Nico’s mouth fell open, the gears in his head churning as he clearly contemplated refusing Mal’s order.
Finally, he cupped Mal’s face, expression soft as he said, “You look really pretty today.”
Something swooped in Mal’s core. “Do I not look pretty every day?”
“No,” Nico said, his fingertips trailing over Mal’s cheekbones. “Usually, you’re hot. Today, you’re pretty.”
“You’re pretty, too,” Mal promised, kissing his forehead.
“Prove it,” Nico murmured, attempting to drag him back down into another kiss.
“Uh-uh,” Mal said, placing his palm over Nico’s lips. “Get your ass in the shower, you little succubus.”
Nico frowned. “I thought boy sex demons were called incubus?”
“I heard it’s less about gender and more about whoever tops,” Mal told him, sitting up to straddle his hips once more, grinding down on Nico’s morning wood through the thin comforter just to hear him groan, his eyes rolling in pleasure.
Nico’s hands flew to Mal’s hips, holding him still, expression growing sulky once more as he asked, “Are you saying you don’t think I could top you?”
Nico really was a whole-ass baby in the mornings. Mal gave him a soft smile, running two fingers over his swollen lips. “I’m definitely not saying that, Fidget. If you think I’m going the rest of my life without another prostate orgasm, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Nico groaned again, his hips bucking up of their own accord. “You’d really let me fuck you?” he asked, sounding breathless.
Mal giggled, planting his hands on either side of Nico’s head, circling his hips over Nico’s until the other boy whimpered. “Let you? Fidget, I’ll tie you to the bed and ride you until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you come.”
Nico’s eyelids fluttered. “You really like seeing me cry,” he finally managed, sounding mystified.
Mal dropped to press his lips to Nico’s ear. “I fucking love it. Seeing you cry makes my dick hard. I jerk off to thoughts of you covered in tears and drool while you fall apart beneath me. You have no idea how pretty you look when all your walls are torn down. I can’t wait to hear you beg. Fuck.” He bit the shell of his ear. “I want to hear you scream, Fidget.”
Nico’s chest was heaving, his lips parted as he stared up at Mal like he had no idea who he was. He suddenly shook his head, blinking like he was coming out of a stupor. “You sound like a lunatic.”
Mal patted his cheek, then hopped off the other boy. “Oh, Fidget. I am a lunatic. You know that.” He ripped the covers off Nico then and physically dragged him to his feet. “Go. Shower. Now. I’ll make you some coffee…to go.”
Mal and Nico made it to the Pearl River District by quarter after eleven. As always, Nico’s head was on a swivel the moment they stepped off the bus. He was like this every time they came there. Nico’s ADHD loved the brightly-colored awnings, the paper lanterns strung between alleys. Even the clothing blowing in the breeze that hung on lines between the apartment buildings.
The district was predominantly made up of Chinese families, mostly immigrants, just like their neighborhood. While their neighborhood was a mix of Chinese and Mexican families, thePearl River district was a blend of Chinese and Vietnamese families.
They exited the bus at their usual stop outside the coin laundry with its bright blue awning. It was on the same row as a chiropractor and an acupuncturist. The sweet smell of baked goods combined with the savory scent of fried noodles made Mal’s stomach growl. They had some of the best restaurants in the city.
They didn’t get to the district as often as they liked. They could only go during the week. Mal couldn’t handle the crush of the crowds during the weekend. The sights, the sounds, being knocked around by people was all too much for him. Between work and school, there wasn’t a lot of free time during the week.
Still, on the rare occasion they did have time, they had killed entire days walking around the streets, stuffing their faces with delicious food and sifting through the stalls of the market looking for any items within their budget. During the weekdays, the district seemed almost magical, like someone had dropped a fantasy right in the center of their mediocre city. It reminded him a little of the markets inPaladin. Merchants haggling over prices, loudly beckoning the people to check out their wares in a mix of Mandarin, Cantonese, Hokkien, and English.
The vendors at the market were far more pushy than those in the shops. Much of the market was made up of wholesalers. Those vendors were there to make money and the buyers were there to save it. It often led to some heated and fascinating arguments.
Sometimes, when they came with Felix, he would translate some bit of local gossip he found particularly juicy. But most often, Felix shopped for silks while Mal escorted Nico as he ate his way around the different Asian cuisines like he was at Epcot. Nico loved food. And not just the restaurants. Despite the heavily Chinese influence on the cuisine, there was a shop thatcarried convenience store foods from Korea and Japan. It was Nico’s favorite place, and once inside, it was almost impossible to tear him away.
Mal shouldn’t have been surprised when Nico gave him his biggest, widest blue eyes and prettiest pout, then begged him to take him to the dumpling place. They had been there with Felix on their last trip—a cute little restaurant nestled in a courtyard between a wholesale flower shop and an herbalist. Mal nodded. He was also hungry, but they both knew he wouldn’t have refused him either way.
Stepping into the little shop was instant relief for Mal, who removed the ear plugs he wore to dampen the sounds around him. No matter where he went or how many people there were, he was rarely able to tolerate the sounds around him without help. Lights and sounds were always so sharp, too painful to tolerate without something to dull them.
But inside the little restaurant was warm, a little steamy, the scent of steamed dumplings permeating the air and making Mal’s stomach growl loudly. Nico laughed, patting his flat belly.
The dumplings were made in wicker steamer baskets so Mal didn’t have to worry about the clatter of pots and pans, and the woman behind the counter appeared to be the only one working so there was no need to shout orders to the back. It was peaceful. Nico leaned heavily against him, back to chest, a contented smile on his face.
When they left the restaurant, Mal had stupidly assumed Nico’s ten dumplings would have been enough to fill him up and keep him on target. But they hadn’t taken ten steps before Nico hooked his arm through Mal’s, pulling him into the bakery. He just shook his head, arms crossed as he watched Nico shop.
The counter girl bagged each pastry with wide eyes as Nico pointed out item after item. When she read out the total, Nicogave Mal the look—the one that had him reaching for his wallet without thought.
