Follow Me 2/?
Title: Follow Me 2/?
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
Part 2:
Pretty much inspired by this picture:
Changmin stayed away for two weeks before the need to see Micky drove him back to the corner. It was closer to midnight, and Micky wasn’t there. He cursed, pulled up into his spot half way down the block and waited. It took two hours.
When a car pulled to a stop and Micky practically fell out of the car, Changmin started his. By the time Changmin pulled to the curb, Micky had gained his feet, but he was obviously hurt.
“Fuck,” Changmin said and clambered out of the driver’s side. “Are you okay?”
Micky smiled. The light caught a bruise and a cut on his cheek. He stumbled into Changmin. “Numb.”
“Shit,” Changmin growled and put Micky into the passenger seat of his car. He practically hood-slid to the driver’s side and was glad he hadn’t shut the car off. He thought of going to the hospital, but Micky probably did not want that. He also did not want to be blamed for his wounds. He went to his apartment instead.
Micky was a bit delirious. As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door and threw up.
Changmin hurried to the side and helped him from the car.
“Min. Min. Min min. Missed you, Mister Mysterious.”
Changmin smiled. “I missed you, too.” He was lucky there was no one in the elevator or in the hallway to his apartment. He fumbled with the key, attempting to keep Micky up at the same time. For the first time in his life, he did not take off his shoes, but walked through his apartment and took Micky right to the bathroom.
“God,” Micky said, wincing against the bright lights. Changmin quickly started taking off his clothes to check for injuries.
He stopped, hands at Micky’s back and stared at the thin lines crisscrossing his back. Scars. From a whip. A belt. Something. Old scars. Changmin looked up, staring at Micky in the mirror. Micky had his eyes shut, moaning.
Right. Pain. Anything serious first. Changmin cleared his throat and continued to check his body, but beyond a few bruises, he saw nothing serious.
“Changmin?”
“Huh?”
Micky’s face went pale again and he shoved Changmin to the side, falling to his knees to throw up in the toilet. He stayed on the floor.
Changmin kneeled next to him, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. He flushed the mess down the toilet.
“Drugged,” Micky muttered.
Changmin nodded even if Micky couldn’t see. He stayed there for a moment longer and then stood up. He turned on his shower, wishing he had a bathtub, and made the water warm, not hot. Micky struggled to stand, but eventually walked into the shower and just fell against the wall.
Changmin sighed and made a decision. He stripped and climbed in with him, one arm around Micky’s waist, the other adjusting the spray to get his hair wet. Micky moaned, but did not move and allowed Changmin to wash his hair, and his body.
Changmin shut his eyes as he pressed a finger inside Micky to clean him out. And Micky whimpered. It was quick, Changmin could not stand more. His erection was already brushing Micky’s hip.
“Blow job now?” Micky asked with a upward quirk of an eyebrow.
Changmin shook his head and tried to hurry, rinsing them both off. Micky stumbled from the shower with a groan. Changmin quickly wrapped a towel around his head and tried to dry him off. But Micky snagged it, pulled it up to his face, and just breathed in.
“Fuck.”
Changmin watched him, to make sure he wouldn’t fall, before grabbing his own towel. He was mostly dry when Micky started swaying. Changmin caught him around the middle and made some garbled sense of “you’re okay” and “I’ve got you” and “just relax.” He took Micky to his bedroom and let him lay down on his futon.
Micky moaned, twisted around naked with all of Changmin’s pillows bunched around him, and then he didn’t move. Changmin made sure Micky’s chest was rising and falling with his breathing before forcing himself to turn away from his body, from the way his legs were open, one knee bent, showing off his ass. His entrance, his cock and balls.
Changmin went back into the bathroom for some quick self help.
---
Micky staggered into the kitchen a couple hours later. He leaned over the sink and then turned on the water and shoved his face under the flow, drinking deeply. Changmin looked up from his chair, laptop on his lap.
Micky was still naked. He turned around saw Changmin and huffed. “Good, I’m glad that wasn’t my imagination.”
Changmin smiled. “You okay?”
He nodded. “I hate it when assholes drug me. I’m a fucking prostitute. It’s not like they can’t just fuck me anyway.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He looked around and found a clock and cursed again. “Do you have a phone I can borrow?”
Changmin nodded and pointed to the counter where his cell phone was plugged in. Micky grabbed it and dialed a number.
“Hey ... I’m fine ... got drugged, but another john helped me out ... I had to sleep it off, love ... Yeah, I’m sorry I woke you ...”
Love.
Changmin tuned out the rest of the conversation. Micky was seeing someone. Someone outside of the johns. Someone that obviously knew what he did.
Changmin doubted he stood a chance.
“Why are you doing this?” Micky asked, and his laptop was moved. A very naked Micky straddled his lap, sitting back on his knees, hands on his shoulders.
“Because ... I ...”
I like you. I want you. You’re mine. Protect you. Shouldn’t ...
Changmin swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Micky sighed and trailed his fingers along Changmin’s neck, playing with his ears. It seemed almost unconscious. Changmin tried very hard not to get hard again ... and failed.
“You aren’t going to try to pay me, right? I mean ... you’ve done all this for me. I don’t want you to give me more money.”
Changmin shrugged. It didn’t seem like there was a better time than now. To ask for what he wanted. But he had called someone else ‘love’. He had ...
Changmin shut his eyes, fingers gripping the arms of the chair. Micky dragged fingertips down his arms, took his hands, and put them at his own waist. Changmin swallowed, clammy hands just above Micky’s ass. He barely dared to breathe let alone move. He could feel the welts and scars under his fingertips.
“Changmin-hyung,” Micky whispered and leaned forward. “Open your eyes.”
Changmin shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I ... you ... this ... I can’t. I’m not.”
Micky chuckled. “I think I understand. You don’t want to treat me like a whore?”
Changmin shook his head again, more frantically.
“But you can look at me. There is no harm in that.”
“If I look at you, I’m going to want to kiss you, and if I kiss you, I am not going to stop touching you and take you to my bed and I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”
Micky shifted and pressed in close, breath hot against Changmin’s neck. His hand slid up Micky’s back and hugged him. He hadn’t meant to, but Micky did not squirm to get away. He felt it safe to open his eyes and saw just the top of Micky’s head and his fluffy hair. The curve of his spine. The way his ribs stick out a little. The old scars up and down his back.
He lifted a shaking hand and ran his fingers through Micky’s hair. He hummed in surprise, but did nothing more than shift closer to Changmin’s body.
“Did you sleep?” Micky asked, deep voice rumbling down Changmin’s skin.
“N-no.”
“You should. Do you mind if I borrow some clothes?”
Changmin cleared his throat. “No.”
“Thanks for being so sweet, Changmin-hyung,” Micky said and kissed his neck before climbing from his lap.
Changmin fought the urge to never let him go. He kept his eyes shut until he heard Micky in his bedroom. He groaned, rubbing his face, and knew that Micky was right. He needed sleep. He needed Micky.
Standing, Changmin staggered and almost fell into the wall. He went to the bedroom just in time to see Micky pull one of his plain t-shirts over his head. He was already wearing a pair of Changmin’s shorts. The shadows caused by the low light made the scars stand out even more as thin lines crisscrossing his pale skin.
“Micky?” Changmin whispered.
Micky turned to face him.
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat before you go?”
“Thank you, please.”
Changmin went the other way, unsteady on his feet. He did not have much beyond leftover rice and kimchi and some frozen fish, but he heated it all up, and then remembered at the restaurant. Had Micky taken the extra food to his lover?
Changmin sighed. It did not matter who it was for if Micky needed it. Changmin made sure to make extra food for him to take home.
---
“Do you need a ride?” Changmin asked as Micky moved to the door to slip on his sandals.
Micky shook his head. “I know where I am. I’ll walk from here. Don’t follow me.”
Changmin tried not to sigh. Micky looked up and smiled at him. He walked over and put his arms around Changmin’s neck, stepping close for a hug. Changmin wrapped his arms around Micky’s thin waist and just held him, face buried in his neck.
“I’ll be fine,” Micky whispered. “I promise.”
“I want to see you again.”
Micky pulled away and smiled. “Any time. You know where I work.” He winked.
Changmin rolled his eyes. “That is not what I meant.”
Micky shrugged, the movement releasing him from Changmin’s grasp. “I already told you, I don’t date clients.”
“You have--” Changmin stopped at the word ‘boyfriend.’ Technically, he had no idea if Micky was gay or straight. “You have a lover,” he finally said.
Micky smiled and shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”
“Then who ...” Changmin stopped talking. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”
Micky chuckled. “No, it’s not. I’m glad you care, Mister Mysterious, but you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. I don’t date clients.”
Changmin pouted.
With another smile, Micky slipped in close, touched Changmin’s cheek and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”
With him so close, Changmin succumbed and hugged him tightly. He wanted a deeper kiss, a heavier one. He never wanted their lips to part. But he understood. Micky had to protect himself. And whoever it was that he called “love” so tenderly.
“Come over, whenever you need to,” Changmin said, “whenever you need anything.”
“I will.”
Micky opened the door and Changmin made a noise of protest. He did not want to watch Micky leave. Ever.
Micky glanced at him, eyebrow raised.
“Can I see you again?”
Micky smiled. “Of course.”
“It won’t ... It’s not ... weird, or ...”
“No. I still owe you a blow job remember?”
Changmin spluttered.
Micky laughed. “I’m kidding. You can come and see me whenever you want. You know where I’ll be.”
With that, Micky tossed him half a salute and left the room. The door shut softly but it sounded like a slam in Changmin’s brain. He staggered to his chair and slumped into it. Crying. God, his emotions were a mess. Just from this boy. This whore. Changmin wanted him to stop being a whore. Changmin wanted him to be his boyfriend.
God, he needed to sleep.
----
Changmin went and saw Micky every other week. Every pay day. He did not exactly have the money for it, but he had been very cheap during college and he started to use the money in his savings account. It wasn’t a smart idea, but he had to give Micky something. Micky needed it much more than he did. He picked Micky up and drove them around, bought him dinner some nights, gave him a break from fucking and sucking. He always gave Micky a hundred dollars.
It was a fucked up, pseudo version of dating and Changmin knew it.
Micky relaxed as the weeks went by. He smiled widely when he recognized Changmin’s car. He gripped his hand during the drive, leaned against his shoulder in restaurants. He laughed freely. He kissed on the lips freely. He talked freely. Never about his past or family or welts on his back. Or his lover.
The first time Micky came over to Changmin’s house, it was a Tuesday night, seven p.m. Changmin had just crawled into bed, tired after a twelve hour shift at his job and knowing he needed to be back at the studio by two in the morning for some live night recording of some rookie group of idols.
He ignored the doorbell the first time, but when it rang again, he got out of bed with a sigh. He staggered through the dark, half asleep and rubbing his eyes.He opened the door, blinking blurriness away. At a sharp intake of breath, Changmin realized he was only wearing boxers.
And then he realized it was Micky at his door and his eyes went wide, head clearing and it was his turn to gasp in surprise.
Micky pushed past him and the door shut.
“Um, hi,” Changmin said, voice breaking a little.
“Shut up,” Micky demanded, and then hands were around his neck and Micky pressed against him, kissing, yep, kissing, and Changmin staggered back, hands around Micky’s waist to support them as they slammed against the door.
It was a good twenty years later (twenty years of Micky’s lips, Micky’s tongue, Micky’s gasps into his mouth, Micky’s hands sliding on his body) before Micky pulled away.
He smiled and his hands flexed where they gripped Changmin’s sides. “Sorry. Hi.”
Changmin’s head thunked to the door.
Micky’s mouth went right to his neck.
“Fuck, Micky, what?”
“Your fault.” He lifted his head and smiled. “You never told me you were so fucking sexy.”
“Huh?”
Micky laughed. “Your body, dumbass. You’re gorgeous.”
“Work out.”
Micky snorted and went back to his neck. “Obviously.” He kissed down his shoulder, sliding his body along Changmin’s on his way to his knees. He pulled Changmin’s boxers down, and the first touch of tongue to his cock, had Changmin groaning, cursing his self-control, and pushing Micky away all at the same time.
Micky sat back on his knees and pouted up at him.
Changmin moaned and yanked his boxers back up.
“Hyung!”
“Oh god.” He stayed against the door, eyes shut, and jerked when Micky ran his hands up his thighs.
“Could have sworn this is what you wanted,” Micky said, he walked his fingers up Changmin’s erection.
Changmin put his face in his hands, breath whooshing between his fingers.
Eventually, Micky used Changmin’s hips to pull himself back up and he moved Changmin’s hands to press a kiss to his mouth. “Were you sleeping?” Micky whispered.
Changmin nodded. “Trying. Long day. Early shift tomorrow.”
“I did not mean to--”
Changmin shook his head. “It’s fine. I ... wasn’t asleep yet.”
“I can go.”
“Don’t.”
Micky smiled and took Changmin’s hand. He walked backwards toward Changmin’s bedroom. “A nap sounds like a great idea.”
“Why ... why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“M’glad,” Changmin whispered and let Micky push him to the bed. He was shaking a little when Micky climbed in with him. But Micky lay on his side, pressed against Changmin and relaxed. His hand ran up and down Changmin’s chest and abs. It wasn’t sexual, but comforting. Even a bit relaxing. He smiled and turned on his side, manhandling Micky a bit despite his grumbles. He lay his arm around Micky’s middle, pulling him a little closer.
It was much easier to fall asleep.
Part 3: Trust
Part 1: Concern
.
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
Part 2:
Pretty much inspired by this picture:
Changmin stayed away for two weeks before the need to see Micky drove him back to the corner. It was closer to midnight, and Micky wasn’t there. He cursed, pulled up into his spot half way down the block and waited. It took two hours.
When a car pulled to a stop and Micky practically fell out of the car, Changmin started his. By the time Changmin pulled to the curb, Micky had gained his feet, but he was obviously hurt.
“Fuck,” Changmin said and clambered out of the driver’s side. “Are you okay?”
Micky smiled. The light caught a bruise and a cut on his cheek. He stumbled into Changmin. “Numb.”
“Shit,” Changmin growled and put Micky into the passenger seat of his car. He practically hood-slid to the driver’s side and was glad he hadn’t shut the car off. He thought of going to the hospital, but Micky probably did not want that. He also did not want to be blamed for his wounds. He went to his apartment instead.
Micky was a bit delirious. As soon as the car stopped, he opened the door and threw up.
Changmin hurried to the side and helped him from the car.
“Min. Min. Min min. Missed you, Mister Mysterious.”
Changmin smiled. “I missed you, too.” He was lucky there was no one in the elevator or in the hallway to his apartment. He fumbled with the key, attempting to keep Micky up at the same time. For the first time in his life, he did not take off his shoes, but walked through his apartment and took Micky right to the bathroom.
“God,” Micky said, wincing against the bright lights. Changmin quickly started taking off his clothes to check for injuries.
He stopped, hands at Micky’s back and stared at the thin lines crisscrossing his back. Scars. From a whip. A belt. Something. Old scars. Changmin looked up, staring at Micky in the mirror. Micky had his eyes shut, moaning.
Right. Pain. Anything serious first. Changmin cleared his throat and continued to check his body, but beyond a few bruises, he saw nothing serious.
“Changmin?”
“Huh?”
Micky’s face went pale again and he shoved Changmin to the side, falling to his knees to throw up in the toilet. He stayed on the floor.
Changmin kneeled next to him, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. He flushed the mess down the toilet.
“Drugged,” Micky muttered.
Changmin nodded even if Micky couldn’t see. He stayed there for a moment longer and then stood up. He turned on his shower, wishing he had a bathtub, and made the water warm, not hot. Micky struggled to stand, but eventually walked into the shower and just fell against the wall.
Changmin sighed and made a decision. He stripped and climbed in with him, one arm around Micky’s waist, the other adjusting the spray to get his hair wet. Micky moaned, but did not move and allowed Changmin to wash his hair, and his body.
Changmin shut his eyes as he pressed a finger inside Micky to clean him out. And Micky whimpered. It was quick, Changmin could not stand more. His erection was already brushing Micky’s hip.
“Blow job now?” Micky asked with a upward quirk of an eyebrow.
Changmin shook his head and tried to hurry, rinsing them both off. Micky stumbled from the shower with a groan. Changmin quickly wrapped a towel around his head and tried to dry him off. But Micky snagged it, pulled it up to his face, and just breathed in.
“Fuck.”
Changmin watched him, to make sure he wouldn’t fall, before grabbing his own towel. He was mostly dry when Micky started swaying. Changmin caught him around the middle and made some garbled sense of “you’re okay” and “I’ve got you” and “just relax.” He took Micky to his bedroom and let him lay down on his futon.
Micky moaned, twisted around naked with all of Changmin’s pillows bunched around him, and then he didn’t move. Changmin made sure Micky’s chest was rising and falling with his breathing before forcing himself to turn away from his body, from the way his legs were open, one knee bent, showing off his ass. His entrance, his cock and balls.
Changmin went back into the bathroom for some quick self help.
---
Micky staggered into the kitchen a couple hours later. He leaned over the sink and then turned on the water and shoved his face under the flow, drinking deeply. Changmin looked up from his chair, laptop on his lap.
Micky was still naked. He turned around saw Changmin and huffed. “Good, I’m glad that wasn’t my imagination.”
Changmin smiled. “You okay?”
He nodded. “I hate it when assholes drug me. I’m a fucking prostitute. It’s not like they can’t just fuck me anyway.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He looked around and found a clock and cursed again. “Do you have a phone I can borrow?”
Changmin nodded and pointed to the counter where his cell phone was plugged in. Micky grabbed it and dialed a number.
“Hey ... I’m fine ... got drugged, but another john helped me out ... I had to sleep it off, love ... Yeah, I’m sorry I woke you ...”
Love.
Changmin tuned out the rest of the conversation. Micky was seeing someone. Someone outside of the johns. Someone that obviously knew what he did.
Changmin doubted he stood a chance.
“Why are you doing this?” Micky asked, and his laptop was moved. A very naked Micky straddled his lap, sitting back on his knees, hands on his shoulders.
“Because ... I ...”
I like you. I want you. You’re mine. Protect you. Shouldn’t ...
Changmin swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Micky sighed and trailed his fingers along Changmin’s neck, playing with his ears. It seemed almost unconscious. Changmin tried very hard not to get hard again ... and failed.
“You aren’t going to try to pay me, right? I mean ... you’ve done all this for me. I don’t want you to give me more money.”
Changmin shrugged. It didn’t seem like there was a better time than now. To ask for what he wanted. But he had called someone else ‘love’. He had ...
Changmin shut his eyes, fingers gripping the arms of the chair. Micky dragged fingertips down his arms, took his hands, and put them at his own waist. Changmin swallowed, clammy hands just above Micky’s ass. He barely dared to breathe let alone move. He could feel the welts and scars under his fingertips.
“Changmin-hyung,” Micky whispered and leaned forward. “Open your eyes.”
Changmin shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I ... you ... this ... I can’t. I’m not.”
Micky chuckled. “I think I understand. You don’t want to treat me like a whore?”
Changmin shook his head again, more frantically.
“But you can look at me. There is no harm in that.”
“If I look at you, I’m going to want to kiss you, and if I kiss you, I am not going to stop touching you and take you to my bed and I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”
Micky shifted and pressed in close, breath hot against Changmin’s neck. His hand slid up Micky’s back and hugged him. He hadn’t meant to, but Micky did not squirm to get away. He felt it safe to open his eyes and saw just the top of Micky’s head and his fluffy hair. The curve of his spine. The way his ribs stick out a little. The old scars up and down his back.
He lifted a shaking hand and ran his fingers through Micky’s hair. He hummed in surprise, but did nothing more than shift closer to Changmin’s body.
“Did you sleep?” Micky asked, deep voice rumbling down Changmin’s skin.
“N-no.”
“You should. Do you mind if I borrow some clothes?”
Changmin cleared his throat. “No.”
“Thanks for being so sweet, Changmin-hyung,” Micky said and kissed his neck before climbing from his lap.
Changmin fought the urge to never let him go. He kept his eyes shut until he heard Micky in his bedroom. He groaned, rubbing his face, and knew that Micky was right. He needed sleep. He needed Micky.
Standing, Changmin staggered and almost fell into the wall. He went to the bedroom just in time to see Micky pull one of his plain t-shirts over his head. He was already wearing a pair of Changmin’s shorts. The shadows caused by the low light made the scars stand out even more as thin lines crisscrossing his pale skin.
“Micky?” Changmin whispered.
Micky turned to face him.
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat before you go?”
“Thank you, please.”
Changmin went the other way, unsteady on his feet. He did not have much beyond leftover rice and kimchi and some frozen fish, but he heated it all up, and then remembered at the restaurant. Had Micky taken the extra food to his lover?
Changmin sighed. It did not matter who it was for if Micky needed it. Changmin made sure to make extra food for him to take home.
---
“Do you need a ride?” Changmin asked as Micky moved to the door to slip on his sandals.
Micky shook his head. “I know where I am. I’ll walk from here. Don’t follow me.”
Changmin tried not to sigh. Micky looked up and smiled at him. He walked over and put his arms around Changmin’s neck, stepping close for a hug. Changmin wrapped his arms around Micky’s thin waist and just held him, face buried in his neck.
“I’ll be fine,” Micky whispered. “I promise.”
“I want to see you again.”
Micky pulled away and smiled. “Any time. You know where I work.” He winked.
Changmin rolled his eyes. “That is not what I meant.”
Micky shrugged, the movement releasing him from Changmin’s grasp. “I already told you, I don’t date clients.”
“You have--” Changmin stopped at the word ‘boyfriend.’ Technically, he had no idea if Micky was gay or straight. “You have a lover,” he finally said.
Micky smiled and shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe one day.”
“Then who ...” Changmin stopped talking. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”
Micky chuckled. “No, it’s not. I’m glad you care, Mister Mysterious, but you aren’t the first and you won’t be the last. I don’t date clients.”
Changmin pouted.
With another smile, Micky slipped in close, touched Changmin’s cheek and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”
With him so close, Changmin succumbed and hugged him tightly. He wanted a deeper kiss, a heavier one. He never wanted their lips to part. But he understood. Micky had to protect himself. And whoever it was that he called “love” so tenderly.
“Come over, whenever you need to,” Changmin said, “whenever you need anything.”
“I will.”
Micky opened the door and Changmin made a noise of protest. He did not want to watch Micky leave. Ever.
Micky glanced at him, eyebrow raised.
“Can I see you again?”
Micky smiled. “Of course.”
“It won’t ... It’s not ... weird, or ...”
“No. I still owe you a blow job remember?”
Changmin spluttered.
Micky laughed. “I’m kidding. You can come and see me whenever you want. You know where I’ll be.”
With that, Micky tossed him half a salute and left the room. The door shut softly but it sounded like a slam in Changmin’s brain. He staggered to his chair and slumped into it. Crying. God, his emotions were a mess. Just from this boy. This whore. Changmin wanted him to stop being a whore. Changmin wanted him to be his boyfriend.
God, he needed to sleep.
----
Changmin went and saw Micky every other week. Every pay day. He did not exactly have the money for it, but he had been very cheap during college and he started to use the money in his savings account. It wasn’t a smart idea, but he had to give Micky something. Micky needed it much more than he did. He picked Micky up and drove them around, bought him dinner some nights, gave him a break from fucking and sucking. He always gave Micky a hundred dollars.
It was a fucked up, pseudo version of dating and Changmin knew it.
Micky relaxed as the weeks went by. He smiled widely when he recognized Changmin’s car. He gripped his hand during the drive, leaned against his shoulder in restaurants. He laughed freely. He kissed on the lips freely. He talked freely. Never about his past or family or welts on his back. Or his lover.
The first time Micky came over to Changmin’s house, it was a Tuesday night, seven p.m. Changmin had just crawled into bed, tired after a twelve hour shift at his job and knowing he needed to be back at the studio by two in the morning for some live night recording of some rookie group of idols.
He ignored the doorbell the first time, but when it rang again, he got out of bed with a sigh. He staggered through the dark, half asleep and rubbing his eyes.He opened the door, blinking blurriness away. At a sharp intake of breath, Changmin realized he was only wearing boxers.
And then he realized it was Micky at his door and his eyes went wide, head clearing and it was his turn to gasp in surprise.
Micky pushed past him and the door shut.
“Um, hi,” Changmin said, voice breaking a little.
“Shut up,” Micky demanded, and then hands were around his neck and Micky pressed against him, kissing, yep, kissing, and Changmin staggered back, hands around Micky’s waist to support them as they slammed against the door.
It was a good twenty years later (twenty years of Micky’s lips, Micky’s tongue, Micky’s gasps into his mouth, Micky’s hands sliding on his body) before Micky pulled away.
He smiled and his hands flexed where they gripped Changmin’s sides. “Sorry. Hi.”
Changmin’s head thunked to the door.
Micky’s mouth went right to his neck.
“Fuck, Micky, what?”
“Your fault.” He lifted his head and smiled. “You never told me you were so fucking sexy.”
“Huh?”
Micky laughed. “Your body, dumbass. You’re gorgeous.”
“Work out.”
Micky snorted and went back to his neck. “Obviously.” He kissed down his shoulder, sliding his body along Changmin’s on his way to his knees. He pulled Changmin’s boxers down, and the first touch of tongue to his cock, had Changmin groaning, cursing his self-control, and pushing Micky away all at the same time.
Micky sat back on his knees and pouted up at him.
Changmin moaned and yanked his boxers back up.
“Hyung!”
“Oh god.” He stayed against the door, eyes shut, and jerked when Micky ran his hands up his thighs.
“Could have sworn this is what you wanted,” Micky said, he walked his fingers up Changmin’s erection.
Changmin put his face in his hands, breath whooshing between his fingers.
Eventually, Micky used Changmin’s hips to pull himself back up and he moved Changmin’s hands to press a kiss to his mouth. “Were you sleeping?” Micky whispered.
Changmin nodded. “Trying. Long day. Early shift tomorrow.”
“I did not mean to--”
Changmin shook his head. “It’s fine. I ... wasn’t asleep yet.”
“I can go.”
“Don’t.”
Micky smiled and took Changmin’s hand. He walked backwards toward Changmin’s bedroom. “A nap sounds like a great idea.”
“Why ... why are you here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“M’glad,” Changmin whispered and let Micky push him to the bed. He was shaking a little when Micky climbed in with him. But Micky lay on his side, pressed against Changmin and relaxed. His hand ran up and down Changmin’s chest and abs. It wasn’t sexual, but comforting. Even a bit relaxing. He smiled and turned on his side, manhandling Micky a bit despite his grumbles. He lay his arm around Micky’s middle, pulling him a little closer.
It was much easier to fall asleep.
Part 3: Trust
Part 1: Concern
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