myheadisaprison | {I might be lost, but I'm not a lost cause

Mick is giddy. Drunk on touch and drunk on the way Leonard is touching him, laughing and easy and god he's wanted this for so long. But after one or two caresses he has to bat his hands away with a laugh. They can't wreck and they sure as hell can't get a ticket tonight.

Tonight they're getting a hotel room.
Tonight he's going to kiss Leonard as often and as long as he will allow him. He's aching for more but Mick isn't going to press his luck. He's going to take whatever Leonard is willing to give him.

The hotel clerk is slow and annoying and he wants so badly to reach out and touch, but he can't until they're inside.
Then there's a muttered word and fingers dragging him close and hard and a mouth crushing his.
Lenny.

Mick chokes on a groan as he wraps arms around him, hauling him in close and relishing the contact.

Leonard hums in Mick's mouth at the arms tightening around him and pulling him closer. There's something absolutely electric in the room tonight-- it's in the air, it's in every way Mick is touching him, it's living in his own skin. And it's absolutely addictive, he wants, no, needs more.

The sound he makes this time is a little more needy, more of a whine, as he presses closer, hand sliding up to tangle his fingers in Mick's hair.

It's like a live wire beneath his skin, electric as Lenny whines into his mouth and it's a direct line to his spine, sending shivery sparks down it as he breaks the kiss, panting for air.

"Lenny. Please.. please." Because he doesn't want to stop, he wants to keep this going and he wants to lose himself in this for as long as he can.

The kiss breaks and Leonard really, really wishes it didn't, that he didn't have a reason to breathe because all he wants is to keep going.

Except. Mick. Mick is talking. There are words, and he should give words back and... wait... please? Why is he-- "What's wrong?" he asks softly, fingertips tracing down the side of Mick's face. Had he done something wrong? He's pretty sure....no, but the stopping and the borderline begging cause that doubt to try and creep up.

"Please can we?" A kiss to try and chase away the doubts he sees starting to filter in. Lenny's always been fiddly when it comes to touch and Mick doesn't want to stop tonight. His eyes slip closed at the drag of fingers along his skin and he swallows, shifting his hand to ghost just beneath his shirt.
Touching bare skin.

Finally, finally touching him.
"Please Lenny," he murmurs. "I want to. But.. but only if you do too."

The clarification to his question catches him off-guard, and sometimes Mick's directness is everything he needs in a moment. And sometimes it's the exact opposite. He doesn't know. He doesn't know if he's ready, he doesn't know if he can say yes so definitively, and the indecision has him frozen for a moment.

Until he feels Mick's fingers slip under his shirt and graze sensitive skin and it's like that electric snap has been ignited in him all over again. He doesn't answer with words, instead he surges forward and kisses him again, arms sliding around his neck.

This time, Leonard breaks the kiss, his forehead pressed against Mick's, lip tugged between his teeth as he breathes out two words of confirmation of exactly what he wants. "Show me."

Mick is fully ready to rein it in, to step back and take a cold shower or something to settle back down. Then Lenny is pressing in even closer and kissing him hungrily and his entire focus slips down to them, nothing else. Nothing else outside of this little room matters quite as much as Leonard in his arms.

A quick step-turn-drag and Mick has him pushed up against the wall, not so much as a breath of space between them. "Okay Lenny. Okay." And he will. He's gonna make it so very good for him. This is a matter of profound trust and Mick isn't going to screw this up.

He tips his head back, expression serious.
"If you wanna stop, you just say it."

The fingers that were just barely ghosting beneath his shirt shift upward now and Mick slides his hands up the long lines of his back, feeling warm skin and he groans into the next kiss.

He lets out a noise that's somewhere between a groan and a purr in the back of his throat when Mick shoves him against the wall, "That, I like." He admits, a smirk settling easily across his face; in fact, he's known that since shortly after meeting Mick in juvie. He remembers the attitude Mick had that day, and the way he kept picking at him until he forced the other boy to react-- by slamming him against the wall, with every intention, Leonard was sure, to deck him. But it changed, shifted in microseconds, and now, Leonard recognizes that electric-charged feeling that had completely confused him that day. The same one that made Mick back down from his near-attack back then, and the same one that Leonard is letting drive everything he does right now.

The smirk resting on his lips turns into something softer, and more genuine, when Mick delivers that very serious-important instruction. He slides a thumb across the older boy's cheek, "I trust you, Mick," which might just be more important than any other word that might fit in the middle of that sentence, too.

If there's anything Leonard can be certain of in life, it's that Mick Rory is his rock, and he would never, ever push Leonard into something he doesn't want, doesn't like, or isn't ready for. There's years of evidence to that, too. Six years they've known each other and at least half of those have pushed them beyond the box of simple friendship. And Mick has been a fucking Saint during every step of Leonard's skittish, too-cautious, too-careful, too-slow journey leading up to this moment.

Leonard lets out a soft, pleased whine as Mick's lips find his again, rough, calloused fingers pressing against his skin under his shirt. His tongue darts out, a silent plea for permission to explore. This part, at least, he's familiar with.

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.

Mick's shirt has disappeared, and he's looking to do the same with Leonard's. And even as careful as Mick is trying to be, years-deep instincts to look at every twitch or blink and read it as words, learning to translate even the smallest of microexpressions into good or bad responses before pushing further, all the heavy efforts he put in to learn every tell or cue Leonard had, there is a bit of a frenzied rush to the moment all the same.

Leonard doesn't hesitate to help him, pushing away enough from the wall still solidly behind him to give Mick the space necessary to help him slip the shirt over his head, discarded somewhere on the floor. He doesn't let anything as solid as a thought form in his mind before he slides slender, nimble fingers across Mick's chest. Nerves are settling somewhere low in his stomach, but it's not the sort that could take over or ruin anything, it's the same feeling he gets before a job, like everything is on fire in the best way.

He's touching him now, fingers skating across his skin and Mick pulls him in close again, groaning into another kiss because this time it's so much better with nothing at all between them.

And as nice as it is to press Lenny against the wall and hear him make those little sounds, Mick starts guiding them back towards the bed. He wants to lay beside him. To kiss and touch, to show him just how good it could be.

He shuffle-steps backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed, dropping down and looking up at Leonard with a smile. "C'mere."

Leonard isn't sure how, but somehow every single kiss is better and more charged and intense than the last, leaving Leonard no choice but to chase-- the feeling, Mick, both.

Especially when he started trying to move away. Not that he was doing that, exactly, and Leonard knew that on some level, but. Still. He's moving, away from the wall, toward the bed, and even someone as socially dense as Leonard, it isn't hard to figure out where this could go.

There's another swell of nerves that starts in his stomach and slowly reaches outstretched to touch every part of him, which only seems to make every touch more electric and addictive. Mick's fingers circle his wrist as he tugs him gently toward him and Leonard can't hide the awkward, almost shy look it earns him. Which feels stupid in its own way, but Leonard doesn't really care, because he knows he's safest with Mick than anywhere else in the world, and he trusts him more than anything. And with that comes an easier ability to be himself with him, even when that means feeling stupid and awkward.

He doesn't fight it, he leans into that gentle little tug on his wrist, climbing into Mick's lap, letting what feels right guide him more than actual thoughts because it's so much easier that way. Straddled in Mick's lap, Leonard kisses him again, one hand sliding up to twist fingers in Mick's hair while the other one continues the earlier travels across his chest, and moving up to his shoulders and just reaching for any inch of bare skin he can find.

That small and shy smile does absolute things to Mick and when he looks up as Leonard settles in his lap, the expression on Mick's face is nothing short of open adoration. Of want. He needs him more than anything else in his life. His arms slide around his waist as Lenny leans in to kiss him again, those quick and amazing fingers slipping along bare skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

When the kiss breaks he starts scattering warm kisses along Leonard's skin, across his collarbone, the side of his neck, a playful nip on his shoulder that is immediately soothed with a kiss. Slow and easy exploration, wanting to commit every inch of him to memory, wanting to hold on to these moments forever.

He tilts his head slightly to give Mick more room and free access to his neck, and there's an audible hitch in his breath when he finds a sensitive spot with his teeth. "Do that again," he mumbles, half-breathless.

Oh.
Oh Mick likes that reaction and he grins at him, shifting to do it again, worry at the sensitive spot with his teeth before soothing it again with his lips.

His hands fall down to Lenny's hips, keeping him close as he kisses him, giving a slow and experimental roll with his hips, letting Lenny feel just how much he needs him, how much he wants this.

Truth told, it's the sharp, sudden bite that he likes more than the soothing of the action seconds later, but he isn't really complaining anyway.

There's nothing about this moment he doesn't like. The firm grip of Mick's fingers, the roll of Mick's hips against his, the heady feeling he gets from the friction that creates-- he lets out a soft whine and rolls his hips in response. "Mick," he mumbles in a drawn out kind of way that manages to put more syllables in his name than belong there, arms still looped around him as he nuzzles against his neck. He trailes kisses softly up to his ear, where he nips lightly. "More," he whispers breathily, "Show me more." He tugs on a fitful of Mick's hair, practically begging, "Please." He wants no question to exist here, he wants this, and he wants it with Mick, and now.

The breathy voice in his ear, the desperate demand for more, the way he moves in his arms is going to completely wreck Mick before they even get completely naked. So he wraps him up tighter, shifting to put Lenny on the bed beneath him.

"I gotcha Lenny. I gotcha," he promises.

Mick moves over him, shifting to help his knees bracket his hips. Once Lenny is settled Mick can start working his way down his body, lips and hands and teeth mapping out every inch of him. Quick fingers undo the button on his jeans, dragging down his fly and sliding the last of his clothes off.

"Jesus," a choked sound as he takes in the sight of his partner bare and perfect and it's the most beautiful thing Mick has ever seen, more than fire itself.

{I might be lost, but I'm not a lost cause

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