3 comments/ 23784 views/ 1 favorites Rock-a-Bye Ch. 01 By: emoboi *All names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me. * "…W-what?" "I said," he began, that fuckin' lopsided grin of his slowly and, oh, so seductively, turning into a sneer. "I know you like me." "I-- heh, Walking Wet Dream, come on now," I stammered, the heat from the embarrassment of being found out creeping up my face at an awfully rapid pace. "We're-- we're friends. What are you talking about?" I laughed. Feebly. He, on the other hand, just smiled knowingly. Oh, God, those cute dimples! He took one strong step forward, his long muscular legs easily closing the gap between our bodies. I was instantly pinned to the wall. "Alright, if that's how you wanna play it," he said coyly, and slowly traced his finger down my left cheek. "God, I love your skin. Heh, you know, you're really cute when you blush. And you blush a lot, did you know that?" Shit. For a moment there, I swear I felt the whole world stop. Why was it always so easy to get lost in those azure pools? And those thick lashes… God! He was so close, too. I could feel the heat emanating from his muscular torso. I could smell… the alcohol from his breath. Of course. He was drunk. "I, look Walking Wet Dream--" He cut me off with a hard kiss. It was so sudden. I was so caught off-guard that I jumped back, but the wall prevented me from breaking our contact. I was immobilized, leaving me no choice but to receive his kiss. It was too much for me to handle. I couldn't breathe. He was slowly but deliberately pushing his entire body into mine, his solid weight cutting off my circulation. I gasped for air, and in the short time that I had my mouth open, he took advantage and plunged his tongue inside. My legs were going limp. Damn, but he was a good kisser. "No, I-I can't…" Somehow I had managed to push him off a fraction of an inch, and that was all I needed to tilt my head to the side, away from his. Seemingly undeterred by my weak protest, he simply tilted my chin back in his direction. His head slowly swooped in for another kiss. My knees went weak instantly. He's so gorgeous. Should I allow this to happen? Lord knows I've waited long and hard for this very moment to happen to little old me. But for some reason, I just can't shake this feeling in my gut that this will only bite me in the ass later on. He's drunk, after all. + + + I can still remember everything so vividly. It started a couple of months ago, when I landed a marketing job here in The Company. Together with the other new hires, I had to spend one week in orientation and training. That's when we first met. "This seat taken?" I looked up from my iPod. "Sorry?" I asked, taking my earphones out of my ears. "Is this seat taken." He reiterated simply. I couldn't help but notice that it was no longer a question. "Oh. No, go ahead." And that's when I realized I was gay and fell madly in love with him. No, I'm kidding. That's when I first looked at him. I mean really look at him. Truth was, it was kinda hard not to with his dashingly handsome good looks. Of course, at the time, I wasn't checking him out. It was more like being… awestruck, maybe even enviuos, if you will. He was young, probably just graduated, if not even. He had a clean shaven face that could grace the cover of any magazine. His stylized hair was neat and professional. His expensive corporate clothes did nothing to hide his well-defined body. "What?" Shit. Way to make a great first impression. Now he thinks you're a fag. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, didn't mean to stare." I said dumbly. He just looked at me, as if expecting a more elaborate explanation. I didn't have any. So I left it with that, and resumed listening to my iPod. But it was quite clear that there was a bit of an awkward tension that just happened. And the bad news is, I'm a blusher. I'm not so sure my face could've covered up the embarrassment I felt right then. The heat emanating from my face alone was such that I'm sure it would've melted a small ice cube. What's worse is that I could feel him just staring at me. I hate it when people did that. I forced all my willpower to not look back, lest he thought I really was checking him out, you know, in THAT way. But as fate would have it, I looked. I just couldn't help myself. How fuckin' convenient. Yeah, and he was looking right back. I quickly looked away, all the while mentally cursing myself for being such an idiot. God, that was embarrassing! For the split second that I was looking his way, I could so totally make out the faintest of sneers at the corners of his mouth. It's as if I amused him or something. Great. Just great. Just then, our trainer arrived, and we settled down. There were only a handful of us. And none I could really see myself hanging out with. As with any orientation, we were made to introduce ourselves first. That's when I found out his name — Walking Wet Dream. It has a nice ring to it, I thought. It suits him, actually. + + + "So Poor Little Rich Boy, what's a rich, trust fund-kid like you doing here?" I was stunned. How the hell did he find out? "I, um, nothing really." Silence. Awkward silence. "So, who was it?" I had to ask. "Who was who?" "The one who told you. I mean, how else could you have found out?" "Well, considering that you didn't deny it whatsoever, I'm gonna say you." He replied with a small smile. "Besides, it's not like anyone needs rocket science to figure it out. You do look, act, and speak the part." "Oh." It was all I could say. I was never really good at comebacks or witty retorts. That, and I was too busy admiring his cute dimples! How was it that he gets to have two and I don't have any? "That's twice." "Huh? Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," I said. "That's twice you've stared at me." He quipped, laughing. I looked away immediately. God, what is it with this guy that I can't stop staring? Suddenly, he was laughing out loud. "Dude, you should see your face," he started. "It's beet red, man!" "It is not!" "Yes, it is! Wanna bet??" I just looked at him. "Shut up," I finally said, laughing along with him. He started rummaging through his doggie bag. I couldn't help but notice that it was so obviously home-prepared. "Dude, is that… your lunch?" I asked hesitantly, my twitching mouth hardly concealing my grin. "Hey, I'll have you know our personal chef makes the best turkey sandwiches!" He exclaimed defensively. "Yeah, okay," I quipped. But it was so obvious even I couldn't help it. "Did it also come with a sweet, wittle wove note fwom mommy?" We just burst out laughing after that. Looking back, it wasn't even that funny. That day, I found out that he did just graduate from college, although he definitely looked much younger. I also found out that his family owned The Company, and that he was to be my boss, and while I was to have a different immediate supervisor, I was still going to be under him. Everything's gonna be alright… or so I keep telling myself. (To be continued…) Rock-a-Bye Ch. 02 *All names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me. "You're rummaging." "What?" I asked, not really paying attention. I looked up from my clutch bag. It was him. "I said, you're rummaging," he repeated with a small smile. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I am," I answered. He looked at me quizzically, expecting me to elaborate. I just went back to rummaging inside my small bag. Then finally, with a defeated sigh, I zipped it up. "It's not here." "What is?" he inquired. I looked at him, not really sure we trust each other enough to start a rather boring episode of my life. "My house key. I must have forgotten to get it from the foyer bowl." "The foyer bowl," he repeated with a slightly mocking tone. "Yes, the foyer bowl, alright?" I exclaimed. I wasn't really in the mood to joke around, and his little quips were beginning to get annoying. Under normal circumstances though, I would've found them endearing. "It's a ceramic bowl my mother got me on one of her Asian trips." "Let me guess. You put it in your foyer," he started saying. "No, smarty-pants, she did," I countered with a faint chuckle. "It's her apartment after all, I just live in it. But basically, yeah, we have a ceramic bowl from Asia, and it's in the foyer." "I see," he said mockingly. "And this... foyer bowl, you put your keys in it, yes?" I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. "Yes, Sherlock, that's exactly right," I quipped. "But stupid idiotic me had to forget it even though it was just... there." Really? I had to do hand gestures too? I cringed as soon as I realized I did them. How embarrassing! And I guess he must have thought something else of it because the next thing I knew, he was all... concerned and shit. "Well, maybe you could just borrow your mom's key," he offered, his tone full of concern. "I can't," I said, glancing at his beautiful doleful eyes briefly. "She's on a, quote-unquote, doctor's conference in Paris. Besides, she doesn't live there, so she gave me the place. I'm the only one who lives there and by default, the only one with the key." "Well, what about the admin or whatever, won't they have a master copy?" "Apparently, no they don't. I called earlier," I sighed. "So I could either hire a locksmith or just wait for my friend." "Oh, you have a roommate?" "Nope," I answered matter-of-factly. "This friend is my emergency contact person." "Well, great!" he exclaimed. "Problem solved." "Unfortunately, my friend's out of town until Wednesday." "Oh. Bummer," he asked. "What are you gonna do now?" "I honestly don't know yet. Guess I'll just hire a locksmith?" His eyes suddenly widened. "Or," he started excitedly. "You could stay over at my place 'til your friend arrives." I paused and looked him in the eye. Shit, he was serious. "No, I can't do that, Walking Wet Dream," I said. "But thanks for the offer; it's very generous of you." "Come on, it'll be fun!" he said excitedly. "I'm staying at my parents' house, though. And my mom's renovating the guest rooms, so you'll have to stay in mine with me." "Really, Walking Wet Dream, thank you but I can't accept that." "Why not?" he asked emphatically, his face contorting into this little puppy dog frown. "Because," I stammered, a deep crimson blush creeping up my face. "It's not appropriate." "How come?" he asked innocently. "Well for starters, you hardly know me. We're practically strangers to each other! I could be a serial killer for all you know." "Are you a serial killer?" "No- " "Then what's the problem?" "It's gonna be a long weekend- " "All the more reason it's gonna be fun! I was thinking of going to the beach- " "That's the thing! You have plans. I wouldn't wanna impose- " "But you won't be imposing. I'm the one who offered." "But I'll only get in your way- " "Doubt it. I think it'll be more fun!" "I eat a lot." "We have tons of food!" he laughed. "What about clothes, huh?" "We'll wash what you have on now, and you can use some of my old stuff. They're smaller that what I wear now," he paused and looked me up and down. "They might still be a bit big on you though." I shook my head indignantly. "The answer is still a resounding 'No!' Walking Wet Dream." He looked at me plaintively. "Give me one good reason why." I looked at him like he was crazy. "Okay. Here it is. YOU'RE. MY. BOSS." I made sure I stressed the words clearly in case he missed any of it. "So??" he asked, his voice going a notch higher. "So?! What do you mean 'So?'" I exclaimed. "It's gonna be weird! I can't expect such favors from someone who I've only met a few days ago, let alone let it come from someone who's gonna be my bo- " "Bullshit," he interjected. "I bet you're just scared." "What?!" I cried incredulously. "Yeah, I bet you're scared, asshole," he responded in a surprisingly calm manner. "You don't wanna do this because you're scared. You're so freakin' scared that for the first time in a long while, you might actually have some fun. You've been alone so for so long that you're scared you might actually gain a friend this time around and enjoy his company!" I couldn't help but stare at him. Was this guy for real? "I- " I began. But it turned out I didn't really know how to respond to what he'd just said. "You, what?" he asked, his brows furrowed with seriousness. "Think I'm right?" "I- " "It won't hurt to be friends with someone, Poor Little Rich Boy," he said softly, cutting me off. "Stop withdrawing yourself from the world. Everyone needs someone every now and then." I choked back tears. What is it with this guy? "This is me reaching out to you. All you need to do is take my hand." Well, whatever it is, it did the trick. "Okay." He looked me straight in the eye, as if making sure I wasn't kidding. "Okay, what?" A small smile had started forming at his luscious red lips, which he tried to suppress to compose himself. If he was only a girl, it would have looked adorable, and I would have kissed him right then and there. Or not, since I was painfully shy. "Okay, I'll stay over." + + + His parents' house turned out to be a small mansion. Figures, I thought, since they owned The Company and all. As his shiny black sports car swept up the winding driveway, I started having second thoughts. I looked over at him in the driver's seat. He was still trying to suppress his smile. He had even started humming Chris Brown's With You as they drove the twenty-minute drive back to his house in silence. Everything's gonna be alright... right? (To be continued...) Rock-a-Bye Ch. 03 *All names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me. * "What?" Oh no. Busted. "Huh?" I cried innocently. "Well, googly-eyes, you've only been staring at me for the past fifteen minutes." Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I broke our eye contact. It was too much for me to handle. "I- I don't know what you're talking about," I denied a bit too defensively, which was pretty lame since I already knew I was blushing profusely from what heat I could feel emanating from my face. God, I was such an awful liar! I hurriedly looked away, feigning a sudden fascination towards the open Maxim magazine on the nearby desk from where I was standing in his enormous room. "Heh, if you say so," he remarked coolly, though the arrogantly asinine smirk on his smug, criminally-handsome face got significantly broader. Dammit. I sighed. What is it with this guy that I just can't stop staring? I think by now it's safe to say that I'm attracted to him. Big time. I mean, it's pretty stupid to keep denying it when it was so painstakingly obvious, even to dense little ol' me. In fact, I think I may have been infatuated with him from when we first met at the beginning of the week. The thing is, and this is where most of my discomfort toward this whole situation lies... he's a frickin' dude! Suffice it to say that this is the first time I've ever been attracted to another dude. And, well, I like to think that it certainly complicates things-- by a whole lot, thank you very much! "I'm hungry," he said all of a sudden, shaking me out of my reverie. "Wanna go check out the kitchen?" He never bothered to wait for my response. I could've wanted to stay in the room and finish reading-- alright, looking at the pictures-- of that wonderfully riveting men's magazine and it wouldn't have mattered. He was already steering me by the shoulders down the stairs to the kitchen. The kitchen was just as huge as the rest of the house. It was also just as beautifully decorated with very expensive furnishings. Their household help bustled about as we entered the kitchen. It was very rare for the actual inhabitants of the house to be seen in there, it seems. The whole scene reminded me a lot about my grandparents' house, actually. My grandmother was always such a bitch to the maids. And I'm guessing with the way everyone seems to be scampering about, someone in their household must be pretty bitchy as well. Yikes. "You look like the type who loves ice cream," he surmised quizzically. "What flavor do you want?" "Uh, no thanks," I told him. "I'm not really in an ice cream-eating mood right now." "Oh come on, live a little!" he cried dramatically, then tossed me a pint. It was very obviously home-made. I wondered where they bought those containers for a split second. "This mint chocolate chip's got your name on it." I caught it, but just barely. I was never good at playing catch. He extracted a spoon from one of the drawers and handed it to me. A plump woman in uniform suddenly came in and snatched the pint from my hand. "No, master Valking Vet Dream!" The woman shrilled in a thick European accent, and did the same to Walking Wet Dream's ice cream. "Dinner vill be served soon, and zis vill spoil your appetite, no? Your mama will, how you say, reprimand me if you don't show up to dinner again!" Hmm. So his mom's the bitch… "Chillax, Stout European-ish Maid," Walking Wet Dream fired back, a tinge of annoyance evident in his voice. "It's just a pint. I'll still have room for more after I'm done with it." "No!" Stout European-ish Maid exclaimed. "Now, is your friend staying for dinner?" "Yeah, why?" "Ay! Four people. Four people to serve tonight!" Stout European-ish Maid cried out. "Tonight there is no rest for Stout European-ish Maid!" "Wait, four?" Walking Wet Dream asked, as Stout European-ish Maid started to head for the pantry in another room. "What do you mean four? Who else is coming?" She didn't answer him back. She was too busy cursing the gods. + + + He pushed me against the wall the minute I entered the room. Hard. "Walking Wet Dream, don't- " Too late. His lips had already enveloped mine, his tongue forcing its way in. His body pressed mine in an almost suffocating way. He was literally taking my breath away. "Don't fight it, Poor Little Rich Boy," he said rather huskily, and it just about melted all my walls. "Just let yourself go." "B-but, this is wrong," I stuttered like a bumbling idiot. But he wasn't listening at all. He was too busy doing crazy things with his tongue to the back of my right ear, until finally forcing an elicit moan out of me. "I'm taking that as a yes," he said to me with that evil sneer of his and that evil gleam in his eye. He didn't wait for my reply. He just dove back in my neck like a famished madman, and proceeded to suck the life out of me. I knew it would leave me with a hickey later on, but it just felt too good to stop. "We need to get out of these clothes," he cried desperately. "God, why do we have too much stuff on!?" I laughed despite myself. We both only had t-shirts and shorts on. In a flurry of hands and hurried movement, we soon had our clothes off and he was now pulling me to the bed. He kissed me like there was no tomorrow. His tongue fought with mine for dominance. His strong, powerful hands cradled my jaw as we chewed each other's mouths. He pushed me onto the bed, and immediately followed suit. His mouth once again found mine, his beautiful body pinning me down, crushing my body with his weight. And the battle between our tongues commenced. Our lips both felt raw already, and I was sure his five o'clock shadow would give me razor burns afterwards, but nothing seemed to matter somehow. He started kissing his way down my body, his tongue sensuously tracing every contour of muscle and skin. Eventually he found a nipple, and I couldn't help but cry out in pleasure. His hand somehow found my throbbing erection, and he gave it a hard squeeze. I gasped in pleasure. His mouth found my other nipple, and he decided it needed the same treatment as the other one. He was running his hand up and down my cock and balls, while the other one found its way to my butt. He started running his tongue down my abs. The bastard was tracing every defined muscle contour there, and it was making me squirm. I was crying in pleasure, and I can feel his sneer on my skin as he French-kissed my belly button. The son-of-a-bitch was enjoying this. I tried to grab my dick, I had to stroke myself, but his hand would just push mine away. The anticipation was killing me, and I groaned my discomfort. All of a sudden my dick was engulfed in warm, velvety softness. I cried out. It felt so good! No one's deep-throated me before, especially not in one gulp. And apparently he had a very talented tongue. How the fuck was he doing that with his tongue? It felt like he was trying to swallow me, or something. At the same time, he was lapping up the underside of my dick, slobbering this way and that. He was groaning in pleasure, and the vibrations on my dick were pure heaven. Then with his lips, he squeezed his way up to the head. His tongue flicked my piss slit, and my pre-cum just flowed out. He was going up and down on the underside of my head, and I was always really sensitive there. Shit, if he keeps this up I'm gonna blow, and I tell him so. I think that may have been his intentions because his only response was to speed up. I was pulling on his hair as his head bobbed up and down in a hurried frenzy. His finger had made its way into my virgin asshole, and he was teasing the puckered opening, in time with the movement of his mouth on my cock. "I'm getting close!" I warn him, so that he could back down and jerk me off to climax. Instead he swallows my dick whole, and his finger plunges deep within my bum. Somehow it found my prostate, and the intense feelings sent shivers down my spine. I can feel the cum boiling in my balls. It was too much. The feelings were just too intense. I'm gonna shoot! I'm gonna come! Oh God, I'm gonna shoot down his throat! It's coming! I'm gonna… + + + Cold water droplets hit my warm skin, and I felt an involuntary shiver run through me. And I woke up. I had apparently fallen asleep. "Wha-?" I mumbled groggily, still slightly disoriented, not to mention recovering, from my dream. I immediately thought it had started to rain or something, and propped myself up on my elbows. It wasn't rain after all. "Morning, sleepyhead!" It was him. The undeniably gorgeous Walking Wet Dream. The bastard was wet all over from swimming in the pool, and was shaking the water off, like a goddamn dog, on top of me. On freakin' purpose! And the jerk had the audacity to smile that wicked smile of his with his two, not one, TWO adorable dimples like it was funny. Instead of becoming slightly annoyed like I'd usually be, I surprised myself with the realization that I couldn't help but notice his perfect smile and perfect dimples and perfectly white teeth. Or how perfectly wet he was. Or that he was only clad in these really snug pair of what he jokingly referred to as a "dirty banana hammock", which showed off his perfect physique. And by physique I mean his body, but I also mean his, you know, because the wetness made the fabric of the Speedo… "cling" and, well, you know. His wet swim trunks showed off his very prominent set of family jewels, and I couldn't make myself look away. How sick am I? Good thing I was wearing sunglasses, otherwise that would've been embarrassing. But seriously, it was almost as if those "things" were hypnotizing me somehow. Yep, it's definitely a good thing, wearing those sunglasses. Have I already mentioned he had a perfect body? With perfect muscles in all the right sexy places? And they fucking glistened! Yes you heard me, they fucking glistened, PERFECTLY, under the sun. I swear to God that guy must have been a Greek god in a past life or something. No one is that perfect! ((Sigh)) I also couldn't help but notice that I was rambling about his "perfection", which could only mean that I do have a huge man-crush on him. My very first one. I'm still trying to process this whole thing desperately, but at this point, there's no use undermining my infatuation with him. I was that smitten. "Looks like somebody had a good dream," he teased, glancing at my crotch. I was hard and tenting. It couldn't be helped. I had on his board shorts. They're at least a size bigger. 'Nuff said. "Oh, shit!" I exclaimed, bolting upright to cover the obvious cause of my sudden mortification with my hands. Not that it mattered anymore since he's already seen it, and he laughed hysterically. "Must've been some dream eh, Poor Little Rich Boy?" He said, wiggling his perfectly arched eyebrows at me. I blushed crimson as I was reminded of my dream. My very erotic sex dream. Of him. The bastard with the perfect physique, and perfect everything else. "Oh, shut up!" He just laughed at me some more. "Come on, we better get back inside and shower. I bet dinner is just about set, and mom will freak if I'm late again." I groggily nodded my head in agreement, even when in reality, all I actually heard was "shower". Get a fucking grip, I thought to myself. You're not showering together, dumbass. After showering, Walking Wet Dream lent me his old dress shirt and sweater, and a pair of very nice slacks. I wasn't swimming in them, thank God, but I liked my clothes more fit to my body. But regardless, I was glad. For a while there I worried I wouldn't have anything decent to wear; because if this house had any resemblance to my grandmother's, these people took their dinners very seriously. + + + "Well, well, well. Who do we have here?" I looked up from my empty plate to see a young, slightly disheveled man with murderous good looks. He was looking right at me. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Walking Wet Dream cried. I saw his face fill with rage as he looked at the intruder. "What? Can't a guy visit his own family, little brother?" Fucking Sex on a Stick fired back, as he took a seat opposite Walking Wet Dream on the table. He was still looking at me, only now, he had a playful twinkle in his eye and his mouth curled up in a seductive lopsided grin. "Who's the pretty boy?" "I thought you left for good?" Walking Wet Dream questioned him suspiciously, demandingly. Yeah, he really didn't wanna be called that. "Lemme guess. You've ran out of money? Or should I say, your fair share of the inheritance, the way you so eloquently like to put it?" Oh, snap! This time, Fucking Sex on a Stick looked back at him. Seems to me, this family has a bit of a classic Prodigal Son story going on. "You got me, little brother," Fucking Sex on a Stick said cheekily. The way he said it, it was as if he was unfazed by Walking Wet Dream's accusations. And that snide sneer of his, it suggests something more behind his sudden return home. A disembodied voice suddenly wafted into the dining room. "So I told her, 'Oh for heaven's sake, just fire the guy already!' Can you imagine the incompetence of that woman?" Mrs. Bitch Mom prattled on the phone, laughing over what seems to be some guy's misfortune. She entered the dining room and sat at the head of the table. With a quick nod to Stout European-ish Maid, she and the others hurriedly went into the kitchen to get the first course, which turned out to be a sort of consommé. "Good evening boys." "Hello, mother dearest," Fucking Sex on a Stick said in greeting, the slightest hint of sarcasm present in his voice. "Fucking Sex on a Stick, you may have emancipated yourself from this family, but I expect you to keep your proper upbringing intact. Couldn't you have at least worn something more… appropriate for dinner?" Mrs. Bitch Mom scrutinized, wrinkling her nose at her son's choice in attire. But then her eyes ever so coolly glanced my way. "Especially in the presence of… company?" "Good evening, ma'am," I said politely with a contrived smile, taking that as my cue to introduce myself. She returned it with a tight-lipped one of her own. "I'm— " "Uh, mother I'd like you to meet Poor Little Rich Boy," Walking Wet Dream interjected. "My, um, boyfriend." …What!? Oh, boy. Everything's gonna be alright. Right? Right??