Mention of what he likes only draws a snort of laughter as Mick takes the opportunity to start mouthing along the side of his jaw, finding his pulse point and lavishing it with attention because he remembers that day just as clearly. The beginning of the end, the day he realized he was attracted to the mouthy and skinny pain in the ass that’s become his entire world.

I trust you Mick.

The words ring true and firm and Mick will hold on to them for the rest of his life. That soft smile, the brush of fingers on his cheek like he’s something to be treasured and wanted. Not just a thug. Not just the crazy firebug that hangs around. When the kiss drives them to break, he pulls back long enough to rip at his shirts, peeling them off so he can wrap bared arms around Lenny, itching to feel the warm and soft drag of skin against skin.

A shaky exhale as he pulls back, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt again. Not seeking to reach under it as much as get it up and off as well. To finally have permission to touch, the way he’s desperately wanted for years now.