Kolya had been sitting there watching him for some time. He was not certain whether Mitya knew he was there. Perhaps Mitya had forgotten that Kolya lived in the apartment too, that Kolya slept on a cot pushed up against the wall of his room. Either he had forgotten, or he didn't care about being rude, for it was the voice of the bass which had woken Kolya from a deep and comfortable slumber. Mitya had not even opened his eyes to look at Kolya as Kolya had struggled out of the cot, walked across the floor to Mitya's more comfortable bed, and sprawled there, staring at Mitya, waiting for Mitya to notice him.

At last he lost patience. "Hey."

Mitya's eyes remained closed. The bass played on.

"Hey," said Kolya again, louder, then, in his loudest voice, "Mitya!"

That did it. Black eyes snapped open. Fingers stilled, and the voice of the bass broke off. "Yeah?" He saw Kolya, blinked. "Oh. Hi." A smile spread, warm and wicked, across his face. "I didn't wake you up, did I? I was trying to play real quiet."

Kolya's answering expression was one of disgust. "Ha ha."

Mitya shrugged. "It was time for you to get up. Fucking hell. I never thought I'd meet anyone who stayed up later than me. Not to mention slept later than me."

"It's my internal clock. I can't help it."

"Your internal clock is fucking broken, that's your problem. You can't fall asleep until you pass out, and nothing wakes you up short of a goddamn world war."

"Or your godawful guitar playing," Kolya returned.

Mitya failed to find insult in the remark. "It's four fucking PM," was all he said. "About damn time for you to wake up."

"I'm up," said Kolya.

"About damn time," Mitya repeated.

Kolya leaned back, regarding Mitya through sleepy eyes. His blue hair was a mess, part of it plastered to his forehead and to the back of his neck, the rest of it sticking straight up. "Hey, Mitya."

"I'm listening," Mitya said.

"I was wondering."

"There's a surprise."

"Are you a top or a bottom?"

Mitya blinked. He paused a moment, then laughed. "Aren't you too young to be asking questions like that, kid? I thought you were gonna ask me why the sky was blue or why cats say 'meow' or something."

"I'm older than you think."

"So you keep saying. But you haven't shown me any proof."

"I don't have any proof."

"Okay, how old are you, then? Just tell me. I'll believe you. But keep in mind, I'll know if you're lying. You're a fucking terrible liar."

Kolya said nothing.

"I thought so," said Mitya, smug. "Anyway, forget about it. Don't ask me any more stupid questions. Go play with some dolls or something. Isn't that what little girls like to do?" He strummed his fingers roughly across the strings of the bass. They sang: loud, discordant.

Kolya winced at the sound, but he was not dissuaded. "I can always tell," he said.

"Oh god." Mitya rolled his eyes. "Here we go.'' He slid the guitar strap over his head, turned to slip the guitar back into its stand. The stand was as black as Mitya's guitar, Mitya's eyes, his hair. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"I was only asking a question."

"Why ask if you can always tell, like you said? What, you want to hear me say it, is that it?"

"Just trying to make conversation."

"You need to get laid, kid. Maybe then you can stop hitting on me."

"Oh, so now I should get laid?" Kolya stretched his arms up over his head in a yawn. "I thought you said I should go play with dolls."

Mitya shrugged. He walked over to the bed, hesitated at the edge, then threw himself down onto the mattress, taking a place for himself beside Kolya, shoving the boy's sprawling limbs aside where they infringed on the space he wanted to fill. "Whatever. See if I fucking care what you do-- as long as you don't drag me into it."

"I know what you like, Mitya." Kolya smiled, teasing, rolling over onto his side on the bed, facing the other man, his hands curled in front of his face, resting easily atop the sheets.

"Yeah, what's that?" Mitya asked tiredly.

"Even though nobody thinks so-- because of the way you look, the way you act-- you like to be fucked, don't you? And even though it hardly ever happens-- maybe because it hardly ever happens-- you want someone to fuck you hard."

"Is that so?" asked Mitya, his tone neutral as he lay on his back, looking up. He brought an arm up in front of his face, staring at his forearm, the fine, dark hairs of it, the fading welts left by needles breaking his skin-- they were all long healed, but he shivered slightly as he eyed those marks. "And who's going to fuck me in this fantasy world of yours?"

Kolya laughed. "I'd love to fuck you." He saw Mitya's eyes flicker towards him, and he smiled again at the older man. He liked teasing Mitya. It was so easy. Mitya was much less formal, so much more relaxed than his brothers. "People judge me by my appearance, like they judge you. But I'm not a bottom, I'm a top. And I'd love to fuck you, Mitya."

Mitya returned Kolya's smile. "I'll bet no one's ever called you shy, have they?"

Kolya made a noncommittal sound. "I can pretend to be shy if I have to."

"You're such a goddamned whore."

Kolya continued as though Mitya had not spoken. "I'll bet you'd like me to tie you up, Mitenka. Let's see, what would I do with you...? I think first I'd strip you, then I'd tie your wrists to the bedposts. With belts or something. And then I could do whatever I wanted with you. You're hot, do you know that? You're really hot."

Mitya rolled his head over on the pillow, facing Kolya, raising an eyebrow. "You are so fucking weird! Are you bored, is that why you're bothering me? Or are you angry that I woke you up at four fucking PM?"

"I'm not bored, and I'm not angry." Kolya took his time about considering the matter further. "I'd push your legs apart as you lay helpless on the bed beneath me, and then I'd take your cock in my mouth and make you hard."

"Kolya, will you stop?"

But Kolya was caught up in telling his story, licking his lips, a faint smile on his face. "I'd suck you until you were so wet and hard, begging for it, thrusting your hips up to take my mouth deeper. Then I'd suck on my fingers, make them nice and wet, reach down between your legs, and slide them inside you, fucking you with them. First one finger, then another--"

"Kolya!"

Kolya broke off, blinking and running his hands through his hair, frowning as he found it messy and matted. God, he must look awful. No wonder Mitya wasn't interested. He was going to have to get out of bed and dispense himself some damage control soon. "What?"

"I'd like you to stop."

"What for?"

"Because you're making me hard, and I don't do kids, all right?" Mitya sat up, scowling at the boy. "Dammit, what the hell is wrong with you, talking to me like that? I am not going to let you fuck me." He paused before adding, "Not for another two years, at least."

Kolya laughed, struggling up into a sitting position, giving Mitya what he hoped was a sweet smile, sliding towards him across the mattress. "Did I really give you a hard-on? Let me see."

"Okay, fine-- you want to see? Then see." Still scowling, with a sharp movement Mitya unbuttoned his pants, then drew the leather apart at the undone fly, exposing a V of bare flesh, down which ran a strip of jet black hair. Kolya moved closer, watching interestedly, eyes following the strip of hair down towards the mystery of what lay hidden by the black leather. He was interested and a little alarmed to note that Mitya wasn't wearing underwear. Hopefully Mitya had simply neglected to don them today when dressing in his usual lazy, thoughtless fashion. Or, more likely, he had run out of clean underwear. Regardless, Kolya didn't want to imagine the chafing that might result from wearing leather pants and nothing else. He preferred blue jeans, himself. Mitya reached into the V of his open fly and gently tugged his cock free of his pants. As he'd said, it was stiff with his arousal. "There, you happy?"

"Yes--" Kolya had never seen Mitya's cock before, and he enjoyed the view. Mitya was uncut, as he himself was, and his cock was long and straight and looked as though it would taste good. He leaned forward, lips parted, but Mitya put out a hand, gripping his shoulder and pushing him back.

"Now, now," said Mitya warningly. "Do you know how quickly Vanya would kill me if I let you do that? I don't want to die yet. Anyway, as I've told you a thousand times: I-- don't-- do-- kids."

"I'm not a kid." Kolya sighed in frustration, eyes bright, fixed on Mitya's cock, lying stiff on Mitya's palm. "It's not fair."

Mitya grinned. "You're not the only one who knows how to torment people, huh?"

"You're an asshole."

"Oh, shut the hell up. We're both assholes." Mitya moved his hand up and down, making his cock bounce on his palm. "Still want to fuck me?"

"Of course I do."

Mitya shook his head. "You know, I don't know why they put you in here with me, of all the people in this apartment. I mean, we're both such fucking sluts, and you're so underage, it hurts. We're the worst possible combination. I mean, Alyosha's asexual, Vanya's uptight, and Pasha-- well, he's Pasha-- I'm the most likely person to fuck you. Whose idea was this, anyway?"

Kolya couldn't believe the man, pursing his lips and making a sharp sound of annoyance. "Mitya-- it was your idea for me to sleep in your room with you. I'd have been happy to stay on the couch." Mitya had made a fuss about the couch being uncomfortable and unsuitable for him if he was going to be staying for any length of time. He had then insisted on having Vanya purchase a deluxe cot, and he had set it up in his own room, making a great show of the whole affair.

"Oh yeah. It was my idea, wasn't it? Huh. Just goes to show you, I can't be trusted to make important decisions. But don't tell Vanya, okay?"

Kolya smirked, trying to lower his head to Mitya's cock again, so tantalizing, the way it lay across his hand. "I won't tell Vanya anything, I promise."

Mitya pushed him away again. "Don't give me those bedroom eyes, Kolya." But Kolya could tell he was tempted, by the look in his black eyes, the upward tilt of his mouth at the corners. This notion (of temptation) was only confirmed, in Kolya's mind, when Mitya folded his fingers around the cock in his hand and slowly began to move it over the length of the shaft, the motion sliding his foreskin slowly back and forth. Kolya watched as the hard cock hardened further.

"That's so hot," breathed Kolya, appreciatively.

Mitya laughed. "Yeah, I know." His eyes were on Kolya's, and Kolya felt himself blushing, growing warm. "I'm hot, aren't I?" He continued to stroke his cock. "You know, if you want to do it too, I won't mind."

Kolya needed very little coaxing. He was wearing a (probably dirty) pair of Mitya's own running shorts (worn by Mitya only in the privacy of his own room), and it was easy for him-- he hooked the elastic waistband with his thumbs and slid out of the shorts. Already warm, watching Mitya watch him take his shorts off made him feel warmer, heat between his legs as his blood suffused his cock, making it as stiff as Mitya's was.

"Nice," said Mitya.

Kolya took his own cock in his hand, stroking it as Mitya stroked his, smiling at the older man, feeling very pleased indeed, though surprised. He hadn't expected this to happen. He had only wanted Mitya to be discomfited by his talk of fucking him. He had gone too far in his teasing, he realized. He had underestimated Mitya; he should have known the man was not someone a person could say such things to lightly. "Can I-- kiss you?"

"Oh no." Mitya's tone brooked no arguments, and suddenly Kolya thought he'd enjoy being fucked by him as well as fucking him. It was maddening; he hadn't been fucked once since he'd come to stay with the brothers in their apartment-- a stray they'd picked up for some reason, a little alley cat they'd taken a shine to. He still wasn't quite sure why they'd been so kind to him, so welcoming. He was no innocent kitten, that was certain. "Absolutely no kissing. Touch yourself, not me."

"All right, all right." Something was better than nothing. And he did like watching Mitya's hand move over his cock, so certain, and feeling Mitya's eyes on his own cock, so hungry. As Mitya suggested, he continued to touch himself, both of them sitting on the bed, so close together, yet not touching each other at any point. So frustrating, so good. "I want you," murmured Kolya, his cock so stiff beneath his hands, his foreskin drawn back to expose the head of his cock.

"That's too damn bad." Mitya's eyes flickered closed for an instant, his hand moving faster on his cock, and Kolya echoed his quickness, stroking his own cock more insistently, with greater speed. There was no need, he sensed, to take his time. Mitya clearly wasn't taking his, and Kolya wanted to come when he did, or very near.

"I want to fuck you." Kolya's breath rasped in his throat.

"Shut up," snapped Mitya.

I'm sixteen, Kolya wanted to add. Sixteen. Is that old enough for you? Please. However, having been told to shut up, he bit his lip and kept the words inside. He suspectee Mitya knew already, or guessed, judging by way he'd said, Not for another two years, at least, and Kolya knew sixteen wouldn't be old enough for Mitya. He was underage. It wasn't fair. He didn't feel underage. He felt ready for more. Nonetheless, he forced himself to be satisfied with this, now. Kolya was watching Mitya closely then, so he saw the man's jaw (pale skin darker from not having shaved that day-- Kolya wanted to reach out and feel that roughness) clench, saw his body tense, knew he was about to finish. Kolya moaned. So hot, his cock so hard, Mitya was so close, Mitya touching himself, the smell of Mitya everywhere: clothes, sheets, bed, room, air. "Please, Mitya, please, now."

With a low groan and a jerk of his body, the older man came. At the sight-- Mitya caught up, lost in his own pleasure, eyes closed, teeth bared, whitish fluid shooting out onto Mitya's black leather pants, Kolya found he couldn't bear it, and he came too, shuddering-- his cock releasing onto Mitya's sheets-- then collapsing, his messy head falling back to the pillow, blue hair against the pale pillowcase, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Mitya released his cock from his grasp, stiffness slipping from it as it diminished. Pointedly not looking at Kolya, he glanced down at his leather pants instead, at once grabbing the edge of his sheet and wiping at the leather with it, his movements quick and irritated. "Well. That was fucked up."

Kolya smirked; he let the smirk creep into his voice as he spoke. "I thought you didn't do kids."

Still wiping at his pants with his sheet, Mitya frowned. "I don't. I didn't do you. We just jerked off." He might have been trying to convince Kolya or himself. "And you know-- jerking off isn't anything." Apparently deciding the pants were as well cleaned up as he could manage at the moment, Mitya reached down to tuck himself back in and button up his fly. Only once it was buttoned did he allow himself to turn to the boy lying on the bed beside him. Mitya sat motionless, staring at him. Returning his gaze, Kolya wondered what the man was thinking, wished he would say something. A moment later, his wish came true. "Dammit, will you put those fucking shorts back on?"