, Ian. And nothing I haven't experienced before". His eyes shot back up, hands reaching out to hold his face, "What, no, Mick...please no..."
"Life of an omega, Ian. Especially one that grows up dirt poor on the wrong side of the tracks. With a psychopath for a father..." He struggled now, to continue, to admit everything. "Did Terry..." "No, fuck no. Not himself anyway". He took a moment, leaning into Ian's gentle touch, "was towards the end. At first he hated what I was. Well, still hated me after. But he realised I was worth something. Would offer me up, part of deals, trade me, whatever. But only to guys he trusted not to talk. Mandy too," he sighed, eyes growing damp again. "It's why I killed him. Had to. Fucking loved it. Wished I'd done it slower. Took my time. But he knew it was me. And he was still alive when I laughed in his face and told him he'd died by the hand of his omega bitch son".
He started crying, properly now, somehow not ashamed or embarrassed. Because the truth was, Ian was the only alpha he'd ever trusted or felt safe with. He trusted him with his deepest, darkest secrets, all those ugly buried truths. Probably because Ian grew up in a similar neighbourhood, and understood the struggles that South Side kids had to face. Plus, he too was a criminal. Ian leaned down and placed a delicate, tender kiss on his lips. Then wiped his tears away.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'd no idea. Knew he was a prick but his own kids...I get it now, Mick. I'm guessing your experiences with other alphas were...." Ian paused, likely trying to find the least triggering word.
"Fucked. They were all fucked, Ian. They'd pay extra if I was in heat. And I'd come, over and over, on some rapist assholes cock, 'cos it felt good and my body wanted it. Needed it. But it wasn't me. Fuck," he sniffed back a deep sob and a fresh batch of tears, "it wasn't me, Ian". Ian sat up, with his back to the wall, pulling Mickey up and into his arms. Holding him almost like you would a child, his lips brushing against his hair, hands running up and down his arm. And he let him. Because he had no fight left in him.
"Course it wasn't you. I know you. You think I don't. But I do. I hope I can get to know more of you though, all of you. And I'm glad you could tell me all that. You're amazing, Mick. I've never met anyone as strong and brave. Hell, you give me so much shit, tried to kick my ass. That's pretty badass in my book". His lips managed to twitch a little, his breathing beginning to slow and even out.
"Dick," he whispered, shifting in closer, enjoying his warmth.
"What's that about my dick? It's incredible, yeah, tell me something I don't know". A short chuckle bubbled up and he tilted his head, searching out those green eyes.
"Hey you," Ian said softly, thumbs caressing his face.
"I'm sorry about your face, the whole head-butting you thing. And the rest. Guess I overreacted". Ian laughed lightly, shaking his head, "Nah, pretty normal reaction. And alphas like to fight. Was pretty hot, got me hard, you knocking the wind out of me".
"Yeah, fucking noticed. I'm having a breakdown and you're poking me in the back". A deeper laugh, "Shit, I really am a dick".
"Tell me something I don't know".
----
Ian's face lit up, manhandling him so Mickey was straddling his lap now. "Oh, I see you're feeling better already. Got that sassiness back. Such a smart mouth". He kissed him again, harder now, passionately. Mickey gripped his shoulders, while Ian held him by the back of the head. The alphas lips eventually trailing towards his neck, grazing over his scent gland. His body shivered, craving it. That bite. That would bind him to an alpha forever. But as much as his feelings for Ian were growing, that sort of commitment wasn't anywhere on the horizon.
"Do you trust me?" Ian's question caught his attention but his head moved automatically. "Yes". Ian moved him onto his back, then pulled down his jumpsuit, peeling off his white tank top and shorts too. And he moved silently, Mickey just watching, curious. Ian hovered above, smiling, watching him for a moment, "you don't need to do anything. Just lie there, ok. And I'll take care of you. Make you feel good".
Fuck, he had no idea what that meant but he nodded and swallowed thickly, heart speeding up. Ian started with soft kisses, to his forehead, his cheek, his neck, his chest then his stomach. He licked a long stripe up his cock, offering flicks of his tongue and little sucks at first, then he took him all the way in. And Mickey wasn't sure an alpha had ever done this before, not that he remembered.
But he was usually drunk or high, anything to numb his mind and block it all out. Then it occurred to him that he had been stone cold sober during all his encounters with Ian. And he couldn't recall ever feeling anxious or scared or insecure. He felt excited and confident and engaged. A willing participant, more than willing. He was eager and enthusiastic, ready to explore and play and evolve. With Ian.
"Fuck, gonna come" But Ian pulled off, much to his irritation and confusion. "Patience baby. The longer you wait, the better it will feel, promise".
"Baby, you like saying that shit". Ian smirked up at him, his mouth gloriously slick and messy. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Nah, I'll allow it". Ian giggled, a noise Mickey had never heard him make before. But then, like he always did, he caught him by surprise again, by flipping him over onto his front.
"Jesus, watch it, asshole," he teased, knowing Ian liked his playful side. His response, a hard slap to his ass. Which he then massaged and squeezed.
"Fuck, that feels good. You like all that spanking stuff, huh?"
"Why, do you not?"
"Didn't before. But it wasn't like this. It was...you know..." He could feel Ian still, probably thinking of the right thing to say. But he surprised him once more by laying a sweet kiss to that same cheek. And it tickled but felt good, very good.
"You didn’t deserve any of that. You deserve to be treated like the incredible omega you are. With respect. And consideration. And...love". He gasped a little. Ian probably didn't mean it like that, he told himself, was just a turn of phrase. A slip of the tongue....
"Holy fuck". A laugh trickled out, when he felt an actual tongue slip between his cheeks. Light flicks at first, testing, easing him into it. "You like that?"
"Yeah, fuck, keep going". He was spread apart, Ian diving in now, using it all. His hands, his tongue, his lips. Even his teeth. His head was spinning, stomach swirling. He rubbed himself against the mattress, leaking, dripping. Fuck, he needed to come.
"Nah uh, hold on, baby. Not yet". Mickey whined, feeling Ian pull back, just as he was on that precipice. "Dick. Ian, please, c'mon..."
A dark chuckle entered his ears, Ian pulling his lobe into his mouth, sucking on it filthily. "Soon. I'm not done yet".
A finger was plunged into him. Then another. Ian alternating his hands with his mouth now, intermittently brushing off that sweet spot. Fuck, he was coming apart at the seams. Then he flipped him again. Breath once again stolen from his lungs. Ian's mouth lapped at the slick that coated his thighs. Sucking there, likely leaving another fresh batch of marks but suddenly Mickey didn't care. Then the teeth, nibbling, causing him to arch up but it was careful, not painful, not abuse. This wasn't that. Wasn't like before. He knew that now, that Ian was different. A true alpha.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck...oh...Ian...Ian..." He couldn't hold back anymore, the dual sensation of Ian's mouth enclosed around his throbbing cock and his fingers plunging in and out. He cried out, but Ian stopped again. Squeezing the tip of his dick. "What the..."
But Ian was removing his own clothes, painfully erect cock slapping against his toned stomach. Before it was driven deep into Mickey, in one long, smooth thrust. He gasped, whimpered, speechless. Legs wrapped around him, head thrown back, just giving himself over. Allowing Ian to get them both there. A fierce growl rang out, as Ian bit down. On his shoulder, dangerously close to his scent gland. His cock was throbbing, swelling, growing inside. The beginnings of a knot.
"Oh fuck, yeah. Give it to me, please".
"You sure? I can stop?"
"Fuck you. Better not". He squeezed his legs tighter and crashed their mouths together. Grunting at the sensation of being so full. And so connected. His hands grasped Ian's ass, pushing him in, holding him there. And that's when they came together. Ian crying out, louder than ever, forced to bury the sound in his neck. Mickey exploding between them, both men shuddering and moaning with pleasure. The knot subsided but Ian remained in that position, nuzzling him, semi flaccid cock still inside. Murmuring things Mickey couldn't quite make out. His own hands, his tattooed fingers, snaked up Ian's neck and into his red hair. Eyes still closed, blissed out, body still coming down.
And that’s exactly how they fell asleep. Ian weighing Mickey down, his body covering his, face smushed into his neck, Mickey's arms wrapped around him. Two bodies completely intertwined, merging into one.
----
“So how does this all work exactly?”
Mickey stood next to Mouse outside the cell, looking down at the prison. His gaze automatically landing on Ian, who was sitting in the common area, engaged in a “business meeting”. Ever since he’d been taken in by Ian, protected, the rest of the prisoners had been up in arms. See, the thing about an alpha prison is that there wasn’t much pussy to go around in the first place. Most alphas had no interest in fucking other alphas. Some, if desperate and horny enough might just fuck one but, getting fucked, well that was even rarer. But like in all things, there were always exceptions and there were those few alphas who not only enjoyed the company of men but preferred to take the role of the omega, the bitch, the bottom. And those men, those prison hoes, were currently on strike. As per their boss, their pimp, one Ian “Irish” Gallagher.
“Well, Mick,” Mouse replied, shaking him from his thoughts and forcing his gaze away from the redhead below. “Everything’s a commodity, as you know. When Ian started organising, its not like he had a lot of choice. Those white supremacist assholes had already cornered the market on pills and all things pharmaceutical. The cartels run the harder stuff, mainly coke and H. And Ian, well he’s good with people. Got specific skills and experience. He started scooping up the new blood, like me, building up his crew. Its not exactly a perfect system but as long as everyone sticks to the rules and their own shit, it runs smooth enough”.
“And Monroe?"
“Asshole likely takes a cut, for allowing all our shit in. He doesn’t show his face much and keeps his cards close to his chest. But I know he can’t be trusted. He turns a blind eye though, in exchange for order. Least his kind of order. See its all about appearances for that guy. And if we’re high and getting laid, then we ain’t killing each other”.
Mickey nodded in understanding, “And then Terry…”
A soft chuckle, “Man, your pops was crazy. I wasn’t here long, Ian either. We mostly tried to keep out of shit. But Terry came in and fucked shit up. Wouldn’t play by the rules. Took what he wanted, when he wanted. Pussy, drugs, whatever. He wanted to be in charge, tried to take over. Started a fucking war, got a few guys killed. Monroe was so pissed, but he couldn’t just kill him, would’ve raised too many flags. So he got him transferred. Heard he got early release soon after”.
“Yeah, guess no one wanted him to be their problem”.
Mouse nodded, “yup. Soon after, Ian started organising shit. Before, it was like a free for all. Guys just trying to fuck other guys. You can imagine how that went. Fucking brawls, alphas getting shanked in the showers, groups targeting others. But now, there’s some level of control, respect, order. The guys are protected. People get their rocks off. Everybody’s happy,” a laugh, “well, as happy as you can be in prison”.
“And the weed, was that your thing?”
Mouse quirked an eyebrow and grinned, “you saying that ‘cos I’m black, that’s some racist shit, Mick”. They laughed amicably together, Mouse nudging him with his shoulder, “fucking with ya. All me, brother. Still got my guys on the outside. Comes in with the mail. Keeps the assholes in here chill, and we need that”. He grinned, a wide, white, toothy smile. Mickey liked him, found him easy to get along with and straight up. A similar manner to Ian, which is probably why they worked so well together.
“And what about me?” Mouse eyed him in confusion, “What about you?”
“I mean, I get you all trade shit, don’t step on each others toes or whatever. But the other inmates can’t be happy I’m with you guys now, fucking protected. Off limits”.
“It’s fine, Ian sorted it”.
“The fuck does that even mean? Can’t see assholes like Carlos and that Nazi fuck just letting it go. Prime piece of omega ass just sitting here, being withheld. And Monroe, I keep waiting for him to drag me out and throw me to the wolves”.
“Look, Ian has his way, alright. Those assholes have been warned off, it’s all cool now. Besides, if all goes well down there,” he gestured towards Ian, “then we’re back in business. As for the warden, he is a sneaky fuck. But rumour has it, he’s running for mayor in the next election. So, he’s probably got other shit to worry about. As long as the boys in here keep the peace, he won’t get involved”.
“So, its just over? I don’t get it, like sure Ian’s fucking scary when he wants to be, but those guys,” Mickey shook his head, “he just has a few words and they back off. I don’t understand. Is there shit I don’t know, I mean I still feel like an outsider, like I’m missing something”.
The other man sighed softly and caught his eye, “Look, it’s not my place to say, Mick. Maybe Ian just wants to keep you out of it, separate. Sometimes it’s safer being out of the loop. But if it’s bothering you that much, just ask him. Don’t think he’s able to say no to you”. He winked, making Mickey blush even more.
Fuck, did people notice something between them, some stupid romantic looking shit. Like him and Ian where walking around with giant hearts in their eyes.
“So, what’s the deal, Red”. Ian was walking back upstairs, smiling, an indication his meeting went well. “Strikes off. The guys are getting laid. And we’ll be getting paid”.
“Easy as that, huh?” Mickey questioned, an eyebrow raised at Ian who seemed so casual and cool, like negotiating with criminals was no big deal. And the omega was starting to wonder, as the smiling redhead dismissed his question, kissing his head and pulling him into their cell. Wonder if he knew the real Ian or if he had secrets too, secrets that for some reason he didn’t want to share with him.
----
“We gotta talk”
He hadn’t intended to just blurt it out like that, and sound so pissed off, but now there was no going back. Ian was sitting in his chair, reading, while Mickey was sitting on the bottom bunk. The alpha put down his book and scooted in beside him. A hint of worry etched on his face, likely sensing Mickey’s tension. “About what?”
“About everything!” He exclaimed, voice louder, frustrated. Eyes locked on Ian’s face, who was as cool as a cucumber, like fucking usual. “When you say everything, you mean…”
“Jesus Christ. I mean everything. About you. Like why you’re here, how you’re the big dick in here, who everyone’s fucking afraid of. You know everything about me, all my worst shit…but I don’t know anything about you, Ian. Not really. I just know “Irish” or “Big Red” who fucking talks in riddles and pimps horny queer alphas out to other prisoners. But, Ian Gallagher, the guy from before, who grew up on the South Side, I don’t know him. I don’t know what happened to that kid, how he ended up in here?”
Mickey must have rose to his feet at some point, and he was pacing the floor of their tiny cell. Ian approached him now, soft eyes, but a hint of nervousness there too. He took Mickey’s face in his strong hands, “Ok. I’ll tell you anything you want to know”.
Ian sat down in his chair, patting his lap, which Mickey rolled his eyes at. “Oh, you’re fucking serious, no way”.
“Just sit the fuck down, Mick. Gonna tell you a story. Might take awhile”. He couldn’t help but laugh, “fucking weirdo”.
“There, not so bad. Feels nice. Might be hard not to pop a boner, no pun intended”. Mickey shifted around, on purpose, drawing a low grunt from Ian. “Start talking asshole. Start with the murder. Unless you’re the only innocent guy in this place?”
“Nah, I did it. Fuck,” Ian sighed and started rubbing his hands up and down Mickey’s back. But he figured it was more for his own benefit. Ian was definitely nervous. “So, south side, you know how it was growing up. My family had to survive, us kids I mean. Our parents weren’t around much. Addicts, you know. I started working young, around fourteen. Normal jobs at first, delivery boy, corner shop. Then couple years later, I, uh, found out my Dad wasn’t my real dad. Mom took off again. I started doing drugs, going to clubs, hooking up with men. Mostly older guys. They knew I was an alpha but I looked different, I dunno…”
“Pretty boy,” he offered with a teasing smile. Ian squeezing his waist in return. “Asshole. But yeah, something like that. I always did the fucking though. Realised pretty quickly I could make decent money, selling my services. After awhile, I got an idea, ran it by my older brother, Lip. He’s a real tech nerd, knows everything about computers, bit of a hacker,” Ian smiled, affectionately, he noticed, “I conned guys. Took rich, old, married guys to hotel rooms. But Lip would be waiting, with all their info…”
“Blackmail,” he interjected. “Yup. We’d target them, at clubs, bars, the mall, wherever. Find out about their lives, including any dirt we could use. Usually they’d pay up without any fuss. Didn’t want their wives or kids to find out about them taking a cock up the ass on the weekend”. They laughed together, Ian taking a moment to gather his thoughts. His face more serious now.
“But something went wrong?” he asked gently, Ian catching his gaze again. “Stupid, should have known it would all go wrong. This guy, a hotshot doctor, pulled a gun on me. Lip tried to help, jumped on his back. My hand was on the gun and it just went off. We panicked, ran, but I was on cameras all over the bar and the hotel. Asshole prosecutor said we’d planned it, was murder. Gun wasn’t registered, so of course it was ours. Two little thugs from the ghetto. The dead guy was a big deal, knew people. No way was the story gonna be about the gay alpha doctor who liked guys barely out of their teens. To fuck him, in the ass. No. He was a victim of a terrible crime, targeted for being rich and kind, probably tried to help us and we murdered him. It was stupid but my fingerprints were on the gun, all the rest of the details didn’t seem to matter”.
“Jesus, that’s such bullshit. Not surprised though. They threw the book at me, even though everyone knew what a piece of shit Terry was. Mandy even got up there, sobbing, telling them every last gory detail. But no, I pulled the trigger, over and over. Murder”.
“Guess its good we got each other in here then. Gonna be awhile”. Ian seemed relieved, relaxed again, hands sliding down his arms, “its why it comes easy to me, the guys, being a pimp”.
“Jesus,” he laughed, “stop calling yourself a pimp, it's ridiculous”. “Pimp daddy?” Mickey rolled his eyes and pinched his nipple, “Fuck off. Even worse. And don’t ever say that word around me again”.
“Daddy? Why, you don’t think I’m daddy material?” He snorted out a laugh and attempted to get up but Ian held him down on his lap. Heat building between them now. “I’ve got serious daddy issues, Ian. Kinda fucked up if I started calling you that, don’t ya think,” he joked, allowing Ian to paw at him. “I dunno, depends on the context. If you were screaming shit like ‘pound me daddy’, I think I could get on board with it”.
He cackled now, enjoying the sparkle in those green eyes and flush of colour in that pale skin. He could see how Ian could manipulate those men and have them wrapped around his finger. He was fucking beautiful. “Oh shit, that’s it. Blackmail. You’re still running that con”. Ian’s eyebrow quirked up, “you catch on quick, baby. Its moved on a bit from creepy, old pervs, more sophisticated. But I told you before, secrets are valuable. And everyone’s got them”.
“And you know how to find them”. He figured Lip was still involved but thought it best to keep his name under wraps, inside those walls at least. “Secrets can bring entire empires down”. He nodded, understanding all too well. Its why his father hid his true nature, believing that “shameful” secret would destroy the family business.
“I don’t want to have any secrets between us, Mick. I’ll never keep you in the dark again. Just thought it was better, less you know in here the better. But I was wrong. We’re partners, right?” It sounded like a loaded question, full of ambiguity. And Ian was stroking his cheek and beaming back at him. A hopeful expression on his exquisite face. Mickey felt breathless sometimes when he looked at him. Absolute perfection. “Yeah Ian, partners”.
----
“So, Lip found Mandy. She thought he was a creep at first, punched him,” Ian chuckled as he explained his phone call, “But she eventually listened, he told her you were fine. And about me. The warden. She wants to kick up a fuss, hire a lawyer. He even said he’d help but I told him to hold off, figured you wouldn’t want her involved”.
“Figured right, Red,” he exhaled, a weight lifted off his shoulders, “So she knows I’m ok, that’s good”.
“Yeah, she sounds good. Pissed obviously. Lip will keep an eye on her”. “Just an eye?” Ian laughed, “Yeah, he’s got a kid on the way, Mick. He’ll behave, I promise”.
“Fucking better. Or I’ll be straight back in here, another murder”. He joked of course. Lip sounded like a decent guy, smart as hell and loyal to his brother. Plus, he knew Mandy could handle herself so he wasn’t too concerned. And it was a relief to know that she had someone looking out for her, someone Ian trusted. Meaning, he trusted him too.
“So, it was your birthday last week?”
“Huh?”
“Mandy mentioned it. Tried to visit but you were ‘unavailable’”.
“Oh, yeah, forgot. Time gets away from you in here”.
“Well, it’s hard to get last minute gifts in here…” Ian rummaged under his pillow, pulling out a thick silver chain.
“The fuck is this? Did you shiv someone for this,” he joked, as he ran his finger over it. Looked pretty expensive, thick and shiny. Real silver. A sweet sounding cackle, “course not. I’m not actually a psychopath, Mickey. Only stabbed someone once and it was in self defence”. He chuckled softly before Ian took the chain from his hands, then standing behind him, secured it around his neck. “Fuck, you look hot, Mick”.
“Just a chain. Really, how’d you get it? And isn’t this like contraband or whatever?” Ian stood unbearably close, running his finger over the links, over his skin. “Traded some weed, discounted lay. And its fine, the guy would fuck him for free anyway. Monster cock apparently. And no one will say shit, contraband all over this fucking prison”.
“Jesus,” he snorted, “So I’m wearing some gang bangers shit, I feel so special”. He cocked his head, smirking back at Ian. But felt touched all the same. It might not be the most romantic gift in the world but it was still thoughtful.
“You are special, Mick. And if we weren’t in here, I’d have done something better”. Micky brought his body up against his, hands running up his arms, coming to rest at the back of his neck. “Like a date?” A bright smile, “Yeah. Steaks and shit. Nice place, white table cloth, cutlery. Maybe a movie after. Or a drive, park up some place romantic”.
“Oh, and what would we do then, chit chat?” Ian chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah, lots of talking, deep, intense…talking”.
“Gotcha, like about life and stuff. Sounds super sexy, Ian”.
“Hey, dunno what kinda guy you think I am, but I don’t put out on the first date”. It was Mickey’s turn to laugh and he closed any distance between them. Chest to chest, green eyes locked on blue, arms locked should each other in an embrace. “Shame ‘cos I would. With you anyway. Probably climb under the table and suck you off right there. Save you ordering dessert”. Ian’s eyes darkened a little in colour, but widened too, and his lips curved up into a salacious grin. His big hands cupped his ass, almost lifting him off the ground. “Jesus. Sounds like the best date ever. We’ll have to do that”.
“When we get out?” Mickey’s heart skipped a little at the implication, Ian was speaking like he expected them to not only survive another decade inside but remain together. Ian cocked an eyebrow, realisation spreading across his face, as if he'd just overheard his inner thoughts. “Mick, I’m not saying I know what will happen but yeah, when I think about the future, I see you in it. In here, out there. Might be just a stupid dream but that’s what I want. You, me, together”.
Mickey ran a finger over the chain around his neck, feeling a little panicked and overwhelmed. It was a lot to take in. He just took one day at a time, never wanting to hope, to dream. Because he always expected the worst. But that warm feeling was spreading across his chest again. Happiness, he thought. Or something like it. Because of Ian. “I want that too, Red”.
Ian’s eyes flew open and he connected their lips, kissing him deeply, with so much passion and emotion. His big hands holding his face steady. And Mickey loved it, being held like that. Like he was precious and adored. They quickly relieved themselves of their clothes and lay down on the bed but Mickey was roughly maneuvered into a different position. A new position.
“You wana 69 it, really, we fucking teenagers Ian?” he teased but mostly to hide his nerves, considering he’d never tried it before. A hard spank drew a grown out, had Mickey lowering his head and arching his back. “Wanna taste you, Mick. Want you to ride my face, can you do that?”
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, feeling his skin begin to tingle and slick rush out. Ian growled, spreading him apart and diving right in. Lapping at him, sucking it up, fucking him with his tongue. And it felt so unbelievably good that Mickey was upright now, riding his face, just like he asked. He lost himself in it, playing with his pink nipples, all hard and sensitive. Then stroking his dripping cock, moaning and grunting with such blinding pleasure. Ian was breathing heavily, forced to come up for air, the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.
“Oh my god. This fucking ass. So sweet. Taste it, baby”. Mickey tilted his head, to find Ian fingering him but then he raised the digits to his lips. Without a second thought, Mickey did as he asked, turned on at how Ian was watching him. Face pink, eyes wide, mouth and chin a delicious mess. And then Ian was stroking his cock, spreading the few droplets of cum around, before his fingers were once again in Mickey’s mouth. “Fuck, so hot. Now suck my cock. Want you to taste me now”.
With a deep, hungry groan, Mickey leaned down, taking him all the way in. His cock already throbbing and leaking. And then Ian was fucking him again, tongue plunging in and out, muffled moans as he ate him out. Sucking and nibbling on his fluttering hole. More slick. Ian shoving it back in with his fingers, spreading it around. Playing with it. “Ugh. Oh fuck”.
He panted now, losing his rhythm, but Ian bucked up, fucking his mouth. Mickey gagged and spluttered, his stomach muscles starting to tense. And then a slick coated hand grasped him, sliding up and down. His cock jumping and twitching, his hole clenching and unclenching. He pulled off for air, “fuck, gonna cum. Feels so good”.
He jerked Ian off for a moment, pushing back onto Ian’s face, whimpering now with the need to find release. He covered Ian’s hand with his, which stroked him hard and fast now. His tongue replaced with fingers, pressing against that sweet spot. “Ian, oh fuck…yes…”
He exploded with a loud cry, that Ian covered up with his slick hand, the taste of his own cum on his lips again. And Ian was panting and still rock hard so he shifted forward, back still to Ian, and sunk down. The alpha gasping and gripping his waist as he bounced up and down. Just a couple of times, before his grunts turned to pants, then a low growl. And he squeezed his cheeks, pulling them apart, as he thrust in is as deep as he could. Holding there while he started to pulse.
“Yeah, fill me up, want your cum in me”. Ian growled again, sitting up, thrusting in and out but then Mickey felt his knot growing. He moaned, Ian once again stifling his sounds with his hand. Mickey snaked his hand back, holding onto his hair, while Ian’s other hand came up to his throat. Instantly his cock sprang back to life at the touch and Mickey placed his hand over Ian’s, holding it there. There hands resting against that silver chain. Ian pulsed one last time, with a deep groan. His hand coming from his mouth to his hard cock.
“Cum for me Mick, I know you can,” he whispered, “but you cant scream, others will hear”. His hand sped up, perfectly in tune with his body. Although Ian’s knot was deflating, he was still a little hard and pumped up with his hips, nailing his sweet spot. “Ian, fuck,” he hissed, biting down in his lip.
“Yeah, that’s it, bite that lip for me. So fucking hot”. The hand around his throat squeezed a bit tighter, drawing a deep groan from him, the other hand twisting up and down. Then, Ian’s lips kissed his neck, progressing to sucking, then nibbling. And he was right on that edge now. Whimpering, panting, desperate. “Ian, Ian, oh fuck…”
“Baby, shush,” Ian moved his hand from his throat to his mouth, prompting Mickey to immediately put it back. Where it belonged. “Shut up, maybe I don’t care if anyone hears. Let them hear how good you turn me out”.
A feral growl was released, Ian shoving Mickey forward, onto his front. Immediately pushing his cock back into him, driving it in and out with force and determination. His own cock was trapped against the mattress, but he could feel it coming.
“Fucking love this ass,” Ian grunted, grabbing handfuls of flesh as he started to lose his rhythm, just fucking him erratically but ferociously. “love it…ugh…fuck…love you”.
Mickey gasped, his cock erupting beneath him, his brain going off line, that word echoing is his ringing ears. Ian collapsed on top of him, placing delicate kisses on his shoulders. Mickey reached back, scratching at his scalp. Still panting, breathless, confused, overcome. Did he mean it? Or was it just the heat of the moment?
----
“Put your tongue back in your mouth”.
Instantly blushing, Mickey shot Mouse a deadly look, then offered him the middle finger. Fuck, he was caught staring again. But it wasn’t like he could help it, Ian was shirtless, playing basketball with some of the other guys. Sweat dripping down his defined abs, arms flexed, that sexy V down below just peeking out above his jumpsuit. Mouse was laying on his back, lifting weights, Mickey act as his spotter. But it was lucky he was a strong guy and knew what he was doing, considering Mickey’s attention was being drawn away.
“I think its kinda cool. You guys get locked up, probably think it’s the end of the world then bam, meet the love of your life”.
“Excuse me, the fuck you talking about,” he stuttered a little, helping to reset the bar as Mouse indicated he was done. “C’mon man, its obvious this isn’t just fucking. I’ve known Ian for nearly two years, Mick. He’s different. He talks about the future, getting out. He’s fucking happy. And no mother fucker is happy in prison”. A soft chuckle and Mouse got to his feet, wiping his face with his tank top. Then he surprised Mickey further, by placing his hand on his shoulder. “It’s a good thing. We need something to keep us going in here. And I’m glad you guys got each other. You’re alright, Mick. For an omega”.
He flashed him a blinding white smile, Mickey cocking his head and flipping him off once more. Then he nodded towards his tattooed knuckles. “That’s a Milkovich thing, right. Like a brand or whatever?” Mickey looked down at his inked fingers, almost feeling the urge to hide them. Thinking he might get rid of them some day, a constant reminder of his father. “Yeah, usually get them as kids. When we present. Wasn’t the only thing I got though,” he laughed dryly, recalling the day he discovered he was omega, “dad gave me a black eye first, cracked a rib too. After he sobered up, he told me I was beta. Then dragged my ass to the tattoo guy. Think he figured getting ‘fuck u up’ would somehow cement the lie. Like make it more believable that I wasn’t this omega bitch”.
Mouse frowned and shook his head, “that’s some fucked up logic. Nothing wrong with being an omega. My girl is. She still stands by me, even after getting my stupid ass thrown back inside. Gave me two beautiful little girls. She’s a fucking badass queen,” a pause, a smirk breaking out, “Kinda like you”.
“Oh fuck off,” he joked, shoving his shoulder playfully, but then he looked up to find Ian watching them curiously. Always watchful, always there. “Shit, you’re not wrong though,” he added, with a chuckle.
Just as Ian looked like he was leaving the game, Mouse appeared to shift on the spot. An air of tension radiating, as if he was suddenly on alert. He even moved his body in front, blocking Mickey. Only when it was too late, did he realise. It was the hands, similar black ink, just different words. But the attack didn’t come from the front. While Mouse was preoccupied with fending off the two approaching alphas, someone crept up behind. “Your uncle says hello”.
And then he felt it, searing pain, then heat, warmth, spreading. His hands automatically flew to the spot, his stomach. Blood pumping out, covering his pale hands. He waited to feel another sharp slice but it didn’t come. After that, it was a blur. Raised voices. Guards. Ian. Mouse. Other voices he didn’t recognise. He was on the ground. Then being picked up and dragged away. Ian shouting again. Growling. Fighting. And the pain started to subside. As his body grew weary, sleep taking over.
----
He woke with a jolt, startled, confused. Then groaning as he tried to move, hand flying down, to find a large white bandage, slightly pink where patches of blood seeped through. “Inmate Milkovich, good to see you back with us”.
He glanced around, realising he was in the infirmary. “You’re lucky, pretty superficial wound. Was able to fix it up myself. If it wasn’t for the intervention, then you’d likely be dead”.
“Inter…what…” The doctor gestured towards another bed on the other side of the room. A large alpha lay there, unconscious, bandages covering his chest and throat.
“He’s getting transferred, needs surgery. He’s also lucky to be alive”. Mickey could feel his face scrunch up and rested his head back, too sore and tired to sit up. “You can’t remember? I warned Munroe this would happen,” the doctor shook his head as he checked some machine and wrote something down, “bringing an omega in here was going to end badly. But that man,” he caught Mickey’s eye, “he’s sadistic. Petty. Arrogant. If it wasn’t for your alpha…”
“Wait, what?”
“The red head, had to treat him too. Nothing serious, few scratches and bites. He’s the one that saved you. Tackled the guy, got the weapon away. Did that,” he nodded across the room to the other patient, “why he’s in solitary now. Punishment. Good luck getting a parole hearing anytime soon”. The doctor continued to shuffle around, checking meds and paperwork.
“But he was just protecting me. We didn’t start that shit, was my fucking family man. My Uncle, sending me a message”.
“Regardless, he almost killed the guy. Had to be taken down by three guards apparently. Got Monroe rattled, he doesn’t like people he can’t control”.
“Yeah, no shit, doc”. The man’s lips twitched a little, as he started to clean his wound and apply a fresh dressing.
“Looks good, all things considered. A few centimetres either way, different story”. The guy moved in closer, worrying him for a second. He was a Doctor, seemed genuinely caring and kind but still an alpha. “Thing is, Munroe usually houses the likes of those criminals in Block A. They shouldn’t have been anywhere near you”. Then the man just walked away, as if he hadn’t just offered up that piece of intriguing information.
Two days he spent in there, but he was grateful. He didn’t want to go back to his cell if Ian wasn’t there. “Looks like you’re good to go, Milkovich. I tried to extend your stay,” Dr. Habib explained, with a sympathetic expression, “but the warden needs the bed, apparently”. They both looked around, at the empty ward, Mickey snorting out a laugh and Dr. Habib frowning a little. “I get it doc, it’s cool. You patched me up real nice. Thanks”.
“But I insisted you be escorted back, for your safety and, um, recovery. Should you slip and fall for instance, you could risk opening those stitches”. He smiled knowingly and escorted a guard in, Ryan. Mickey sighed in relief. The guy was alright in his book, not cruel or overly aggressive like some of the other bullies parading around in uniform. The guard looked him up and down, “ready to go inmate”.
“Not really, best sleep I’ve had in ages”. Mickey thought he caught a faint grin threatening to come out on Ryan’s face. They walked in relative silence, other inmates watching, occasionally shouting or wolf-whistling. Mickey never felt so relieved to see that cell door.
“Hey,” he greeted Mouse, who sat in Ian’s chair, his disappointment evident. “Wow, sorry I don’t look like a ginger ghost”. He chuckled and propelled himself forward, surprising even himself with how easy it was to embrace another man. Another alpha.
“Woah, you still high,” joked Mouse when they parted again. “Maybe a little. But just good to see you. Thanks, I know you jumped in, protected me”.
“Course man, got your back. We’re brothers”. Smiling and nodding his eyes darted around, his stomach sinking a little. “Fuck, how long?” He sat down, the cell feeling empty without Ian.
“Five days”.
“So, I just need to survive 48 hours without him, no big deal”. He exhaled sharply. Then laughed and ran his hands down his face. Wincing from the resulting pain when his stomach muscles contracted.
“Told ya, Mick. I got ya. We got ya”. His eyes were drawn to the cell door, were the rest of Ian’s crew had gathered. Like soldiers on watch. Taking positions outside. For him. To protect him. And this was family. This right here. Mickey felt a glow wash over him. And a smile break out as Mouse nodded, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. A silent promise. To him. And to Ian too.
----
Somehow he’d survived. A few skirmishes with asshole alphas, who felt emboldened without Ian by his side. But nothing they couldn’t handle. His stitches had come undone, prompting another visit to the infirmary, where Dr Habib had taken his time, a particularly long time in fact, to redo them. And once again, he had a private escort in Guard Ryan.
Today was the day when Ian was scheduled to get released from solitary. And he was on edge, jittery, pacing and biting his nails in anticipation. They’d spent every day, every second, together since they’d met. But the past few days had been unbearable, like he had lost a limb in that attack. The silence was suffocating at night, when the cell door closed and he was forced to hold Ian’s pillow, sniffing desperately in an attempt to feel closer to him. It's when he finally accepted it. He couldn’t deny it anymore. What he felt. What it was. Love.
Mickey forced himself up, pulling on his uniform of white tank top, yellow jumpsuit and slip on shoes. A soft smile broke out though, as his fingers ran over that silver chain. A reminder. “What are you doing here?” He eyed the guard at his door suspiciously, Thorne.
“Warden wants to see you”.
“Why?” His heartbeat sped up, fear setting in. The last time he was in that office he’d left bruised and in pain. And he was still injured. Vulnerable. Alone. Unprotected.
“Move your ass, Milkovich”. He took a deep, steadying breath as he was practically shoved into the office. Munroe standing behind his desk, a smug expression and wide smirk on his face. But they had company. “Ian”.
His alpha was standing in the corner, Ryan behind him. A look of concern and shame etched on the guards face. His eyes darted away from Mickey, lowered to the floor. Ian appeared physically OK, not bloodied or banged up, so he took some comfort in that. “Hey Mick, you OK?” He nodded before Thorne locked the door and came to stand behind him.
“So, now that we’re all here, let’s begin”. Monroe took his seat, Mickey and Ian exchanged worried looks. “It seems the inmate you assaulted has unfortunately died, while in transit to the hospital”.
“Wait, what? Doc said he just needed surgery, how could he just die. He was stable or whatever?” Monroe nodded and Mickey was shoved roughly onto his knees. Wincing and hissing, his side still a little tender and sore.
“Who said you could interrupt me, omega?” Ian shook his head subtly at Mickey, a warning. “So, as I was saying. It looks like you’re gonna be staying here a while longer, inmate Gallagher”.
Mickey went to open his mouth again but Ian’s blazing eyes bore into him, stopping him. “And you, inmate Milkovich, equally troublesome. The pebble in my shoe. I figured you’d be beaten into submission by now. But no, this alpha has taken you under his wing. Has you starting fights in the yard, bringing your family drama into my prison”.
“Hold on a minute,” Ian spoke now, angry, furious actually, barely containing himself. “Mickey didn’t start anything. Those assholes were on orders from Ronnie Milkovich. They fucking stabbed him, they attacked us. We were defending ourselves…”
Munroe nodded to Ryan but he hesitated, “that was an order, Guard, unless you want to file for unemployment. You’ve a baby on the way, isn’t that right?” The young man was still conflicted but then the choice was made, as Ian kneeled down himself.
“Inmate Milkovich was the instigator, we have witnesses to corroborate that story”
“Yeah, story, exactly”. He couldn’t contain his mouth. Too enraged. But he wouldn’t surrender, let that asshole win. Show fear. Kiss his ass. No way. Besides, being locked in that cell with Ian for the rest of his life wasn’t so bad and not the punishment Munroe seemed to think it was.
The hit to his face came sharp and swift, catching him off guard and seeing him fall over, on his side. A low growl came out of Ian, Thorne immediately walking across the room and punching him in the stomach.
“See, this is a problem,” Munroe rounded the table now, “an out of control alpha, running on his emotions and his base desires. A dangerous thing. Makes the alpha do crazy things. Like kill other inmates. And think he’s the king”. Munroe gripped Ian by the chin, lifting his head up, “Well, I’m the fucking king!”
The warden’s voice bellowed, roared out, echoing around the room. “Trash. Both of you. Gutter fucking trash,” he continued in his tirade, pacing back and forth wildly, “and you think you can waltz in here and run the show. Those assholes out there should be under my thumb, not yours. He’s supposed to be theirs. Not yours. He doesn’t get to live fucking happily ever after. He’s supposed to rot in here, like his father should have. This is not the plan...my plan…you aren’t in control here, Gallagher. I am”.
The man was losing his shit, right before their eyes. And Mickey could have laughed, if he wasn’t so terrified. Munroe was certifiable. A tantrum throwing, egotistical, narcissist. The worst kind of man to be in a position of power. He attempted to calm himself however, likely registering his outburst, running his hands through his hair and down his tie. “No matter, that ends today. Mickey will be transferred back to his original cell. And you, enjoy your lifetime sentence. Alone”.
Their eyes met, green on blue, tears threatening to fall from his own but he forced them back. Ian started to vibrate, growl faintly, chest rising and falling but Mickey could see him struggling, focusing his breathing. “Please,” Ian spoke, an unexpected pathetic and pleading tone to his voice that surprised Mickey. It was unnatural. Fake. “Just give us a week. Let us say goodbye properly. Then I’ll do whatever you want, be your pawn, a model prisoner. I’ll stop running the hoes, break up my crew. Clean the toilets for the next twenty years, whatever you want”.
“Twenty five,” Munroe laughed, a sadistic, evil sound that pierced his ears. Then his heart. But then the warden’s eyes widened, clearly enjoying a grovelling Ian on his knees. Mickey watched his alpha, shaking his head in disbelief at the display, wondering what the hell he was playing at. He couldn’t just give him up. Give up what they had. Could he?
“I suppose I can agree to that. Make the farewell that much harder,” laughed Munroe, waving his hand at the guards, dismissing them. They were released and sent on their way, back to the cell. Ian uncharacteristically silent. His lips were on Mickey’s the moment they stepped inside, his eyes not cloudy like Mickey had expected. But bright and fiery, determined. Those comforting big hands cupped his face, Mickey covering them with his own.
“I love you, Mick. You know that right?” He gasped, then hiccupped a little, a soft sob bubbling up from his chest. Head slowly nodding up and down. “Yes. And you know I love you too right?” He smiled, despite the sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. Ian rested his head against his, a deep sigh leaving his mouth, “Yeah, I know. And I trust you. Do you trust me too?”
“Course. With my life, Ian. Doesn’t matter what he does. I’m yours. Always will be”. Ian kissed him again, then turned to leave, calling one of his guys over. They spoke in hushed tones. “Ian, what’s going on?” He figured they’d be naked by now, remain naked for as much of the next week as they could. Soaking up every last moment together. Before Mickey died. Because that’s what would happen. Even if his body lived on, his soul wouldn’t. Everything inside him would be lost.
The guy, Jay, returned, a brown envelope in his hand. Ian tossed it onto the bunk, sliding a mobile phone out. He flashed Mickey another fond smile, touched his cheek gently, while pressing digits.
“Hey, it’s me, Ian. I need your help, if you’re still offering”. Ian nodded intermittently as he listened to the voice on the other end, then hung up and immediately kissed Mickey.
“Ok, what the fuck, Red. Who the fuck did you just call?” Another smile, brighter now, one that expressed hope. “My dad”.
----
“Your dad, the alcoholic bum? Ian sat down on the bottom bunk, Mickey taking a spot next to him. The alpha spoke low, in a hushed tone. “No, my real dad. His names Clayton”.
“I don’t follow, how’s he gonna help us?
“Clayton Gallagher, name doesn’t ring a bell?” Mickey wracked his brain and sure, it sounded familiar but he shook his head, still not following. “He’s the D.A, Mick”. Mickey was on his feet again, an automatic reaction, “Hold up, your real dad is the district attorney. Clayton Gallagher, he’s your dad?”
Ian pulled him into the corner, away from the door, “Keep your voice down. Yes, he’s Frank’s brother…”
“So he’s your uncle too?”
“Really, Mick?”
“True though,” he grinned, enjoying being pinned up against the wall, “how did I not know this, how is this not common knowledge?”
“We’re not exactly close, he doesn’t acknowledge the rest of us, the South Side Gallaghers. Sometimes people connect the dots, but he’s just my uncle. The douchebag who let his own nephew go to jail for murder”.
“Well he is, surely he could have pulled some strings”.
“I told him not to, didn’t want his help. Didn’t want anyone knowing there’s this relationship between us. Can you imagine, if I was in here on a reduced sentence ‘cos my district attorney uncle abused his position of power?” Ian raised an eyebrow and Mickey laughed, nodding. “I get it. Reputation is everything in here. But people still know he’s family, right?”
“Yeah but as long as he’s the rich asshole who shuns his ghetto relatives, it usually works in my favour”.
“Ok. But why now, you didn’t want his help before?”
“Mick,” Ian closed any distance between them, an impossibly affectionate look on his face, fingers tipping his chin up. “You really think I’d put my pride or my reputation or even my own life above you?” A soft breath escaped, Mickey thrown by his honesty, what his statement truly meant. He knew he loved him, he’d said the words. But having his secrets revealed and going against his own nature by contacting Clayton, well, that meant far more than three words.
“So, um, what exactly happens now, like what’s the plan or whatever?”
“Not sure. He wanted to get me a reduced sentence at the trial. Considering the guy had roughed me up and had a history with young men, even teenagers. That and we didn’t steal anything, not his Rolex or wallet. He knew it was a stitch up. But,” Ian paused, breathing deeper, “I killed him. I killed a man who didn’t deserve to die. Who had a wife and kids and helped people every day. Doesn’t matter if he was a sleazy fuck”.
“So, you’re a martyr?”
“Fuck off, Mick. Rich fucks slither their way out of responsibility everyday. I couldn’t”.
“Nah, I get it. Respect it. Mandy wanted to raise money, hire some fancy human rights lawyer, contact these civil rights people, all that shit. But I told her no. I knew what I was doing. Knew what it meant. I was good with it. Had nothing to live for anyway, apart from Mandy”.
“And now?” Ian moved his face up to his, “you’ve something to live for?”
“You know I do, Red”.
“Me too. Why I swallowed my fucking pride. Only play I got. I’ve served over two years, hoping he can get me early release. But you, we gotta keep you here, with me. I can get him to look at your case. You’ve got to swallow your pride too, Mick. Life or death here. Not like you’d be lying, you’d be telling the truth, about Terry. That shit matters. People will care, the right kind of people. You don’t deserve to be in here, baby”.
“Well, you don’t deserve to be in here either, Ian. Was a fucking accident. You’ve more than made up for it by now”. Ian pressed his lips briefly against his, “I hope a week is enough, for him to make something happen. But I know he hates Monroe. They’re both running for Mayor, hear it’s been pretty ugly”.
“Hope so. I can’t go back there, Ian. You know what will happen,” a shuddery breath rushed out, “but if I do. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still yours. My body, fucking soul, everything. They can use it, abuse it, but like I said before, it won’t be me”.
“Fuck,” Ian picked him up, Mickey wrapping his legs around his waist, “I love you so much. I’ll figure it out, whatever it takes. You mean it, you’re really mine?” Nodding, their lips crashed together, their bodies moving against each other. Desperate now, having been separated for days. Ian lay him down on the mattress, so carefully and gently, hovering above him. Petting his hair and face, breathing in and out with him. “I’m yours too. Your alpha”.
----
The day dragged, torturously slow. Both men surging together once that cell door clinked shut.
“Fuck, been waiting for this all day”. Ian murmured in his ear, body laying on top, his hands starting to tug at his jumpsuit, yanking it down his body.
“You and me both, tough guy. Need you in me. Like fucking yesterday”. Ian giggled, gazing fondly back at him, fingers teasing through his dark hair.
“I’ve missed you. Us. This. Its like I can’t function properly when you’re not around. Jesus, I’m pathetic”. Ian laughed, Mickey quickly joining in. “No you’re not. ‘Cos if you are then I am too”.
“Was thinking…”
“Uh oh” Ian pinched one of his nipples then nibbled on it. Mickey releasing a low, satisfied moan. “Can you let me finish, asshole”
“I’ll let you finish in my asshole, if you get inside me sometime today”. Another beautiful, sweet, giggle. The type that had Ian’s face lighting up.
“Jesus you’re bossy. I will, I promise. Just wanted to talk about something first, something important”. Ian kissed his neck, then his shoulder, winding his way south. A finger slipping inside him, while his cock was engulfed by his warm mouth. Mickey arched off the bed, groaning unashamedly. On edge all day, waiting for this moment, when they were alone again.
“Ian, fuck, feels so good. Gonna come already”. Ian pulled his mouth off but slipped a second finger in, “come then, only round one”. Suddenly he was swallowed down again, a third finger fucking his wet hole. And a rush of slick gushed out, then an eruption from his throbbing cock. His hands pushed down on Ian’s head holding him there while he pulsed. His whole body shuddering, whimpers spilling out of his mouth.
Then he pushed Ian onto his back, returning the favour, eager to taste him again. He gagged, attempting to take all of his long thick cock in. Eyes locked on Ian, showing him what he did to him, how much he loved him. The alpha grunted and bit down deliciously on his bottom lip, his hand sliding through his hair. Tugging occasionally, when he would thrust up with his hips.
“Ride me, wanna come in that ass. Promised you”. Ian’s voice was husky and broken, proving how close he was, how gone. Mickey groaned, sinking down with determination, his hands grabbing onto Ian’s chest and pinching his nipples. The alphas head rolled back, hissing and panting as he bucked up, fucking him harshly. Holding him there while Mickey pushed down. “Like that, huh,” Mickey teased, lowering his mouth there, offering licks and kisses before he pulled one of those pink nubs between his teeth. Ian’s fingers dug into his ass cheeks even deeper, a low, rumbling growl coming out. “Fuck, yes, love it. Gonna come. Baby…I want to…”.
Ian sat up, Mickey straddling his lap. Kissing him fiercely, a strange expression on his face. But his eyes drifted away, landing on Mickey’s neck. A finger traced over that spot, his scent gland. Green eyes finding his again, a question there. “Oh, fuck…you mean...you want to…here…now?”
“Wanted to for a long time, Mick. It’s the final step in making you mine. And it would protect you. Whatever happens. Might even be the answer to keeping us together”. Their bodies had stilled now, Ian still inside him but not moving. His hands smoothed up Mickey’s back landing on the back of his neck. Holding him. Cradling him.
“Yeah. OK. Fuck, not exactly romantic,” he joked, Ian laughing gently. “You mean you never dreamed of getting mated in the bottom bunk of a prison cell?”
A snort escaped, Mickey teasing Ian by clenching around him, drawing a breathy moan out of the alpha. “Never really thought I’d ever mate, Ian. Wasn’t allowed to be an omega, remember. Never thought I’d fall in love either. Doesn’t matter where we are. I want it, want you”.
Ian twitched inside him, hips moving again, thrusting deep and steady. Their mouths stayed connected, while they moved together, perfectly in sync. Pants and grunts of pleasure swallowed up, warm breaths intermingled. And then Ian’s lips moved down, to that curve in his neck. And he picked up the pace. Lifting Mickey up and down, their bodies colliding loudly together. His cock was nailing his sweet spot, over and over and he squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling it wash over him.
“Do it, Ian. I’m ready”. With a thunderous rumble from his throat, Ian bared his teeth, flashing him one last look before he bit down. Instantly, Mickey cried out and exploded between them. Ian held him down against his lap, knot swelling and locking them together. He pulsed and throbbed, and lapped at his neck, licking it clean. Then continued to kiss and nuzzle Mickey, as they shuddered together. It felt different to all the other times. Stronger, overwhelming, otherworldly almost.
They sat like that awhile, even long after Ian softened inside him. Embracing. Wrapped up in each others arms. Sharing space and breath and warmth. Now sharing energy and scents and all that makes them an alpha and an omega. Their essence of who they are as individuals, coming together, to make something new. Uniquely them. A lifelong unbreakable bond. The mark, that Ian traced now with his finger, a symbol of their love.
“My omega,” Ian whispered into the dark, as they finally lay down together. The alpha taking his usual position behind Mickey. Strong arms tugging him back, flush against his chest. Then locked around him, protectively. And he really was. In every way. His.
----
“You ready?” Mickey nodded and followed Ian out, a guard escorting them to the visitors centre. “You sure this is ok, I mean, you’re meeting him for the first time…”
He spoke quietly, leaning in close to Ian. Who somehow smelled even more enticing and addictive since they mated. Two days had passed and the changes in the prison atmosphere were surprising. And amusing. The other inmates were confused at first but quickly accepted their union. And it was astonishing how they barely looked at him now, his scent not as alluring, their bond rendering him less desirable apparently. That, and no alpha wanted to mess with a mated omega. Not only was it illegal, but highly dangerous. A mated alpha was even more fiercely protective and possessive. It was a first, considering it was intended to be an alpha inclusive prison.
So, the rumour was that the warden was in a state of panic, unable to conceal his “kidnapping” of Mickey. The guards were no better, so unsure of the legalities involved and it wasn’t like they had procedures in place for such a situation. A situation that should never have been allowed to happen. So far, they just let Ian and Mickey be, including now. Where Ian went, Mickey went too.
And the alpha didn’t even have to offer bribes anymore. Even now, as they entered that visitation room. The guards remained silent at the unprecedented image of a mated pair of prisoners walking up to meet their visitor, together. Ian picked up the receiver, holding it out, so he could hear too. Mickey was fidgeting in his seat, unexpectedly nervous. Clayton Gallagher was dressed in a smart suit, likely tailored and expensive. His hair was lighter than Ian’s, more strawberry blonde than vibrant copper-red. But there was a likeness there, a strong familial resemblance.
“So, its true, you mated? Are you crazy, Ian, is this another one of your acts of rebellion? You’re not a child anymore. You need to accept the situation”. Mickey was so in tune with Ian now, he noticed him swallow thickly and his breaths deepening, like he was purposely forcing himself to remain calm. He placed his hand on Ian’s knee, which seemed to help. And the alpha placed his hand over his.
“Clayton, I do accept the situation. Anything I’ve done in life, including this,” he glanced at Mickey, “has absolutely nothing to do with you. You’re just the man who fucked my mother. Impregnated her. Then abandoned her. So no, I’m not crazy, for falling in love. It happened, so you need to accept that”. Mickey smirked, enjoying how confident and unruffled Ian was. In comparison to his father, who tugged at his tie in an attempt to compose himself.
“So, if I mean so little to you, why did you call me, why do you expect me to help you now?”
“Because you made me, I’m still your son and I doubt you want me to die in here”. Clayton’s eyes flew open, “you’re up for parole in a couple of years?”
“That was before Phillip Monroe tried to pin another murder on me. An inmate attacked Mickey, it was a set up. Probably Monroe himself. Guy died in the ambulance, apparently”.
“Jesus, Ian,” the man sighed, looking genuinely distraught, “that man. Its why I decided to run, can’t let him win. He’s dangerous and corrupt. But I need proof, something he can’t twist or make go away”.
“The guys who attacked us were supposed to be in Block A, could check records? If they were booked in correctly then that proves a discrepancy, he’d have to explain how they got into our yard”. Mickey squeezed his knee, moving closer to the receiver, “and I think the Doctor would speak to you, at least confirm the guy’s status, he seemed hopeful, said he was on the way to get surgery. Didn’t seem like he was gonna die, to me”.
“And you, Mickey, you’re OK now?” The older man seemed genuine in his concern, even smiled faintly. “Yeah, lucky I guess. Monroe’s trying to blame it all on me, says I started it, so it wasn’t self-defence or whatever. Asshole fucking kidnapped me, to be a piece of meat, allowed me to be raped and now wants to lock me up and throw away the key. All because of my dad. Wants to take his shit out on me instead”. Clayton looked disgusted and angry now, eyes flickering between him and Ian.
“He broke the law, Mickey. You won’t be staying here much longer. That much I can guarantee. As for that prick, I’ll do my best to take him down”. The relief he felt was indescribable. Whatever happened, Mickey wouldn’t be staying in that place. But the thought of being separated prevented him from celebrating just yet.
“I have everything documented,” Ian spoke again, “incidents, facts, times, dates. It’s hidden away, safe. Was saving it for the right time. Guess that’s now. But I need out of here. We both do. Neither of us deserve to be here. I see that now. We’ve made enough amends”.
Clayton nodded, “I’ll get to work then. Give me a few days. Anything else happens, you call me immediately”. Ian nodded, hesitated, both men looking at each other through the glass. “Was nice to meet you, Mickey. Hopefully we’ll meet again, under different circumstances. Outside, preferably”.
“Yeah, won’t say no to that. I’ll even buy you dinner”. They all laughed a little, the initial tension evaporating with each minute that passed. “Well, I’ll hold you to that. But if you both get out, I think a celebration is in order…”
“Nice publicity, huh. Opportunity to gloat, probably call the press in yourself”.
“Ian, I know you don’t think a lot of me but that’s not what I meant. You and Mickey are the priority here. Sure, if it helps with my election campaign then I’m not above using it. But I meant a celebration of you, your love. Your union. I’m glad you found each other. Really”.
“Ok. Well, just make it happen. You owe me. Not a word, until I was arrested. I’m not blaming you for that night, I fucked up all by myself. And you’re right, I was rebelling. Being a stupid kid ‘cos my life got turned upside down. Finding out Frank wasn’t my dad, which made sense ‘cos he hated me. Then mom leaving. And dying. I couldn’t deal with it,” Ian paused, voice wobbly with emotion, Clayton shocked but listening intently. “I needed a real father. I needed you back then. So yeah, you fucking owe me. For the life I should have had”.
Clayton swallowed again, nodding slowly, his eyes even appearing a little glassy. “You’re right, Ian. I let you down. In the worst way. And I didn’t fight enough for you. Sure, you told me to fuck off but I should have been a man, an adult, and persisted. I’m sorry,” a pause, “I’m here now though. And I’m willing to fight now”. Ian sniffed next to him, nodding back. Mickey offered him a reassuring smile and squeezed his knee again. Ian squeezing his hand in return. “Times almost up,” Ian stated a moment later, “I'll call you tomorrow”.
“I’ll be waiting. You two just hang in there, alright”. Mickey and Ian nodded, watching the man rise and head out. Their fate now resting in his hands.
----
Mickey pressed back, a muffled moan hidden beneath Ian’s hand. It was still dark, not quite time for the prison to spring to life. Ian had stirred first, sleepily and lazily stroking Mickey, until he too started to wake. It was quiet and unhurried, Ian easily sliding in between his cheeks. Mickey’s back against his chest, his hand snaked back to reach his hair. And now they were just there, Mickey raising his leg a little more, Ian pumping in steadily from behind. Mouth always in contact, on his neck or shoulder or cheek. Hand splayed across his stomach. Their bodies fused together, undulating rhythmically. Ian’s other hand found his throat now, his mouth finding his ear.
“Come baby, I can’t wait. You feel too good”.
He tilted his head so their lips could meet easier. And Ian tightened his grip around his throat, and held his leg out even wider. His thrusts came quick and hard, the angle just right. “Ugh, fuck. Yeah, there, please…”
He panted the stream of words against Ian’s hot mouth. Coming with a strangled cry, which his alpha happily smothered with another blistering kiss. Ian dropped his leg so he could grip his hips, holding him tight against him, as he pulsed and began to swell. A guttural groan echoing into his ear, where Ian’s face was buried. Mickey would never tire of taking his knot, the fullness, the stretch, the throbbing. He knew that once his heat came they’d have to stop, neither man wanting to have a kid anytime soon. But that’s what meds are for and they already agreed that once they got out, which they hoped would be sooner rather than later, he would ensure he was protected. Because fuck, he wanted to come on Ian’s knot over and over, feel that blinding, mind-blowing pleasure at every opportunity.
He was hard again, at the sensation of Ian filling him up. His cock practically vibrating inside him. Pressing right there on that bundle of nerves. His insides were on fire. His stomach tensing. Head spinning. As Ian took him in his hand, those skilled fingers wrapped around him and moving expertly. Knowing exactly how he liked it. Once Ian grazed his mark with his teeth, it was game over. And Mickey threw his head back against Ian, who held him there, caressing him and whispering to him while he shuddered and whimpered. “That’s it, fuck, so good for me. Love you so much, baby”.
“Jesus, I could wake up like that every day, Red”. He breathed out a soft laugh, turning around so they were face to face again. He loved Ian like this, first thing in the morning. Skin slightly pink and eyes still a little sleepy, hair all messy and out of control. Cute as all fuck. And it felt like a privilege, because he was the only person in the world who got to see this version of Ian Gallagher.
“What you thinking?” Ian was busy petting him, always so tactile, especially after. Soothing him, bringing him down, being extra affectionate and tender. And he loved this version of Ian too.
“Dunno. Just wondering how many omegas got to see this side of you before, wake up with you like this”. He shrugged feeling a hint of jealousy creep up, surprisingly, because Mickey had never been that type. He never cared about an alpha enough to get jealous, he supposed. Never had a boyfriend or anyone even remotely serious or steady. Ian was a first, in so many ways. In all ways. A grin broke out on Ian’s face, as if he had read his mind. And his hand started gliding sensually down his side, along the curve of his ass, coming to rest on his thigh.
“No one else,” he answered, intense green eyes fixed on his face. Mickey snorted and rolled his eyes, “liar. You don’t have to protect me or whatever, wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t wanna know”.
“It’s the truth. Never had a proper relationship before. Was never in love, not like this. I’ve woken up with guys, sure. Spent the night, sometimes several nights. But it never felt like this, Mick. Before I got locked up, I was a mess. Don’t even remember most of the guys I’ve fucked. Was probably a complete dick to most of them actually”.
“Now that I can believe, you are a dick”. He smirked, throwing his leg over him, trailing a hand down his face. Nudging his body even closer, if that was possible. “Fuck you, you’re the one fell in love with me, so what’s that say about you?” He chuckled lightly, enjoying their closeness and playfulness. “That I have bad taste in men?”
Ian cocked an eyebrow at him, wearing a devious smirk now, hands wandering again. “Oh, it’s like that is it, think you need to apologise, Mickey” Ian drew out his name, before tackling him onto his back, hands no longer caressing but tickling. Yes, his badass alpha had him writhing with laugher now, his fingers finding all his most sensitive points with relative ease. “Say it, inmate Milkovich. Or I’ll keep up my punishment…”
He gasped, breathlessly now, eyes watering, never imagining he would enjoy being tickled by a grown man so much. “Ok, fine. Fuck, stop. Stop,” they laughed together, Ian hovering above him now, sweeping his hair back gently. “You have something to say to me?” He slid his own hand up the back of his neck and into that copper-red hair that still had the ability to make his mouth water. Fuck, he had managed to bag the hottest alpha on the planet. And boy did that feel good. “Yeah, shut the fuck up and kiss me, dickhead”.
----
“What the fuck”
Their eyes met, then took in the state of their cell. It had been tossed, while they were at breakfast. Their few measly belongings thrown about, books ripped from the spine, mattresses and pillows cut open.
“Fuck” Ian’s phone was confiscated. He had hidden it inside a well-worn book, in the pages which were cut out. Usually they were careful about contraband but he needed it to keep in touch with Clayton, as the prison phone calls were recorded. Luckily, the journal Ian kept wasn’t stored in the cell. A mobile phone being found wasn’t unusual and usually just earned a standard punishment, like a week in the hole.
But if the warden were to find out you were documenting every dark and shady act that occurred inside his prison, well, there’s no telling what that psychopath would do. That’s why Ian hid it in plain sight, right there in the library, among hundreds of other books. They tried to clear up the mess, anxiety levels rising and both men hoping Clayton could work his magic, quickly.
“You think he knows, about your…connection?” He spoke quietly, Ian shrugging, “Dunno, fuck, probably listens in on the visitations too. Cats probably out of the bag. But what can he do? Can’t kill us or make us disappear”.
“Could make the rest of our time here unbearable though”. A dry laugh caught their attention, an unwanted presence. Thorne. “I really fucking hope so. C’mon, with me”.
“Where we going?” Ian asked, stepping ahead of Mickey, protectively. “Speak of the devil ‘n all that…Warden wants to see you”. They exchanged worried looks. A meeting in that man’s office was never a good thing. Unless they were being released, but even the D.A couldn’t work that fast.
Unlike before, Munroe wasn’t seated, but standing in front of his desk, speaking to Ryan. There was an air of tension and Mickey wondered if their conversation had been a heated one, the young guard appearing angry and restless in his demeanour. Instantly they were on alert, as Thorne locked the door like before and Munroe eyed them intensely. He was furious. Mickey could tell that he was barely keeping his shit together. His eyes were dark and wide, his body jittery, pheromones swamping the office.
“So, your father is none other than Clayton Gallagher? You think I wouldn’t find out that you’re conspiring against me? I want it all, this so called evidence you’ve collected. And I wouldn’t leave me waiting”. Mickey tried to supress a laugh of disbelief but it escaped, resulting in a violent slap to the face. Administered by the man himself. Ian growled, automatically, resulting in a punch to the gut courtesy of their favourite sadistic guard.
“You think this is funny, that I’m playing around. Do you not realise who the fuck you’re playing with. Maybe I’ve been too lenient, maybe it’s time to take care of shit myself”.
Munroe grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him towards the dark mahogany table, shoving him face down onto it. His intentions clear, especially when he started opening his own belt. “Fucking touch him and I’ll rip your throat out”. Ian tried to surge forward but was hit again, in the head this time, stopping him in his tracks. Thorne then took out a set of handcuffs and placed one around his wrist, yanking him harshly towards the radiator where he connected the other cuff.
“Sir, this is going too far, he’s the son of the D.A. Think about what you’re doing”. Mickey struggled to get up but Munroe held his hands behind his back, pressed down hard. But even Ryan’s warning wasn’t enough to sway him.
“Always a pussy, Ryan. Too afraid to get your hands dirty. But you could be in these files too, you ready to take that risk, let these two criminals destroy your reputation?”
“Yeah, I am. ‘Cos this is wrong. All of it is fucking wrong and it needs to stop”.
Munroe growled and pulled Mickey up, the omega struggling and fighting back but then a sharp punch to his face was enough to subdue him. Rough hands were zipping down his jumpsuit and shoving him back onto the table. Everything happening so quickly. Ian groaned, coming around, then released a deep, threatening growl. “You’re a dead man, you’re fucking dead”. Mickey heard Thorne laugh sharply, then deliver what sounded like another blow to Ian. Ryan pleaded again but Thorne warned him to keep out of it or leave. The two guards arguing now.
“Want something done right, gotta do it yourself,” Munroe muttered, yanking down Mickeys shorts, ripping them he thought. Although he was still a little dizzy, he continued to struggle and fight back. “Fuck you, crazy fucking piece of shit. You won’t get away with this. You’re already finished. Done. You’ll be locked up here soon enough. Bet they’ll welcome you with open arms”. He spat his words, still wriggling despite the weight of the alphas strong body against his. Munroe brought his mouth close to his ear, warm breath against his skin, stilling him now. Reality setting in. Fear. “Gonna enjoy tearing you up. Make your alpha watch. Watch as you enjoy it and come all over this table. Like the little whore you are”.
Mickey braced himself. Blocking it all out. The smell and sound of the man, all wrong. He focused on other things, like the guttural noise of Ian's howl that almost shook the room. The noise of the handcuffs clinking as the alpha struggled to get free. The guards shouting. A scuffle breaking out. Then a full blown fight. A loud thump. Like a body falling to the floor.
“Enough” Another thump. Suddenly, he was released, able to move. “What the fuck”.
Thorne was unconscious, lying next to Ian, who was still cuffed to the pipe. Munroe groaned, moving, attempting to get back on his feet. “How dare you…”
But Ryan struck him again with his baton, rendering him unconscious too. “Oh shut the fuck up. Asshole”.
Mickey, pulling his clothes back on, actually smirked, despite the circumstances. “Jesus, guess that means you’re fired”. Ryan caught his eye, hands still shaking, bloodied knuckles and face bruised from his altercation with Thorne. “Didn’t like it much anyway,” he joked lightly, “You OK? Fuck. I should have done something sooner. Didn’t think he’d go that far”.
“Better late than never,” he replied, waving him off. The kid was up against multiple bullies and Mickey knew what that felt like. He understood first-hand how difficult it is to stand up to people like that. But he did, in the end. He patted his shoulder while padding over to Ian. “Shit, you OK? Hey, you got keys for these?” Ryan nodded, cuffing Munroe’s hands behind his back first, before freeing Ian. Thorne was then cuffed to that same pipe. An act of karma that made Mickey smile once more.
He stroked Ian’s face, checking him over, before the alpha pulled him into his arms. A deep embrace. Mickey heard him sniff, knowing he was close to tears. “I’m fucking sick and tired of seeing you get hurt,” Ian raged, his voice an angry growl, “I should kill him”. Ian attempted to move towards the warden but Mickey held him steady, cupping his face. “Hey, stop. We have a chance to be free, Ian. He’s not worth it. We have evidence…”
“And witnesses,” Ryan added gently with a nod. “See, he won’t weasel his way out of this. He’s done, Ian. And so are we. Its over. OK. I’m fine, I promise. Wouldn’t have felt a thing anyway. After you, everything else probably feels like a pencil dick”.
“Christ, Mick. Really?” Ryan chuckled but then sounded like he was choking, cheeks growing pink. Ian cocked an eyebrow at Mickey, shaking his head but breaking out into a grin.
“I love you”
“Love you too, Red”
Ryan cleared his throat, “You wanna maybe call your dad. Not like I got protocol for this shit. And these two assholes will wake up soon,” his eyes darted around the room, widening with anxiety. Likely the reality of what he’d just done finally sinking in. “Fuck, I really need to start looking for a new job”.
“Ah, I wouldn’t worry too much about your job. Got some connections,” Ian joked, patting Ryan on the back before making his way towards the desk. The alpha taking the opportunity to kick the unconscious warden in the stomach on the way, who released a faint moan. “What,” the redhead shrugged, before sitting comfortably in the leather chair and picking up the phone. His green eyes, bright again, caught Mickey’s. And he appeared to take in a deep breath, his anger subsiding.
While waiting on the call to go through, Ian rummaged in the drawers, laughing when he discovered a bottle of whisky. Mickey looked to Ryan who shrugged, as if to say “fuck it”. And they each took a celebratory swig. Then Ian sat forward, catching his eye again. “Hey, it’s me…”
----
“Sort of romantic spending our last week in here”. Mickey shot Ian a hard look and arched one of his thick eyebrows in his direction. Not that the redhead could likely make out the finer details of his face, in that dark, tiny cell.
“You fucking kidding?” The alpha was snuggled up behind, taking up the position of big spoon like usual. He took a deep whiff of his neck before planting a sweet kiss there. Mickey’s eyes fluttering closed a little at the touch. “No, reminds me of the last time we were here”.
Mickey felt his cheeks warm up, at the memory of spending his heat there, in solitary with Ian. The deep connection, the intimacy, the debauchery. He supposed he understood Ian’s point. Despite it being such a cold, grey and miserable setting. “Think that’s when I started falling for you,” he whispered in return, enjoying Ian nuzzling him and embracing him from behind. Suddenly, Mickey didn’t feel the need for a comfortable mattress or warm blanket. Not when he had his alpha coiled around him.
“Think I was already in love with you by then,” Ian responded casually, catching him by surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah, never believed in that whole love at first sight shit, not until I met you. Second I laid eyes on you, I dunno…just knew”.
“Knew what?”
“That you were special, that what I felt was different. Wasn’t just alpha shit. Like yeah, I felt protective and possessive but it was so much stronger and there were other feelings too. Like I didn’t only wana fuck you. Wanted to make you laugh and hold you and take care of you and stuff”. Ian’s voice sounded adorably honest and vulnerable, forcing Mickey to turn around to face him. Needing to see his handsome face and those incredible green eyes. One of his tattooed hands reached up, to caress his cheek.
“Yeah? Suppose I felt the same. Even if I fought it for awhile. But when we shared that heat, fuck, I felt things I’d never felt before. Scared the shit out of me”.
A gentle laugh and Ian rested his head against his, “Yeah, me too. Never wanted to leave this shitty cell”.
“You saying you’re glad we got jumped in the shower?” he joked, Ian pinching his sides and shaking his head. “Course not, told ya, don’t wanna see you get hurt anymore. Why I fucking lost it and fucked them up”.
“Hey, I fucking helped too, asshole”. He laughed, Ian pecking his lips, chuckling against them.
They should have seen it coming. When prisoners get their release date it usually brings out jealousy and anger in others. Often leading prisoners to attack the soon-to-be released prisoners out of spite. A few guys had taken their opportunity when Ian and Mickey were showering but thankfully, the interim warden ran a tight ship and had brought in some new blood. Experienced and disciplined guards. So the assholes were quickly subdued, having inflicted limited damage. Ian had a few close calls, almost getting stabbed but managing to redirect the hit, only receiving a few slashes to his arm instead. Mickey, like Ian, was a little banged up with bruises and scrapes but nothing that wouldn’t heal by itself. They had been moved to solidarity for their own safety and it was fine by them. They didn’t need anything, just each other. They had privacy, and peace and quiet. Meals delivered to them. What more could they need?
They spent their final night, making love, because it wasn’t just sex anymore, not in his opinion. Sex seemed too small a word and couldn’t possibly explain what they felt. It was raw emotion, an expression of love, an exchange of energy between an alpha and an omega. Between soulmates. It was slow and tender but also hard and passionate. Them in every way. Ian taking him from behind, his chest plastered against his back. Then Mickey taking control, on top, their fingers interlinked, green eyes fixed on his every move. And Ian on top, their lips always touching, foreheads connected, sharing shuddery breath as they climaxed together.
“You think Mouse is gonna be ok?” he asked, as they finally settled down, having had their fill of each other. Bodies aching deliciously now and eyelids starting to grow heavy.
“Yeah, he’s smart and tough, already calling himself the boss”. Mickey chuckled and nodded faintly, “Yeah, he’ll be alright. He’s a good dude. Maybe you could talk to your dad about his case. Not like he killed anyone, dude just sold weed. OK, he had a gun on him when they arrested him, but not like he used it”. Ian laughed a little behind him, “Yeah, I’ll ask him. Clayton”.
“Still not ready to call him dad yet, huh?”
“Fuck no. Getting us out early is just the start of him making up for lost time. I’m still so angry and resentful, you know. Maybe in time, I dunno…”
“I get it. And I’m not saying you should forgive him, Ian. He fucked up, he was a dick. Maybe he still is. He is a fucking lawyer after all…” a chuckle, “But he’s your dad and he’s trying and he’s all you got. Take it from someone who knows how fucking bad it could be. Maybe just give him a chance, get to know him”.
“Mmm,” Ian nuzzled into his neck, lazily kissing him and inhaling, “smart and sexy. I’m so fucking lucky. Who knew getting locked up for murder would be the best thing that ever happened to me”.
Mickey snorted, taking his hands in his and pulling his arms even tighter around him. Eyes closed now, on the verge of sleep. “Guess we’re both lucky, Red. Now go to fucking sleep. Gonna be a busy day tomorrow”.
----
“Ready to do this, Milkovich”.
“Damn straight, Gallagher”.
They followed Ryan out, the recently promoted guard. As Ian had predicted, his job was secure, especially after he thoroughly co-operated with the investigation into Munroe. The former warden should have been a new resident of the prison, had he not blown his brains out. Knowing his arrest was imminent and his dirty secrets had been exposed, the coward put a gun to his mouth and pulled the trigger. Mickey was glad he was dead but somehow, it didn’t quite feel like the justice he (or Ian) deserved. Thorne also escaped prison, turning on his former boss and spilling his guts in exchange for a non custodial sentence. He argued that he was simply following orders, but Mickey knew he enjoyed inflicting pain and cruelty. But his career and reputation were destroyed. His wife had apparently filed for divorce and last he heard, he was working as a janitor.
“You guys take care, and don’t let me see you back in here,” Ryan quipped, as they signed out, just a door standing between them and freedom. “Thanks, man,” Mickey offered humbly, “you’re alight, Ryan, for a screw”.
“Yeah, and you’re alright for a criminal, both of you”. The guard stuck his hand out, Ian shaking it first, closely followed by Mickey. The pair exchanged a quick look of anticipation and nervousness, both men seemingly inhaling sharply before the door buzzed, opening. The sun was bright and hot above their heads, their hands flying up to shield their eyes. The path was dirty and their feet kicked up dust. Another buzz and clink of metal and they were out. Free.
“Fuck”. Mickey inhaled sharply, locking eyes with Ian, still in disbelief that he was out in the real world. He should have been a much older man, many years into the future. But no, he was walking out into an entirely new future, alongside Ian. The love of his life, his mate. His hand slipped into Ian’s, the pair smiling back at each other until a horn beeping disturbed them.
“It’s, Lip,” Ian offered, waving towards his older brother, who stood by the most amazing red sports car Mickey had ever laid eyes on. “Jesus, thought you said he just worked in I.T?”
“He does,” Ian replied with a hint of confusion. They padded over, Lip eyeing Mickey curiously before pulling Ian into a firm hug. “Missed you little brother”.
“You steal this,” Ian joked, eyes sweeping over the curves of the expensive looking car. Lip twirled the keys around before handing them to Ian, “Nah, I’m totally legit these days,” he chuckled, winking at his brother. “Gift from your dad. Too busy in the run up to the election to come here himself, I guess”. Ian nodded, lips pursed, spurring Mickey to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Still trying to buy my love. Whatever, not keeping it”.
“The fuck you’re not,” Mickey snatched the keys from his hand, with a grin, “we’re mated now, so that means I get like half of everything you own, right? Starting with this…” Ian cocked his head at him, eventually huffing out a deep laugh, “fine, whatever you want, baby”.
“Good, now let’s get the fuck out of here”. Mickey hopped into the front, body jittery with excitement, relishing the smooth hum of the engine. Lip and Ian playfully arguing over the passenger seat until the older sibling gave in and took the back. “I see why you like him,” Mickey overheard, Lip glancing between the two of them. Ian reached over and rested his hand on his thigh, as Mickey let the car rip, enjoying the thrill of being alive and free.
That night, Ian introduced him to the rest of his siblings, while he introduced Mandy to the Gallaghers. They partied the night away, until they eventually retreated to bed, curling up in Ian’s childhood bedroom. “So, what’s next?” he murmured, sleepily.
“Not sure, baby. Gotta find a job. A real one. Lip said his company is hiring but I don’t know the first thing about all that coding and technology shit,” he chuckled lightly, warm breath tickling the back of Mickey’s neck. But then the alpha shifted, pausing, thinking. “What?”
“Clayton, uh, dad, said he could help me out, internship maybe. Thinks I could make a good lawyer. Would have to go to college ‘n all that. I dunno, seems stupid…but I wanna do something good, help people, you know…” A fond smile stretched across his face, hearing the softness and insecurity in the tough alphas voice. It was a rare occurrence, Ian usually so self-assured and confident, cocky even. But it was a gentle reminder that he was human and facing uncertainty too, just like Mickey was.
“Well, I usually hate lawyers but I could see that for you. Look hot in a suit”. A quick squeeze of his stomach and Ian was nipping at his neck playfully. “Yeah, that all you got to say huh, wow”.
“Fine. You’d rock anything you wanted to do, Ian. You’re smart and charismatic and stupidly determined. And you’re good too, you could be one of those decent lawyers, represent people like us. Poor, forgotten, write-offs. Fuck knows we could have used someone who actually gave a shit, who was willing to fight for us”.
“Worked out in the end though. Fuck, thought my life was over when I got sent down. But now it’s just beginning”. Ian turned him around in his arms, pressing an affectionate kiss to his lips. Holding Mickey carefully but firmly in his arms.
And he was overcome for a moment, the realisation of where they were hitting him square in the chest. He was in Ian’s family home, in his bed. Not a dingy, cold and grey cell. The sound of shouts coming from violent prisoners replaced with laughter and music. They were safe, free, together. With their whole lives ahead of them, full of possibilities. And happiness. And love.
As he pulled Ian back in for another kiss, longer and indulgent this time, he felt his entire body light up from the inside. Because his alpha was right. This was just the beginning. .