Business as Usual Sidetrack Five
wherein Mugen turns on and tunes in
by Laura Bryannan

Hanging out at Jin's apartment for the weekend is never my choice, which is why I always roll out the red carpet and pamper him at mine so he'll keep wanting to stay there. But every once and a while he makes us stay at his place and I can't say I blame him, since I definately prefer being host, not guest. So, I agree to be fair, even though it makes me nuts.

I never know what to do with myself when I'm over there. He doesn't complain if I pull out my DS or put on the TV, and he'll even watch stuff with me if he's into it, but his life is way too fucking quiet and I always go stir crazy eventually. Usually I drag him outside to do something, but it didn't look like it was gonna stop raining all weekend so I had to make other plans to stay sane.

We'd worked out, had breakfast, and I was wandering around while Jin read, not feeling like dealing with the dungeon that was next in my game. My plans started brewing and I tried to get my guts up, finally deciding it was now or never. “Hey, you ever smoke pot?”

He looked up, closing his book. “Yes.”

Hopeful, I dug through my stuff and held up the stash I brought over. “You want to?”

“I don't know,” he replied, frowning. “What kind of person are you when you're stoned?”

“Whadda you mean what kind? I'm me, of course.”

“When Yuki gets high he cannot shut up, so I dislike partying with him,” he explained.

I laughed, totally picturing it. “Why am I not surprised? I know the type but I'm not like that.”

“I'm dull company when I'm high,” he warned. “I tend to get quiet and withdraw.”

“Get quiet and withdraw, huh? That'll be something new.”

He gave me a look but agreed to play, asking, “Do you need anything?”

I figured it was pointless, but hinted anyway, “I brought papers, but this stuff is really too resiny to smoke in a joint.”

He nodded, opened a drawer in the end table and damned if he didn't pull out a small plastic bong! “Will this do?” he asked, trying not to smile as I picked my jaw up off the floor.

“Uhhh, sure,” I reply. “You really get high, huh? How come I'm just now finding out?”

“It's something I do alone.”

“Shit! And all this time I was afraid to ask you.”

Jin shrugged. “I don't do it often.” He handed me the bowl and left with the pipe, his voice echoing from the hallway, “Let's smoke in here. I prefer to listen to music when I'm indulging.”

I filled the bowl and headed to the bedroom, finding him in the closet—a humongous walk-in kind I never knew about. It had all the usual stuff closets have in it, but on a shelf along the ceiling were tons of old-timey record albums. “Damn, check out the vinyl!” I gasped in wonder. “What're we gonna listen to?”

“There was a lot of great music released in 1968,” he said, “The Beatles, The Stones, the bands out of San Francisco.... But, for me, the ultimate getting stoned album is the Moody Blues' In Search of the Lost Chord.” He stuck it on the turntable and we plopped in bed, leaning against the headboard, getting cozy. He fired up the bong and we passed it back and forth as the music washed over us. He was right, it was mellow and good for floating away, which I did for a while, until a song came on and he started singing along, translating for me,

“And you can fly high as a kite if you want to.
Faster than light if you want to.
Speeding through the universe.
Thinking is the best way to travel.”

I laughed. “They were pretty innocent in those days, huh?”

He chuckled too. “Yes, they were, that's what's so charming about the period. I'm fascinated by it. I was an English major in college, but I've always been obsessed with U.S. history.”

“An English major?” I snorted. “What the hell were you going to do with that?”

He sighed. “I fancied myself a writer at one point, and I suppose I thought I'd end up teaching...until I took over the dojo, anyway. My company pulled me away from all that, though, and I don't regret it.”

“I always hated my English teachers,” I told him, taking the last hit off the bong. “Cashed,” I announced. “You wanna do some more?”

He smiled and closed his eyes. “I'm good for now.”

I took advantage of the situation to snuggle closer and check him out while he wasn't watching. He hadn't showered since yesterday, and since we'd had a fine workout of one kind last night and practiced kata this morning, he was smelling really good. Jin looks like a piece of candy or something, so pink and white you think he should be sweet like sakura, but he isn't. He's as funky as anyone when he's ripe, but the notes are all spicy in a way that's totally yummy.

So I was laying there breathing him in, appreciating how his nipples are the most amazing color, kinda plummy pink. Mine are tan like the rest of me, but his make you want to bite 'em, they look so tempting and tasty. They're the same color as his lips, his balls and the head of his cock, places my mouth can't seem to stay away from. Yup, definitely candy.

I close my eyes and imagine things that make me salivate when I notice something under my fingers. I realize they're resting on his wrist and I can feel the vein there pulsing. For some reason it makes me shiver, although I don't know why. Maybe it's cuz he's really alive in there. My eyes are drawn upward, along his arm, across the plane of his chest to where I can see his heartbeat throbbing under his jaw. The beats at his wrist and throat are not in time, one a fraction of a second behind the other, and I'm mesmerized by the difference. I stare, amazed at how fucking beautiful he is, at how I can never get enough of his body in me, under me and around me.

I have the strongest urge to lay my head on his belly and listen to his guts talk, but figure he'd think I was too weird, so I don't. I can't stay this close to him for long without getting horny, though, and soon I'm making plans. He pounded me good last night, but I'm feeling too laid back to want to work this afternoon.

Reaching into his sweats, I grab a handful of him and ask, “You wanna fuck me?”

He arches into it, sighing contentedly, but eyes me with a lazy expression. “Why don't you do me instead?”

I growl, pouting. “Feeling too stupid,” I admit.

He chuckles. “Me too.”

I pull a few Mugen Specials on him and he starts to squirm. “You sure you don't wanna fuck me?” I ask seductively, adding an extra flourish for good measure.

Moaning louder, he leans over and sinks his teeth into my shoulder, grabs me by the ass and pulls our hips together. “Ummmmm...later,” he decides, licking the marks he made. “You make me hungry, though, your skin is like caramel.”

“Glad I'm not the only with the munchies. What'cha got to eat around here?”

“Chips, nuts, pocky or ice cream,” he informs me. “Or, we could cook some real food.”

“Nah, chips sound good.”

He stands up, his untied sweats slung so low on his hips I'm getting lotsa cheekage, his hard-on the only thing holding them up. I'm thinking about candy again, and I decide I'll follow that sweet ass wherever it goes, to the kitchen or to hell and back if I have to.

end