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Never Never Land Part 1



He'd been seventeen when he'd come to Macao. Seventeen and a hellraiser. The western slang was "sowing one's wild oats". It wasn't the words his father had used, but the meaning was there. Anything he did in Macao could be concealed, averted, or payed off. It was also far enough from Russia, that rumours of what he did do were less likely to leak back.

The one thing between him and doing whatever he wanted was his father's man in charge of Macao. His uncle, Yuri. While poking Yuri was fun, the man also annoyed him to no end. And, the truth was - though no one would ever have heard the truth from his lips - he scared him a little too. Yuri seemed to exist by being constantly pissed off about something. It was like he was standing on a knife edge between sanity and insanity and he never felt certain if something he did would tilt him one way or the other.

Of course, the last thing he'd ever expected was the least criminal and troublesome thing he'd probably ever do in Macao would be the thing that would tilt that knife blade.

It had started with a trip into the city. An unauthorized trip, to be certain, but then most of his were. He barely spoke any chinese at that point. Which didn't matter, because what he did have was money to burn. It didn't take much to get what he wanted across. A point and a handful of bills. Easy. Words weren't necessary.

He'd noticed him watching him as he bought things from the street vendors, discarding them a minute later when he decided they weren't interesting. If the food didn't taste as good as he thought it looked, he'd throw it away. Yuri would be screaming at this point, and though that was always fun too, he was glad he'd slipped away from his uncle and father's men. It was more fun to wander alone like this, doing whatever he pleased.

He'd wandered into a side alley, only to find his way blocked by three boys around his age. One had a knife. He didn't understand a word they said, but it was obviously an attempt to hold him up. He'd only smirked as they tried to talk to him.

"Don't understand a word." He'd told the lead boy with the knife, speaking russian. "But you aren't scaring me with your toy knife."

The boy grew agitated, pointing the knife threateningly at him as the other boys stepped closer beside him. He'd been looking forward to the fight when a voice spoke with authority behind him. Chinese again. He felt like he was watching a foreign movie without any subtitles.

He hadn't looked back, since he had to keep his eye on the boy with the knife. The other boys were backing away. They spoke to the boy with the knife, who snarled a reply. The voice behind him spoke again, much closer. He sounded amused and condescending at the same time.

The boy snarled again, then snapped something at him. He didn't understand the words but he had a feeling it was something like 'I'll get you next time'. As the three exited the alley he turned to look at who had interfered. It had been the teenage boy who'd been watching him in the market. "You spoiled my fun." He told him.

"You have a crazy idea of fun."

The words had frozen him. He'd understood them. "You speak russian?"

"My father was russian." The other teenager replied. "So I learned to speak it too."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Did Yuri send you?"

Confusion had clouded his features. "Who's that?"

"No? So why help me out?"

"This is Haifeng territory. They should know better."

"The Haifeng is the mafia around here?"

The boy had shrugged. "One of them. Along with the Daoyun, the Beijin, and a few others. And that's just the local groups. Not the foreign ones. This is one of the most densely populated places in the world, you know. So there's alot of them here. Easy to hide. Lots to fight over with the casinos and all."

He hadn't known any of it, but he'd also always had a good poker face. "So who are you?"

"Me?" The boy had offered a lopsided grin. "I'm Huang Haifeng."

"So you're one of the bigshots, huh?" Mikhail hadn't been able to stop a grin.

Huang had snorted. "Far from. Mother was just a daughter. And she had an affair with a foreigner. I'm nobody."

"They didn't think so." He'd tilted his head after his would-be muggers.

"They're just riff-raff. Having the name is all it takes to scare them. Who are you?"

"Mikhail."

"Mikhail what?"

"Mikhail." He'd repeated, lips curving into a smirk. He had no intention of giving him his last name.

"So, Mikhail," Huang's grin told him that he wasn't taken in by his dodging the question one bit, "what are you doing in Macao?"

"Looking for fun." He'd told him.

Huang grinned. "Well, the street vendors must be getting boring. Let's go somewhere really fun."

A few years later, and he'd never have gone. He'd have known better than to follow some random member of an opposing organization somewhere "fun". A few years later and he'd have known where things were going. Known better than to take Huang back to the hotel that was his father, and Yuri's, base of operations. A few years later, he'd always told himself, and things would have been very different...

He'd been high on opium when they'd stumbled into his hotel room that night. The opium dens Huang had taken him to had indeed been alot more fun than the street vendors. "Why'd you pull us out of there? I bet she'd have been a fun time." He'd dropped onto his bed, grinning. "Bet she'd have done anything for the right amount of money."

"She's not that good." Huang had told him.

"Oh, you've had her before?" He'd grinned up at the other teenager. He couldn't seem to stop grinning. He felt really good.

"I'll take you someplace tomorrow where they're really worth the money." Huang had promised. "If you like that sort of thing."

"What's not to like about pleasure?" He'd asked, leaning back on his elbows to smile at the ceiling. The bed sunk a little as Huang got onto it. It took him a moment to realize he could feel the heat of one of Huang's legs between his own. He began to sit up, but Huang leaned down, capturing his mouth, his hands sliding up his chest. If he hadn't been quite so drugged out he might have protested, but Huang's lips felt soft and pleasant. His hands were warm, and seemed to know where to touch him.

Huang licked his lips as he pulled back. "You like pleasure?"

His breath was already hard, a combination of the drugs and the feelings of desire Huang's touch was causing. "Who doesn't?" He'd responded, watching him. Huang's hand had cupped his groin and he'd thrown his head back, a cry escaping his lips. Huang's lips had descended on his neck, sucking and nipping as his hand massaged him through his pants, arousing him further. His other hand worked on the buttons of his shirt, allowing his lips to trail downward over soft skin and hard muscle. "More." His hips were bucking into Huang's hand. He'd been young. His body needy.

"Much more...I can make you feel things that whore couldn't even begin to." Huang had promised. He'd sat back, ceasing his actions.

Mikhail had let out a whine of disappointment, sitting up. "Don't make a promise like that and stop." He'd lectured, reaching to grab a handful of Huang's shirt and yank him down on top of him.

Their groins had met, arousals rubbing into eachother through their clothing. Huang had shuddered above him - moaning. Mikhail was louder, letting out a shout. The half-chinese teenager had pushed up slightly to look at his face, though his hips were undulating against the body now under him as he reached down to untangle his hand from his shirt. He had brought it to his mouth to nibble at the palm; to flick his tongue against it. The gesture seemed sweet somehow, but arousing at the same time. Mikhail had met the motions of his hips with his own, wanting more of the feelings he was creating.

The door had slammed open, and Huang had pushed half-off of him. He wanted to protest, but was brought up short by the sight of Yuri. He stood frozen partway into the room, eyes widened at the sight before him.

He'd groaned in frustration at the interruption. "Uncle."

But Yuri's reaction wasn't so simple. His eyes grew wider, and Mikhail swore he could see the moment he slipped off the knife-edge he walked. See the insanity fill him. "Filthy whore!" He'd made a grab for Huang, who'd rolled off the bed - landing on his feet.

It was as good as ice water. His ardor cooled instantly. "Uncle!" He'd pushed himself up. "Stop!" His words were useless against the insanity gripping the older man.

"Despicable sinner!" He tried to hit him, but Huang was faster - jumping out of the way.

He only saw the whip when Yuri brought up his hand, ready to strike. He leaped between them, hands gripping Yuri's forearms. The action was instinctive. "Uncle, stop it!" He heard the window open and turned to see Huang escape over the balcony.

A few years later, and he'd have known better than to turn his back on a threat.

The backhand across the face completely took him offguard. Yuri had never dared to touch him, no matter how angry he made him. He lost his balance, catching himself on the baseboard of the bed. Shock and the opium in his system slowing his reactions.

"You...you sinner!"

Too shocked to even scream when the whip first sliced through his shirt into his back. Too shocked to move.

"You'd defile yourself in such a way!" The whip hit again. "You filthy, despicable, whoreson!"

The whip fell again, and the third time he'd screamed. But he couldn't move, could only cling to the baseboard as the pain ripped through him. Fire erupting on his shoulder as the lash strokes continued. Feet running, voices shouting - all background noise to the agony he was feeling. He didn't even remember when the whip stopped. When Yuri's shouting grew distant and disappeared.

Yuri's second-in-command, Eduard, was whispering at one point that the doctor was coming as he lay curled up on the floor. He remembered wondering briefly if Huang had heard him screaming. He remembered hoping he hadn't.

Yuri was recalled to Moscow. For a year Eduard had ruled Macao. Though a few times he'd gone back to the opium dens he'd taken him to, he never saw Huang again. When he turned eighteen, his father sent Yuri back to Macao. As a second, his second. For his eighteenth birthday, his father gave him Macao.

To Be Continued...

Okay, so this is alot of set-up. I know. And it's short again. Next part will be longer. And we will actually get a hint of the plot. Yay! LOL