𝐆𝐮(𝐚)𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

***

Minho loves life. That is, he likes to fuck it up, suffering from a van and a small cart of harmful addictions.   Starting at the age of twelve, when he came under the gun of custody and was sent to a foster family of two lesbian women because of incompetent parents who didn't give a shit about their son, and to this day, Minho hasn't been sober for a week.   Despite all the attempts of his foster family to make a good person out of him, by the age of eighteen, alcoholism and drug addiction had become very boring to the young body, having failed to retreat. The only thing that the foster family was able to instill in him in the end was a sexual attraction to his gender. And thanks for that.   No, really, Minho is grateful to them. If it wasn't for them, he wouldn't have known the taste of someone else's sperm and felt how good anal sex is when someone fuck you. However, they also helped him with the purchase of his own house in Detroit and used their connections to get him a simple job at a barber shop. At that time, the idea seemed great to Minho, because the clients are men, which means there will be a lot of sex, just like money. He thought so. At that moment. He's twenty now and he can barely move his feet around the underground parking lot of some shopping mall while his pockets are full of damn bags of powder. Minho woke up behind a very clean Mercedes about a couple of minutes ago. He doesn't even have a rough idea how he got here. And even more. He doesn't remember anything that happened in the last three or four days. After checking his pockets, he didn't even find his own phone or documents, only endless bags and hand-rolled marijuana. In total, there are about one hundred grams of drugs in his jeans and shirt. Where the hell did he get so much and how has he not been killed yet? His legs are too wobbly, and head is buzzing. Minho leans against the gray wall in prostration and rolls down it, leaning back and hugging his knees to his chest. He tries to reconstruct the chronology of events, but in his head there are only fragments of other people's voices, the essence of whose words is not particularly clear. "How many times has he been brought here?" "The fifth?.. Maybe the sixth one?" The woman sighs. "To be honest, I've already lost count. The local bums call him the Heroin Gay of Detroit, so I'm not surprised."   "I feel sorry for the guy. After the second rehabilitation, everything was fine. When did he go wrong again?"   "I think he's hopeless. This time it's much more serious, so he'll stay here until he gets sober, and maybe longer." "I'd like to talk to him. Well, you know, to put him on the right path and all that..." There was gentleness and some hope in the voice. "Are you laughing? Lee Minho and the true way? Completely crazy..." At this, the voices subside and Minho painfully puts his palm against his temple again. However, his thoughts slowly begin to take shape and he realizes that he seems to have been covered again? In any case, he was definitely in this ill-fated isolation ward, which he hates with all his soul. Then… How long has he been released and where the fuck is he?! His mental storm is interrupted by perfectly polished black shoes that appear in his field of vision. "Hello?.. Why are you sitting here? Help with what?" A voice as velvety as the purest silk comes from above. Minho looks up in confusion and sees him in front of himself. A handsome man in his mid-thirties stands in front of him with his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. On his broad shoulders sits the same black jacket, buttoned up with one button, and under it a snow-white shirt, like fucking cocaine, and a dark blue tie, tightly tightened around a honey neck, dazzles the eyes. Minho feels awkward when he meets his gaze and does not intentionally move it to the silver frame of someone else's glasses, which sit so filigreously on the very tip of his nose. He completely loses touch with the outside world, looking at such an extraordinarily handsome man with a fucking amazing hairstyle. "Hey, do you need any help?" The stranger continues. Minho nods timidly, feeling the effect of ephedron, which he definitely used the other day, ignite and disperse through the body at a breakneck speed. The heartbeat immediately quickens, the pupils instantly dilate even more than before, filling almost the entire iris. Meanwhile, the blood clings to the lower abdomen. "I'm resting here." Smiling stupidly, Minho is in no hurry to get up on his wobbly legs and only relaxes more, dropping his head to one side. "I see." The man sighs and squats down, trying to look into other people's eyes. "I would fuck you." Minho boldly throws out, grinning crookedly. "Who?" The stranger asks in surprise. "You, because you're so fucking sexy." He says more and more liberally, chuckling every now and then from a pleasant wave of euphoria throughout his body. "Are you drunk?" "No, I'm on drugs," Minho laughs. "Do you want one too? What do you want: coke, LSD, even ecstasy, well, or the old-fashioned gerich? There were two more ampoules of ephedron in my inner pockets, but I must have already taken them." Laughs again. "What's your name?" "Nah, you're the first. I need to know whose name I'm going to get when I jerk off and smoke marijuana in between." "I'm Han Jisung, does that mean anything to you?" The man mysteriously clarifies. "Just that I want to fuck you even more." The crooked grin again. "It's lovely. Where are you from anyway? Who let you in?" Jisung sighs a little wearily. "Well, I got out of the isolation ward and here I am." "From what other isolation ward? You're in the underground parking lot of my private penthouse right now." The man says soberly. "Oh, so you also have mone-ey," Minho draws out intricately. "Okay, so be it. You can fuck me." "That's it. Okay. Where do you live?" Frowning and rubbing the bridge of his nose, Jisung tries to collect himself. "Do you like the address? I thought you were going to fuck me right here.… Okay, 2067 Heiron Way." He snorts rather than speaks. "Wait a minute… And where is this?.." Suddenly a man gets lost. "Han Jisung, you are so funny. Detroit, Michigan." Jisung's eyes widened at the suggestion he had just made. "Are You... From Michigan?".. Still confused. "Aren't you? Although, I'll be honest, you don't look exactly like my neighbors." "Of course… It was worth guessing… So much drugs..." The man mumbles under his nose, excitedly biting his lips. "So, are we going to fuck?" Presses its own. "No, you... listen..." "Is something wrong?" Minho sincerely doesn't understand. "We're in Boston, baby." Minho almost chokes on saliva. What the fuck?! What the fuck is Boston?! Nine hundred and eighty-four kilometers in two days, what the hell is it?! "Wh-what?.." "I don't know how you got through my security, but you are now in the underground parking lot of one of the best professors at Harvard University in Boston." "Wow." Minho can only be surprised. "What a "wow". So what should I do with you?" Jisung asks, pursing his lips sadly. "Well… I still don't go back on my words, so... fuck?.." «Modestly» he suggests. "Sorry, I have to be at work in thirty minutes, and I still have twenty to go. I'll ask that you be taken care of while we look for a way to bring you home. You don't have your documents with you, do you?" "No, only a hundred grams of drugs and a dozen joints. Please, just don't turn me in to the police." Minho asked quite desperately, realizing that he was in a very bad situation. "Relax. I've done more than that in my youth. You will stay at my house until I return, and then we will come up with something." Smiling gently, Han gently patted him on the shoulder and finally got up from his squats, brushing off his perfect suit. "Thank you, really." He said with gratitude in his still dilated pupils, also carefully rising to slightly less wobbly legs. Jisung sees his unstable condition and hurries to hold him by the waist, involuntarily pulling him closer to himself. "Don't be stupid. And give all the dope that you have with you to Matthew, he will meet you at the exit from the parking lot." The man warns in a low, but no less velvety voice. "Ah... good. Excuse me, Mr. Han?.. How long do you say you have to go?" Jisung mentally slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand, because the devil pulled him to approach this stoned boy in a shabby T-shirt, jeans and shirt with disheveled hair, but a cute face like a doll's. It's okay, the students will be happy about the couple's delay. Han doesn't even have time to realize when this same boy with a doll's face kneels in front of him and rubs his cheek against his groin, holding his hips with his hands. Minho learned by experience. Do you need it quickly and efficiently? Throat blowjob is the best option. No matter how much he insists that he is uni, most people want to insert a dick into him, and not expose their ass. Well, that's not bad either. At least Minho likes it. In general, to be honest, he likes everything related to handsome men like Jisung. Han unbuckles the belt buckle, zipper and button himself, and Minho can only pull the fabric together with the underwear down to his knees. It wasn't that he was so confident in himself, but the fact that Jisung was already pretty wound up and was rapidly hardening incredibly raised his self-esteem. Minho gently wrapped his palm around the base of the impressive organ, immediately placing the bright cockhead on the protruding tongue. He looked up depraved, making Han literally burn from the inside. Excitement inevitably overwhelmed them both, and even the remnants of ephedron in Minho's body had nothing to do with it. Rather out of desperation, Jisung placed his palm on someone else's head, gently smoothing the unruly strands of ashen hair with his fingers. Minho only purred contentedly at this, taking the large cockhead into his mouth completely and covering his eyes, because, frankly, it helps a lot to concentrate and not cry when the penis is about to hit the back of the throat. Minho feels like a whore when she sucks the cock of an incredibly attractive Harvard professor with a smacking sound in his parking lot with a rather expensive car park. He can only see out of the corner of his eye that there's a fucking nineteen-eleven Porsche to their right, and there's a brand-new iPhone lying on the concrete floor, probably fallen out of his slacks. Han groans in a strangled way when the cockhead finally sticks into the back wall of someone else's throat and easily slides further, allowing himself to feel the pressure of the warm walls of the throat. Minho feels the hand on his head getting heavier and grabbing his disheveled hair tighter, not moving yet, but just holding it like a dog on a long leash. This feeling gets him hooked and he pushes the pulsating organ more actively into his own throat, almost nuzzling into a clean, surprisingly, pubis. He doesn't even break through to tears or vomit, despite all the shit that his stomach has been taking lately, nausea attacks have not come, which was only to his advantage. You can't drink away the experience, as they say. Although, in Minho's case, I would argue. He'll drink more than that. Jisung's cockhead is completely blown off when Minho connects his tongue and sends vibrations with a weak mumble. He is incredibly driven, and he allows himself to grab a little roughly at the wet hair on his neck, fixing and then pushing into the strained throat at his own pace. Jisung took it roughly, sharply, and hissed himself at how well he was being accepted by the walls of his throat. Minho is obedient, so he deserves his discharge, which catches up with him very soon. While Han is still intermittently pushing, hooking his own orgasm, Minho literally spreads out in a puddle, because he cum completely untouched in his underwear, sitting on his knees and taking a huge cock into his throat. And he likes it. He likes it to the point of trembling in his knees. He likes it so much that he is even ready to give up a dose of the same ephedron that always helped me tune in to sex with some scary guy from a random club in fucking Detroit, where, it seems, it's not that there are gays, in principle there are no normal guys. Jisung cums with a guttural moan after, smearing Minho's lips and protruding tongue. He licks the remnants of sperm from the scarlet cockhead and licks the urethra, which makes Han shudder and, due to loss of balance from overstimulation, grab the ashen hair again. "Come on, baby, you're too diligent.… I wish all my students were like that. Speaking of them, they're already waiting for me." Jisung babbles a little sheepishly, hastily pulling his trousers back. Minho laughs at his concentration and wipes his lips with the back of his hand before getting to his feet, whose knees hurt unpleasantly. "Don't you want to know the name of this baby? Minho coquettishly twists the ropes, tightening his tie tighter. "Well, surprise me." "Minho. Lee Minho gave you a blowjob today, or the Heroin Gay of Detroit, whichever is more convenient for you." He grins, grabbing the edges of his black jacket. "Great. That's what we'll write down. The reason I was late: I was getting a blowjob from a Heroin Gay of Detroit." Han chuckles. "I liked it. It's good that I ended up here. In Boston. I'll see you later, Mr. Han." Winking, Minho hurried off towards the exit from the parking lot. Jisung rolled his eyes and managed to grab his wrist, instantly pinning him with his back to the hood, immediately standing, nine hundred and eleven. "Be an obedient baby while I'm gone. Don't forget that you need to hand over the drugs to Matthew, and wash yourself and take something from my clothes, otherwise yours stinks." Han reminds almost to the lips, forcing Minho's lips to stretch into a sly smile. "I obey and obey, Mr. Han." Briefly kissing on the lips on the contrary, he promises. Jisung freezes for only a second, and the next he clings with a greedy kiss, practically laying Minho with his back on the hood of the Porsche. The kiss comes out wet and intermittent. Passionate because of the spark that flashed between them and just a little tender, because they both don't like rudeness. They can barely pull away, because suddenly the feelings that have appeared do not let go, and when they do manage to do it, Han looks carefully, waiting. "I really have to go. See you tonight, sexy guy from Michigan." "I'm gay, not a guy. These are different things." The dick knows him. Maybe Minho will return to fucking substances and alcohol as soon as he gets back to Detroit, or maybe he decides to succumb to fate and stay here. In Boston. In a city for rich and decent people. Perhaps Jisung will cheat and turn himself in to the police, or maybe he will also succumb to fate and take him in, making him a lover. Minho doesn't like life. Not the one in which he is dependent on alcohol and drugs. He'll do everything to change his life for the better and know where and with whom he will wake up the next morning. And Mr. Han will help. He'll whip him properly, and then treat him to his dick for obedience.