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Ian’s eyebrows were knitted together, face settled into a heavy frown. His hand was loosely wrapped around his bottle of beer; he didn’t buy it to drink as much as just hold it and melt into the crowd. These days he couldn’t drink because of his meds, and he wasn’t really into clubs anymore - not in the way that he used to be, at least. Despite all of that, though, he came here quite a lot. Like fuck he was going to leave Mickey alone with all of these creeps staring at him.
They had been together for close to six months by now - they had known each other for about eight. But they were already more in love than ever. The truth was that in their relationship, Mickey was usually the protective one, the jealous one. But whenever Ian followed him to the club to watch him work, they always and quickly switched roles. There wasn’t much Ian could do in here other than sit silently by the bar and watch as his boyfriend showed off his perfect body to all of the people in here who weren’t Ian.
Ian had asked Mickey to quit in the past - of course he had. But he hadn’t had a lot of hope that the plea would go through, and it hadn’t. Mickey had simply tilted his head to the side, perfectly arched eyebrows knitted together as he had reminded Ian - in a few nasty words - that he had zero right to decide where he worked and what he did with his life. As much as Ian loved that man, his stubbornness was something that he thought that he could sometimes do without.
Ian hadn’t pushed the issue, though - if he had, he was well aware of the fact that losing his boyfriend would become a possibility. And that was something that he would never let happen. He’d rather have random and sleazy men drool over his man, because he would know that he was just that - his man.
That didn’t mean that he had to like it, though - and Mickey knew this. Right now Ian’s entire body was almost throbbing in jealousy, head pounding as the deep frown stayed on his face. His gaze was focused on Mickey, straddling some guys lap, his nearly naked body moving back and forth, grinding their crotches together, making sure that he was earning his money.
Ian’s fingers physically twitched in anger, but he knew that he had no right. Not right now. So he forced himself to stay as still and as - physically - calm as he possibly could all the while he was forced to see some other guy thirst for Mickey.
Once in a while Ian liked the fact that other guys wanted his boyfriend. Like when they were walking down the street hand in hand and it was incredibly clear that Ian had what they wanted. That he would always be Mickey’s and that Mickey would always be his. Now, though - when their relationship wasn’t quite as crystal clear - he didn't like it. Not one fucking bit.
The fact that the guy who was currently underneath Mickey’s touch looked to be anything but unattractive didn’t exactly help much either. A lot of the men who came in here were old - well, well into their forties, at least - but this guy wasn’t. Instead he looked only maybe five to ten years older than Ian. The dark club and the blinding spotlights were making it quite difficult for Ian to spot a lot of details, but from what he could make out, his jawline was incredibly sharp. He looked to be dressed quite professionally; a business man. He should have fucking known.
Ian was used to his by now - or he should be at least. He and Mickey had had thousands of conversations about the older man’s job by now. Some of them had been fights, but most of them consisted of Mickey kissing different areas of Ian’s body and assuring him over and over again that he was the only one for him; that it didn’t matter what he did at work because he would always be Ian’s.
In a way, Ian supposed that he understood why Mickey didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t because he loved his job, it was because Ian had asked him to quit. And he didn’t want to give something up for Ian, he didn’t want to do something just because ‘his boyfriend said so’. It made sense… in some kind of way. But that didn’t make the jealousy welling up in Ian’s throat any more prominent.
The guy placing his hands onto Mickey’s naked waist didn’t make Ian feel any better either. It looked as if he was grabbing him, forcing him to grind even harder, bringing him more pleasure. Ian was pretty sure that Mickey stopped it, but before he could fully register that fact, he was up out of his chair, taking large steps over to the couch. In the few seconds it had taken him to get there, Mickey had already gotten up onto his feet again. The guy was looking at him, saying something that sounded a lot like ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know’
“You didn’t know there were rules of lap dances? I fucking doubt that. You were just hoping he would be into you” Normally Ian wasn't the kind of guy to spit in someone’s face, but tonight he couldn’t help it. It was just too difficult to stay to the side and not do anything about shit like this. “He’s not”
The guy looked like a deer in headlights, eyes large as he stared up at Mickey’s pissed off boyfriend, wondering whether he should be expecting a punch in the face or not.
“I…” The customer begun, swallowing slightly, seemingly having no clue how to handle something like this. Ian had to admit that his entire body was throbbing - fuming - in anger and in jealousy. Mickey as his, and only his. He always would be. Sure, he could deal with lap dances - he had no other choice. But he could not deal with other men grabbing his man. The managers at the club did not allow that, and Ian did certainly not allow that.
“Baby…” The soft, slightly warning voice coming from behind him was accompanied by a hand placed tenderly onto his shoulder, immediately calming him down. Ian swallowed, turning around to face his boyfriend. Mickey blinked up at him, lips slightly parted and hinting at somewhat of a smile. “Calm down. I love your jealousy, alright? But I’m done with this dude. And I’m yours. Okay? I always will be”
After months and months of practicing, Mickey had the whole ‘calming Ian’ dance down to a science. He knew exactly what to say, what to do and how to act. And he meant every single bit of it. Ian forced himself to take a deep breath, making sure that he calmed down a little bit as he brought a hand up to the side of his boyfriend’s neck, tugging him a little bit closer, their lips ending up inches apart, neither of the giving a shit about the fact that they were in the middle of a club, or that Mickey was in the middle of his shift.
“Yours” Mickey assured Ian once more, his breath fanning his lips.
“Mine”