Haven 2/5
Title: Haven 2/5
Pairing: Micky/Changmin, Micky/Ricky, Micky/Ricky/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They are only mine to play with in fanfictions.
Summary: A strange Korean boy walks into a cafe in the middle of BFE Arizona. He stirs up a rife of trouble and a gaggle of feelings that Micky should know better than to act on.
Warning: incest, underage (Changmin is 16 and Ricky is 17; Micky is 20)
A/N: This fic takes place in the United States, where Ricky and Micky are Americans and don't speak Korean. Oh, and BFE stands for "Butt Fucking Egypt" which is a term that means the middle of nowhere.
If you need a visual of Yoochun in the middle of Arizona ... well, here
Fanart by crazyaboutchun
Part 2:
When Ricky showed up, he already knew about the boy (rumors in a small town spread fast), but he couldn’t remember anymore Korean than Micky could and the boy was asleep anyway, head twisted in an odd angle, long legs pulled around the bottom of this chair, arms loose, but still under the sweaters. Micky checked on him every hour until their mom entered the café.
“Where’s this mysterious boy that has the town buzzing?” she asked. “I’ve had eight phone calls in the last hour.”
“He’s in the back, Ma,” Ricky said. “Sleeping.”
Micky left the lunch prep work he was in the middle of and followed his mom to her corner. The boy was still asleep and Micky carefully shook his shoulder. With a gasp, the kid sat up and looked around wildly before slouching into the seat again.
“Annyeonghaseyo,” Micky’s mom said.
Hello, right. Micky should have remembered that at least.
The boy stood up and bowed and started jabbering, and Micky’s mom talked back. Micky didn’t know anything either said, except the boy saying thank you and bowing completely at the waist. She motioned for the boy to sit again and asked Micky, “Did you feed him?”
“Yeah, earlier.”
“Raphael, make the boy a plate of rice and vegetables!”
“Yes, ma’am. Meat?”
“Some pork!”
Micky pulled out the card the man had given him. She looked at it for a moment, and then sighed.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Well, as much as I can understand. His name is Changmin. He left Kingman last night, the man guarding him fell asleep at about eleven. He hitched and hiked this way and stopped here because he was cold.”
“Guarding him? What?”
“Apparently, they’re taking him to a school in California that he doesn’t want to go to. He’s sixteen and was forced here, by a government agency in Korea.” His mom looked down at the card. She read it, and Micky saw the boy wince. “It’s called The Republic of Korea’s Science and Math Academy.”
“Wow. He must be really smart.”
“Yo! Micky!” Rafael said. “Order up.”
Micky rolled his eyes, and went to the kitchen to grab the kid’s meal. Rafael had added a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
“Emotional pussy,” Micky muttered at him as he piled it on a tray.
“Oh, and like you haven’t been making eyes at him since he walked in,” Rafael said, just as quietly.
Micky shrugged. “He’s too young for me.”
“Sixteen is old enough.”
Micky fought the blush and turned around.
Changmin met his eyes and he stopped talking in the middle of sentence, eyes going wide at the food. He tried to stammer thanks again, and his mom waved it away.
“So why did he run away?” Micky asked.
“They forced him here, and forced him everywhere, and the slightest infraction led to beatings.”
“Why are they driving through BFE Arizona?”
Micky’s mom smiled. “The Grand Canyon. They were there yesterday, and they’re driving out to Vegas for a week and then flying to LA.”
“Sucky life.”
Micky’s mom frowned. “Yeah.” She jabbered at Changmin who was once again stuffing his face and then turned to Micky so the kid couldn’t see the worry etched on her face.
“I don’t know what to do, Mick,” she said. “I can’t very well just toss him back out on the street when we know these men are looking for him.”
“If they come back, they’ll find him. No one in this town can keep a secret.”
She nodded. “I know. But … maybe if we make people believe he’s a mafia runaway, like Rafael said earlier, people will shut up about it.”
“No, they won’t. They’ll just gossip more.”
“Some days I hate this town,” she said, and moved past Micky into the dining area.
Micky looked at the kid, who was looking at him, worried. He smiled and said, “Hi. Changmin, right?”
He swallowed and nodded. “Changmin. Shim Changmin.”
Right, backwards names. Micky remembered that, too. He said, “My name is Micky Park.”
“Micky. Park Micky,” Changmin replied and smiled. “Nice met you.”
“Huh? Oh. Meet you. Nice to meet you.”
Changmin nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Micky’s name was shouted from the front and he smiled at Changmin and turned and left the boy where he was sitting. The next time he noticed him, Changmin was in the back with Rafael, washing dishes. Micky glared at Rafael.
Rafael held his hands up, head still bobbing to his music. “Hey, don’t look at me, man. The kid just said, ‘I wash dishes,’ and like I’m going to tell him no.”
Micky shook his head, grabbed the order that was ready and went back to work.
With the lunch rush winding down, Micky’s mom moved in close to him and said, “Take him home with you. Make sure he gets some sleep, okay?”
Micky looked at his mom for a moment, and then sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
“Why not?”
Micky bit his lower lip and knew this was not the time to tell his mom that he’d probably end up stealing the boy’s innocence if he had the chance. “Then what?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Micky nodded and went to the back where Rafael and Changmin were laughing.
“Micky-shi!” Changmin said and smiled and then scrunched his face in concentration and said, “My home-bo-ee”.
Rafael nodded and slapped Changmin’s shoulder. “That’s right. Homeboy. This kid is brilliant, you know. He never asks the same question twice and never forgets a word I teach him.”
“Fuck. That’s really dangerous.”
“Fuck,” Changmin said. “Bad word. Only with home-bo-ee.”
Micky sighed.
Rafael laughed. “That’s right, Changmin. You only fuck homeboy here.”
“Rafael,” Micky said, voice tight with warning.
Rafael laughed harder, and Changmin looked so confused.
Micky motioned to Changmin and said, “We’re going to go to my home.”
“Home… boy?”
“No, just … Mom! I need your Korean.”
Micky’s mom poked her head around and explained to Changmin that he was going to go home with Micky to sleep and rest.
Changmin wasn’t sure how to react to that, but he bowed and said thank you. They ate a quick sandwich with some leftover French fries before leaving the café. Micky grabbed his jacket and then motioned him to the door. The few patrons still there looked at them curiously, but Micky did not stop. He grabbed his bike and thought about walking home and then decided not to. He showed Changmin the pegs on his back tire, where to put his feet and waited until the gangly boy was steady, hands on his shoulders, and decided that he should have just walked, because now the kid was touching him.
With a shake, he took off and Changmin’s feet slipped and Micky had to stop. It took two more tries before Changmin stayed on the bike and Micky pedaled home as fast as he could. Their house wasn’t big. Just a single-wide trailer that had been there since the 1970s. It wasn’t much, but it’d been his home for seventeen of his twenty years. Ricky had been born in the kitchen only six months after they moved in and their father took off six months after that.
Micky shared the bedroom with his brother. Their mom usually slept on the couch. Micky and Ricky did their best to keep the house clean, and they saved up their money when they needed repairs. Despite all this, Micky was still embarrassed when he led Changmin up the concrete steps and into the living room.
Changmin took off his shoes immediately and lined them up against the wall. Micky watched him and shook his head and headed through the living room. He showed Changmin the bathroom.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Micky asked.
Changmin tilted his head like he did when he was trying to translate something and then smiled and said, “Please. Thank you.”
Micky grabbed a clean towel for him and showed him how to make the water cooperate. Sometimes it stayed cold unless you twisted the handle the right way. He left the kid in the bathroom and with no way of knowing how much time he had, he flung himself on his bed, unbuttoned his jeans, yanked out his cock and stroked off to the thought of him in the shower. He felt like a dirty old man when he was done and licked away the majority of the handful of sticky semen.
The shower suddenly stopped and Micky quickly pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his hand off. He tossed the shirt in the laundry basket and made a mental note to wash them sometime. He went to the kitchen and washed his hands and wiped a wet paper towel over his stomach. He wasn’t as tired as he usually was when he got home and he realized it was because by doing the dishes at the diner, Changmin did half his work.
“Micky-shi!”
Micky jumped and went to the bathroom. The door was open, the air warm and wet. Changmin stood in just his black slacks and Micky’s eyes traveled the length of his sinewy body before he could stop himself. His observation did not go unnoticed by the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid and the boy was blushing.
“Um, I …” He turned away and mimed brushing his teeth.
Micky nodded. “A toothbrush.”
“Yes. I forgot.”
Micky wasn’t sure if he meant he forgot the word or forgot his own, but shrugged. He crouched in front of the counter, only now realizing that he hadn’t buttoned his jeans back up and they slipped over his ass and he blushed. How did that look to the boy, coming down the hall without a shirt and his jeans undone? Micky found a toothbrush buried in with a bunch of other things. Luckily, it was still in its packaging. He stood up and handed Changmin the toothbrush and then brushed by him without meeting his eyes. Out of the bathroom, he shucked off his pants and went to the bedroom to put on sweatpants. As soon as they were on, he saw the flaw in this plan that was half hard and very visible, even with boxers on.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and then remembered the little phrase of fucking homeboys. He moaned and put his face in his hands. “Double fuck.”
“Micky-shi?”
Micky lifted his head. The kid stood nervously by the door and licked his lips.
“Are you tired?” Micky asked.
“Huh?”
“Tired? Sleep?” Micky tilted his head and shut his eyes in what he hoped was a universal sign for sleeping.
The boy nodded. “Sleep.” He said a word in Korean.
Micky sighed and stood up, trying to ignore what had been half hard and was now getting harder because the kid hadn’t put on his shirt, and his hair was lying in wet waves on his cheek. Micky pointed to the bed and said, “Sleep.”
Changmin grabbed his arm, eyes slightly wide and Micky tried to read his eyes and couldn’t. Changmin pulled him back into the room and pointed to the bed, and Micky’s already pesky erection twitched. Changmin wanted him to sleep with him?
Changmin pushed him toward the bed and then turned around to leave the room, and Micky stood frozen for a moment and then said, “Oh no way,” and snagged Changmin’s arm and did the same thing.
“You will sleep on the bed. I am going to sleep on the couch.”
Changmin shook his head.
Micky shut his eyes for a moment and then said. “I sleep on couch.”
“No, on bed. Your house. I sleep on couch.”
“You’re my guest. You sleep in the bed.”
Changmin shook his head roughly and a water droplet hit Micky’s shoulder.
Micky sighed and then said, “Too bad. My house. You sleep in the bed.”
“No.” Changmin stopped and huffed and then grabbed Micky’s arm and dragged him to the bed. “We sleep in bed.”
Micky tried to pull away, but the scrawny kid was stronger than he looked and Micky ended up being flung on the bed. Part of him wondered why he was even protesting, it’s what he wanted anyway. The bed was a queen, and Micky was used to sharing it with someone. No problem, right?
Except Micky was a traveler. That’s what Ricky called him. He moved around so much in his sleep that he always ended up either off the side of the bed, or more frequently, curled up around his brother.
With a sigh, Micky nodded and stood up, only long enough to shut the door and make sure the heavy blanket over the window was secure. It wasn’t pretty but it dimmed the afternoon light enough that Micky could sleep. He crawled into the bed and pulled Ricky’s pillow under his head. He rolled on his side, back facing Changmin and tried to will his traitorous body to relax.
“Micky-shi?”
“Yeah, Changmin?”
“Thank you.” A shaking hand settled on his shoulder and Micky flinched, but did not move away from it.
It took a long time for Micky to fall asleep, and when his alarm went off at 2 a.m., he found himself pressed between two warm bodies instead of just one, his arm around Changmin’s waist and his brother’s warm breath on his neck. Not the best way to wake up, considering the circumstances. Ricky moaned and rolled to the side far enough to slap the alarm off, and then half asleep, he curled back up against Micky.
Micky held his breath.
Changmin moved and Micky shut his eyes at the teasing pressure of his hip against his erection.
“Wake up, Micky-shi?” Changmin whispered.
Micky shook his head and finally breathed.
“Alarm? You wake up.”
“God, just ten minutes. Fuck.”
“Fuck with home-bo-ee.”
“Not next to me, please,” Ricky muttered.
Micky elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Shut up, and stop gossiping about me with Rafael.”
Ricky chuckled, low and deep, still full of sleep.
Changmin looked confused. “Micky-shi? Wake up?”
Micky sighed, nodded and said, “Okay. Wake up.”
“Mom told me to tell you to let Changmin call you hyung,” Ricky said and yawned.
“What does that mean?”
“Older brother, or something. She said it’ll make him feel better.”
Micky looked at Changmin, whose face was concentrating on their conversation. “Hyung.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “Hyung?”
Micky nodded and patted his chest. “Hyung.”
Changmin’s lips spread in the widest smile and his eyes crinkled and went mismatched and he said, “Micky-hyung” and then flung his arms around Micky’s shoulders and pushed them back into the bed, on top of Ricky, who protested mightily and dug his fingers into Micky’s sensitive ribs and Changmin caught on to the abuse and they tortured Micky until he couldn’t breathe and had to gasp for mercy.
“Sorry, bro,” Ricky said and reached next to him for the drawer.
Micky knew he was going for his inhaler, but he grabbed his arm and said, “It’s okay. I don’t need it.”
Changmin’s smile had dimmed in concern.
Ricky grabbed the inhaler anyway and said, “Micky has asthma.”
Changmin nodded in understanding and said, “Mianhamnida, Micky-hyung.”
“Huh?” they both said.
“Sorry,” Changmin said in English and then said it in Korean again.
Ricky repeated after him, but Micky didn’t. Not until Changmin pouted at him and with a smile, Micky repeated the phrase.
“Wake up now,” Changmin said and climbed out of the bed and left the room. The door to the bathroom shut.
Micky sighed and leaned back against Ricky’s stomach. His brother was not wearing a shirt and his skin smelled like body wash and sleep.
“You okay, bro?” Ricky asked, fingers carding through his hair.
Micky nodded, eyes shutting from the attention. Ricky’s fingers went down to his ear and then along his neck. Micky’s breathing slowed and he kept control of his libido. Really, they only had each other. That made it okay, right?
Micky knew he was deluding himself.
“This new kid has you all hot and bothered, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky brat.”
The fingers returned to his hair and instead of caressing, they pulled. Micky swallowed and kept his eyes shut, but still arched into each tug. His brother was growing more daring and touchier. Ricky hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost a year now, and Micky could barely remember the last time he had one. It hadn’t lasted very long. Besides quick mutual hand or blow jobs with Rafael in the early morning hours, Micky’s sex life was non-existent. He didn’t have time. The person he was closest to was the one that was now trailing the fingers of his other hand down Micky’s bare chest.
“Ricky, don’t,” Micky said, voice low and just above a whisper.
“Why not?” Ricky demanded and twisted his nipple.
The toilet flushed.
“Reason one,” Micky said with a quiet moan.
Ricky snorted. “Which won’t be here very long.”
Micky wanted to say that Ricky didn’t know that, but didn’t. “Don’t, Ricky.”
Ricky huffed in frustration, twisted Micky’s head around and pressed their lips together. So fast, so brief, and then flung Micky away from him. He pushed at his shoulders. Micky took advantage of the chance and bounded off the bed. He needed a shower, a quick wank and to put some distance between him and his brother.
He almost collided with Changmin in the hallway. A still-only-wearing-pants Changmin.
Changmin smiled and said, “What …” He bit his lower lip, thinking. “Work. Yes. Work now?”
Micky nodded. “Yeah, I have to go to work now.”
“I go work with Micky.”
“Changmin, no.”
“Yes.”
“No,” Micky said and pushed Changmin toward the bedroom. “Sleep.”
“Not tired. Work.”
Micky shook his head. “Whatever.” He hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door and locked it. He leaned against the door, breathing deeply and belatedly tried to memorize the feel of his brother’s hands on his skin. And the kiss had been so quick. Not their first kiss, or maybe it should have been since Ricky’s intentions were less than brotherly. But there had been more than one of those in the past few months. None as demanding, and definitely more cautious. His brother wanted him, and Micky was going to have a hard time saying no. He groaned, slipped his hand into his sweat pants and jerked off before getting in the shower.
Part 3: Curiously
Part 1: Mystery
.
Pairing: Micky/Changmin, Micky/Ricky, Micky/Ricky/Changmin
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They are only mine to play with in fanfictions.
Summary: A strange Korean boy walks into a cafe in the middle of BFE Arizona. He stirs up a rife of trouble and a gaggle of feelings that Micky should know better than to act on.
Warning: incest, underage (Changmin is 16 and Ricky is 17; Micky is 20)
A/N: This fic takes place in the United States, where Ricky and Micky are Americans and don't speak Korean. Oh, and BFE stands for "Butt Fucking Egypt" which is a term that means the middle of nowhere.
If you need a visual of Yoochun in the middle of Arizona ... well, here
Fanart by crazyaboutchun
Part 2:
When Ricky showed up, he already knew about the boy (rumors in a small town spread fast), but he couldn’t remember anymore Korean than Micky could and the boy was asleep anyway, head twisted in an odd angle, long legs pulled around the bottom of this chair, arms loose, but still under the sweaters. Micky checked on him every hour until their mom entered the café.
“Where’s this mysterious boy that has the town buzzing?” she asked. “I’ve had eight phone calls in the last hour.”
“He’s in the back, Ma,” Ricky said. “Sleeping.”
Micky left the lunch prep work he was in the middle of and followed his mom to her corner. The boy was still asleep and Micky carefully shook his shoulder. With a gasp, the kid sat up and looked around wildly before slouching into the seat again.
“Annyeonghaseyo,” Micky’s mom said.
Hello, right. Micky should have remembered that at least.
The boy stood up and bowed and started jabbering, and Micky’s mom talked back. Micky didn’t know anything either said, except the boy saying thank you and bowing completely at the waist. She motioned for the boy to sit again and asked Micky, “Did you feed him?”
“Yeah, earlier.”
“Raphael, make the boy a plate of rice and vegetables!”
“Yes, ma’am. Meat?”
“Some pork!”
Micky pulled out the card the man had given him. She looked at it for a moment, and then sighed.
“What’s going on, Mom?”
“Well, as much as I can understand. His name is Changmin. He left Kingman last night, the man guarding him fell asleep at about eleven. He hitched and hiked this way and stopped here because he was cold.”
“Guarding him? What?”
“Apparently, they’re taking him to a school in California that he doesn’t want to go to. He’s sixteen and was forced here, by a government agency in Korea.” His mom looked down at the card. She read it, and Micky saw the boy wince. “It’s called The Republic of Korea’s Science and Math Academy.”
“Wow. He must be really smart.”
“Yo! Micky!” Rafael said. “Order up.”
Micky rolled his eyes, and went to the kitchen to grab the kid’s meal. Rafael had added a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
“Emotional pussy,” Micky muttered at him as he piled it on a tray.
“Oh, and like you haven’t been making eyes at him since he walked in,” Rafael said, just as quietly.
Micky shrugged. “He’s too young for me.”
“Sixteen is old enough.”
Micky fought the blush and turned around.
Changmin met his eyes and he stopped talking in the middle of sentence, eyes going wide at the food. He tried to stammer thanks again, and his mom waved it away.
“So why did he run away?” Micky asked.
“They forced him here, and forced him everywhere, and the slightest infraction led to beatings.”
“Why are they driving through BFE Arizona?”
Micky’s mom smiled. “The Grand Canyon. They were there yesterday, and they’re driving out to Vegas for a week and then flying to LA.”
“Sucky life.”
Micky’s mom frowned. “Yeah.” She jabbered at Changmin who was once again stuffing his face and then turned to Micky so the kid couldn’t see the worry etched on her face.
“I don’t know what to do, Mick,” she said. “I can’t very well just toss him back out on the street when we know these men are looking for him.”
“If they come back, they’ll find him. No one in this town can keep a secret.”
She nodded. “I know. But … maybe if we make people believe he’s a mafia runaway, like Rafael said earlier, people will shut up about it.”
“No, they won’t. They’ll just gossip more.”
“Some days I hate this town,” she said, and moved past Micky into the dining area.
Micky looked at the kid, who was looking at him, worried. He smiled and said, “Hi. Changmin, right?”
He swallowed and nodded. “Changmin. Shim Changmin.”
Right, backwards names. Micky remembered that, too. He said, “My name is Micky Park.”
“Micky. Park Micky,” Changmin replied and smiled. “Nice met you.”
“Huh? Oh. Meet you. Nice to meet you.”
Changmin nodded. “Nice to meet you.”
Micky’s name was shouted from the front and he smiled at Changmin and turned and left the boy where he was sitting. The next time he noticed him, Changmin was in the back with Rafael, washing dishes. Micky glared at Rafael.
Rafael held his hands up, head still bobbing to his music. “Hey, don’t look at me, man. The kid just said, ‘I wash dishes,’ and like I’m going to tell him no.”
Micky shook his head, grabbed the order that was ready and went back to work.
With the lunch rush winding down, Micky’s mom moved in close to him and said, “Take him home with you. Make sure he gets some sleep, okay?”
Micky looked at his mom for a moment, and then sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
“Why not?”
Micky bit his lower lip and knew this was not the time to tell his mom that he’d probably end up stealing the boy’s innocence if he had the chance. “Then what?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Micky nodded and went to the back where Rafael and Changmin were laughing.
“Micky-shi!” Changmin said and smiled and then scrunched his face in concentration and said, “My home-bo-ee”.
Rafael nodded and slapped Changmin’s shoulder. “That’s right. Homeboy. This kid is brilliant, you know. He never asks the same question twice and never forgets a word I teach him.”
“Fuck. That’s really dangerous.”
“Fuck,” Changmin said. “Bad word. Only with home-bo-ee.”
Micky sighed.
Rafael laughed. “That’s right, Changmin. You only fuck homeboy here.”
“Rafael,” Micky said, voice tight with warning.
Rafael laughed harder, and Changmin looked so confused.
Micky motioned to Changmin and said, “We’re going to go to my home.”
“Home… boy?”
“No, just … Mom! I need your Korean.”
Micky’s mom poked her head around and explained to Changmin that he was going to go home with Micky to sleep and rest.
Changmin wasn’t sure how to react to that, but he bowed and said thank you. They ate a quick sandwich with some leftover French fries before leaving the café. Micky grabbed his jacket and then motioned him to the door. The few patrons still there looked at them curiously, but Micky did not stop. He grabbed his bike and thought about walking home and then decided not to. He showed Changmin the pegs on his back tire, where to put his feet and waited until the gangly boy was steady, hands on his shoulders, and decided that he should have just walked, because now the kid was touching him.
With a shake, he took off and Changmin’s feet slipped and Micky had to stop. It took two more tries before Changmin stayed on the bike and Micky pedaled home as fast as he could. Their house wasn’t big. Just a single-wide trailer that had been there since the 1970s. It wasn’t much, but it’d been his home for seventeen of his twenty years. Ricky had been born in the kitchen only six months after they moved in and their father took off six months after that.
Micky shared the bedroom with his brother. Their mom usually slept on the couch. Micky and Ricky did their best to keep the house clean, and they saved up their money when they needed repairs. Despite all this, Micky was still embarrassed when he led Changmin up the concrete steps and into the living room.
Changmin took off his shoes immediately and lined them up against the wall. Micky watched him and shook his head and headed through the living room. He showed Changmin the bathroom.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Micky asked.
Changmin tilted his head like he did when he was trying to translate something and then smiled and said, “Please. Thank you.”
Micky grabbed a clean towel for him and showed him how to make the water cooperate. Sometimes it stayed cold unless you twisted the handle the right way. He left the kid in the bathroom and with no way of knowing how much time he had, he flung himself on his bed, unbuttoned his jeans, yanked out his cock and stroked off to the thought of him in the shower. He felt like a dirty old man when he was done and licked away the majority of the handful of sticky semen.
The shower suddenly stopped and Micky quickly pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his hand off. He tossed the shirt in the laundry basket and made a mental note to wash them sometime. He went to the kitchen and washed his hands and wiped a wet paper towel over his stomach. He wasn’t as tired as he usually was when he got home and he realized it was because by doing the dishes at the diner, Changmin did half his work.
“Micky-shi!”
Micky jumped and went to the bathroom. The door was open, the air warm and wet. Changmin stood in just his black slacks and Micky’s eyes traveled the length of his sinewy body before he could stop himself. His observation did not go unnoticed by the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid and the boy was blushing.
“Um, I …” He turned away and mimed brushing his teeth.
Micky nodded. “A toothbrush.”
“Yes. I forgot.”
Micky wasn’t sure if he meant he forgot the word or forgot his own, but shrugged. He crouched in front of the counter, only now realizing that he hadn’t buttoned his jeans back up and they slipped over his ass and he blushed. How did that look to the boy, coming down the hall without a shirt and his jeans undone? Micky found a toothbrush buried in with a bunch of other things. Luckily, it was still in its packaging. He stood up and handed Changmin the toothbrush and then brushed by him without meeting his eyes. Out of the bathroom, he shucked off his pants and went to the bedroom to put on sweatpants. As soon as they were on, he saw the flaw in this plan that was half hard and very visible, even with boxers on.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and then remembered the little phrase of fucking homeboys. He moaned and put his face in his hands. “Double fuck.”
“Micky-shi?”
Micky lifted his head. The kid stood nervously by the door and licked his lips.
“Are you tired?” Micky asked.
“Huh?”
“Tired? Sleep?” Micky tilted his head and shut his eyes in what he hoped was a universal sign for sleeping.
The boy nodded. “Sleep.” He said a word in Korean.
Micky sighed and stood up, trying to ignore what had been half hard and was now getting harder because the kid hadn’t put on his shirt, and his hair was lying in wet waves on his cheek. Micky pointed to the bed and said, “Sleep.”
Changmin grabbed his arm, eyes slightly wide and Micky tried to read his eyes and couldn’t. Changmin pulled him back into the room and pointed to the bed, and Micky’s already pesky erection twitched. Changmin wanted him to sleep with him?
Changmin pushed him toward the bed and then turned around to leave the room, and Micky stood frozen for a moment and then said, “Oh no way,” and snagged Changmin’s arm and did the same thing.
“You will sleep on the bed. I am going to sleep on the couch.”
Changmin shook his head.
Micky shut his eyes for a moment and then said. “I sleep on couch.”
“No, on bed. Your house. I sleep on couch.”
“You’re my guest. You sleep in the bed.”
Changmin shook his head roughly and a water droplet hit Micky’s shoulder.
Micky sighed and then said, “Too bad. My house. You sleep in the bed.”
“No.” Changmin stopped and huffed and then grabbed Micky’s arm and dragged him to the bed. “We sleep in bed.”
Micky tried to pull away, but the scrawny kid was stronger than he looked and Micky ended up being flung on the bed. Part of him wondered why he was even protesting, it’s what he wanted anyway. The bed was a queen, and Micky was used to sharing it with someone. No problem, right?
Except Micky was a traveler. That’s what Ricky called him. He moved around so much in his sleep that he always ended up either off the side of the bed, or more frequently, curled up around his brother.
With a sigh, Micky nodded and stood up, only long enough to shut the door and make sure the heavy blanket over the window was secure. It wasn’t pretty but it dimmed the afternoon light enough that Micky could sleep. He crawled into the bed and pulled Ricky’s pillow under his head. He rolled on his side, back facing Changmin and tried to will his traitorous body to relax.
“Micky-shi?”
“Yeah, Changmin?”
“Thank you.” A shaking hand settled on his shoulder and Micky flinched, but did not move away from it.
It took a long time for Micky to fall asleep, and when his alarm went off at 2 a.m., he found himself pressed between two warm bodies instead of just one, his arm around Changmin’s waist and his brother’s warm breath on his neck. Not the best way to wake up, considering the circumstances. Ricky moaned and rolled to the side far enough to slap the alarm off, and then half asleep, he curled back up against Micky.
Micky held his breath.
Changmin moved and Micky shut his eyes at the teasing pressure of his hip against his erection.
“Wake up, Micky-shi?” Changmin whispered.
Micky shook his head and finally breathed.
“Alarm? You wake up.”
“God, just ten minutes. Fuck.”
“Fuck with home-bo-ee.”
“Not next to me, please,” Ricky muttered.
Micky elbowed his brother in the ribs. “Shut up, and stop gossiping about me with Rafael.”
Ricky chuckled, low and deep, still full of sleep.
Changmin looked confused. “Micky-shi? Wake up?”
Micky sighed, nodded and said, “Okay. Wake up.”
“Mom told me to tell you to let Changmin call you hyung,” Ricky said and yawned.
“What does that mean?”
“Older brother, or something. She said it’ll make him feel better.”
Micky looked at Changmin, whose face was concentrating on their conversation. “Hyung.”
Changmin’s eyes widened. “Hyung?”
Micky nodded and patted his chest. “Hyung.”
Changmin’s lips spread in the widest smile and his eyes crinkled and went mismatched and he said, “Micky-hyung” and then flung his arms around Micky’s shoulders and pushed them back into the bed, on top of Ricky, who protested mightily and dug his fingers into Micky’s sensitive ribs and Changmin caught on to the abuse and they tortured Micky until he couldn’t breathe and had to gasp for mercy.
“Sorry, bro,” Ricky said and reached next to him for the drawer.
Micky knew he was going for his inhaler, but he grabbed his arm and said, “It’s okay. I don’t need it.”
Changmin’s smile had dimmed in concern.
Ricky grabbed the inhaler anyway and said, “Micky has asthma.”
Changmin nodded in understanding and said, “Mianhamnida, Micky-hyung.”
“Huh?” they both said.
“Sorry,” Changmin said in English and then said it in Korean again.
Ricky repeated after him, but Micky didn’t. Not until Changmin pouted at him and with a smile, Micky repeated the phrase.
“Wake up now,” Changmin said and climbed out of the bed and left the room. The door to the bathroom shut.
Micky sighed and leaned back against Ricky’s stomach. His brother was not wearing a shirt and his skin smelled like body wash and sleep.
“You okay, bro?” Ricky asked, fingers carding through his hair.
Micky nodded, eyes shutting from the attention. Ricky’s fingers went down to his ear and then along his neck. Micky’s breathing slowed and he kept control of his libido. Really, they only had each other. That made it okay, right?
Micky knew he was deluding himself.
“This new kid has you all hot and bothered, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Lucky brat.”
The fingers returned to his hair and instead of caressing, they pulled. Micky swallowed and kept his eyes shut, but still arched into each tug. His brother was growing more daring and touchier. Ricky hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost a year now, and Micky could barely remember the last time he had one. It hadn’t lasted very long. Besides quick mutual hand or blow jobs with Rafael in the early morning hours, Micky’s sex life was non-existent. He didn’t have time. The person he was closest to was the one that was now trailing the fingers of his other hand down Micky’s bare chest.
“Ricky, don’t,” Micky said, voice low and just above a whisper.
“Why not?” Ricky demanded and twisted his nipple.
The toilet flushed.
“Reason one,” Micky said with a quiet moan.
Ricky snorted. “Which won’t be here very long.”
Micky wanted to say that Ricky didn’t know that, but didn’t. “Don’t, Ricky.”
Ricky huffed in frustration, twisted Micky’s head around and pressed their lips together. So fast, so brief, and then flung Micky away from him. He pushed at his shoulders. Micky took advantage of the chance and bounded off the bed. He needed a shower, a quick wank and to put some distance between him and his brother.
He almost collided with Changmin in the hallway. A still-only-wearing-pants Changmin.
Changmin smiled and said, “What …” He bit his lower lip, thinking. “Work. Yes. Work now?”
Micky nodded. “Yeah, I have to go to work now.”
“I go work with Micky.”
“Changmin, no.”
“Yes.”
“No,” Micky said and pushed Changmin toward the bedroom. “Sleep.”
“Not tired. Work.”
Micky shook his head. “Whatever.” He hurried into the bathroom and slammed the door and locked it. He leaned against the door, breathing deeply and belatedly tried to memorize the feel of his brother’s hands on his skin. And the kiss had been so quick. Not their first kiss, or maybe it should have been since Ricky’s intentions were less than brotherly. But there had been more than one of those in the past few months. None as demanding, and definitely more cautious. His brother wanted him, and Micky was going to have a hard time saying no. He groaned, slipped his hand into his sweat pants and jerked off before getting in the shower.
Part 3: Curiously
Part 1: Mystery
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