Einar arrived a mere two hours later, clearly taken aback. Surveying the area that had been cleared of tools, leaving only a sink, a small table, two chairs, a narrow closet, and a mattress with linen, blanket, and pillow laid out on the floor in Japanese style, he inquired cautiously, “Is this a form of rebellion, Moe?”
“What makes you think that?” Moe, busy pulling an extension cord to the lamp by the headboard, shrugged his shoulders unhappily. “You asked me to pick a room, so I did. Well, a house, not a room. I told you I won't live with you and that prick you refer to as your brother.”
“It gets hot in the summer and cold in the winter, and the contract is for six months. How do you plan to live here?” Einar leaned against the doorjamb, frowning incredulously, contemplating the nature of this peculiar act of defiance. He assumed, without a doubt, that Moe was gearing up to negotiate different terms.
“I don't mind; I've slept under the open sky and survived,” Moe wearily sprawled on the mattress, toggled the lamp switch, and gazed up at his employer with a mocking expression. “Any other questions?”
“Let's wait and see how you feel in a couple of months when it gets colder,” Einar smirked, turning away and concluding with a smile, arriving at the evident realization, "I suppose you'll be seeking warmth from me. Perhaps you could begin tonight.”
“No, I want to sleep. Goodnight, boss,” Moe grumbled, irritated at being accused of such silly flirting tactics. He removed his T-shirt, cargo pants, and socks, leaving him in just his underwear, and suggested as he settled in, “Close the door on your way out.”
“Goodnight,” Einar, observing his nearly naked form with interest, nodded knowingly—Moe wasn't going to give in so easily, that was certain—and squinted at him, closing the door behind him.
Moe did not visit him the following day, nor the day after, or even the week after. Instead, Einar decided to visit the gardener's house himself, holding an electric fan in one hand and a basket covered with a napkin in the other.
“I come in peace,” Einar placed the fan against the wall and unveiled the basket, revealing a bottle of wine along with a plate of cheese, cold cuts, and olives. “How about some wine?”
“I don’t mind,” Moe, tired after dealing with the troublesome teenager, set the book aside and perched on the bed, absentmindedly scratching a mosquito bite. “Do you want to discuss Manny?”
“I'd rather not delve into my little brother's affairs at the moment, but I'm pleased with the progress- thanks to your encouragement, Manny seems to be getting back on track with the final exams. So, I have a glimmer of hope that he might graduate without repeating a year. We can discuss it tomorrow, all right?” Einar uncorked the wine, placed the glasses on the floor, and began pouring, halting Moe's hand. “Wait, let the wine breathe a little”
“Why not now?” Moe, pleased by the compliment, straightened up, raised his eyebrows in curiosity, and flashed a suggestive grin as Einar approached and leaned in with parted lips. “Ah...”
This time, Einar acted with more determination, more impetuosity, avoiding any resemblance to mundane marital sex. After receiving nonverbal consent, he crushed their lips together, forcefully sliding his tongue into Moe's mouth. Simultaneously, he hoisted Moe by the hip, causing him to tumble onto the bed with Einar following suit, and began to strip off their clothes with brisk motions. Moe, astounded to the core, instantly aroused by the assertive touch and overt desire, lifted his hips to allow his shorts and underwear to be taken off, extended his arms to let Einar rip off his shirt, and arched as Einar ran his hand between his legs while continuing the passionate kiss.
“You're quite the tease, Moe,” Einar nibbled his lip, sliding a finger inside, observing as Moe widened his legs, breathing heavily. “Sunbathing in the garden in the buff, huh? Were you prepping - anticipating my arrival?” Einar grinned triumphantly, and Moe hissed as two fingers entered.
“Not in the buff in the garden, but in swim trunks by the pool. And I wasn't waiting; I was kinda indulging in the intimate dance of my own thoughts.”
“Mm-hmm, that’s what they call it these days” Einar leaned in, briefly sucking on the pointed nipple, a hint of disbelief in his expression. “Any lubricant involved?”
“And a sex toy," Moe teased, grinning. “Would you prefer a demonstration? Or should I describe how I pleasured myself with a pink rubber dildo?”
“Damn,” Einar grunted briefly, removed his sweatpants, now in just a T-shirt, and delved into the hamper, searching for something, pulled out a pack of condoms. “Shut up, Moe, or I will cum before sex,” he used his teeth to rip the pack open, his complexion pale with desire, watching Moe stroke his sexy, long, lean body, “You are incredibly hot for a babysitter!”
“Are you realizing your wet puberty dream?” Moe quietly giggled, also putting a condom on. “Ever fancied fucking Manny’s babysitter?”
“Perhaps,” Einar descended upon him, a smile playing on his lips, “but you are better than my fantasy.” He slowly pushed in, his gaze intensified as he observed Moe moaning and arching his neck, then took a slow, unhurried rhythm that gradually quickened.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Moe arched upwards, panting with the sweet, slightly intense thrusts, getting used to Einar’s size and tempo with each movement. He wanted Einer to go harder, be more forceful and not look so strange, as if the panting, blushing Moe was more than just an occasional fuck buddy.
"The gaze from the gray eyes on the handsome face moved rhythmically, taking Moe all in, pushing the limits of what was acceptable, dismantling the protective cocoon. Unable to withstand the gaze, Moe shielded his eyes with the palm of his hand while simultaneously sliding his hand beneath himself, wrapping it around the burgeoning knot.
“Come on,” Moe tightened his grip, applying firm pressure to the brink of pain. Einar grunted, shaking his head, and began thrusting even harder. He seized both of Moe's hands, forming a living pair of handcuffs, rendering them immobile, gaining control in the heated encounter. With the relentlessly powerful and intoxicating thrust, Moe reached orgasm, gasping and convulsing, writhing in pleasure. He turned his face away, preventing Einar from witnessing the depth of his emotions.
They sipped the full-bodied wine in an awkward position attached with a knot. Moe, alternating between sips and moans, sat on top of Einar, who pushed in slightly with the engorged knot. Moe felt wet, calm, and still hot from the lingering sensations of micro-orgasms. Einar moaned softly, biting Moe's shoulders and caressing his belly. Despite the pleasure, Moe couldn't shake a subtle unease – Einar was invading his personal space too deftly and assertively, dismantling all barriers. Growing serious, Moe nudged the blissfully relaxed Einar, sprawled on the mattress.
"Hey, it's time for you to return to your castle."
“I could sleep here as well,” Einar drew him near, overpowering his resistance, pressing against him, and grinning despite his irritated gaze. “What's the problem?”
“I prefer sleeping alone, end of story,” Moe grumbled, moving away. “Good night, Einar.”
“Good night,” Einar frowned, pondering the cause of the coldness, and slowly got up, beginning to dress without much enthusiasm. “Why are you...”
“I'm used to being alone,” Moe grabbed a towel and stood up. “I'm heading for a shower, and you can go back to the mansion. I'll see you tomorrow.”
When Moe returned from his shower, he sighed in relief to find Einar absent from his solitary quarters. It was a small victory, sparing him the need to grow accustomed, to form attachments, to be vigilant for Einar's intrusion beyond the limits already set. With a sense of tranquility, he changed the linen that carried their shared scent and drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Manny smirked awkwardly as Moe, fresh from his morning swim, sat down at the table beside him for breakfast. However, he refrained from commenting, merely conveying his understanding through a quick glance between the composed Einar and unruffled Moe. The exchange started in the car, where Manny's derogatory comment about Moe's availability earned him a sharp blow to the gut and a humbling pat on the back of the neck as he winced in pain.
However, since then, his gaze transformed. No longer just rebellious and prepared for conflict, it now carried a hunger, as if he were seeing Moe in a new light as a potential object of desire. This shift was unsurprising—Moe had anticipated such a development. The combination of surging hormones, self-assuredness in his allure, and inherent arrogance had inevitably led him there. A predictable outcome for a stupid rich kid.
With each rejection, Manny's demeanor took on a more sinister edge. He attempted fleeting touches, followed by attempts to win favor through compliments, growing increasingly frustrated with each rebuff. Einar observed him closely, his eyes narrowing in shrewd scrutiny. As he examined Moe, he drew conclusions that remained cryptic to Moe, causing irritation. Einar subtly hinted that Moe should refrain from lounging in skimpy swim trunks by the pool, adopting tempting poses, and dressing more modestly to avoid tempting exposure of his body. Moreover, he suggested Moe should avoid sitting close to Manny, minimizing physical contact during moments of truce when they played video games.
And it was deeply insulting.
Nature adorned Moe in more modest attire, bringing a cooler breeze, and Moe distanced himself from Manny, maintaining a sense of detachment. While it appeared that the issue had resolved on its own, neither Manny nor Einar showed signs of letting it go. The tension in the atmosphere intensified steadily, resembling a ticking time bomb. After three months had passed, Moe was confronted with the long-standing, unspoken suspicion that he had tried to entice the wealthy heir.
Moe entered his room, called for a cab, hastily stuffed his clothes and chargers into his backpack, changed into warmer pants and sturdy Timberlands, grabbed a blanket, and, with a frenzied breath, stormed out of his room. He stomped along the rustling gravel towards the exit, deciding he'd walk to meet the cab, not wanting to linger any longer. The guard in the gatehouse hesitated, seemingly sensing trouble from Moe's tense demeanor. Still, he eventually let him through, tapping uncertainly on the button to open the gate. Moe trudged down the road, illuminated by the faint moonlight, exhaling clouds of frosty air and feeling a sense of relief – he had made the right decision. Forget about the remaining money; there was enough in his bank account. If Einar wanted to take it, then fuck the money. Moe could live without it, just as he had before.
Half an hour later, Moe met up with the cab. He wearily settled into the back seat, laid down on his backpack to find some comfort, and gazed wistfully at the dark, jagged forest landscape swiftly passing by the window. Why was he feeling so miserable? He had never been sensitive to insults before, never allowed anyone to become too close, so that their words could potentially inflict pain. So why was Einar capable of hurting him with a cheap insinuation? When had he managed to get under Moe's skin? Questions swirled in his mind, but there was no single answer to them. Moe sighed, taking a drag from his IQOS, and waving off the disgruntled driver. A generous tip would serve as compensation, and hopefully, it would calm him down.
He sighed with an air of gloomy indifference upon reaching the familiar neighborhood, made a stop at the 7/11 to grab some food and a bottle of wine, and headed to Henley's, whom he hadn't seen since the day he signed the contract.
"Hello, Moe," Henley greeted cheerfully, wrapped in dirty blankets as he rose. "Staying for the night?"
"Hi, Hen," Moe handed him the bottle and nestled up next to him. "I'm fed up with all of it!"
"And I told you that you shouldn’t have signed up for that shit; the rich can stomp you at any time," Hen hastily opened the bottle. "Gonna tell me about it?"
"I don't want to; I'm messed up right now. I'd rather just have a drink," Moe took the cup, downed it, and slumped back, waiting for the alcoholic heat to melt the coldness of his soul. Henley murmured encouragingly about the wealthy who could buy and sell everything, ruining lives and destinies, and under his comforting mutterings, Moe fell into a heavy, drunken sleep that brought on intense and painful visions.