It was also reminding him of certain physical acts, none of which required clothing, and how much he wanted to get his hands on Roger again. The memories of Roger’s taste, the heat of his body, and how sweetly he begged were inescapable.
Mickey didn’t like being out of control like this, and he didn’t know how else to assert himself to make Roger leave except to be an asshole.
“You could have called me.” Roger took a few steps closer. “I mean, even just to talk or something. You could, like, scream at me some more or whatever, you know, if you think it would help.”
“And interrupt you and your latest fuck buddy?” Mickey sneered, trying to focus on his anger and ignore how his desire began to grow. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You have some serious fuckin’ balls tryin’ to talk to me about who I’m fuckin’!” Roger exploded passionately, suddenly right in Mickey’s face. “I was tryin’ to be a concerned fuckin’ friend and you had to go and say that shit?”
“Fuck you, you stupid fuckin’ slut!” Mickey hated how good Roger smelled this close. “You really do go around lettin’ anybody hit it, huh?”
“We’re done, remember?” Roger snarled. “Your exact fuckin’ words to me!”
“Fuck you!” Mickey snatched Roger by the front of his shirt. “I bet you fucked hundreds, huh? Couldn’t have your precious monster so you just spread like fuckin’ butter—”
“Maybe I did!” Roger laughed madly. “Maybe I fucked a whole goddamn army!” He shoved Mickey back. “It wouldn’t be any of your damn business!”
“It sure as hell fuckin’ is! You can’t just run around, slutting it up like that!” Mickey roared.
“Oh? What happened to I’m just a piece of ass that was fun for a while? Did you hit your big stupid bald head on something and forget—”
“Oh, wow! Thewhorethinks I’m stupid? Ouch, that really hurts.”
“Stupidandfuckin’ ugly! Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you!” Mickey seethed. The rage boiling between them was palpable and intense, and he grabbed Roger’s shoulders. “God, how I fucking hate you.”
“I hate you too!” Roger snapped, clawing at Mickey’s grip. “You arrogant, stupid bastard!”
“Go on.” Mickey refused to let go. “Call me all the fuckin’ names you want. Go whore yourself out to the whole fuckin’ city. I don’t care because no matter what you fuckin’ do, you’remine.”
“Mickey—” Roger’s eyes widened, and his lips looked so lush and pink.
Fuck it.
Mickey snarled and grabbed a tight fistful of Roger’s hair, dragging him into an angry kiss.
“Mmph! Get off me!” Roger growled and bit Mickey’s lip, his fists pounding into his chest in protest. “You fucking scum sucking bastard!”
“Ball gargling skank,” Mickey shot back, licking at his bleeding lip. “You’re mine. Every slutty fuckin’ inch of you.”
“No!” Roger pushed as hard as he could, but Mickey didn’t stop.
“Spread your fuckin’ legs for the whole city, I don’t fuckin’ care!” Mickey kissed him again. “Let everyone line up and take turns droppin’ a load in you. It doesn’t make a fuckin’ difference to me, Roger Lorre. You’re fuckin’mine.”
“Oh, Mickey.” Roger moaned quietly, his resistance fading. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty.” He grabbed Mickey’s face, kissing him deeply and grinding as close as he could.
Mickey kissed Roger back fiercely, his hands all over him. His shoulders, his hips, his ass; God yes, his ass. He’d thought about that ass for days, thought about getting a good handful and squeezing hard.
Roger gasped, their teeth hitting as their kiss deepened, and he pulled at Mickey’s shirt. It was still damp from washing the car, and his fingers slipped clumsily over the buttons.
“Uh uh.” Mickey pushed Roger up against the side of the car. “Pull down your fuckin’ pants. Right now.”
“Fuck yeah.” Roger scrambled to comply.
“The fuck do you say?” Mickey demanded, grabbing a fistful of Roger’s hair.
Roger moaned, and his head tilted back into Mickey’s grip as he smiled blissfully. “Ah… yes, master.”
