> Michael my man
> Heyy Mikey
> Mikey Mikey MIKEY
> I can keep going alllll day, Mike
And he could, he knew he could. Business Ethics & Diversity (otherwise lovingly known as BSN3014) was a drag, yet again, and he still had another… what was it? Over ten. Yeah. Over ten more days to go in the class before graduation. Over ten required days, otherwise he’d automatically fail because he’d already missed nearly too many days.
The professor wasn’t a sight, though, so what reason did he have to come in? Old geezer teaching likely outdated methods, even Mikey had commented on it.
“And obviously,” Gob had said as Mikey helped him study, “Obviously he doesn’t have any big tits game going on to keep me going in to class.” He cupped his hands over his chest, emphasizing the lack of goods his professor likewise had.
Michael had only grunted, nudged him in the shoulder, and tapped his mechanical pencil on the textbook page. But then he had let the pencil fall, apparently only then comprehending what his brother had said. Looking over at him, he said, “Gob, you know an appreciation of women’s breasts won’t get you your business degree, right?”
Gob had half-smirked and flicked Michael on the nose. “Come on! I know that, Mikey, but you did just give me an idea for a new course: Breasts Appreciation 101.”
He had realized way too late that he hadn’t specified women’s , but he told himself it was only so women showed up to the class, too, and maybe some show-and-tell could be part of the curriculum. Gob didn’t think about how a part of him wanted, in this daydream scenario, for Mikey to join him in the class. Of course, Gob would be a graduate student, a teacher’s assistant, someone important , and Michael - poor, poor Mikey - would need help in class.
Something so completely different from reality it was the picture of wish fulfillment. But he wasn’t thinking about it. Definitely was not.
His phone buzzed on top of his open textbook.
> Seems you actually can’t keep going all day.
> Stop blowing up my phone, and blow something else instead.
> Blow UP… autocorrect
> Maybe autocorrect was right, though.
> Tony? That his name?
> You could blow him for all I care
> Blow up his phone, Gob
> I have studies I have to attend to
Gob switched his phone from vibrate to silent halfway through his brother’s incoming text messages. Even he had standards for classroom etiquette, though he knew the professor couldn’t hear that well, especially anything from the top-most lecture rows where Gob always sat so he could get away with using most of class to come up with new illusions. But a few classmates had started to turn and stare at him disapprovingly.
He hated disapproving looks that he couldn’t do anything about.
> You ass.
> His name’s Tony.
> But we broke it off
> And you already know that
> Fuck you, man
> Fuck me
> Hit a sore spot
> You’re Gob Bluth
> get him back or get someone better
Christ, forgetting the question mark. Tacking it on after. He saw Michael’s play. Well, thought he did. They weren’t - he wasn’t - a randy teenager anymore. He was twenty-fucking-two. Eldest Bluth, supposed to be the mature one, but for fuck’s sake, he was better at throwing the pressure off himself and onto Michael. But here Michael was majoring in education, minor in business so he could go off and teach since their parents were too blind and uninvolved to know or care what was best for the business.
Their father had pressured Gob into getting the “real” business degree, and all he wanted was to throw it away for magic, for illusions. What was so wrong with that? He tapped his yellow wooden pencil, trying to ease his mind, but wound up breaking it in half instead. Wasn’t sure exactly how that happened. Just suddenly had two halves of a pencil in the palm of his hand.
All he could think about was how he had to turn that into an illusion. He needed to find a way to repair the “same” pencil to finish the show for an audience, though. Tony would know how to help him. But fuck Tony, too.
He knew Tony would take him back in a damn heartbeat, he was too easy like that. Yeah, Gob enjoyed having a bit of a power play over men and women, loved holding someone’s chin in the palm of his hand, but he didn’t want it all the time.
Tony needed space to grow, and maybe then, maybe…. someday.
Class thankfully ended a few minutes later, and Gob headed out of Garrick Hall to find Michael. He was not expecting to run into Lindsay instead, or rather hear her call his name. She was hanging onto another political science student, some no-name hot guy with enough smarts he was gonna do something good with himself, but not smart enough to avoid thinking with his dick when it concerned girls like his sister.
Lindsay was a sight, Gob could admit, but that guy; Gob ran his tongue over his lower lip and obliged a few minutes conversation, if only to glance at no-name poli sci major.
“Michael texted me, Gob,” she said, picking idly at one of her fingernails. “Told me to tell you that he’s cutting you off your study sessions with him.”
His hands curled into fists. He’d pinned Michael as a scaredy-cat at times, but an outright coward? Christ, as if Gob didn’t know exactly where the hell his little brother lived. Annoying little brat, just like when they were doing all those Boyfights videos.
Fingers uncurling, Gob breathed in slowly. On exhale, he grinned and clapped Lindsay on one of her shoulders, taking a second to wink at her boy toy as well.
“Looks like little Mikey’s taken to turning his dorm room into a tree to hide in now. No matter, I’ll fetch him and teach him a lesson. Cut me off our study sessions... what a gag, absolute gag!” He laughed, hiding insecurity within it, not that Lindsay paid any attention or cared. “Message received, Linds, but not taken lying down.”
Lindsay shrugged his hand off her. “Whatever, Gob. I told Michael I’d tell you this one time, but I’m not your go-between. Handle it like men.” She paused, looking him up and down once. “Or like boys, whichever fits. Come on, Richie.” Taking the hot poli sci major by his collar, she tugged him along with her.
Richie. Well, that was a name. Nickname.
Not as nice-sounding as Mikey, though. Wouldn’t roll off the tongue as easily.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, he tapped Michael’s name in his contacts list then pressed the call button. It rang several times then went to voicemail. Gob groaned, readjusting his satchel around his side and hung up without leaving a message. He cursed under his breath and hopped on the trolley that’d take him downhill to Michael’s dorm.
Squished between a guy bobbing his head along to something playing on his iPod and a girl tackling painting her fingernails with a finesse he’d never seen before, Gob tapped the tips of his fingers against his knees and people-watched. There was a loud raucous at the back of the trolley, but the driver paid no mind unless a fight broke out. But it was just… oh .
He should have recognized that voice, but he did remember how Tony kissed him. The junior, who had been roughhousing with another guy was now making out with him. Gob swallowed hard, wanting to turn away from the sight, but he couldn’t bring himself to for what felt like the longest time. Felt like, but he knew it was only several seconds, and he wasn’t the only one making awkward eye contact at the very public display of affection.
Thankfully his stop was the next one.
As Gob stepped off the trolley, Michael’s dorm loomed over the campus as it always did. Right time of day in the warmest months, part of it made for the perfect shady area to cool off. But Gob didn’t care about that, not now; his eyes were focused on the fourteenth floor: Mikey’s floor.
“Good old Richardson Tower,” he’d said to his younger brother on his first day. Arms spread wide open, he presented it like the host of a game show. Michael had rolled his eyes and started to wheel his suitcase towards the front doors, Gob hot on his heels, carrying another bag for him.
“Y’know, Mikey,” he said, catching up to Michael, “I lived here freshman year, too. It’s where I met Tony. Same floor, diff-”
“Different rooms, but not for long,” Michael finished his sentence for him. “I know, Gob, you’ve told me about this meet-cute for nearly three years now.” That sigh felt more than just an “I’ve-just-heard-this-too-many-times” disgruntled sibling, and Gob had put an arm around Michael, pulling him close. (Too close for comfort to other siblings, but not them. Never them, despite the faces Mikey made sometimes.)
“Aw, you called it a meet-cute,” Gob said, nuzzling his cheek against Michael’s. His brother huffed but didn’t push back against Gob’s weight.
“Who called what a meet-cute?” a voice had called out, and Tony appeared around a corner of the ground floor. Gob had voluntarily detached himself from Michael then, going to his boyfriend to kiss him. Tony was growing out his beard, and Christ , did it feel amazing against his nearly clean-shaven face. He’d almost forgotten about Michael.
How did he almost forget about the best person in his entire life? Gob still regretted how he had treated Mikey that day, nearly dumping him unceremoniously at his dorm room door to go off and have sex with Tony. Arousal be damned, he should have been there for his little brother. A good fuck with a man was just that; a good fuck. Mikey? He was more than that. Always would be.
As he waited on the elevator, Gob took his phone out again and read over Michael’s last two texts to him before he’d given him the go-between and silent treatment. A double whammy.
> You’re Gob Bluth
> get him back or get someone better
“Get him back or get someone better,” Gob whispered to himself. Only one person gave him an odd look, the rest on the elevator were too busy listening to music through earbuds, browsing their phones, or texting. He met the girl’s eyes and shrugged, then scanned Mikey’s messages again, going farther up into the past.
> Gob, your paper is beyond saving
> You stopped at
> Among other irreparable issues
> “Beyond saving,” “irreparable” ???
> You’ve ripped my heart out, Mikey
> Ripped the banana stand out of my HEART
> Don’t bring that up
> Bring what up?
> Gotta be more specific, man
> Open your door
Open your door.
Now that was a line.
He remembered it clearly: two weeks’ worth of texts ago, fifteen minutes between his brother’s last texts, and he’d figured that Michael had ended their conversation after the winky face Gob had sent him.
The elevator continued to ding its way up; they were on the ninth floor now.
It had taken Michael much less time to come over to his bedroom when they were living at their parents' place a few years ago. Gob had forgotten that, hadn’t thought Michael would do the same here, not after that banana stand incident that had scared both of them halfway and more to death, where they swore they were ending it.
Gob had dropped his phone on his bedside table, the bed across from his still empty. Still empty, because it had been Tony’s. He idly wondered… fuck, wondered , if his heart would have beat as rapidly if it had been Tony texting him to open the door. But he probably would have said “our” door. And would he have gone back to him?
But the voice on the other side of the door that murmured his name wasn’t Tony’s.
His chest had constricted, and he stood up, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his sweatpants. Too little space between the bed and the door, too little that he was at it in less than five seconds. He rested his hand on the doorknob, unlocking it with deft fingers, surer of themselves than his mind, his stupidly hopef—
A mouth was on his, hungry and forceful; fingers wrapped around his jawline and the back of his neck where his hairline met bare skin. He tasted Michael. Michael pushed him back into the room, freeing one of his hands for a moment to shut the door behind him. Gob felt himself pushed onto his bed, beyond grateful that he hadn’t set his phone on it (or anything else for that matter), and it was only then that Michael pulled away long enough for Gob to take a real breather and take in his brother’s face.
Gob cracked a smirk. “Whoa, Mikey, you randy dog. Were you masturbating to me, or what?”
Michael’s heavy breathing was beginning to slow, but the look on his face was hardly changing. He had lowered himself onto Gob, though, the bulge in his jeans answering in place of any vocal affirmation.
Bringing his wandering mind back in, Gob stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and resituated himself, relieved that everyone was too distracted to pay his crotch any mind. He shook his head and got out of the elevator, automatically turning to the left, the route to Michael’s private room still imprinted on his mind.
Michael rutting against him. Fuck.
Knocking their teeth against each other, his tongue claiming the inside of Michael’s mouth.
He cleared his throat as he got closer to Michael’s room. The door, of course, was locked. Fucking hell was he not gonna make this easy for him. Gob laid a fist against the door, then realized something. He didn’t have to say shit. Unless Michael put earbuds in and cranked them up to max volume, he’d answer provided enough incentive. And Gob? He specialized in incentivizing people. Michael liked to call it manipulating, or annoying if he was being kind.
Gob rapped his knuckles against Mikey’s door.
“What?” came a surprisingly tired voice. Or was it tired? That was all Gob could come up with, but somehow the word didn’t feel like it fit, like it was the wrong puzzle piece. Instead of musing on it, he knocked a few more times until he heard a lock click and door crack open.
He didn’t give Michael the chance to recognize him and slam the door in his face. Turning slightly at an angle, Gob used half his body strength on the door and breached the entrance to Michael’s room before his brother could do anything to stop him. Of course, Gob hadn’t thought that by doing so, he’d wind up dragging Michael down to the floor with him, and fuck , it didn’t feel good hitting that thin carpet with all his - their - body weight.
Gob groaned, faintly hearing Michael express the same kind of discomfort from underneath him. He pushed himself up, resting a foot or so above Michael with the palms of his hands on the carpet. Michael let out a string of curses, resting a forearm just above his eyes as he blinked rapidly, getting his vision back into normalcy from the blow.
He scrambled up to his feet before Mikey could knee him in the groin. They definitely weren’t above fucking with each other’s manhood, in every sense of the word fucking. Michael glared at him as he got to his feet, then pushed at Gob’s chest, trying to force him out of the room.
“You have no right to barge in here like this, Gob,” Michael said, ice in his tone.
Gob stood his ground. “You used Lindsay as a go-between. She literally told me - told us , really, if you think about it - to ‘handle it like men.’ So,” he paused, licking his lower lip, “This is me. Trying to handle it like a, like a man. What the fuck is your problem, Michael?”
His little brother crossed his arms over his chest, averting eye contact for a few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip before he looked back into his eyes. Gob felt something… thick between them. Like if he tried to breathe in in this perfectly air-conditioned room, he’d choke on the humidity as if they were in fucking New Orleans in July. He wanted to step closer to Michael, wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder, but at the same time…
“You can’t text me like I’m Tony , Gob. Why are we even still…? Why did I come to this university? We were good for three years, Gob. You had Tony, I had a girlfriend for a few months there, but… fucking hell , Gob. Was the banana stand incident not enough to show us that this isn’t going to work long-term?”
Michael’s voice cracked towards the end.
Gob hardly recognized his fuck-ups, and if they were ever pointed out to him, his favorite past time was deflecting them. But there was no one else, nothing else to pin this on. In his mind’s eye, he recalled the image of Tony making out with random guy on the trolley from earlier, and the way he had hurt then felt nothing like having to see Mikey like this.
“Fuck the fucking banana stand, it needed to go up in flames, man.” He took a step forward, noting that Michael wasn’t stepping back yet. “Sure, we were lucky to get our jeans zipped back up and get the hell out of there before we got worse burns, but…”
“Gob, this is fucked up.”
He had to chuckle at that. “Our entire family’s fucked up, Mike, and we’ve already been through this discussion before. You know how it always ends; why don’t we just… fast-forward?”
Another step. Michael was staring right into him.
“Shut the door, Gob.”
Oh… oh . Okay. Gob turned, closed the door, locked it for good measure, hoping again—
Michael’s hand grasped onto one of his shoulders, the warmth sending a shockwave through him. When he turned back around, Michael only had to move forward a few inches to kiss him, and oh, okay, oh fuck . He wasn’t sure how he’d describe his lips, somewhat rough but soft all at once, but all that mattered was that they felt like the only thing that made sense. Michael’s lips, and Michael’s everything.
Gob nibbled on Michael’s bottom lip. Michael gasped, and Gob took the moment to intertwine them, going from nibbling to lightly sucking on his brother’s lip. Michael moaned, tugging them both backward, aiming for something to lay on besides the floor. Gob grunted, turning them around, but Michael continued to push at him until the back of his thighs hit the edge of Michael’s desk. Groaning, he broke the kiss, but not without biting his brother’s lip first, harder but not hard enough to draw blood. Enough to wordlessly get across his opinion of being shoved against a desk. Michael returned the favor by cupping his bulge, which, in a moment of arousal addressed, got Gob up onto the desk.
He whined softly, thrusting his hips forward into the palm of Mikey’s hand, his forehead lying in the crook of his brother’s neck as Michael rubbed him through the jeans he was still wearing. He’d already been semi-hard when he’d gotten off the elevator, and it’d been two weeks now since they’d done anything besides studying and stupidly flirting with each other without anything coming of it besides masturbating in their own bedrooms later. Gob had to assume now that Michael had done it, too.
“Gob,” Michael murmured, “What do you really want?”
His breath hitched at the tone of Michael’s voice; raw and unassuming. He hummed, placing one of his hands on Mikey’s, guiding his fingers to the button of his jeans. Michael turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to Gob’s head. The affection sent a throb through him, and he jerked against Michael again as his brother moved to unzip him. He answered Michael’s movements with his own, shifting so his brother could pull his pants down below his knees, his briefs shortly following.
Michael’s hand on him again, skin to skin.
He pressed his mouth against Mikey’s collarbone and moaned louder, the feeling of Michael’s fingers stroking his cock sending him towards the edge. Not over it; by all his willpower he was going to make this last as long as possible, despite how desirable instant gratification always was to him. Delayed gratification always led to a better orgasm, he’d had enough experience with both.
As Michael settled into something of a slow rhythm, Gob turned to place ravenous kisses against his brother’s neck, eventually sucking on the skin hard enough until he knew a hickey would come of it. He heard a low whimper rising in Mikey’s throat, shaky and unbidden. Without taking his hands off Gob’s cock, he lowered himself just enough, his chin right next to the head. Eyes glancing upward, he asked a wordless question; Gob nodded subtly, chewing softly at the gum on the inside of his lower lip.
Michael licked the slit, circling his tongue around the head. He felt himself twitch, of course he was only wanting, wanting, wanting . But Michael, oh he knew what got his brother off, seeing his confident, cocky older brother beg. He interspersed it with praises, telling Mikey how absolutely incredible he was, how he needed him so badly and, “oh God , you make me come like no one else ever has, Mikey. Please, you’re so good.”
And he wasn’t even lying. His brother’s blowjobs were fuckin’ out of this world. He knew what variations in pressure made Gob whine, knew how exactly to use his tongue so his dick trembled and jerked in his mouth. Michael also knew when to slide his lips off Gob’s cock with a soft pop; not because he avoided swallowing, but to delay the orgasm.
Michael was also an evil little prick. Even though Gob realized the delay only made it stronger when he finally did come, it was… mildly infuriating. But he also loved the way Michael would distract him: unbuttoning Gob’s shirt, teasing his nipples, scraping his teeth lightly along his collarbone. Gob wanted to touch himself, wanted to satisfy his aching cock, leaking with precome by now, but Michael had also pinned his hands behind his back with his own, shushing Gob’s moans by catching their lips together, pushing and ebbing.
His toes curled, relaxed, and again curled against the soles of his feet. He drew away from Michael’s mouth, panting, hearing himself beg in whispers: “Please, fuck, Michael, I… fuck, need it. ” Gritting his teeth, his hips involuntarily bucked upwards, and without looking, he knew Michael was hard as well by the way he was slightly sweating, face flushed, and it certainly did him no favor when he felt his brother’s hips jerk against him.
Michael kept one hand on Gob’s jawline, but the other he placed back on Gob’s dick, rubbing him softly, slowly… slowly enough that Gob felt like he was going to literally die if he didn’t come in the next minute.
“Always so dramatic, Gob,” Michael murmured.
Oh, he’d said that aloud.
“Y’know ya love me for it Mikey,” he managed to quip before the sight of Michael looking into his eyes and cocking one of his brows nearly had him come undone in a second. He knew it was soon, as the sensations all melded together, as Michael put pressure and a bit of speed to his rhythm, as his muscles tensed and as his hips thrust upward.
His come spurt out into Michael’s palms, his words caught in his throat all jumbled, only coming out in strangled whimpers and groans. He jerked forward a few more times, emptying himself into Michael’s hands. As he came back down to himself, flexing his toes and fingers, Gob watched with half-lidded eyes as Michael licked the come off his palms, making eye contact with him the entire time.
“Such a good boy, Mikey,” Gob drawled out.
His brother’s eyes widened, and he swore he might have seen his pupils slightly dilate more so than they already were. Gob smirked, knowing full well that Michael Bluth got off on praise. He gently nudged Michael backward, just enough so he could get off the desk and pull his briefs and jeans back on. After buttoning, he fixed his attention back on Michael, drawing him close and kissing him roughly, grabbing his ass while he was at it.
With one hand, he stroked the back of Michael’s head, combing fingers through his hair, while the other teased his (unfortunately still clothed) ass. After a few moments apart to catch their breath, they clumsily moved towards Michael’s bed, Gob climbing atop his brother on the mattress, helping Michael take his top off. The burgundy fabric was tossed to the side, followed by his thin undershirt, but not before Gob played with Michael’s already hard nipples through the white cloth.
“‘Get yourself someone better,’” he said, recalling Michael’s text. “You cocky little bastard, you were complimenting yourself.”
Michael smirked. “Was it a lie, though?”
His mind went back to all that he had had with Tony Wonder, the boy magician he’d idolized and nearly worship-fucked. Snapshots of memories passed by just behind his eyes, but it was too easy now to see that it hadn’t ever been like this, what he had always had with Michael, what they had built together had too strong a foundation for Tony to destroy. The cracks could be mended, filled in… starting today.
He pressed his lips to Michael’s for a moment, then withdrew by a millimeter or so only to murmur an answer that he knew would satisfy his brother.
“You’re still a cocky little bastard, but you’re one who speaks the truth,”—another kiss, more vigorous—“I’ve gotten myself someone better, right here.”
Gob smiled against Michael’s mouth as he felt his brother’s recognition jerking up against his crotch. They had to get Mikey out of those jeans.