"You'll wake the master for me, won't you?" he asked, looking pathetic and old. I knew how crappy his job was, and occasionally felt the slightest traces of pity for him that were usually covered up with disgust. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to be pushed around like that by a mere teenager, but somehow this butler managed to do it with less dignity than was bearable to watch. I hated people like that.

But I had to give the butler credit for one thing: Will, the "master", was a complete ass. My parents had dumped me with his parents while they went to Spain this summer because they thought I needed a "strapping young lad" like Will to teach me how to be a man (that was all my dad's idea. My mom told me she didn't want me to be lonely while they were away). Both his parents and my parents were rich bastards that went to parties together and laughed at the poor and thought the sun shined out their asses. I had hoped they got in a plane that immediately crashed and made me an extremely happy orphan, but they safely made their way to Europe and left me in a fairly empty house (despite all the servants) with Will. His parents didn't stick around much.

"But, darling! You and Will used to be the best of friends!" my mother had argued when I first told them of my objection to being shipped off to the football jock's house. It was true, during all of the trips and such that our families went on together, Will and I had always played with each other, mostly because there was nobody else to play with. I didn't really know if we counted as friends because he had always been a little condescending towards me. "You know, maybe he'll end up liking you?" She winked.

I sighed; my mother had always wanted a daughter, and after having me and suddenly being sterile, she was determined that I fill the role of perfect son and loving daughter. Thank God my sexuality accommodated her insane expectations.

Now, I wouldn't have minded much if Will was still a nice guy after all these years, but the first thing he said to me when I walked through the door with suitcases full of clothes and hope was "Wow… You're a real fag, aren't you?" Ever since then, I've tried to ignore him. It wasn't my fault I liked girly clothes.

Occasionally we'd run into each other in the hallways, but he just pushed me out of the way viciously and cussed me out, calling me mean, homophobic names. It was fairly easy to ignore as he had friends who he'd go party with and leave me alone to do whatever I wanted in a house full of amusing things to do, unless Will came in and bitched me out for something.

So, naturally, I didn't want to go and wake him up. There was a reason the submissive butler didn't want to do the job. Will was notoriously cruel when he was woken up before he was ready. Unfortunately, if Butler tried to heat up the meal, it would taste crappy and then Will would be even more pissed off. Unfortunately, Will would sporadically take naps whenever he got home from being an idiot around town with other losers from the private academy he and I went to, though we never spoke to each other. All-in-all, Butler was hoping that because I was nice, I was stupid.

"Why can't you do it?"

His face fell, not expecting the immediate refusal. I usually faked being nice to him because I thought somebody as miserable as him deserved a little kindness in the world for how little he was paid.

"But, Mr. Polis! Please?" he pleaded, looking close to groveling. I couldn't take it.

"Alright, fine." I glared at him, but did my best to not sound too harsh.

"Oh, thank you sir! Thank you!" he smiled his old man smile and backed into the kitchen before I could change my mind. I gathered my nerve and began my approach up the stairs. I wondered what Will's parents did with all their time, but Will didn't seem to care very much when they called only to tell him they wouldn't be coming home for another week. He always looked a little depressed afterwards, but would get pretty violent whenever I tried to ask him if he was alright so I eventually stopped caring. I didn't like being hit, and he seemed to think the best way to communicate was to use his fists.

His door was pretty normal looking, and I was nervous to see his room, expecting there to be pictures of complete nude women all over the walls and scary football posters everywhere. I slowly opened the door, trying to be quiet and not wake him. He was sprawled across a fairly neat bed, completely asleep, a look of peace across his face. I was shocked by how normal his room looked, though it was huge. There was a hi-tech computer in the corner on top of a neat a neat desk, and there was a closet that was slightly opened that had rows of clothes. In front of his bed was a huge TV that had various game systems hooked up to it and several games scattered on the floor in front of it. I was glad to see that there wasn't a single football game in the pile.

"Will?" I whispered, not sure how I was going to wake him up by whispering. I moved closer to his bed, thinking his room smelled a bit too much like body spray, though it was a strangely attractive, masculine scent. He was the classic spoiled, football jock. His hair was sculpted into a disheveled look (though at that instant, it really was disheveled because he was sleeping), he probably had more muscle than I weighed, and he had indecent good looks.

Hesitantly, I walked closer to the bed and poked him in the shoulder, but he was still conked out. I felt really uncomfortable waking him up, but it was for his own good, so I grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently. His eyes opened slowly, his blue eyes seeming lighter because of the soft light that fell in through his window.

"What do you want?" he whined, obviously groggy as he rubbed his eyes. He sounded irritated, so I stuttered.

"Well, um, dinner's ready so d-do you want to come downstairs and eat?" I nervously played with my t-shirt. I tried to be gentle but he just shook his head, still rubbing his eyes, stretching out his legs. I felt bad for waking him up.

"Well, sorry. I'll go let everyone know…" I muttered quickly, turning to leave, when suddenly an arm wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me onto the bed while I let out a surprised yelp. Before I knew it, Will had somehow managed to drag me so that I was underneath him, his face directly above mine. I felt like a rag doll that he could effortlessly throw out his window if he wanted to.

"You know, you sure hang around me a lot. Are you queer for me or something?" he asked rudely, using jock slang though he and I both knew he was pretty articulate. I felt uncomfortably warm underneath his sleep-heated body. My t-shirt was hiked up and I could feel the painful scratching of his zipper against my abdomen.

"What?" I squeaked, still too disoriented to think of a reasonable answer to his question. I didn't like him, but I was too taken aback by the fact that there was somebody on top of me to really formulate that sentence into coherent words.

"You're pretty for a boy. Normally I wouldn't swing for you, but I'm pretty horny. You'll do it with anyone, right?" He reached his hand up my shirt and started touching my stomach with his hot hands, making me gasp at the strange feeling. He couldn't be serious, could he? I quickly managed to gather the sense to ask him to stop.

"Wait, I-" but he covered my mouth with his, moving against me with his hot lips. He tasted salty, yet in a pleasant way. His hands moved downwards onto my crotch, moving against my hardening erection. I wondered if that was going to turn him off, getting somewhat excited and wanting it to continue. I knew this would probably make him think that anyone who was gay was a slut, but it wasn't like I wasn't horny, too. I didn't have to like the guy to know he was attractive.

He, however, continued with as much urgency as he had started with. He seemed suspiciously unfazed by my lack of female parts, running one hand against my thigh once I had started showing signs of coming, i.e. moaning and pulling his hair.

His tongue pushed its way into my mouth, brushing past my teeth. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me and wrapping my legs around him. We continued like this for a few more moments until he started pulling off my clothes, making me suddenly very self-conscious. I grabbed his arms, prepared to stop him, but he effortlessly pinned both my arms above my head with one hand and skillfully got me out of my jeans and socks, taking extra care to shift all of his weight in the right places at the right times so I couldn't kick him. I was reminded of how strong he was by his ability to not let me move at all, even though I tried to move my arms as hard as I could.

Once he got my jeans off, he immediately straddled me and pulled off my shirt, tearing part of it as I desperately tried to keep it back on. "Stop!" I whined, sad that my shirt was torn and my overly thin chest was now gleaming in the twilit room.

"You look fine. Stop being such a pussy." He seemed annoyed by how much trouble it was to get me out of my clothes. Lying underneath him in only my underwear (black boxer-briefs, making my skin look hideously pale with the added effect of my black hair) I felt very bare and vulnerable. I felt like the person on top of me was a complete stranger, and I wanted to make sure he was as exposed as I was. Whatever happened to the homophobic bastard that tried to push me down the stairs last week?

I grabbed the bottom of his shirt before his hands could stray down to my last remaining piece of clothing and pulled it up. He slammed his arms against his sides, stopping his shirt from going any higher, obviously wanting to have all the control. However, the glimpse of his sculpted stomach made me brave and I ran my fingers down his happy trail, slipping them underneath his pants and against the hot bulge that was only separated from my hand by a thin layer of cotton boxers.

He groaned. "Fine, I'll take off my clothes if you suck on it." I responded by tugging his shirt upwards again and this time he didn't resist. I was shocked that he actually had a good deal of hair on his upper body, but it didn't bother me in the least. Before I could really look, however, he grabbed me and flipped us around so I was lying on top of him. He carefully positioned me so I was further down the bed than he was and my face wasn't far from the area that I could tell needed some attention.

I grabbed his zipper cautiously, wondering if he was watching. I looked up to see that his cerulean eyes were focused on me, a smirk on his face that unnerved me. "Stop watching me…" I whined again, pulling his zipper down roughly and succeeding in making him hiss in slight pain.

"Shut up and do it!" he growled, punishing me by yanking down his underwear and grabbing my hair, pushing me onto his dick. At first, I kept my mouth closed; feeling degraded with the hot flesh pressed again my face. I was surprised at how big he was, thinking it was just a stereotype that hairy guys had bigger packages.

"Do it!" he whined again, his member twitching. I opened my mouth and let his cock fill it, surprised at how hot it was. It was kind of easy, just bobbing my head up and down on it, letting my tongue go wherever I could fit it. I always knew my absurd lack of a gag reflex would come in handy, and calmly breathed through my nose and tried not to drool too much on him.

His responsive noises as he roughly grabbed my hair were amusing, as they sounded like a mix between groans and begging, with incoherent babbling slipping out after my teeth grazed a sensitive spot. I wondered if he'd ever had a blowjob before because he was pretty flustered by all of this. Though, I managed to get every inch of his member in my mouth so that might have made it more intense.

"Hold off for a sec!" he groaned, pulling my hair upwards. His cock slipped out of my mouth with an erotic pop and I panted, looking at him and wondering why he didn't let me finish. "You're… too… good…" he gasped, panting for breath. His legs were trembling and his cock was extremely hard, looking almost engorged. "At this rate… I'm gonna pass out…."

"I'm sorry…" I muttered, thinking I did something wrong despite the fact that he had just told me I was good.

He laughed breathlessly, grabbing me from underneath my arms and pulling me up to kiss him again, moaning as I rubbed against him. I eagerly returned his kisses, intrigued by how much nicer he was the further we got in bed.

His hands slipped underneath my underwear and quickly pulled them off, running his hands along the backs of my thighs. "Do you shave or something?" he asked, remarking on how smooth my legs were.

"Um… Maybe?" I felt strangely confident, realizing I had more power over him than I realized. He smelled better, more spicy and sweaty, and I enjoyed the feeling of hair against my chest, providing a strange stimulation that made me pant as he his lips strayed from my mouth and onto my neck.

I let my fingers slide down between us and wrapped them around his throbbing member, sighing into his hair. For a second he let me do as I pleased, then as I quickened the tempo he grabbed my waist and roughly flipped us over again so he resumed his position on top of me. Somewhere in this process, he had managed to fully slip his jeans off and I suddenly felt anxious, surprised at how long we had managed to last before one of us actually coming.

"You know, once I come, how do you know I'm not going to just kick you out?" he growled into my neck, letting his hands run along my torso, making me tremble whenever his fingers grazed my nipples.

My mouth was right next to his ear so I responded with two simple words, "Fuck me." His hands paused, and I was worried he was going to say something mean. Instead, he just sat up and grabbed my hips and looked at me intensely, positioning himself.

"I don't have any lube…" he muttered, but I was too desperate to let him go look for some.

"Just use your spit or something!" I snapped. He nodded, agreeing with me, and quickly spat into his hand, rubbing it along his dick, moaning with the feeling. His moist hands returned themselves to my hips and held me down as he pressed the head into me. I tensed and he groaned.

"Oh shit, you're a virgin aren't you? I'm sorry…" he moaned, "…if this hurts." I looked into his eyes, urging him to keep going, which was a ridiculously easy task. He pressed further, sending a pain up my spine, but I took a deep breath, wrapped my legs around him, and took him in completely.

"Oh God!" he yelled, his face contorted with the pleasure I couldn't see earlier. I felt tears bead in my eyes from the stinging, but gradually it faded and I nodded my head for him to continue. He pulled back and thrust back in, making a funny slapping noise as his lower abdomen smacked against me. I yelped, feeling a strange surge of pleasure masked by the searing pain.

"Keep going!" I hissed, wrapping my legs tighter, not letting him go anywhere. He moaned and we started moving together, his hands holding me in place just as tightly as my legs held him. I pressed my face into the pillow, closing my eyes and trying to savor the feeling, but he grabbed my face and made me look at him.

"I want to see your eyes," he groaned, his face flushed and sweaty. He leaned forward to the point where my knees were pressed against my sides and kissed me sloppily, but I kissed him back just as fiercely, not caring if it was messy and wet. The thrusts became faster until one seemed indistinguishable from the previous, blending together in a swirl of pants and groans. I tensed as I started coming, his hand working its way to my member in just the nick of time to bring me off. I covered our stomachs with hot cum just as he climaxed inside of me, filling me with hot fluid.

I cried out, overwhelmed, and fell limp underneath him as he rested his head on my chest gently, trying to regain his breath. I ran my fingers through his hair absently, playing with the soft strands and waiting for him to regain his ability to speak and throw me out. He was still inside me, though it felt strangely comforting as he softened and the dull throb seemed stifled by his presence.

"What now?" I sighed, enjoying the moment of peace. He lifted his head up, slowly pulling out and I quivered as the moisture pooled between my legs and onto his sheets.

"First of all, I think we need to take a shower," he stated with amusement, grabbing me underneath my knees and behind my back and lifting me off the bed.

"Together?" I asked, noticing he was a bit of a mess himself.

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes and carried me into the bathroom, chuckling as I blushed, wondering what I was supposed to do. Assholes weren't supposed to be so considerate…


AN: We're back..... clicky clicky, reviews are much appreciated!