Fire always burned, Mickey knew that. He knew about the surging flames that fanned up when you met someone you liked for the first time, that game of flirting and eye contact and taking and giving, right up until you had relations and all that fire became genuine passion. Mickey would not be able to remember everyone he had ever had sex with, not even with a gun to his head. He'd chased the flame often.
With Leon, he didn't need to chase the flame. It was simply there, whenever their lips met, whenever their fingers tangled, whenever one buried himself in the other. They still sparked. Mickey didn't know what would happen if they would ever stop sparking, but he hoped he would never find out.
"I love you too," Mickey said, feeling fully sated, something that didn't happen often, especially these days. With Leon, it felt like the world was gone. "I love you, eyeballs to entrails, baby." Mickey grinned and kissed Leon, before giving a little sigh and asking, earnestly: "Do we... Do we need to talk about Andrei?"