Just as a note, Mike and Mikey aren't the same person. Mikey has green eyes, brown hair, and is on the GSA while Mike is on the Swim Team and trying to get into Kylie's panties. ~Roxy
Mikey lazily glanced up from the mattress, passively surveying Zach’s room. The warm air hung over the room like a heavy blanket, stuffy and warm as the too-soft bedding. The rain outside aggressively knocked on the windowpane, and Mikey responded by laying his head down on the foot of the King-sized mattress.
He closed his eyes, then opened one bright green orb to give the room another look-over. Hm. What kind of parents bought their kid a king sized bed? Or let them have a large-screen TV mounted on the wall? Even the sheets were designer! Sheets a teenage boy sweat, tossed about in and soiled--- designer! This was definitely a very nice place... and
yet, everything was so messy! Mikey didn’t know how one person could make so much mess. But what else could you expect from a boy who kept a pet pig?
“Don’t you have a maid?”
“Hm.” He flopped onto his back, “What are you doing on the computer that’s so damn interesting?”
“Replying to some idiot who’s convinced people with baggy pants promote gangs.”
“You can’t always assume people who don’t agree with you are idiots.”
“This guy is.”
Mikey heaved himself off the bed, and slogged his feet across the floor. He planted a kiss on the corner of Zach’s lips, “Your parents aren’t going to be back for another hour, right?”
“Good, because I’m bored,” he murmured, snaking a hand over Zach’s shoulder and nibbling on his earlobe.
Zach pulled away, “Hold on. Let me post this.”
“Mmm,” Mikey cupped his face, “Give it a rest.”
“But it’s wrong to judge people. Someone has to do something.”
Mikey started to kiss and suck on Zach’s lower lip, sliding his thumb over Zach’s cheek and his tongue between his lips.
“So, we have one hour, hmm?”
Zach exhaled, “Yeah.”
Mikey gave him a devious little grin and pulled away, sauntering to the bed.
“Come on,” he called, unbuckling his belt while watching him from the corner of his eye, “get your spoiled ass over here.”
He gingerly stripped off his shirt and tossed it at Zach, who caught it in one hand without turning around.
“I am not spoiled.”
“Believe me, Zach. You’re spoiled.” He bent over and clicked on the slick, wall-mounted black stereo. To his surprise, a seductively swaying Bollywood melody boomed out the speakers.
“I never thought you’d listen to this stuff.”
“Why? You think I listen to Estonian folk music in my spare time?”
“Of course not. You know, I was part of the Indian Dancing club sophomore year,” he started to sway his hips, undoing his pants.
Zach shook his head and rolled his eyes, only to have a pair of pants hit the corner of his face.