I started this about a month ago when I saw a wallpaper that had “Desperate Love” written on it, and there were two guys glaring at each other, so…this is what came out of it…

Chapter One

I wrap my pillow around my head, trying to block out that insistent, overly obnoxious sound of the ticking clock that rests on the table on the other side of the bed.

For one hour and twenty-six minutes I’ve been counting the hollow ticking noise. Every second that budded into a minute and then under my watchful care blossomed into two half hours, and now my third one is just beginning to unfurl. Twenty-seven!

Twenty-seven…I fling my pillow across the room and moan in frustration.

“So,” a rich voice suddenly says, “was that a moan of pain? Sadness? Lust and want? Where are your hands, I wonder?”

My fingers spread apart when I pull my hands from under the blankets and a deep chuckle bubbles from the figure poised in the doorway.

“Where’ve you been, Paulo?” Light floods the room when he flicks the light switch up. I watch him strip off his clothes and drop them beside the bed before crawling under the blankets and lying beside me. He does not touch me.

“Around. I trust you cleaned up after dinner.” A statement. He’s not asking if I did it. He does trust that I’ve done it. Because that’s just my job. I do what’s expected of me.

“I did. Paulo, you said you’d be home early tonight. I waited downstairs till one and you didn’t come home. I was worried. I thought something might’ve happened to you.”

He snorts and shifts in bed, his silver hair spreading over his pillow. “Why worry about me, Season? Don’t you know by now…that I am invincible?” he whispers into my ear, making me shiver and clutch onto his shoulders, pulling myself to him.

“But how,” I murmur back, “can a mere mortal be invincible?”

“It can’t.”

And he’s silent. And I’m silent and I think maybe he’s not even breathing but we’re each holding our breath, waiting for the other to give in first. And as always, it’s my chest pushing into his, proving that I am the one who is indeed mortal.

-

In the morning, I awake to see Paulo still in bed beside me. He’s always still sleeping when I wake up. And when I wake up—still being a teenager—I always find myself a little…stiff. I told Paulo about it once when I was younger. He laughed and said “hormones” and then showed me what to do about it.

Thinking about that now, I rub myself through my pants, my eyes closing against my will. I want to look at him while I pleasure myself. I bite back a moan and scramble out of bed.

The shower is my goal. A cold shower. Yes, sounds good right now.

I cry out when a hand encloses my wrist and pulls me back to the bed. It’s Paulo, looking half asleep. So beautiful. He’s an angel. Maybe a fallen angel or one in disguise and it’s my job to love and care for him. Thank you, gods, for this blessing.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “And where are you going?”

“Paulo, please…”

“You can take care of that here if you’d like. Or if I’d like. And I would like that. So be a good, obedient boy and do as I say. And what’re you doing even wearing clothes? Haven’t I told you before not to when we go to bed?”

“But you were late and I was cold.”

“Do as I say, Season.”

I hate doing things like this. I’m not comfortable being nude in front of him. He’s so much more perfect than I. What does he see when he looks at me, stretched out before him now, touching myself in places where only he ever touches me?

The thought causes me to weep and it seems like forever before I finally reach completion, mumbling out his name as I do.

When I finally work up the strength to open my eyes, he’s kneeling in front o f me on the mattress. He lifts my chin and feeds me what is often my first meal of the day…him.

I used to choke and gag when we’d do this but now I’m used to it. It’s as natural as mopping the floor or cleaning out the stables. It’s just another one of those things that’s expected of me and one of those things I find myself diligently doing.

When he’s done with me, he burrows under the blankets.

“Get me up at noon. And have soup ready for me. Chicken noodle, okay?”

“Yes, love.” I crawl away and to the bathroom where I brush my teeth, take a ten minute, scalding hot shower, and brush my teeth again. At the sink I stare at myself in the mirror. Dark, messy hair, wide, sad blue eyes. High, sharp cheek bones, crooked lips. I hate my lips. I’m pretty average looking I suppose. No one would see me and decide immediately that I was something special.

Well no one but one.

No one by Paulo but I’m still figure out what he first saw in me. He could not have known that I would serve him so well without a complaint. That I could love him and need and want and lust for him as he did the same for me.

But I did and still do it anyway even if he didn’t expect it readily.

The extremely old grandfather clock clangs and jangles down the hall. Eight a.m. I accidentally slept in and there’s so much to do today.

Dusting. Cleaning the windows. Seeping the foyer. Mopping the foyer floors and the dining room floors. It was on my list for yesterday and I’d started it all but sometimes it just takes so long. I wonder if Paulo is going to have guests over. Normally he makes me do this much cleaning only when we have guests.

And so I yawn, stretch, and get a rag and soapy water for the windows.

-

“Are you almost done with cleaning?” Paulo asks as I follow him down the hall and to the stairs on the way to the dining room.

“No… I need to dust upstairs and—”

“Because I need you to clean out two guest rooms for me. The rugs and everything. All right?”

“Why?” I ask, biting my lip. He just woke up. I shouldn’t question him. I shouldn’t ever question him, but it’s worse when he wakes. And he knows it’s worse.

“I have a patient’s children coming here to pick up medicine—” He yawns. “—and to pay some of their bill. They’re from a small town down south so I figured I’d let them stay the night. Besides…their parents have been questioning me lately. This is to regain their trust. So I suggest you behave this time.”

“Don’t worry…I will…” I quietly say. I still have his belt’s telltale bruises and cuts across my back from the last time I acted up. They burn when I sweat and when he touches them while we spend our nights in each other’s arms.

“You’re a good kid.” He kisses my cheek and I feel heat spread all the way down to the tips of every one of my toes.

I turn my head and his lips collide with mine. My legs give out under me and he holds me safely to him, leaning away from the stair’s railing and toward the wall.

There’s something about Paulo’s kisses that…get to me. They’re tender and rich and thick with desire, just like his voice. I wish I could make these slow, passionate exchanges last forever, but they always end and always a little too soon, just like this one ends now. He’s stepping away, flying and flitting out of my reach with his wing and I’m left behind, cold and stiff with my lips burning.

He knows how to torture me and continuously uses it against me. I run after him. He’s seated at the head of the table and I sit down across from him, all the way at the other end.

I watch him eat. He’s so beautiful. I wish I looked like him. Average length silvery blonde hair that’s a few inches shorter than mine, narrow gray blue eyes that are so incredibly mesmerizing that many have a hard time looking away the first time they meet. He’s taller than I am, maybe 5’ 10’’ or 6’. He’s smart and strong and he has money and this huge house. His lips are perfect too. He’s nothing like me and sometimes I wish I had what he had. But having him is enough to make those jealous thoughts disappear.

“You’re drooling,” he announces suddenly and I jump.

“Sorry.” I grin.

“You’re going to have to make dinner tonight.”

My grin disappears. “We don’t have anything good,” I mumble. “I asked you to go shopping yesterday when you left. Remember?”

“Season, I had a lot on my mind. How was I supposed to remember something so trivial?” He drops his spoon and I jump again when it hits the table.

“My eating is trivial? Would you rather have me starve to death? Have us starve to death?”

He smirks. “Immortality.” A long elegant, ring-encircled finger points to his heart. I feel that pain in my throat, the one I always get when I’m trying not to cry in front of him.

“That’s not the point. The point is is that you didn’t do it and so we have no food for your fools of guests!” I snap, a sob chasing out the words. I take a deep breath and rub an eye with the heel of my palm.

Surprise and confusion splays across Paulo’s beautiful face, quickly followed by amusement. And finally: anger.

“Excuse me? I didn’t seem to catch that. Please go ahead and repeat that, Sea. I seem to have made out that you want o be thrown out of my house. Or maybe I misheard?”

“You wouldn’t…”

“I could, though. And who would take you in? You’re worthless and it’s obvious just by looking at you. No, you’d be left out in the cold for the wild animals to devour. So, what was it you said?” He waits patiently, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

I bow my head. “I was saying that I’ll go pick up some food if you want me to.”

Paulo grins. “Why thank you, Season! That would be fantastic!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the delicate gold watch he keeps with him all the time. “It’s twelve thirty. You have till one. Take one of the horses.”

I nod and get up, then walk to him. He hands me some coins and I shove them deep into my pocket before walking away.

“Season, where are you going?”

I slowly peer over my shoulder. He’s frowning at me and so I slowly trudge back to him.

“Here.” I kiss his lips briefly and hug him. “I’ll be back by one.” As I leave again, he swats at my butt.

“Good boy,” he murmurs and chuckles while tears make my eyes sting once again.

Yes Season is a weird name. I love weird names. Go away. Review though before you go please?