Follow Me 1/?
Title: Follow Me 1/?
Pairing: Changmin/Yoochun
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine to stalk or love or protect.
Summary: Changmin has a fascination with a street boy named Micky, but what will it take for Micky to trust him and follow him to something better?
Warnings: prostitution, small amount of incest, mentions of previous physical and sexual abuse, rape, pedophilia, and violence
Pretty much inspired by this picture:
Part 1:
Warnings: prostitution, small amount of incest, mentions of previous physical and sexual abuse, rape, pedophilia, and violence
Changmin watched the boy from the warmth of his car. He walked to the same spot, under the same light, just to the left of the corner. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but it was not difficult to tell what he was there for. Changmin checked his watch. 10:30. He was early tonight.
Stalker.
Well, only sort of.
If he was a stalker, Changmin would have known the boy’s name. He would have known where he lived. He would have followed the boy to wherever it was he was staying. But he did not. He sat in his car and watched. It would not take long.
He was dressed to interest, loose pants, loose shirt hanging off a shoulder. The light from the lamp caused sharp shadows at his collarbone and neck. His long hair brushed his bare skin. His lips gleamed red as he sucked on them, making them wet, dark, enticing. Especially his plump lower lip.
Changmin licked his own lips.
Intrigued. He was intrigued. He had no need to pay the boy for his services, refused to do so, but everything about him was so intriguing. Even the way he paced in the light, waiting for someone to pick him up. Even the way nerves took over and he crouched down, hiding his face in his hands for a moment, and then springing back up.
Changmin assumed that the boy did not want to do this but had no other choice, and Changmin wanted to know why.
Concern. That’s what it was. He was concerned. A stalker would not be concerned.
In less than ten minutes, a car cruised to a stop, and the boy smiled widely. Changmin recognized the car. A regular. And not one that kept the boy long. Changmin watched until the boy climbed into the passenger side of the car.
It was still early. Changmin usually left as soon as the boy had a customer, but he decided to wait. He took out his phone and noted a missed call from Minho, a man he was dating. And then a text message.
Let’s go out for a drink.
Changmin said he couldn’t, that he was busy, but breakfast in the morning?
Minho sent him a heart in response.
Changmin checked his work email, replied to a few that could have waited until Monday, but were urgent enough. He checked his social media.
The white car was back before eleven, and the boy climbed out of the car. His hair was messier than before, but he was still smiling and waving as the car drove off. As soon as the car turned a corner, the boy lost his grin and lurched to the alleyway, where it was dark.
Concerned, Changmin rolled down his window and heard the boy retching.
So he definitely did not want to be doing this.
The boy moved back into the light, paler than normal, wiping his hand over his mouth. He leaned against the wall, boot up on the brick, head tilted back. His adam’s apple bobbed, like he was fighting off tears. He dug into his pocket for gum.
Changmin frowned.
His next customer was on foot and he strained to hear the conversation, but he was too far away to hear their voices. The boy was touchy with this one, smiling up at him, playing with the buttons on his shirt. The man returned the touches, pulling at his long hair, sliding his hands under the shirt. The boy led the man into the dark.
These noises Changmin heard even if he saw nothing more than shadowed movement of fucking. Grunts and moans, high tight whimpers. Flesh smacking together.
Why did the boy do this? Why was he whoring himself out when he did not want to? He could have gotten a job in a kitchen or as a delivery boy? Anything. Why was he doing this?
Changmin wondered again how old he was. He looked entirely too young to be doing any of this.
Once again, the boy was back at his corner in less than a half hour.
Changmin watched six more men use the boy, until the boy finally left at almost three.
Changmin did not follow him. He was not a stalker.
---
Intrigued.
More like sick in the head.
Every week Changmin said he would not go see the boy and every week he was there, watching as at least one man used him. His relationship with Minho withered away, knowing that Minho had found someone to give him the attention he needed. He saw them once, at a cafe, making lovey dovey eyes at each other.
It did not hurt. Not nearly as much as it did when Changmin sat in his car and watched the boy’s corner for two nights in a row without seeing him. Cars cruised passed, regular customers.
Changmin left and drank himself into a stupor on a Saturday night until he managed to admit that he was a stalker.
And maybe a little bit in love with someone that was obviously too young for him and someone whose name he did not even know.
---
Changmin waited around the corner that he always saw the boy turn when he was in his normal spot. He had no idea if the boy noticed his car parked half a block down on a normal night.
Normal. Nothing about this was normal.
But he waited, and after two weeks without seeing him, Changmin was not disappointed. But he also had noticed the regulars circling. He was not the only one who wanted to see this boy. But his motivations were different.
They were. He convinced himself they were different.
It took all of his self control not to drive after the boy right away. He waited another two minutes before starting his car and turning the corner. The boy leaned against his wall, and luckily, Changmin saw no one else. His heart raced, his hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. He pressed the brakes too hard as he came to stop in front of the boy’s spot.
He was even more beautiful up close with plump lips and round cheeks, complete with a dimple as he flashed his smile at Changmin’s car window. He wore tight jeans tonight, an open billowy shirt that showed off teasing glimpses his chest and collarbones.
He noticed someone walking down the sidewalk and Changmin quickly lowered the window. The boy pushed off from the wall and leaned into the window.
“Hi,” he said.
Changmin swallowed and tried to reply.
The boy frowned. “Are you a cop?”
Changmin shook his head.
“What do you want?”
He licked his lips and said, “You.” Because it was more of the truth than anything else the others said to him.
He tilted his head to the side. “That’s sort of a given, sir. Care to be more specific?”
Changmin just wanted the boy to get into his car before he went off with someone else. “B-blow j-job?” he managed and winced when it came out more of a squeak.
The boy laughed. It was a fake laugh. Changmin wondered what his real laugh sounded like. “You haven’t ever done this before, have you?”
Changmin shook his head.
The boy laughed again and climbed into his car. He settled himself down in the seat and put on his seatbelt.
Changmin stared. God, the boy was beautiful. He had so many questions. Too many questions.
“Go straight,” the boy said.
Changmin jolted in surprise at the voice. It was much deeper now that they were in his car. Shaking, he put the car in gear and drove straight. The boy’s hand, long fingers, soft skin, pretty nails, landed on his thigh and Changmin almost drove onto the sidewalk.
“Hey, relax,” he said and squeezed. “Turn left.”
He kept his eyes on the road, his mind on the boy’s hand on his leg. He followed the instructions until they were on a dark street. Deserted.
Changmin swallowed as he turned the car off.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” he said and unfastened his seatbelt. He slid his fingers to Changmin’s crotch.
Changmin shook his head. “Don’t ... I ... I can’t ... I can’t do this. This isn’t ...”
“You aren’t making sense,” the boy said, but he moved his hand.
Changmin gripped the steering wheel and pressed his forehead against it. He bit his lip against telling the boy that he had been watching him for almost three months. “I just ... thought I ...”
“Are you married or something?”
Changmin shook his head, skin grip-sliding on the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at the boy. “How ... how much is a blow job?”
The boy shrugged. “I charge a hundred. I’ve been told that’s rather cheap.”
Which explained all his customers.
Changmin was still shaking as he sat up and dug in his back pocket for his wallet.
“I’m not going to let you pay me if I don’t give you a blow job.”
“I ... I can’t ... I just ... What’s your name?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Micky.”
Fake name.
Changmin sighed. He should have expected that. “Why do you do this?” he muttered and then turned his head away. He had not meant to ask that. He took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket.
The boy did not answer. Changmin had not expected him to. He held out the bill. The boy looked at it.
“You can’t--”
“For wasting your time,” Changmin said. “I ... You need it. You must need money if you’re doing this. Please take it. I’m sorry. I thought ...”
The bill left his fingers.
“You thought what?”
Changmin swallowed. “I thought ... I thought ... I just wanted to talk to you.” Changmin finally looked over at him. “I’m sorry.”
The boy grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to suck you off?”
Changmin shook his head.
“Okay.” The boy took a very deep breath. “I don’t mind talking. No one ever wants to talk with me, just to me. How pretty my lips are, how tight my ass is, how sexy I look covered in come.” He took another breath, this one small, quick. A hitch of breath. A few seconds later, he looked out the window. “I do this for the money,” he whispered, “not because I like it.”
“You can ... get another job,” Changmin offered.
“I have one. During the day. It doesn’t pay enough for ... me. It’s not ... enough.”
Changmin nodded. “Where?”
The boy smiled and shook his head.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
Changmin raised an eyebrow.
“I am. I promise. Normally when men ask me that, I tell them I’m sixteen because they give me more money. But I’m eighteen. Barely, but I’m eighteen.”
Changmin believed him. “How long ...”
“Six months.” He rubbed his thighs. “You never get used to it.”
The last was said very softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“My decision.”
“I know but ...” Changmin did not know how to end that sentence. He let it fall, imagining the word dropping to the floor of the car, creating some kind of sound in the silence.
Micky. The boy ... kind of a boy. Changmin was not sure. All he knew is that the last ten minutes were well worth the hundred dollars, and he would gladly pay Micky five times that to just spend the evening with him.
But he did not suggest it. He started the car. He took Micky back to his light.
He continued watching.
---
It was two a.m. the next time Changmin picked Micky up. It had been three weeks.
Micky had suffered through a rough day. His lip was split and he was limping. Changmin decided to give him a break before the next man could show up. He watched Micky’s face as he pulled up. The boy tried to smile, and then he shut his eyes with a sigh.
Changmin rolled down his window and said, “Hey.”
The next smile was real. “Hi.” Micky wasted no time getting into the car. Changmin pulled away from the spot.
“You okay?” Changmin asked.
Micky swallowed. “Yeah. Someone was too rough.” He pulled down the visor and looked at himself in the small mirror, poking at his split lip.
Changmin frowned.
“You know,” Micky said while Changmin drove through the city, “you never did tell me your name last time.”
Changmin swallowed. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been calling you Mister Mysterious.”
Changmin laughed and smiled at him. “Sorry. About last time. I was a bit of a mess.”
“Does that mean I get to suck on you tonight?”
Changmin shook his head. “No.”
“Too bad.”
Changmin changed lanes and got on the freeway before saying, “Shim Changmin.”
“And what do you do, Shim Changmin-shi, besides whisking away poor little street boys for a drive?”
“I work at KBS.”
Micky whistled. “Wow.”
“It’s nothing so glamourous. I’m an intern and I mainly just make sure stuff is set up right, like cameras and stage props and things. I want to be a sports broadcaster.”
“No offense, but you look younger than me.”
Changmin shook his head. “Twenty-four. I just finished college. Broadcasting major.”
“Cool. Where are you taking me?”
“No where,” Changmin said and then looked over at him. “Really. Just ... driving.”
The boy smiled and relaxed. “Can I turn on the radio?”
“Sure.”
Micky flipped through the stations before settling on a pop station that usually made Changmin’s skin crawl.
“I tried out for a company,” Changmin said, “when I was fourteen. I didn’t make it. They liked my singing, but I can’t dance at all.”
Micky chuckled. “That would have been fun.”
Changmin wanted to ask him about school, his work, his family, everything. He wanted to know everything about Micky. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, and when he got off the freeway a few minutes later, Micky was asleep. He kept driving, tossing glances at Micky and the bruise on his collarbone that burned a deeper purple than before. He drove until he felt like a kidnapper and then pulled in front of an all-night ramen shop.
He reached over and shook Micky’s shoulder, whispering his name.
Micky yawned and blinked his eyes and then sat up straight with a shout. His eyes focused on Changmin and he relaxed with a heavy sigh. “Sorry.”
Changmin grinned. “It’s okay. Are you hungry?”
Micky nodded.
Changmin climbed out of the car and entered the restaurant.
“Fuck, is it really almost four in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
Micky rubbed his face. “I need to go home.”
“Let me feed you, and then I’ll take you home.”
Micky pondered him for a moment and then agreed. They ate mostly in silence, until Micky stopped and Changmin knew it wasn’t because he was full.
“Keep eating.”
“I ...” Micky looked away. “I’ll take it home.”
“Finish it,” Changmin said. “I’ll buy you another to take home.”
Micky looked guilty as he agreed and Changmin smiled. He got up and ordered another bowl of ramen to go.
Micky worried his lower lip, biting and sucking on it as they left the restaurant and got back into Changmin’s car.
“Where do you live?”
Micky shook his head. “Take me back.”
Changmin found that he could not argue with him even if he wanted to know where Micky lived. The ride back was quiet and awkward. Micky looked out the window. When they stopped, near Micky’s corner but not quite, Changmin pulled out his wallet.
“No,” Micky said. “You bought me dinner.”
“Then I consider that a date, and I want another one.”
Micky frowned.
“You could have had at least one more customer before I picked you up. You’ve been with me for over two hours.” Changmin held out two hundreds this time. “Take it, please.”
“Then this isn’t a date.”
“No, it’s not. But I would like one. With you.”
Micky took the two bills. “I don’t date customers. Thank you for dinner. Please don’t follow me.” He climbed out of the car before Changmin could fully protest.
Changmin waited until Micky disappeared, and then drove home. He felt inexplicably dirty, like he had Micky’s lips on his cock, had growled praises at him, came in his mouth, all over his face. He did not understand why.
Changmin fell face first into his bed and moaned. He did not move and willed his erection away.
Part 2: Need
.
Pairing: Changmin/Yoochun
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: They aren't mine to stalk or love or protect.
Summary: Changmin has a fascination with a street boy named Micky, but what will it take for Micky to trust him and follow him to something better?
Warnings: prostitution, small amount of incest, mentions of previous physical and sexual abuse, rape, pedophilia, and violence
Pretty much inspired by this picture:
Part 1:
Warnings: prostitution, small amount of incest, mentions of previous physical and sexual abuse, rape, pedophilia, and violence
Changmin watched the boy from the warmth of his car. He walked to the same spot, under the same light, just to the left of the corner. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but it was not difficult to tell what he was there for. Changmin checked his watch. 10:30. He was early tonight.
Stalker.
Well, only sort of.
If he was a stalker, Changmin would have known the boy’s name. He would have known where he lived. He would have followed the boy to wherever it was he was staying. But he did not. He sat in his car and watched. It would not take long.
He was dressed to interest, loose pants, loose shirt hanging off a shoulder. The light from the lamp caused sharp shadows at his collarbone and neck. His long hair brushed his bare skin. His lips gleamed red as he sucked on them, making them wet, dark, enticing. Especially his plump lower lip.
Changmin licked his own lips.
Intrigued. He was intrigued. He had no need to pay the boy for his services, refused to do so, but everything about him was so intriguing. Even the way he paced in the light, waiting for someone to pick him up. Even the way nerves took over and he crouched down, hiding his face in his hands for a moment, and then springing back up.
Changmin assumed that the boy did not want to do this but had no other choice, and Changmin wanted to know why.
Concern. That’s what it was. He was concerned. A stalker would not be concerned.
In less than ten minutes, a car cruised to a stop, and the boy smiled widely. Changmin recognized the car. A regular. And not one that kept the boy long. Changmin watched until the boy climbed into the passenger side of the car.
It was still early. Changmin usually left as soon as the boy had a customer, but he decided to wait. He took out his phone and noted a missed call from Minho, a man he was dating. And then a text message.
Let’s go out for a drink.
Changmin said he couldn’t, that he was busy, but breakfast in the morning?
Minho sent him a heart in response.
Changmin checked his work email, replied to a few that could have waited until Monday, but were urgent enough. He checked his social media.
The white car was back before eleven, and the boy climbed out of the car. His hair was messier than before, but he was still smiling and waving as the car drove off. As soon as the car turned a corner, the boy lost his grin and lurched to the alleyway, where it was dark.
Concerned, Changmin rolled down his window and heard the boy retching.
So he definitely did not want to be doing this.
The boy moved back into the light, paler than normal, wiping his hand over his mouth. He leaned against the wall, boot up on the brick, head tilted back. His adam’s apple bobbed, like he was fighting off tears. He dug into his pocket for gum.
Changmin frowned.
His next customer was on foot and he strained to hear the conversation, but he was too far away to hear their voices. The boy was touchy with this one, smiling up at him, playing with the buttons on his shirt. The man returned the touches, pulling at his long hair, sliding his hands under the shirt. The boy led the man into the dark.
These noises Changmin heard even if he saw nothing more than shadowed movement of fucking. Grunts and moans, high tight whimpers. Flesh smacking together.
Why did the boy do this? Why was he whoring himself out when he did not want to? He could have gotten a job in a kitchen or as a delivery boy? Anything. Why was he doing this?
Changmin wondered again how old he was. He looked entirely too young to be doing any of this.
Once again, the boy was back at his corner in less than a half hour.
Changmin watched six more men use the boy, until the boy finally left at almost three.
Changmin did not follow him. He was not a stalker.
---
Intrigued.
More like sick in the head.
Every week Changmin said he would not go see the boy and every week he was there, watching as at least one man used him. His relationship with Minho withered away, knowing that Minho had found someone to give him the attention he needed. He saw them once, at a cafe, making lovey dovey eyes at each other.
It did not hurt. Not nearly as much as it did when Changmin sat in his car and watched the boy’s corner for two nights in a row without seeing him. Cars cruised passed, regular customers.
Changmin left and drank himself into a stupor on a Saturday night until he managed to admit that he was a stalker.
And maybe a little bit in love with someone that was obviously too young for him and someone whose name he did not even know.
---
Changmin waited around the corner that he always saw the boy turn when he was in his normal spot. He had no idea if the boy noticed his car parked half a block down on a normal night.
Normal. Nothing about this was normal.
But he waited, and after two weeks without seeing him, Changmin was not disappointed. But he also had noticed the regulars circling. He was not the only one who wanted to see this boy. But his motivations were different.
They were. He convinced himself they were different.
It took all of his self control not to drive after the boy right away. He waited another two minutes before starting his car and turning the corner. The boy leaned against his wall, and luckily, Changmin saw no one else. His heart raced, his hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. He pressed the brakes too hard as he came to stop in front of the boy’s spot.
He was even more beautiful up close with plump lips and round cheeks, complete with a dimple as he flashed his smile at Changmin’s car window. He wore tight jeans tonight, an open billowy shirt that showed off teasing glimpses his chest and collarbones.
He noticed someone walking down the sidewalk and Changmin quickly lowered the window. The boy pushed off from the wall and leaned into the window.
“Hi,” he said.
Changmin swallowed and tried to reply.
The boy frowned. “Are you a cop?”
Changmin shook his head.
“What do you want?”
He licked his lips and said, “You.” Because it was more of the truth than anything else the others said to him.
He tilted his head to the side. “That’s sort of a given, sir. Care to be more specific?”
Changmin just wanted the boy to get into his car before he went off with someone else. “B-blow j-job?” he managed and winced when it came out more of a squeak.
The boy laughed. It was a fake laugh. Changmin wondered what his real laugh sounded like. “You haven’t ever done this before, have you?”
Changmin shook his head.
The boy laughed again and climbed into his car. He settled himself down in the seat and put on his seatbelt.
Changmin stared. God, the boy was beautiful. He had so many questions. Too many questions.
“Go straight,” the boy said.
Changmin jolted in surprise at the voice. It was much deeper now that they were in his car. Shaking, he put the car in gear and drove straight. The boy’s hand, long fingers, soft skin, pretty nails, landed on his thigh and Changmin almost drove onto the sidewalk.
“Hey, relax,” he said and squeezed. “Turn left.”
He kept his eyes on the road, his mind on the boy’s hand on his leg. He followed the instructions until they were on a dark street. Deserted.
Changmin swallowed as he turned the car off.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” he said and unfastened his seatbelt. He slid his fingers to Changmin’s crotch.
Changmin shook his head. “Don’t ... I ... I can’t ... I can’t do this. This isn’t ...”
“You aren’t making sense,” the boy said, but he moved his hand.
Changmin gripped the steering wheel and pressed his forehead against it. He bit his lip against telling the boy that he had been watching him for almost three months. “I just ... thought I ...”
“Are you married or something?”
Changmin shook his head, skin grip-sliding on the steering wheel. He turned his head to look at the boy. “How ... how much is a blow job?”
The boy shrugged. “I charge a hundred. I’ve been told that’s rather cheap.”
Which explained all his customers.
Changmin was still shaking as he sat up and dug in his back pocket for his wallet.
“I’m not going to let you pay me if I don’t give you a blow job.”
“I ... I can’t ... I just ... What’s your name?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Micky.”
Fake name.
Changmin sighed. He should have expected that. “Why do you do this?” he muttered and then turned his head away. He had not meant to ask that. He took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket.
The boy did not answer. Changmin had not expected him to. He held out the bill. The boy looked at it.
“You can’t--”
“For wasting your time,” Changmin said. “I ... You need it. You must need money if you’re doing this. Please take it. I’m sorry. I thought ...”
The bill left his fingers.
“You thought what?”
Changmin swallowed. “I thought ... I thought ... I just wanted to talk to you.” Changmin finally looked over at him. “I’m sorry.”
The boy grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to suck you off?”
Changmin shook his head.
“Okay.” The boy took a very deep breath. “I don’t mind talking. No one ever wants to talk with me, just to me. How pretty my lips are, how tight my ass is, how sexy I look covered in come.” He took another breath, this one small, quick. A hitch of breath. A few seconds later, he looked out the window. “I do this for the money,” he whispered, “not because I like it.”
“You can ... get another job,” Changmin offered.
“I have one. During the day. It doesn’t pay enough for ... me. It’s not ... enough.”
Changmin nodded. “Where?”
The boy smiled and shook his head.
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
Changmin raised an eyebrow.
“I am. I promise. Normally when men ask me that, I tell them I’m sixteen because they give me more money. But I’m eighteen. Barely, but I’m eighteen.”
Changmin believed him. “How long ...”
“Six months.” He rubbed his thighs. “You never get used to it.”
The last was said very softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“My decision.”
“I know but ...” Changmin did not know how to end that sentence. He let it fall, imagining the word dropping to the floor of the car, creating some kind of sound in the silence.
Micky. The boy ... kind of a boy. Changmin was not sure. All he knew is that the last ten minutes were well worth the hundred dollars, and he would gladly pay Micky five times that to just spend the evening with him.
But he did not suggest it. He started the car. He took Micky back to his light.
He continued watching.
---
It was two a.m. the next time Changmin picked Micky up. It had been three weeks.
Micky had suffered through a rough day. His lip was split and he was limping. Changmin decided to give him a break before the next man could show up. He watched Micky’s face as he pulled up. The boy tried to smile, and then he shut his eyes with a sigh.
Changmin rolled down his window and said, “Hey.”
The next smile was real. “Hi.” Micky wasted no time getting into the car. Changmin pulled away from the spot.
“You okay?” Changmin asked.
Micky swallowed. “Yeah. Someone was too rough.” He pulled down the visor and looked at himself in the small mirror, poking at his split lip.
Changmin frowned.
“You know,” Micky said while Changmin drove through the city, “you never did tell me your name last time.”
Changmin swallowed. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been calling you Mister Mysterious.”
Changmin laughed and smiled at him. “Sorry. About last time. I was a bit of a mess.”
“Does that mean I get to suck on you tonight?”
Changmin shook his head. “No.”
“Too bad.”
Changmin changed lanes and got on the freeway before saying, “Shim Changmin.”
“And what do you do, Shim Changmin-shi, besides whisking away poor little street boys for a drive?”
“I work at KBS.”
Micky whistled. “Wow.”
“It’s nothing so glamourous. I’m an intern and I mainly just make sure stuff is set up right, like cameras and stage props and things. I want to be a sports broadcaster.”
“No offense, but you look younger than me.”
Changmin shook his head. “Twenty-four. I just finished college. Broadcasting major.”
“Cool. Where are you taking me?”
“No where,” Changmin said and then looked over at him. “Really. Just ... driving.”
The boy smiled and relaxed. “Can I turn on the radio?”
“Sure.”
Micky flipped through the stations before settling on a pop station that usually made Changmin’s skin crawl.
“I tried out for a company,” Changmin said, “when I was fourteen. I didn’t make it. They liked my singing, but I can’t dance at all.”
Micky chuckled. “That would have been fun.”
Changmin wanted to ask him about school, his work, his family, everything. He wanted to know everything about Micky. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, and when he got off the freeway a few minutes later, Micky was asleep. He kept driving, tossing glances at Micky and the bruise on his collarbone that burned a deeper purple than before. He drove until he felt like a kidnapper and then pulled in front of an all-night ramen shop.
He reached over and shook Micky’s shoulder, whispering his name.
Micky yawned and blinked his eyes and then sat up straight with a shout. His eyes focused on Changmin and he relaxed with a heavy sigh. “Sorry.”
Changmin grinned. “It’s okay. Are you hungry?”
Micky nodded.
Changmin climbed out of the car and entered the restaurant.
“Fuck, is it really almost four in the morning?”
“Yeah.”
Micky rubbed his face. “I need to go home.”
“Let me feed you, and then I’ll take you home.”
Micky pondered him for a moment and then agreed. They ate mostly in silence, until Micky stopped and Changmin knew it wasn’t because he was full.
“Keep eating.”
“I ...” Micky looked away. “I’ll take it home.”
“Finish it,” Changmin said. “I’ll buy you another to take home.”
Micky looked guilty as he agreed and Changmin smiled. He got up and ordered another bowl of ramen to go.
Micky worried his lower lip, biting and sucking on it as they left the restaurant and got back into Changmin’s car.
“Where do you live?”
Micky shook his head. “Take me back.”
Changmin found that he could not argue with him even if he wanted to know where Micky lived. The ride back was quiet and awkward. Micky looked out the window. When they stopped, near Micky’s corner but not quite, Changmin pulled out his wallet.
“No,” Micky said. “You bought me dinner.”
“Then I consider that a date, and I want another one.”
Micky frowned.
“You could have had at least one more customer before I picked you up. You’ve been with me for over two hours.” Changmin held out two hundreds this time. “Take it, please.”
“Then this isn’t a date.”
“No, it’s not. But I would like one. With you.”
Micky took the two bills. “I don’t date customers. Thank you for dinner. Please don’t follow me.” He climbed out of the car before Changmin could fully protest.
Changmin waited until Micky disappeared, and then drove home. He felt inexplicably dirty, like he had Micky’s lips on his cock, had growled praises at him, came in his mouth, all over his face. He did not understand why.
Changmin fell face first into his bed and moaned. He did not move and willed his erection away.
Part 2: Need
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