Ian loads his duffel bag into the back of Gordie’s van. It’s actually Linus’ duffel bag, one he had to borrow when he realized it would be embarrassing to show up with a laundry bag full of his shit. He’s already feeling weird about the weekend, just a little out of place as some unfamiliar techno music blasts from the speakers.

Theo is sitting in the front passenger seat so Ian finds himself sitting next to some guy he doesn’t know with purple nail polish and a purple beanie.

“Oh, Ian!” Gordie says as they hit the road. “You’ve never been to Theo’s lake house before.”

“Yeah,” Ian says. He wants to mention he’s only known the guy for a month or so.

“Oh you’re gonna fuckin’ love it. His parents have this thing where they hire a guy to come make churros, it’s insane.”

Ian knows what a churro is, although he can’t recall if he’s ever had one. Most likely not. He wonders how much it costs to hire a guy to come to your house and make churros all weekend. He wonders why anyone would want this when they could just buy a batch of them from somewhere, pre-made. It's just a sweet pastry, after all.

“Ian’s a freshman,” Theo says to the rest of the van. “We met at a frosh party.”

“Leave it to you to find the prettiest freshman on campus,” one of the girls in the van jokes.

Ian feels flattered and just a little bit objectified but there’s something about being called pretty that he unironically enjoys.

*

It’s only been ten minutes on the road and already Ian is getting a headache from the weird electronic techno music that’s been playing repetitively. No lyrics or anything, just strange mixes of sounds.

As if reading his mind, Theo turns in his seat to look at him. “You like the music?” he asks. “Kenny made it. He’s a music genius.”

Kenny is in the van, in the seat behind Ian’s. He is forced to turn and nod to Kenny, “Oh cool,” he says. “This music is sick.”

Internally, he wants to die because now there is no chance in hell they’re going to be ok with a request to switch to other music.

*

Ian texts Mickey about the terrible music but receives no response that day. He figures Mickey is busy dealing with his own shit but he finds he wants so badly for Mickey to respond with a joke at Kenny’s expense, to validate Ian’s opinions on this garbage music.

He doesn’t even know what kind of music Mickey listens to but he can be sure it’s not this.

Kenny taps Ian on the shoulder to show him something on his phone. “You should follow me on soundcloud.”

“Oh, I don’t have that,” Ian says.

“It’s really easy to make an account,” Kenny says. “I’ll text you the link to my account so you can follow me.”

He can see Kenny's name on soundcloud is "Kenny the G" and doesn't know how to react appropriately to this.

*

“So how’re you finding your classes?” one of the girls asks. Ian really needs to start learning some names.

“Oh they’re not too bad,” Ian says. “I like linguistics.”

“The study of language,” she nods. “I’m a big fan of Chomsky’s works, particularly On Nature and Language. It really opened my eyes to the way language functions in society and the way it relates to our cognition.”

Ian blinks back at her. “Are you in linguistics?”

She laughs as if it’s a ridiculous question. “No, no. I’m a sociology major but I got into a really deep Chomsky binge the past summer, read a bunch of his books and sent him a few emails after asking for his opinion on the positive aspects of globalization.”

“Oh, cool,” Ian says.

“Personally I find his views on Israel a bit too extreme,” Gordie says from the front seat.

Ian sits back and wonders if he’ll ever be able to really partake in these discussions, to even understand what the words mean. He wonders if he’s in the wrong field too, like maybe he should have chosen something a bit less intense like Astrophysics.

*

They stop at a gas station to fill up on gas and Ian goes with Theo to the convenience store for some snacks.

Using the gas station wifi, Ian googles Noam Chomsky and is surprised this man is still alive, much less receiving emails from college girls.

*

Ian would normally buy some pop, some beef jerky or chips. Maybe even a Kind bar when he’s feeling healthy. But Theo stacks up on those green bottles of San Pellegrino that Ian has never tried and white cheddar popcorn. Ian follows suit and does the same.

“We’ve been obsessed with white cheddar popcorn lately,” Theo says. “Like legit addicted.”

Ian smiles politely at that, and imagines everyone in that van munching on those bags of popcorn the same way his father guzzles beer at the Alibi. He imagines everyone having to go to AA but for their white cheddar popcorn addiction and laughs to himself.

*

The white cheddar popcorn isn’t that bad but it leaves Ian with an empty feeling, one that is definitely not satiated by what turns out to be soda water with maybe a hint of lemon or something. Ian has never craved a beer and a cigarette more in his life.

*

They arrive at the lake house and Ian doesn’t know why he expected some cabin on Lake Michigan when they arrive and it turns out to be five times the size of the Gallagher house with a pristine white exterior and a car parked in the driveway with a boat attached to it.

“Just a heads up,” Theo warns Ian as they grab their things from the back of the van, “My parents can be really overbearing. Dad’s pretty conservative, mom’s hella liberal. So no politics or else things can get really heated. And if you’re a Marxist, definitely don’t say anything.”

Ian frowns as he follows the group into the house. He wasn’t going to talk about politics, wouldn’t even know where to start. But he does know that Theo’s parents’ marriage sounds like a prison sentence.

*

The inside of the “lake house” looks like it came straight out of an Architectural Digest magazine with various vases and artwork of ships that Ian is sure cost more than his yearly tuition.

The rest of the gang trickle in, completely used to the surroundings, as if they haven’t just been teleported to a different dimension.

“Holy shit,” Ian can’t help but say. “If this is your lake house then I can’t even imagine what your actual house looks like.”

“My parents just like big spaces because they’re obsessed with throwing huge parties,” Theo says, as though it is a casual reason for owning a second mansion in what is possibly the wealthiest town in all of Illinois.

Ian thinks about how his family back in the southside always loved throwing backyard parties and barbecues, how much they could do with such little. He can’t even imagine the Gallagher clan stepping into a home like this, tracking in mud and looking out of place in their secondhand coats that are always torn and pilling.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Ian asks, feeling overwhelmed.

“The closest one is down the hall,” Theo says.

*

Ian sits at the edge of the marble bathtub, feeling ashamed to even piss in such a luxurious bathroom.

He checks his phone. No response from Mickey still.

He considers calling but imagines Mickey in the middle of some family bullshit and becoming annoyed seeing Ian calling him just because he’s feeling a little anxious.

When he finally emerges six minutes later, more people have arrived -- some people he has briefly met before and others he has never met and already does not want to.

Theo offers him a beer and he takes it.

*

Later, when Ian is buzzed enough to double text Mickey, he sneaks off to the bathroom again.

Ian (7:04pm): what the fuck I miss you

He looks at the text and figures he can regret it tomorrow when he’s sober.

*

Ian has no idea what’s going on -- whether the party has already started or if this is just the warmup. The house is packed with people, including all of Theo’s friends, his cousins that show up, and parents who have their own friends. It’s only Friday so Ian can’t even imagine what the actual weekend will look like.

There is no churro man in sight so Ian figures the festivities will truly begin tomorrow and for now they’re just having a casual dinner which apparently consists of wooden trays absolutely toppling with various cheeses and cold cuts. There are weird chunks of dark chocolate and nuts scattered randomly across them too. It looks like a strange meal, one a chimp would throw together. But then someone calls it “absolutely stunning” and he realizes it’s a matter of class differences.

He gets introduced to Theo’s parents. “This is my friend, Ian,” Theo had said.

By the look his parents had given Ian, he can tell Theo is very much not in the closet and the parents know they’ve banged at least once. His mom is very friendly and touchy, incredibly warm with Ian right away while the father just nods stoically and gives him a generic "It's a pleasure to meet you, hope you enjoy the weekend."

When it becomes late, they trudge to their separate rooms. Even in a house as big as this, people have to share rooms and some get the couch. Ian, however, gets to stay in Theo’s room. The only problem is Theo is also there and Ian, despite being buzzed, still feels a bit weird about it.

He wants to take his pills, but needs to remove them from his duffel without raising questions.

Theo, annoyingly, is not drunk at all and lingers around Ian to try and get him comfortable. “Make yourself at home,” he keeps saying. Ian doesn’t know how to tell him this is an impossible task.

*

When Ian successfully makes it to the bathroom with his pill bottle gripped in his right palm, he briefly checks his phone. His heart sinks when he realizes he missed a call from Mickey.

It’s nearing one in the morning but still he calls him back right away, three hours after Mickey had initially called him.

The phone rings for a really long time and Ian is just about to hang up when Mickey answers.

“Hey.”

Mickey’s voice is gruff, as if Ian just awoke him from his sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?” Ian asks.

“No,” Mickey says, clearly lying. “You ok?”

“Yeah. I saw you called.”

“Oh yeah. Got your text. Was worried you were losing your mind.”

Ian leans against the door and breathes a sigh of relief. The sound of Mickey’s voice soothes him immediately. “I don’t know if I can survive this weekend. Everyone talks about philosophy and art and who knows who. It’s too much and I can’t keep up.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Mickey says. “You’re the bougiest person I know, you probably fit right in.”

“What? I’m not bougie. Why would you even say that?”

“You always act like if you don’t pile your plate up with fruits and veggies, you’ll die.”

“Health is important, Mick. Just because you live on carbs and weed--”

“I’m not done,” Mickey interrupts. “You also use the word ‘brunch’ like that’s a normal thing people do. You know who goes to ‘brunch’? People with no fuckin’ job.”

Ian can’t even argue. He likes the idea of daytime drinking with breakfast food -- mimosas and omelettes. He’s never gotten to try it because the prettiest brunch places are always so overpriced, but he does recall bringing it up to Mickey as a possible hangout option at one point. Mickey had laughed at him; told him if he wanted, he could just go buy some orange juice and make his own mimosa and eat the scrambled eggs offered in the dining hall.

“Ok well maybe I strive for a higher standard of living,” Ian mumbles, “I’m still uncomfortable as hell here. Wish I could hop on a bus back to campus right now without telling anyone but then I’d have to delete Facebook and transfer schools to never have to deal with the repercussions of that.”

Mickey snorts. “Just enjoy your weekend, Ian. These people aren’t better than you, they just have more money.”

Ian sighs, checks his watch. He knows Theo is going to start to wonder what’s taking so long. Ian figures he’ll lie and says he has stomach problems if Theo tries to fuck tonight.

“You doing ok?” Ian asks quietly.

Mickey is quiet for a few seconds. “Yeah, I’m good. Also can’t wait for the weekend to be over.”

Ian wants to ask what happened, wants to know about Mickey’s day and whether he had to deal with bullshit from his father. But Mickey is tired and says, “I’m gonna go back to sleep now, ok? Just try to relax. Don’t go insane.”

Ian laughs. “Yeah ok. I’ll drink myself through it all.”

They exchange goodbyes and Ian hangs up, looking at his reflection in the opulent mirror. He looks out of place in this house, this he knows. In fact, he’s felt out of place the entire day, surrounded by people in clothes that make his own look like scraps, rolexes that make his own watch look like he won it through a claw machine at a fair.

He knows it’s partly in his head, that no one questioned why he was there. Everyone was friendly, accommodating. The sinking feeling, he realizes, is homesickness.

*

Ian decides to try not to text Mickey all weekend. He falls asleep in Theo’s bed and, thankfully, Theo doesn’t try anything. Maybe they really are just friends now. Maybe Theo realizes how sexually incompatible they are. It’s strange too, because Ian has never considered himself sexually incompatible with anybody.

*

It is the following day that more people arrive, when everyone emerges dressed in thick knits and a whole lot of Ralph Lauren. Ian is wearing one of his beige henleys, not being able to help but notice how the material is so much thinner than everyone else’s cotton blends.

“Ian!” Theo’s mother calls out through the crowd. She offers him a champagne flute and puts an arm around him. “Theodore tells me you’re a freshman studying linguistics.”

“Yeah, that’s accurate,” Ian says. He doesn’t quite understand Theo’s mom’s fascination with him but ever since the day before, she’s been mothering him like he was her own son.

“That’s really great. A great field to go into. What are you planning to do with your degree?”

Ian is a bit miffed by this question. He’s only been studying linguistics for a little over a month and knows just as much about dead Russian playwrights than he does about the science of language.

“I’m just taking as many courses as I can,” he explains. “Trying to see what I like best.”

“Of course, of course,” she replies. “You know speech pathology is a quite lucrative field. My sister in New York runs a speech pathology clinic. Now you tell me if you ever want me to introduce you to her, I’m sure she can offer you some valuable advice.”

Ian nods, grateful for the offer but confused as to why she’s offering this to someone she just met -- a freshman at that.

She leans in and whispers. “You know before I met my husband I was working paycheck to paycheck, trying to get through law school while trying to prevent getting into too much debt. I know what it’s like.”

Ian is left speechless as she grazes his arm tenderly and walks off to greet a gaggle of new guests. He had never mentioned his upbringing to Theo or anybody. No one knows he’s from the southside. But perhaps, it was a lot more obvious than he had initially thought. It sends a chill down his spine.

*

Because Ian is actively trying not to bother Mickey, he calls Lip and tells him about what happened with Theo’s mom.

“They can probably smell it on you,” Lip says. “The poverty.”

Ian groans. “Don’t say that word. We’re not in poverty, we’re just… low-income.”

“Yeah, ok, don’t think there’s much of a difference in their eyes.”

“I’ve wanted to leave since yesterday,” Ian admits. “And now I feel like I have to. Did they just invite me here because they feel sorry for me?”

“I thought you got invited because you’re boning the host.”

“Not so much boning anymore,” Ian says. “I think he might have expected a blowjob last night but he didn’t say anything or push it, just asked if I was tired and I said yes.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll probably visit home next weekend. This whole thing made me miss the chaos of being back at home. Also wanna grab a few things for Mickey.”

“Like what?”

Ian laughs lightly. “I don’t know, some random scraps and junk to put in a box and sell to dumbasses on the internet.”

Lip doesn’t even ask Ian to expand on that. “Grab some of Frank’s shit-stained boxers. Either that or we’re gonna have to burn them ourselves. How is Mickey anyway?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t tell me that shit. I’m not even sure if he’s staying at his dad’s or crashing on some guy’s couch.”

“Couch, huh? Maybe he’s got a side piece at home, you don’t know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lip. I don’t need to think about that. Also, I’d be the side piece in this situation.”

There’s some commotion in the background which Ian knows means Fiona just came home with groceries.

“Gotta go,” says Lip. “If I catch Mickey around town with his secret boyfriend I’ll let you know.”

Ian hisses a curse as Lip hangs up. He didn’t need that imagery in his head, in fact he hadn’t even considered it at all. Mickey could very well be fucking other people, maybe not on campus but back in the southside. He had definitely lost his virginity somewhere and the way he fucks is way too aggressive to not have originated on those streets.

*

Ian tries to think of other things. He tries to engage in conversation with everyone, to look like he’s having a great time.

The churro guy shows up, this middle-aged Mexican man, who stands behind his stall for what looks like will be the entire day, in front of a giant vat of oil frying up the crispy treats. Ian does want to try one but the man is so busy fulfilling everyone’s requests that he feels too guilty to approach.

“Try one,” Theo urges, putting a hand at Ian’s waist and guiding him to it.

Theo orders two, one filled with dulce de leche for himself and a chocolate one for Ian. And he feels childish and uncultured for asking for the basic chocolate one because he didn’t know how to pronounce dulce de leche.

The churro is good but he doesn’t know if it’s necessary to have them freshly made by this singular man.

“Miguel is like family,” Theo explains when he catches Ian staring at the man. “His face just looks like that but he actually does really enjoy it. Churros are his passion.”

Ian guesses if anyone has to be passionate about anything, churros is a good thing to choose.

However, he keeps making eye contact with the help -- the various cleaners and caterers and servers carrying around silver trays -- and he can’t help but think that he has more in common with them than anyone else at this party. He feels like he’s violated some sacred space and that it’s only a matter of time before he’s called out for fraud.

Theo leans in to whisper something in Ian’s ears and he feels the hair on the back of his neck rise at the sudden closeness. “Do me a favor?” he asks. “I hate to do this to you but my ex is here so can you…”

Ian looks up to see a kid their age who has entered through the gates and into the back lawn, and Ian can see that Theo’s ex is not so different in appearance from himself. The guy is tall, with light brown hair and a soft face.

Suddenly Ian realizes why he’s even there at all.

“Yeah, ok,” he says easily, putting an arm around Theo’s shoulder. He’s honestly just relieved he’s found a purpose.

*

When night falls and half the party migrates to the docks to watch fireworks from their boats, Ian and the rest of the Northwestern gang stay back and get into the jacuzzi.

Ian is used to swimming in his backyard but Theo’s jacuzzi is massive and embedded into the ground, its edges crafted in some sort of stone masonry. It makes him feel like those Japanese snow monkeys that spend their days soaking in hot springs.

He stayed by Theo’s side the entire day, letting Theo get intimate with him even to get some sort of reaction from his ex -- all of which led to nothing as the ex stayed mostly civil. Ian even began to wonder if this guy had any feelings left for Theo at all.

Now they’re all in the jacuzzi -- Theo, his ex, Danny, Nimi, Kenny, Gordie and the rest. When Theo maneuvers Ian’s chin to give him a soft peck on the lips, Ian has to try not to look at the ex right after.

“So Ian,” Nimi says, “How was your first Indigenous Peoples' Day celebration?”

Ian flushes as all the attention turns to him, the clear newbie. “Really awesome,” he says. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”

“Ian, you’re a first year at Northwestern, right?” Theo’s ex suddenly asks.

Ian doesn’t even need to answer because Theo does for him. “He’s a freshman, yeah. Took a two-year gap after high school which makes him the same age as us.”

Theo’s ex nods. “Where did you spend your gap years?”

Ian thinks about the honest answer. Gay clubs in Boystown.

“Travelling. Working,” he says simply.

“Oh neat. Where in the world did you travel to?”

Already, Ian feels himself sinking deeper into a lie. “Ukraine,” he says, not knowing exactly where it came from but also knowing it tumbled out of his mouth because Mickey has been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Ukraine?” Gordie snorts, yet not in a disbelieving manner. “What were you doing there? Charity work?”

“Yeah, uh, just thought it would be an interesting experience. I didn’t wanna travel to someplace everyone goes to. I just needed to get away for a bit, threw a dart at a map and it landed right there.”

“Fuckin’ awesome,” Kenny says. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No wonder you’re close with Milkovich,” Nimi says. “I’ve never seen a more Ukrainian looking dude.”

Ian’s head snaps in her direction. “You know Mickey?”

She shrugs. “We all do. He sells us all our weed.”

Jesus Christ, how did Mickey get such a monopoly on the weed business on campus? He panics for a moment, wondering how close he is to involuntarily outing Mickey.

“Yeah he’s my RA and we got a class together,” Ian says.

“A friend of mine runs the Ukrainian Student Society on campus,” Nimi says. “They’ve been trying to get Mickey to join all of last year thinking it’ll get them free weed.”

“Just put his name on the mailing list, he’ll show up to an event if there’s free food,” says Ian.

*

Ian stays back in the jacuzzi with Theo while everyone wanders off, getting ready for bed.

“Thanks for today,” Theo says. “I only get like once a year to make him jealous.”

“What’s the situation there?” Ian asks.

“He wanted to go to Dartmouth, I wanted to stay in Chicago and go to Northwestern. Long distance is tough so he broke up with me our senior year of high school, wanting some fancy New Hampshire dick I guess. But our families are close so I have to see him all the time at these get-togethers.”

“Tough,” Ian says. He thinks that must be the most boring breakup story ever told and regrets how much acting he had done that day to provide some spice to the drama.

Theo looks at Ian, giving him a curious glance. “Did you really spend like two years in Ukraine?”

“No, I lied,” Ian sighs. “I danced half-naked for older men at skeevy bars for some cash. Barely finished high school, got lucky with a scholarship for lying in front of a truck transporting gay youths to a conversion camp.”

“Shit,” Theo says. “You’re more interesting than I thought.”

I wish I could say the same about you, Ian thinks. He nearly rolls his eyes. “Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t need them having that mental image of me.”

“But you told me?”

Ian doesn’t know how to tell Theo it’s because he truly does not give a fuck about what Theo thinks of him and how that may affect their interpersonal relationship.

*

On Sunday, Ian finally gets to experience brunch. It’s the wind-down day, before they all pile into Gordie’s van and head back to campus.

Ian hasn’t texted Mickey at all as was his goal but he is still bummed to see Mickey hasn’t reached out to him. He wonders if maybe Mickey died, that maybe his dad found out he was gay and really did put a bullet between his eyes. That is the only reasonable explanation for why Mickey would go this long without even a short text, Ian decides.

Ian (11:36am): having brunch

He includes a picture of his avocado toast and grapefruit mimosa and the large trays of sliced fruit and belgian waffles.

Mickey texts back five minutes later and Ian feels a wave of relief.

Mickey (11:41am): what the fuck is that green shit

Ian (11:41am): please tell me you know what an avocado is

Mickey (11:42am): sure but whys it spread on bread like peanut butter

Ian (11:42am): im making this for you on monday so you can try it. Maybe itll change ur life

“Who are you texting to be smiling at your screen that hard?” Nimi asks from across the table.

Ian has to control his expression. “My brother just had a baby,” he lies. Tammi is nowhere close in her pregnancy to be giving birth yet.

“Oh my god, congrats!” Nimi says. “You’re an uncle.”

Everyone starts congratulating him like he pushed the baby out himself.

*

It’s on the drive back to campus that Kenny is finally able to push Ian into creating a soundcloud account to follow him.

“Yeah,” Ian says as the techno music starts up in the van. “Music kicks ass, Kenny.”

“Thanks,” Kenny says coolly, not catching the lack of enthusiasm in Ian’s voice at all.

*

He is happy to see that things between him and Mickey have not changed much. It’s Sunday night and Ian, after giving Linus a brief greeting, headed to Mickey’s room immediately after. They spend the evening relaxing against the headboard of Mickey’s bed.

They both have to catch up on their reading for drama but since neither want to do it, Mickey searches up Marriage Nikolai Gogol on Sparknotes only to realize it’s too obscure to even be on there. They end up reading the plot on Wikipedia instead.

“Why do they all have to have such long Russian names,” Ian complains, unable to keep up with the characters. “And why do these stories all have to be so mundane? Like anyone cares if some guy named Podkolyosin gets laid or if three hags move to Moscow or not.”

But still, Ian can’t help but feel like this character, Podkolyosin, is very much like himself in a way.  Podkolyosin, too, strives too hard to create a life for himself that he has romanticized, believing that his wife has to be beautiful and French. Ian is beginning to hate how these ‘mundane’ plays reflect his own life so much.

Mickey laughs. “You’re not a fan of these long Russian names, huh? Or are you jealous because yours is like a syllable long?”

“It’s two syllables, actually,” Ian says, knowing enough linguistics by now to count his syllables correctly.

“Een,” Mickey says. “You’re gonna lose your mind when you learn my full name.”

“Mikhailo Milkovich isn’t your full name?” Ian thinks that if he read a long Russian play about a character named Mikhailo Milkovich he might be interested, if only for the alliteration and the way it rolls off the tongue.

Mickey reaches toward his backpack on the floor and fishes out his ID, showing Ian his full name: Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich.

“Were you your parents’ favorite child?” Ian asks. “Cause you got a brother whose name is just ‘Colin’.”

Mickey shakes his head. “I think my dad just got really into Ukrainian nationalism around the time I was born.”

This time, Ian laughs, suddenly remembering the lie he had told in the jacuzzi. He tells Mickey about it, about his ‘gap year’ in Ukraine. Mickey nearly loses his mind -- “And they believed that shit?” he says. “You know no one goes there unless they’re Ukrainian themselves.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “It can’t be that bad.” After all, he grew up in the southside. He can’t imagine Eastern Europe is any better or worse than Chicago.

“Well I never been,” Mickey shrugs. “But if they’re churning out pieces of shit like my father then I’m good.”

To, for no real reason, prove Mickey wrong, they search up Ukraine tourism and watch travel vlogs of people exploring the city of Kiev. Turns out, it’s not so bad. The people seem friendly, the food looks decent, and the markets eccentric.

“We should go,” Ian murmurs.

“Ok after our trip to Italy, we’ll go to Ukraine,” Mickey says a bit sarcastically. “You cannot force me to eat that borscht shit though.”

*

Ian sleeps a lot better in Mickey’s bed. He missed the sex, even though Mickey is back to not kissing him. It was a one-time thing, he supposes. Maybe watching people go through torture traps just turned Mickey on.

He feels comfortable cuddling in close to Mickey after sex, so unlike the way he instinctively jerked back when his bare leg brushed up against Theo’s.

Mickey doesn’t even ask about the weekend and Ian just tells him some minor details -- he talks shit mostly, about how they had a Mexican man make churros for them all day and the terrible music he had been forced to listen to.

He shows Mickey Kenny’s soundcloud and is satisfied when Mickey snorts and says the music sucks.

*

The next morning he wakes up to Mickey’s head nested in the crevice where his neck meets his shoulder. He feels the wetness of Mickey’s mouth on his shoulder blade, a bit of drool dribbling onto his bare skin.

“Gross,” he says to himself but doesn’t move or wake Mickey. He only grabs his phone from between the bed and the wall and checks his notifications to see he has none except an email that his stats assignment was graded and he got a 97.

Mickey is in such a deep sleep that Ian, out of boredom, starts reading Marriage for real, to prep for the class discussion later that day. He finds this character Podkolyosin even more annoying than before. Fyokla, the matchmaker, is trying to set him up with a merchant’s daughter named Agafya and just on the name alone this bastard Podkolyosin assumes she’s an old maid.

Her property. What about her property? Tell me again. he says to the matchmaker

A grand estate, a house, a two story stone house. It’s a pleasure to see. There’s a shop on the ground floor, pays seven hundred. There’s a beer cellar in the basement that also brings a lot of people. There are two additions-- a stone one and a wooden one – rented to very nice tenants, each brings 400 apiece. There’s a little garden elsewhere, three years ago an older gentleman rented it for cabbage. Such a nice, sober man he was too. He never took a drink and had three sons: two of them were married. “As for number three,” he’d say, “he's a youngster, let him sit around and take some of the load off me”— the matchmaker is saying

He cuts her off. So? Agafya? What does she look like?

This guy is really starting to get on Ian’s nerves. If he were to take Lip’s advice on writing essays, he would for sure argue that this guy is gay as hell. He talks about his shoes too much and is way too picky about a wife despite being chronically single.

When Mickey wakes slowly, Ian tells him his theory that Podkolyosin is probably super gay for those reasons. Mickey just scoffs, not even caring about the puddle of drool he’s left on Ian’s collar bone. “Sounds pretty straight to me.”

*

They go to the market on campus to buy sourdough bread and avocados. Mickey grumbles the entire time but when they get to the cash register he pushes Ian aside and pays for the items himself.

“Broke bitch,” he says before Ian can be sentimental and thank him.

They walk back to Sargent’s dining hall and Mickey takes a seat while Ian goes to toast the bread. He comes back with utensils and begins cutting the avocados, not really sure the best way to do it. It turns out very messy but still he manages to smear it onto the bread and sprinkle salt and pepper on top. It may not look as great as the one at Theo’s house which, to be fair, was made by a professional chef, but he’s still proud of it. He almost wants to snap a pic.

“This tastes like nothing,” Mickey says after one bite. “The avocados were like two dollars each.”

Ian takes a bite as well and sure it isn’t as great as the one at brunch but it isn’t that bad. “Well it’s healthier than pancakes and bacon,” he says weakly.

“God look at this shit,” Mickey is still complaining about the avocado toast. “The avocado shit is already going brown. Fuckin’ gross, throw it out.”

Ian begrudgingly tosses it in the garbage. “I put my heart and soul into that,” he whines. He feels like the avocado toast represents something about his life but he’s no English major, he can’t just pluck metaphors out of thin air like that.

*

Kochkaryov: Rubbish, rubbish! I'll get you married so quickly you won't feel a thing. We'll go to the bride right away and you'll see.

Podkolyosin: Right now? No…

Kochkaryov: Why not? What’s stopping you? Just look for yourself: what’s so good about this single life of yours? Have a good look at your room! What do you see?

Podkolyosin: A shoe, some tobacco, a broken mirror-

Kochkaryov: Garbage! It’s all garbage! And all you can do is lie around the whole day like a stuffed beaver.

Podkolyosin: it’s true. I’m a mess.

Ian had pretty much spaced out for the entirety of linguistics but now that he’s in drama sitting next to Mickey, he’s alert to the class discussion. The entire class is rightfully tearing into Podkolyosin and his petty bourgeois ways.

“Comparing this play to The Three Sisters what can be said about Russian society back then?” the professor asks.

“Rich people liked to complain about circumstances completely within their control,” a student answers.

“And is that so different from now?” the professor asks. “This play was published a generation before the Bolshevik Revolution--”

This is Ian’s cue to zone out.

*

Ian missed studying in the library with Mickey. They’re sitting not so far from where Mickey first kissed Ian. He wonders if maybe Mickey will do it again tonight.

“Do you wanna rent a movie after this? I think Piranha is on DVD now.”

“Already seen it,” Mickey replies. “It wasn’t even good. Nothing but tits.”

“Total turn off, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess? Those spring breakers had it coming anyway, swimming in a lake.”

Ian is anxiously bouncing his leg and Mickey puts a hand on it to stop the motion. “Jesus, what’s with you?” Mickey asks. “Have too much coffee?”

“Jittery, sure,” Ian says. “Waiting for you to maybe kiss me again.”

Mickey huffs a breath. “You and your library kink, where the hell did that stem from anyway? Did you get your first boner in a library?”

“A library in the southside?” Ian laughs. “No, I got my first boner watching Justin Timberlake in an NSync music video. What about you?” He tries to ignore the fact that Mickey is trying to lighten the conversation instead of moving it toward a kiss.

“Don’t even remember,” Mickey says. “Probably when I was a kid watching TV while I was home alone.”

Latchkey kid, Ian thinks.

“Might have been during the Simpsons,” Mickey adds, causing Ian to blow air out his nose.

Mickey removes his hand from Ian’s leg, much to his disappointment. He doesn’t know how they had been able to take a step forward only to have taken two steps back. He wants to feel Mickey’s lips on his again, wants to taste his stupid mouth.

Ian leans in after checking their surroundings first, noting the emptiness of their little corner of the library. “How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?” he asks.

Mickey frowns. “I wouldn’t be mad, I just don’t get why you want to.”

“It was so fun last time,” Ian says. “You’re a good kisser.”

Mickey turns red at that. “Ok fine, you can kiss me while we fuck. But I’m not dropping my pants in a library.”

Ian figures he’ll convince him one day. But for now, there’s a more pressing matter. “What about when we’re not fucking?” he asks. “What about when we’re just studying in the library and you look really hot and I want to kiss you?”

“Then you’re gay as hell.”

“Yeah.”

Mickey’s face is positioned in not the most convenient of places but Ian still tries, scooting in closer and leaning his head in, angling his mouth to get at Mickey’s. At first, Mickey is slow to lift his mouth to meet Ian’s but then their lips touch and within seconds they’re kissing for real.

Their tongues briefly meet before Ian deepens the kiss, getting his hands in Mickey’s hair. And their makeout session is loud in the silent library but Ian doesn’t care and surprisingly Mickey doesn’t either.

But it is Mickey that breaks the kiss, pulling away from Ian with wet lips. “You happy now?” he says, as if the kiss had just been meant to satiate Ian.

“Are you?” Ian asks.

“Don’t worry about me,” Mickey says, annoyingly casual. “Can we finish this assignment now?”

*

Agafya: And how old is he?

Fyokla: A youngster. About 50

Agafya: And what’s his last name?

Fyokla: His last name? Omelette.

Agafya: Omelette? That’s his last name?

Fyokla: That’s his last name.

Agafya: Gosh, what a last name! Fyokla what is this?! If I married him Iwould be called Agafya Tikhonovna Omelette!

Their assignment is to recreate the play in the form of a short story set in contemporary society.

“They had omelettes back then? In 1800s Russia?” Ian asks. It is what sticks out to him the most as absurd.

“Russians love their omelettes man. You of all people should know that since you love brunch so much.”

Ian scowls. He is trying to focus on writing his short story but Mickey keeps distracting him with his existence. And irritatingly enough, Mickey has already written up the short story -- completed it within an hour, in fact -- although he refuses to show Ian.

“You could at least help me with mine,” Ian says.

“Fuck that, my mind has checked out for the day. I could help you by giving you a blowjob though, might clear your mind a little, make you less intense and weird.”

Ian considers that and agrees that he is in no place to start writing a short story unless he can first properly bust a nut. The kiss with Mickey had gotten him really horny and he’s been packing a half-chub ever since.

*

Ian sits at the ledge of Mickey’s bed but Mickey shakes his head. “I’m not getting on my knees, lie down on the bed.”

Ian has no qualms about this.

He knows Mickey refuses to kiss him after a bit of ass-eating but he’s pretty sure Mickey would be fine kissing him after letting Ian cum in his mouth. It makes no sense to be ok with one but not the other, unless Mickey secretly thinks Ian’s mouth is dirty.

Once Mickey begins to suck at the head of his dick, Ian immediately enters a state of euphoria. He wants to believe Mickey is so good at this because he’s watched a bunch of porn and not so much due to experience. The thought of Mickey being like this with anyone else almost drives Ian into a rage.

“You’re so good at this,” Ian sighs.

Mickey lifts his head. “Then why do you keep guiding my head?”

Ian’s hand has been gripping the back of Mickey’s head, clenching his dark strands of hair. “I’m not!” Ian exclaims. “I just need to hold onto something while I get my world rocked, is that ok?”

Mickey shrugs. “Push my head down one more time and you can go get your dick sucked by Linus.”

Ian blows out a breath because Mickey is back to sucking his dick before he can even get a word out. He is careful not to push, scared shitless that Mickey will legitimately kick him out half-naked.

*

Ian decides to write his short story on a dating show, not too dissimilar from those Bachelor series. He’s never seen an episode of the show, but he gets the gist.

He creates a character named Tom, the most basic name he can think of. Tom is a middle-aged white man that works in stocks. He makes 100k a year and has a full head of hair. The only problem is that he wants badly to have the picture-perfect marriage -- he wants the beautiful trophy wife, the children who look exactly like him, and all the perks that come with being a married man.

But once Tom is meeting all the contestants, all these beautiful ladies in evening gowns, he begins to pick apart each one:

That one has weirdly shaped toes

That one has a crooked smile

That one was wearing black shoes with a red dress

That one is the child of divorced parents. She’s no good

All these beautiful women are obsessed with him but he finds flaws with each one so in the middle of the night he jumps out of his hotel window and runs back to his mother’s house.

He lets Mickey read it before they sleep and finds it incredibly satisfying that Mickey laughs throughout. “It’s his gayness,” he says, explaining Ian’s character to Ian. “He’s gay as fuck. Gayer than you.”

*

They kiss more regularly now, always in private. And always as a prelude to sex.

*

The week after, they get their assignments back and Ian is asked by the professor to see her after class.

“She hated your story so much she wants to kick you out of this class,” Mickey says.

“Shut the fuck up, Mickey.”

*

Mickey accompanies Ian after class when he approaches the professor’s desk. She is sitting there in her little cardigan and Ian spots a copy of Lenin’s The State and Revolution on her desk.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Ian asks nervously.

“Ah yes, Ian,” she says kindly. “I was quite impressed with your story, how you captured the humor and essence of Gogol’s work but managed to stick to the assignment and make it incredibly contemporary. Your writing, it is quite impressive. Have you ever considered entering local writing contests?”

Ian is a bit stunned by this. “No,” he says. “I don’t really write unless I have to.”

“Well, you should consider it,” she tells him. “Finalists get quite a lot of money and get to be published. This looks great on future resumes.”

“Oh, I’ll think about it, I guess.”

She goes on. “It is your prose I really find impressive. You have quite a Dickensian manner of writing, has anyone ever told you this?”

Ian feels his face heat up at the flattery, even though he has no idea what Dickensian means. “No,” he says a bit bashfully, almost wishing Mickey wasn’t around to witness this.

But Mickey finds the entire thing humorous. “What about me?” he asks loudly.

The professor looks up at him through her glasses and squints as if she doesn’t recognize him at all and hadn’t even known he was standing there.

“Oh, Mikhailo,” she says, putting him together. “Yes, your story. Are you familiar with the works of R.L Stine? You are like him in a way.”

“Cool,” Mickey shrugs.

She gives him a pointed look. “It was not a compliment.”

*

The professor emails Ian a list of various on-campus writing contests and it overwhelms Ian immediately. He and Mickey are walking to get lunch at the dining hall when Ian asks to read Mickey’s short story out of sheer curiosity.

“You must have written something really weird,” Ian says.

“You can’t read it but I’ll tell you the plot.”

Ian listens as Mickey explains the short story he had written -- a man with memory loss wakes up everyday forgetting he is married and his wife has to watch him ogle at other women and every time that he is reminded he is married he finds a new thing to criticize about his wife. I would never marry someone with such an ugly perm he would say on one day and then I would never marry someone with such small tits on another. And then finally, one day, his wife snaps and cuts his dick off.

He lost some points on the story because it was a “happy ending”.

*

Mickey thinks Ian should enter the contests for a chance at the cash prizes but Ian realizes there are some fees to enter -- the cheapest one being a $25 "reading" fee.

“Look, man, I’ll cover the cost of that for you, just write something and enter,” Mickey says. “And then when you win you can split the prize money in half with me.”

“Split it in half?” Ian asks. “Why the hell would I do that?” He’s joking though because he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“You would have never even finished that assignment if I didn’t suck you off as good as I did,” Mickey says.

Ian considers that a fair point. “Yeah, maybe I’ll submit something if I can even think of a story to write.”

“Since when do stories have to be about anything? So far all we’ve read in that class is Russian people being unhappy with their lives.”

“So what should I do?” Ian asks. “Write about how much I hate being a janitor?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Ian shrugs. “I’ll see what I come up with and let you know.”

*

Later when Ian is on the phone with Lip, he tells him all about the play, the short story, and the writing contests.

“You should enter some of them,” Lips says.

“That’s what Mickey said.”

“Hanging out with Mickey a lot these days?”

Ian will never know why Lip is always so curious about his love life because for their entire lives, Ian could never be bothered to even pretend to care about Lip’s. “I haven’t slept in my own bed in weeks,” Ian says as a response.

“So what, then? Is it official? Bringing him home for Thanksgiving?”

Ian laughs. “It’s far from official, I think Mickey is allergic to commitment. Plus, he’s still in the closet.”

“So you’re both still seeing other people?”

“I don’t know,” Ian says. “I guess technically I am but I can’t stand any of them. Being with Theo is like watching paint dry, his only positive trait is that he’s nice and smart and wealthy.”

“Those are some pretty good traits. Marry him and then divorce him, you get half his trust fund.”

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a long con, just kinda wanted to meet a normal cute guy and start something stable for the first time in my life, why is it so hard? Am I Podkolyosin?” Ian says dreadfully.

“I don’t know what that is,” says Lip. “Why don’t you try dating other people who aren’t Mickey or Theo?”

“Ugh,” says Ian. “Because Theo knows every gay guy on campus and I don’t want to be messy.”

“Date someone off-campus. Expand your Grindr radius,” Lip offers.

Ian forgot he even had Grindr. He turned notifications off a while ago and now that he thinks of it, he has never heard that sound go off on Mickey’s phone since the first time they hooked up.

He continues talking with Lip, things about his own life, Tammi’s pregnancy, baby names, how things are back home.

“You coming home for Halloween?” Lip asks. “We were gonna take Liam to the west side to go trick or treating.”

“No, I have plans,” Ian says. “Did I not tell you about the Halloween party? Me and Mickey got matching Halloween costumes even.”

“Huh,” says Lip, amused.

“What? We bought them together.”

“Uh huh.”

“Whatever Lip, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He hangs up and walks down the hall to Mickey’s room. The door is unlocked because Mickey’s been expecting Ian, as it’s just a regularity now to sleep in the same bed even when they don’t have sex.

Mickey is finishing up an assignment at his desk and gives Ian a casual greeting, passing him a bag of chips to eat. Ian sits on Mickey’s bed, leans up against the wall, to watch Mickey work.

Every so often, Mickey gets a text and the sound goes off on his phone. Curious, Ian pulls out his phone, opens Grindr and messages ‘Colin’ again.

Ian (9:46pm): wanna bang?

A few seconds pass, then a whole minute. The Grindr notification never sounds on Mickey’s phone, nor can Ian even see the flash of the lock screen signalling a new notification.

“The fuck you lookin’ at, homo?” Mickey says.

Ian cuts away his gaze even though his stomach fills with warmth. “Just an ugly bastard,” Ian answers. “Finish your homework.”


During the week, they chat about all the other details that could have escaped their minds during the talk at the bookshop’s cafe, which gives Felix confidence that it’s okay that he’s standing in front of Chan’s door. The wait for any of them to answer the door is excruciating, Felix’s anxiety flying through the roof. Not because he’s having second thoughts, but due to the fact his skin is buzzing with excitement. They’ve discussed more or less what they’ll be doing, although some of it was left in the air so they could also enjoy the flow of things.

All he knows is that he’s in for some good spanking, getting his life fucked out of him, maybe he’ll get his mouth fucked too, and be edged if the mood is right. He pinches himself just to make sure he’s really not dreaming; this is too good to be true.

“Hey!” Minho greets him, pulling him inside excitedly and shutting the door behind him. “Channie-hyung is getting some stuff in the convenience store nearby, he’ll be here in a moment.” He sits on the couch, and upon noticing Felix is just kind of standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, he beckons him with a wiggly finger and pats the spot by his side on the couch.

“H-hi, good evening,” Felix greets him shakily as he sits down on the couch beside Minho, keeping a friendly distance between them.

Minho scoffs and scoots closer to him, all over his personal space. Felix is looking around, very obviously trying to avoid his eyes, so Minho turns his head with a fingertip to Felix’s chin. Their lips almost touch with how close he’s put himself to the boy, and Felix’s eyes flit to his lips, a tiny gasp slipping through what Minho assumes is supposed to be a calm façade. “Are you nervous, pixie? Or are you having second thoughts?” Minho asks, making sure Felix’s gaze doesn’t leave his. “It’s ok if you don’t want to anymore. And we can change anything we agreed on to make you more comfortable at any point, understood?”

Felix nods slowly, talking past the knot in this throat with difficulty, “I’m just nervous, hyung, don’t worry.”

Minho hums, gently caresses Felix’s cheek. “There’s no need to be nervous, we’ll take good care of you, hm? Do you trust hyung?” Felix nods again, leaning into Minho’s touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good pixie…” Minho says, smiling back at Felix when he beams at the praise. “Can I kiss you, Felix?”

“Y-yea, please,” is all Minho needs before capturing Felix’s lips, the hand on his cheek quick to find its way to his hair, not pulling, just feeling the soft strands as their mouths move slowly together. Felix is the one to deepen the kiss, seeking to taste more of Minho’s strawberry lip balm. Minho smiles into the kiss when Felix kitten licks at his lips, entertained by his eagerness, and lets him explore all he wants, giving way into his mouth and even allowing Felix to lead them for a little bit.

That doesn’t last long, for Minho is only so giving with Chan, and Felix is taken by surprise when Minho takes over, sucking at his tongue and nibbling at his plush lips until they’re a pretty shade of red. The grip on Felix’s hair tightens as he’s pulled to Minho’s lap, his leg being pulled over Minho so he can straddle him. What Minho had intended to be a quick make out session to loosen Felix’s nerves gradually evolves to Minho guiding Felix’s hips to grind against his, the little stalker’s oh so pretty, gravelly moans filling their living room as the boy on his lap gets lost in the feeling.

Minho gets lost as well, feeling the gentle slope of Felix’s ass in his hands, his tiny waist under his nails, the wet heat of his mouth on his tongue. They both are so into it they don’t even register Chan freezing by the door at the heavenly scene he’s greeted with.

He quietly makes his way to his room without interrupting the two of them, setting the contents of the plastic bag on his small nightstand – flavoured lube, three water bottles, some protein bars and wet wipes in case they get lazy. No condom, as they had agreed beforehand, but if Felix changes his mind he has some in his drawer for emergencies that will do just fine.

Walking back to the living room, he thanks the heavens for, one: Jisung won’t be home until tomorrow for sure, because he made sure his boyfriend would keep him busy; second: he must be blessed for getting to see Minho getting it on like that with such a pretty boy and to get to join them. Which reminds him… they should’ve started together.

Felix startles as Chan closes in behind him, looming over both of them as he pulls them apart, Felix with a gentle pull to his hair, Minho with a harsh tug. The messy lip-lock Minho had him in creates a string of spit connecting them until Felix follows Chan’s hand and looks up at him, the sticky line breaking on his chin, adding to the wet sheen already there. He can only guess they’ve been at this for some time. Giving Felix a small smile as a form of greeting, he looks at Minho, who’s also looking wrecked already, although much more composed than Felix, whose gaze seems distant, lost in a land of pleasure.

“Really? Starting without me, baby? Didn’t we agree to start after I was home?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with eyebrows shot up.

“He was just so tempting, can you blame me, hyung?” Minho licks over his teeth, smirking proudly since he got the reaction he wanted from Chan.

“You’re so mean, baby, I even got us your favourite flavoured lube,” Chan tsks, tugging harder at his strands although there isn’t really any bite to his words. Felix gulps loudly between them, blushing hard as Minho’s eyes flick to him knowingly when his dick twitches in interest.

“Don’t worry, Channie, you didn’t miss the best part, we were just… warming up.” Minho looks at Felix with the cheshire grin that never fails to send shivers down his spine. “We have a long night ahead of us.”

Letting go of Minho’s hair, Chan holds Felix’s jaw to make him look at him. “Are you still okay with all we discussed? Anything you want to change?” Felix shakes his head. “And you remember what to do if you want to slow down or stop…?”

“Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop. If I can’t speak I tap three times. Safeword is moonlight,” Felix says confidently, and Chan smiles at him. “Good boy, pixie.”

All technicalities out of the way, Chan leans down to steal a kiss of his own, pausing just an inch away from Felix’s lips just to make sure it’s okay, loving how Felix closes the gap with a little peck and waits for him to continue, then melts under him, moaning deeply as Chan’s tongue meets his. It’s so different from kissing Minho. Between them it’s always a tug of war, in which he has to pull hard or Minho tries to take over, but with Felix there’s no fight, he just melts under them and allows both of them to lead, to take what they want without question or struggle.

And don’t get him wrong, he loves kissing Minho, there’s something invigorating about having to fight for dominance and not getting anywhere with it because neither of them will relent, but just getting to do what he wants is also pretty nice, and he knows Minho shares the feeling.

Still on the couch, Minho and Chan start to take things further. Chan lifts Felix from Minho’s lap, manhandling him to sit between his legs, Felix’s back to his chest, and Minho gets up from the couch to kneel on the ground, throwing a pillow under his knees so they won’t hurt. The shift is so smooth Felix thinks the couple probably discussed how they would tear him apart and then put him back together, and the thought that these two spent time thinking about him when they already have each other makes his head spin.

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” Chan says softly, pulling at the hem of Felix’s shirt, and the boy lifts his arms to help him get it off. As Chan works on that, Minho takes Felix’s pants off, leaving him in his underwear. Felix feels shy under their heated gazes, but any chance at covering himself is prevented by Chan’s arms around him keeping his arms locked by his sides.

“Such a pretty little thing,” Minho marvels as his hands knead at Felix’s thighs, slowly moving upwards from his knees until he reaches where they’re meatier and then where they connect with his crotch. Felix’s hips twitch at the attention, at the prospect of getting touched where he needs most, but Minho keeps his hands away from his dick, just teasing around it, nails trailing featherlight on his hips, up his abs and chest, then back down, raising goosebumps on his skin.

Meanwhile Chan kisses his neck, nibbles on spots where he feels Felix is more sensitive, humming his agreement with Minho and murmuring his own praises on his skin. “Such a pretty pixie, all for us to ruin.”

Felix tries not to let himself get too riled up so soon, but Minho had already kissed him silly, and now being played like a doll by the couple... he’s losing it fast. Chan’s hands don’t take long to find his nipples, and once they deem he’s squirmy enough, Minho starts mouthing at Felix’s clothed cock, working his tongue on the wet spot Felix’s tip has made until it spreads, his spit soiling it even more as he tastes the salty precome collecting there while one of his hands fondles his balls.

He is turned to jelly in their hands, writhing in their hold although he’s trying his best to stay put, to be good for them. His low-pitched moans begin to shift to higher, whinier ones, his eyes start to water from pleasure. Once Minho’s mouth finally wraps around his dick, he’s already fighting the coil in his stomach.

And Minho sucks Felix’s dick like he was born to do it, taking him to the back of his throat, making the boy squirm and try to close his legs as his orgasm approaches. It doesn’t help that Chan’s mouth doesn’t stop whispering filth in his ears, telling him how good he is, how pretty he’s going to look when he’s getting spanked over his lap. When he’s not saying something to send Felix’s mind into a comfortable haze, he’s mouthing at his neck, biting and sucking until he leaves dark marks behind. A nice reminder of a night Felix is sure to never forget.

His legs can’t stop trying to close on Minho’s head. “Don’t be bad, pixie, keep them open so bunny can choke on your pretty cock just like he likes it, yeah?” Chan tuts him, and with his hands behind Felix’s knees he spreads his legs more, keeping them open by hoisting them over his own knees. Not a minute after, Felix is the one choking, but on his sobs, trying his best not to come.

“Hyun– g-gon-na c-um,” he warns as best as he can, and he doesn’t even know if he’s warning Chan or Minho at this point. He whimpers loudly as Minho pulls off with a wet pop, his hips bucking up and trying to chase him. Minho looks up at him smugly, a hand wrapped around his base to stop his orgasm, and through his tears he can see him licking at his lips, as if Felix is the prey he just caught in his claws. Felix certainly feels like he is.

“Not yet,” Chan says, placing a kiss on his temple and running his hands up and down his thighs to soothe him. “You still have your punishment to take, don’t you, pixie?” Felix nods weakly, his bottom lip trembling until his teeth latch onto it to stop another embarrassing whimper. “Are you ready for it? What’s your colour?”

“Green,” he sighs as his orgasm slowly drifts away and Minho lets go of his dick.

“Good pixie, you’re doing so well,” Minho praises.

“Over my lap, pixie, ass up,” Chan taps his thigh, and with Minho’s help he gets up from between Chan’s legs. Then he’s pulled over his lap stomach down, his ass on display for Minho and Chan, his painfully hard dick hanging between Chan’s spread legs. Minho pulls the rest of his underwear down and starts stripping himself whilst Chan tells Felix the rules he’s supposed to follow.

“We’re doing ten, pixie – five for taking photos of us without our knowledge, five for being a perverted little voyeur.” Chan waits for Felix’s good to go, rubbing his hand over his ass lightly, warningly.

“Y-yes, hyung.”

“You’re going to count each of them for us.”

“Yes, hyung.” Felix looks to his side, watching Minho place the cushion on the floor in front of them, now in his full gloried nakedness, close enough so he can stroke Felix’s back reassuringly and land a few spanks as well.

The moment of silence before the first slap has Felix’s insides bubbling in anticipation, but he doesn’t rush Chan, just braces himself for the impact as they keep caressing him gently. It’s good that they’re having a moment of pause, it helps Felix calm down a little, not only from his nerves but also his raging boner. Before he knows, he’s relaxing fully on Chan’s lap, basking in the soft touches and just letting himself drift into a headspace of trust and comfort.

Of course, that’s when the first one comes, not as hard as he imagines Chan can go, but hard enough that he jolts forward from more than the startle of the impact, a current of pain spreading through his ass cheek where Chan’s hand landed loudly. He’s so startled he doesn’t even scream, just gasps and grips the couch cushion hard, his eyes going comically wide.

Minho and Chan calm him right after with delicate hands, Minho’s trailing up and down his spine, Chan’s over the spot he just hit. “One,” Felix counts steadily.

“How was that, little pixie?” Chan asks, smiling fondly as Minho kisses the tip of Felix’s nose. “G-good,” he swallows thickly, “you can go harder, hyung.”

Chan curses under his breath and Minho chuckles. “Such a naughty little pixie,” Minho says, “no wonder he’s a pervert that spies on people.” Felix whines, hiding in his hands, squeaking a moan when Chan lands the second hit without warning, harder as Felix guessed he could. Tears spring to Felix’s eyes, and he blinks quickly to keep them from spilling, his toes curl, and even Chan’s soothing hand stings a bit, making him squirm on his lap.

By the fifth spanking he’s drooling a bit on the cushion below him, his hips twitch and his cock hangs heavy again between Chan’s spread legs. His ass burns, his counting is a babbled mess, but at least they accept it. There’s a sinister smile that never leaves Minho’s face, and it only turns Felix’s insides more.

Minho joins Chan to soothe his abused skin, the last smack was so hard Felix almost fell from Chan’s lap if it were not for Minho holding him in place. Minho can’t get enough of the warmth of Felix’s skin. A fair amount of times he has spanked his partners in the past – although he’s never done it with Chan since he’s into the giving end of the spectrum – yet he’s never seen an ass look so pretty all marked up, never seen anyone take it so well.

“Your tiny ass looks so pretty all red like this, pixie, makes me wanna bite it,” he giggles as he does just that, nibbling on the heated skin of Felix’s ass, making him whimper, though his hips chase the bite instead of shying away from it.

“You like that?” Chan asks rhetorically, “Is our little pervert a painslut on top of a voyeur?” Felix nods eagerly, looks back at Chan pleadingly, “D-daddy, p-please…”

The couple’s eyes go wide, Minho looking at Chan to see his reaction, meeting his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. Oh. Minho smirks, and Chan gulps. Damn, this might come back to bite him in the ass later, but fuck if he’s gonna pass up this opportunity. Not that his lovingly evil boyfriend would let him anyway. “What did you say, pixie?” Chan asked.

Only then does Felix seem to notice what he’s called Chan, and he whines, hiding behind his forearms as he tries to curl himself up on Chan’s lap. “It’s okay, pixie, I liked it. Say it again for me, hm?” Chan reassures him, petting his head. Minho watches with interest as Felix slowly relaxes, letting out a shaky, long-drawn sigh.

“M-more daddy,” Felix begs, and Chan moans, his hand squishing one of Felix’s ass cheeks as Minho watches them with a heated gaze.

“You want daddy to spank you, pixie?” Minho asks just to be a menace, but Felix is past his shyness, just desperate for more already.

“Y-yeah, want daddy and hyung to spank me,” he says, his freckled cheeks burning hot, his toes curling. Minho takes a big breath, not expecting to be thrown into the mix, but he’s not complaining.

“Daddy will give it to you, pixie. You’re doing so well for us.”

Felix readies himself, arching his back to give Chan the best angle, but at the first hit, the slap doesn’t come like he’s expecting it. Instead he feels Minho’s loose fist around his cock, his hips trying to chase the feeling and get more from the simple touch. Chan keeps him from squirming too much though, lands another blow on his ass, making Felix wail and grip at the couch with all this strength. “Shi–“ Minho flicks his wrist and digs his thumb into his slit, spreading his precome around the head with the lightest of touches. Felix falters, his legs giving out underneath him as he still tries to fuck into his fist. “Hyung– aaah–“

“C’mon, pixie, be good and count for daddy,” Minho taunts him, voice dripping sweetness that really doesn’t match the cruel smile on his face.

“H-hyung,” Felix whines, moaning into his fist as he tries to keep his sounds in check, fighting the urge to kick his feet in frustration.

“Colour?”

Felix groans, “G-green.”

“Then count,” Minho’s brows furrow and he digs his thumb harder into Felix’s slit. His cock is so sensitive at this point, the head a deep red and begging for release. Tears flow down Felix’s face as he tries to get his wits together. “S-six.”

Chan then switches with Minho, soothing Felix as Minho hits his ass hard three consecutive times, leaving his handprints on top of Chan’s. Up to the final blow, Minho keeps teasing his cock’s head, and when Chan lands the last spank, he holds the base of Felix’s dick again, stopping him from another orgasm.

“Were you gonna come without hyung’s or daddy’s permission, little pixie?” Chan asks after they’ve raised him from Chan’s lap.

“I- I’m sorry d-daddy.” Felix cries. Minho kisses his tears away and Chan pets his head, gently scratching at Felix’s scalp to calm him down. “Shhh, it’s ok, pixie, just don’t do it again, yeah? You took your punishment so well. Now let us take care of you, yeah?”

Minho carries Felix to Chan’s room princess style as Chan strips on the way, then he lays Felix down on the bed carefully, mindful of his sore ass. Felix still hisses at the feeling of the sheets against his raw skin, but soon settles with his back against the fluffy pillows. Chan’s bed is small, made for a single person, but the couple is used to messing around on it so much that an extra person should pose no obstacle.

Felix drinks a bit of the bottled water Chan had set beside the bed, Minho helping him by holding the bottle for him. It’s really happening, huh? He still can’t believe it, and seeing two Greek gods in front of him isn’t making the whole ordeal seem any more believable. Chan literally looks like a marble statue in front of Felix, sculpted by the most capable of artists in ancient times, it feels almost criminal getting to put his hands on him, as if he’s desecrating a worship totem.

And Minho, although his thighs rival that of statues as well, has softer curves, a lean but not as defined tummy perfect for Felix to dig his nails into, the reaction he gets once he does it just fueling his desire to touch every part of Minho until he maps out each and every single one that will get him to let out the same airy moan into his mouth.

Soon he’s manhandled on all fours though, so before even getting to touch much of Chan he’s facing away from him, his reddened ass facing him whilst his head stops just short of Minho’s dick. What he sees has his breath hitching, his tongue sitting heavy in his mouth. Minho smirks once their eyes meet. “Like my toy, pixie?” he says as if he doesn’t have a huge butt plug in his ass on full display for Felix in its black heart-shaped jewelled glory.

Chan giggles behind him, catching his attention. “I’m gonna eat you out, little pixie, so give your hyung some attention, yeah?” Chan says as if it’s a suggestion, but something in his tone tells Felix it is an order, one he’s eager to follow.

Minho taps his dick on Felix’s lower lip, so Felix doesn’t even wait for Chan to put his mouth on him, lowering himself on his elbows and mouthing at Minho’s cock, tasting the layer of sweat and Minho’s precome before engulfing him fully into his mouth, punching another breathy moan from him. Not long after he feels Chan’s fingers lubing his entrance, his tongue kitten-licking his rim teasingly. He moans around Minho, causing his hips to buck up and choke him on his cock.

“S-shit, you ok there, pixie?” Minho asks concerned, and in response Felix only sucks harder on him, making Minho throw his head back and curse, his hand weaving in Felix’s blond strands and clutching hard at them. In no time Minho plants his feet on the bed and starts fucking up into his mouth. Felix gags and gurgles around him as Minho hits the back of his throat repeatedly, but in no time he adjusts to the intrusion and starts sucking earnestly on Minho’s cock, slurping on it as if it’s the most delicious treat he’s ever had in his mouth. It kinda is.

“Fuck, pixie, your mouth feels so fucking good, made to suck dick, so good,” Felix preens under the never-ending praises Minho gives him with his voice strained. “Relax your throat for hyung, pretty,” Minho smirks, cheshire-like, his sweet voice layered with faux sweetness.

Felix does as he’s told and closes his eyes as tears flood them again. Minho fills his mouth so nicely, reaching deep into his throat but not deep enough that he can’t take it. He swallows around him, twirls his tongue as much as he can, although he eventually gives up and just slacks his jaw and lets Minho use him, incapable of focusing with Chan licking and fucking his tongue into his hole, circling around his rim only to then dip back in again in a cycle that has him feeling dizzy from pleasure.

The sounds echoing through the room are filthy, sinful, a mix of Minho’s moans, his gurgled sounds around Minho’s cock and Chan’s groans and slurps on his asshole, all five sensory stimuli scrambling Felix’s brain much like Chan’s tongue seems to be doing to his insides. Once again he’s climbing to his high quickly, but this time Minho and Chan can already read his signs, and without him saying anything Minho gets up from underneath him so he won’t come just yet, joining Chan opening him up.

Both of them start opening Felix up together, Chan fingering him while Minho rims him with teasing licks while giving his still sore and red ass a squeeze or two. Chan is careful, adding more lube at each newly inserted finger, waiting for Felix to fuck back on the first before adding the next one and so on. And once he’s three fingers deep, Felix is flipped around and laid on his back.

Minho sits between his spread legs, both of them kissing as Chan takes his plug out and sets it aside, making sure Minho is well stretched to take his cock.

Felix can barely hold himself together when Minho slides inside him slowly in one long move, gripping at his thick thighs for dear life. He tries to fuck himself on Minho’s cock, putting his feet on the bed, but he’s stopped by Chan lifting his legs from the mattress and putting them around Minho’s and his waist as he slots himself behind Minho, looking at him from over Minho’s shoulder with a smug smile. “Is this position ok, pixie?”

More than ok, it’s perfect. He’ll get a full view of Minho’s body as he fucks him, his own dick slapping on his tummy, and Chan biting at Minho’s neck from behind, marking him up as his right before Felix’s eyes, all as he fucks Felix through Minho, as if he’s his as well. Felix kind of wants to be. “Pixie? Aren’t you gonna answer your daddy?” Minho asks with a quirked eyebrow and he notices he had gotten lost inside his head.

“Y-yeah, it’s perfect, daddy.” Felix flushes, still shy about calling Chan that in spite of both liking it so much.

Chan slicks himself with more lube just to be sure, and slowly pushes into Minho, groaning at the tightness despite all their efforts at opening him up before Felix had arrived. Minho moans at the stretch, sharing the feeling of finally being filled with Felix, who relaxes underneath the couple as if his strings had been cut. “S-so full, d-daddy,” he stutters out, his small hand on his belly as if he could feel Chan inside him along with Minho.

Once Chan bottoms out, his dick twitches inside Minho, making him squirm and circle his hips a little, fucking himself on Chan’s cock but also moving inside Felix. “D-damn, pixie, I could say the same.” he huffs, circling his hips a bit more to feel Chan's cock deeper inside him, humming in pleasure and throwing his head back on Chan’s shoulder.

Chan huffs, both in an effort to contain himself and let Felix adjust to all the sensations and at Minho’s words. In a minute Felix is whining, begging for them to move already. His nails scratch at Minho’s abs, trying to get him to fuck him, and Minho pins Felix’s wrists above his head. “Sshh, hyung and daddy will take care of you, pretty pixie, you just lie there and take what we give you, yeah?”

How could Felix ever say no to that? So he takes it like the good pixie he is. Minho starts railing him like his life depends on it while Chan slams into him so hard Felix slides up the mattress. Chan aims for Minho’s prostate head-on whereas Minho swivels his hips with expertise, clenching around him just right while teasing Felix’s prostate so the boy doesn’t come too fast.

“Y-you t-take me so well, p-pixie,” Minho moans, phrases punctuated by Chan’s thrusts inside him, “F-feel so g-good~”

Felix hiccups moans as he calls for daddy and hyung, unable to say anything else as he’s fucked silly, his limbs going limp under the couple’s touch, his mind fogging up with lust and pleasure and the desire to please and to come. Chan fucks Minho hard, hitting his sweet spot with scary precision and almost growling as he praises Felix too. “Such a good pixie for us, taking us so well, the perfect little hole for us.”

Minho starts fucking Felix harder, getting Felix and him close to the edge quickly as it also means he fucks back on Chan’s cock faster, so Chan lets go of one of Felix’s thighs and wraps a hand around Minho’s throat, not cutting his air supply but putting enough pressure that Minho’s breathing is labored. Felix feels like he is on the cusp of coming, and he is too lost in the sensation to worry about whether he’s gotten permission yet or not. Chan’s other hand went to Minho’s hip to keep him snug against Felix’s ass, with his dick buried deep inside him and without being able to move, effectively edging Felix again, although it’s safe to say it could be the same for Minho.

“What do you think you’re doing, pixie?” he asks Felix, “Were you gonna come without asking daddy or hyung, hm?”

“N-no, dad-dy,” Felix lies through his teeth, trembling as his orgasm ebbs away, tears clinging stubbornly to his lashes and making him blink hard to have them flow so he can see Minho’s debauched state above him. Felix whimpers, looking pleadingly at both of them as Minho rolls his hips whilst avoiding his prostate, seeking relief for the ache for his cock without giving Felix much of anything.

“Little pixie thought daddy wouldn’t notice?”

“P-pixie’s s-sorry, d-daddy,” Felix whimpers, whereas Minho doesn’t stop rolling his hips as best as he can with Chan’s death grip on his waist. “P-please let me cum, dad-dy~ h-hyung~ ple-ase,” he begs mindlessly over and over again with tears running down his face and making his freckles shimmer in the room’s light.

Chan and Minho moan, feeling defeated with Felix begging so prettily for them. Yet, Chan doesn’t let go of Minho’s waist or his throat, knowing the bruising touches will help Minho get to his release sooner as he picks his pace back up to ram into Felix as he keeps him in place, the movement jostling him up the bed a bit, nonetheless.

“I’m gonna cum like this, pixie, with your daddy’s cock buried deep inside me and your cute cock neglected on your pretty tummy,” Minho growls, hips losing coordination as he gets closer to the edge.

“C-can I c-cum too? P-pretty please?”

“No, not yet pixie,” Chan’s strained voice says from behind Minho, his face hidden between his boyfriend’s shoulder-blades. Felix sobs, clutching at the sheets underneath him. “Colour?”

“F-fuck– aaahh, green g-green,” Felix rushes out.

Not a second later Minho pulls out and covers Felix with his come, some of it even hitting the boy’s chin, and before Felix can come as well, Chan holds the base of his cock tight, leaving him aching once again. Felix sobs, writhing in Chan’s and Minho’s hold as another orgasm drifts away from him. “Shhh, be good and wait to cum from daddy’s cock fucking you, pixie,” Minho smooches Felix’s temple, then lies by his side on the bed, spent. He holds one of Felix’s hands for support as Chan fucks Felix to completion, the boy’s vision turning white from the force of it, his whole body convulsing as string after string of come joins Minho’s come on his stomach and chest.

Chan moans brokenly as Felix’s walls spasm around his cock, clenching so hard on him that it sends him over the edge as well, and he comes inside Felix with a silent scream.

It takes a long while for all of them to recover their breath, the water bottles are emptied, Felix getting some help from Minho to drink his again while Chan wipes down most of the mess they’ve made of his front and his ass. They snuggle together, taking small bites of their protein bars in a comfortable silence, Felix eventually drifting off to sleep.

Minho and Chan organise the room a bit, and Chan turns Felix around so they can put some cream on Felix’s ass cheeks. Minho stays with Felix in case he wakes up while Chan runs a bath for them, hoping that they’ll find a way to fit together in the small bathtub somehow. He calls Minho once the bath is done, Felix being woken up by the latter with soft kisses to his face and a promise of a relaxing time cuddled up together.

They talk comfortably as they bathe, Minho massages Chan’s arms and Felix’s back, Chan and Felix ganging up on him afterwards to massage his thighs with no second intentions at all. When the bath runs cold they finally get out, and work around each other quickly so they’re quickly all dry and cuddled up in bed with Felix wearing some of Chan’s boxers and one of Minho’s t-shirts.

“Was everything ok, Lix?” “Was anything too much?” they ask Felix before he falls asleep again.

“Everything was perfect. I’d love to do this again sometime,” Felix admits, putting a smile on the face of his favourite couple and giving them good dreams for the night.

 Six months later…

Even before Chan enters the flat he can hear a faint buzzing behind the door. The small smile that paints his face is inevitable, even more so once he manages to open the door despite his hands being full of grocery bags and finds Minho and Felix laughing about something in their open kitchen. He closes the door with his butt and walks over to them, smelling vanilla and coffee in the air and the fainter scent of spices on the way. Dropping the bags on the floor since the small kitchen island is occupied by ingredients, ranging from pork and herbs to batter and sugar, he greets Felix and Minho.

“Hi babe!” they say in unison, looking up from their tasks. One would think they had planned it, but it has just become so common for Chan to get home after the two of them that it comes naturally. He goes behind each and gives them a quick kiss to their lips as they turn their heads, not risking to disturb them any more than that; it’d earn him a loud nagging from Minho.

“The store was so packed today, I guess everyone left to buy their Holiday’s groceries at the last minute.” He huffs, pulling a stool from the island and setting it on the edge of the kitchen to sit down and watch his boyfriends work. It’s good that they decided to get a bigger flat; if they had gotten the one Felix wanted, Chan would probably be kicked in the shins by Minho daily – his man really doesn’t like people in his way when he cooks. Well, perhaps Felix is the exception, seeing as he’s baking right by his side and taking over more than half of the small island.

Chan feels like an idiot, smiling at his boyfriends doing something so mundane. Looking at them like this, in their full domestic beauty, he kind of understands Felix’s fixation with photographing Minho and him back when everything began. His eyes sparkle when Felix wipes his hands and pulls his phone from his apron’s pocket, snapping a quick shot of Minho seasoning the pork with stars in his eyes. He would wonder if that’s how he looks at them too if Felix hadn’t already shown it to him through his pictures. Still, he can’t help but feel like what he sees will last much longer than any photo Felix takes.

The flash of Felix’s camera startles him, and he pouts at his boyfriend. Felix giggles, “Sorry, hyung, you looked in love.”

Chan shakes his head, his smile never leaving his face. “Well, that’s because I am.”

“You two are going to ruin my pork with all this sweetness,” Minho says as if he’s complaining, but he’s blushing and smiling like an idiot too. He might not use many words, but both of them can feel Minho’s love in each meal he cooks for them, each smile he pretends isn’t reserved just for them.

“With how messy Felix is, there’s probably sugar from his cookies in there anyway.” Chan avoids a ball of parchment paper Felix throws at him. “Sorry, sorry~”

“If you’re not going to help then go hang some fairy lights, hyung,” Felix says with furrowed brows, and Chan raises his arms in defeat, leaving his boyfriends to their kitchen adventures as he goes to the living room to do as he was told. One would think he’d be the one giving orders, all things considered, and he usually is, but put a kitchen into the equation and he can’t do or say much.

Their flat looks very cute already. The three of them had decorated the Christmas tree the day before, and Minho had added some decorations to his bookshelves already. It’s amazing how far they’ve come in only six months. From a couple and a stalker in a bookshop, to three guys messing around and then in a week they were already dating. Some would say they’re going too fast, but to them it doesn’t feel like it. It just feels right having Felix with them.

After a few minutes, Chan hears his phone ping, the sound of Twitter being enough to make him quickly set the fairy lights he started hanging aside to check the notification.

Felix pictures just Tweeted

He must be done with the cookie batter and is letting it rest. He unlocks his phone and goes straight to Felix’s profile instead of checking the notification, giggling to himself as he recognises both pictures that serve as a cover for Felix’s new pinned thread. The first one is Minho posing for the camera with a ladle on the day he first tried to make parboiled octopus. The second one is Felix and him on the day they woke up hungry in the middle of the night and decided to make bibimbap.

He doesn’t remember that picture being taken, and judging by the fact he’s not looking at the camera, he bets Minho took it secretly. Great, now he has two little stalkers at home.

But they’re his little stalkers, so it’s ok.