by; boundxdoll
Summary:
Terry Milkovich is dying at the hands of his very own son, but Mickey isn't ready to just let him go without getting his last words to him out quite yet.
———————————————
Mickey crouched beside his dying father, wiping blood from his face as his gaze remained unblinking. Some might have thought that Mickey was in shock, but that wasn't the case, no he was contemplating the last words he would ever say to the man who terrorized his life. The man who brutalized the boy he loved, the reason that Mickey couldn't be as open with Ian as he wanted to be. This was the man who had forced him at gunpoint to have sex with a woman in front of the only person who mattered to him. The man who never loved him, the man who never wanted him, the man who should have wrapped it before he tapped it, the man who would rot in hell for sins that only Terry Milkovich knew he committed.
There was a faint melancholic smile on Mickey's face as he watched his father, considering how to say goodbye to him, how to make his last moments trapped inside of his mortal coil unbearable. Mickey wanted his words to make his father will himself to die. He wanted to make him feel shame, rage, disappointment...all of the things that Mickey felt his entire life.
"Didn't think I had it in me did you dad? Always thought 'oh, I'll just beat him up, he'll be too scared to fight back' didn't you? How'd that work out for you, dad?" Mickey tilted his head to the side, waiting for an answer he knew wouldn't come, Terry was past the point of being able to talk. "God, I have so many questions, but they don't fucking matter. I'm gonna ask them anyway, is that okay with you?" There was a chuckle that left Mickey's lips as he thought of the irony. "Why did you hate us so much? Why didn't you just throw us in foster care? What did I do so wrong that you never loved me? Was your dad like this to you? /Who are you?/" The last question hurt the most to ask. He really didn't know his dad, he didn't know who this monster was that raised him. Shaking his head he scratched his temple with the muzzle of the gun.
"That's not really wanna talk to you about," pausing as he leaned closer so all Terry could see was his face, his cold eyes staring down at him. "What I wanna tell you is what happens when we bury you. You see, Ian and I, we kind of worked things out, mhm that's right, your son is still a faggot, he still likes taking big, hard, fat cock up his ass. I fucking love it, I fucking love him. I couldn't admit that though, no...because love is for pussies ain't it dad? Well then I guess I'm a fucking pussy because I love him, and you can't keep us apart anymore." The more he spoke the more he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, the more he felt like he was free.
"When you're laying dead and cold in a hole turning into food for the maggots, for the worms I'll be on my hands and knees with my fingers digging into the freshly dug dirt with my boyfriend fucking me. He'll be balls deep pounding into my ass while you start to rot. He'll grab my hair and yank my head back, bite my neck, and whisper in my ear. You wanna know what he's gonna say? He's gonna call me his little slut his cock loving whore because that's what I am Dad. I'm a tough thug who likes to take it up the ass from another guy. Not just any guy. This is the guy who has made me cum harder than I have ever came in my life. This is the guy who makes me tremble with how good his cock feels buried inside of me. He's gonna run his hands up my back, leave bruises on my hips as he fucks me hard into the dirt you're laying in." His voice wasn't shaking as he spoke, for once in too many years he was talking to his father without fear.
"Oh god, I'm going to moan,I'm going to moan in the most pornographic way, I'm going to beg him for more, and more until I can barely think straight. We're not going to stop at your grave either. We will fuck on every surface in the house that won't be yours anymore. I'll blow him in every room. Mmmn right I almost forgot to tell you, I'm such a fucking faggot dad, I fucking love sucking his dick. I crave it, he walks into a room and I just wanna get down on my knees and choke myself on his cock. Doesn't that make you proud? Do I make you proud, dad? Are you proud of your gay son?" Laughing again, because he knew it was completely the opposite, he can see the helpless anger on his dad's face.
"It doesn't matter. I'm proud of who I fucking am, without your help, and I'll write that in my cum on your fucking headstone you sick twisted piece of shit." The last words were growled as his anger began to get the best of him. Pushing up from the ground beside his dying father he stared down at him. "How does it feel to be smaller than me? Because all of my life you've made me smaller than you, smaller, and smaller making me and Mandy think we'd only ever be ghetto kids. Yeah well fuck you. That's all you ever were. Her and me? We got a chance at something real, and you're gonna miss that. Not like you ever deserved to see it though did ya'?" Tears began to fall from Mickey's eyes as he looked down at the man he didn't even know. "You got about three minutes left before that shit kills ya' so I want you to think about what I said, my last words to you. Think about what I'm going to be doing. Think about how much you hate me for what I am and that you can't do shit about it."
Mickey looked at his dad one last time before leaving the room, leaving him there for those three minutes alone to die. The young man felt untouchable right now, he had ended the life of the only thing holding him back. It was time for him to live, make his own choices, be what he wanted to be. Love who he wants to love. There wasn't a molecule of fear in his body right now as he rode out the high he got from laying all of that shit bare to his father.
