Disclaimer/ author's note: If you're up to chapter four, you've seen the disclaimer, return to a previous chapter if you need an update. Anyway, the e-mail address is the same. Lemonlimechaser@yahoo.com if you need to contact me. Enjoy.


by ben

Chapter Four.


Sunlight is everyone's worst enemy, whether or not you realize that. Skin cancer, the need for sunglasses and...other things make the sun a twenty-first century teenager's worst enemy. This morning, I was not ready to feel its wrath. Yet the sun forced its way behind my eyelids and tossed me into a non-comatose state.

I barely remembered the night before and certainly couldn't figure out where I was until my eyes slipped open cautiously to the bright daylight.

Expecting foreign surroundings, I was pleasantly disappointed to find my room and furthermore, my roommate sitting at the head of my head staring into his copy of Paradise Lost.

"Yo." I tried with a yawn, stretching my arms above my head.

"You masturbated in public, let a guy you didn't even know give you oral sex, performed oral sex on a guy you didn't know and finally, let someone you didn't know engage you in anal sex. Productive night." He said without looking at me.

He was mad and I was tired.

"Dude, if you wanted to..."

He cut me off and turned his full attention to me.

"If I wanted to what?!? Sleep with you? I could have joined the line. If I didn't get you out of there, they all would have had their chance. Now, I'll never be invited to another underground party as long as I attend because everyone who matters thinks I'm a killjoy." He was borderline furious.

I blinked at him, fully awake.

"Wow. I'm sorry..."

"You are not. You got off, right? What else matters, you..." He stopped himself.

"Why are you chewing me out?" I lashed back, the words coming out weak and indifferent, either louder or softer than I had intended.

"In no particular order, I thought you'd like to know who you fucked last night because I'm sure you didn't catch their names: Martin Pratt, Griffin Oakley and..."

The wheels clicked in my mind, "Lucien Grey."

Iggy opened his mouth to speak but instead bit his lip and shrugged. He got off my bed while I searched for an apology somewhere inside myself. His shoulders slumped as he tossed his book across the room into the trash.

"I...wasn't -- I mean, I'm sorry." I stumbled while sitting up in the bed.

"Hey, whatever, look." Iggy reached over to his bed and tossed me a crumpled sheet of paper. "It was under our door this morning."

I scratched my head as I unfolded the letter.



You were the life of the party, fuck Bruno and Ashley, your performance was one for the books. It was a shame that St. Paul ruined the end of it but whatever. You are most definitely invited to our little impromptu luau in the school courtyard next Sunday, vaguely the same time. We'd LOVE to see you there.


-Your ever gracious host, Lucien Grey


p.s. Don't bring the stick-in-the-mud.

I suppressed a grin for Iggy's sake because by the look on his face, he'd read it a couple times and wasn't quite willing to share in my success. I decided it was better to let him cool down than to try to reason with him yet. Instead, I stretched and crawled out from under the covers and almost felt embarrassed finding myself wearing underwear, if only because it meant Iggy had brought me back in that state and even though angry at me, helped me get dressed.

I wanted to thank him but instead went over to my dresser to get a shirt and a pair of khakis. Today after all, was my first day in the Dean's office.


I arrived in the waiting room four minutes late and a self-important prick sitting behind the assistant's desk gave me a smug look.

"You must be the problem child, no wonder you're late."

He looked like a gay man. Even from across the room, he smelled like a gay man and his perfect set of capped teeth yelled failed actor turned West Hollywood hustler cum houseboy. His highlights were off though and his tan was lacking, if you looked closely, his Dolce & Gabbana shirt was two seasons behind. He was an ex-houseboy, fallen from grace and taking his frustration out on school kids.

"Who hired you?" I questioned aloud accidentally-ish.

A dark cloud passed his features and his smile tensed like a cat ready to pounce. He was not only gay but clawed.

"Excuse me?" It was a challenge on repetition.

I decided to stand down.

"What swamp did they drag you out of, Secretary Barbie?"

I lied.

"You mother..." He huffed through gritted teeth, rising from his seat menacingly.

"Kyle. Is he in yet?" A voice came through the intercom, cutting the assistant's rage like a butcher's knife through an errant pig.

"Uhm...yes, Mr. White, sir. He's right here..." `Kyle' stammered as he lowered himself back into his seat.

"Then send him in" came the reply.

I walked past the assistant before he could even shoot me a glance. It wasn't worth it to argue anyway.

Entering the Dean's office, I expected...something beside what I got. The Dean sat behind his desk, looking just as hot as before and in one of the two seats before him was Lucien Grey.

"Mr. Raleigh. You were four minutes late, care to tell me why?" He asked with an undertone of `you're caught.'

"Uh, I overslept." I answered, sitting in the seat beside Lucien and pretending not to recognize him. "Who is this?"

"This is Lucien, Lucien Grey." The Dean answered. "He'll be showing you the ins and outs of the system."

"It's nice to meet you." Lucien said to me, dark eyes glittering.

"Well, Lucien will show you to the administrative computer center and you'll start working, any questions he can't answer you can leave with my assistant because I'll be out for the morning and most of the afternoon." He instructed, waving to the door. "Have fun."

I doubted it.

Once we were in the computer room, Lucien locked the doors behind us, shut the lights off and closed the shades. I tried not to get hard and wondered which one of the three he'd been the night before. Once he was done, he walked up to me and put one hand around my waist and used the other to grab my balls. Though I had been trying, it was kind of futile at that point...

"Full?" He asked, the reference to the state of my balls taking a second to sink in.

"Lucien..." I attempted.

"I mistook you Graham. I really figured you for an asshole when Iago introduced us but..." He massaged my balls a bit through my khakis. "...you are really something else."

"About Iago..." I tried again.

"What about him?" Lucien asked pulling closer and touching his lips to mine as he continued to work his hands across my churning balls.

It wasn't long until the tip of his tongue slid across the tip of mine and an almost electric shock passed through me. It felt good. I hadn't kissed in a while. I pulled back anyway.

"What is it?" He said impatiently, fixing a `not-so-happy' look on me.

"I think...Iago really likes you. I don't feel good about this." I couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth.

He stared at me blankly for a minute.

"Iago St. Paul? Are you shitting me?"

I shrugged.

"Nope, I guess." That didn't even make sense.

"But...we've already had sex once to a standing ovation, why not have a private encore?" He said, taking a step forward and reaching for my zipper this time.

I resisted a bit but not enough and Lucien managed to slip his tongue back in my mouth for an even more electric sensation. I kissed him back, a bit, my tongue moving against his and my lips rotating slowly like rusty axles grinding after decades of disuse. I stopped.

"Fuck!" Lucien cried, frustrated. "St. Paul is a loser, he's hot yes but if he can't tell me himself that he has a crush then why should I waste my time? You on the other hand."

I raised an eyebrow and he continued.

"You know what you want, you go for it. Just like when you masturbated in front of all those people. Iago will never be the kind of guy you are and that's why I want you and not him. Just...accept that and kiss me."

"I need to learn how to use this system so I can get to work." The words sounded distant and foreign slipping from my lips. I hoped I wasn't developing a conscience. I told myself that I was just trying to get into Iggy's pants.

"Are you...?" Lucien looked at me in a mix of disbelief, anger and a bit of embarrassment. "You are not going to have sex with me?"

I shook my head and he walked over and flicked on the light. Then he sat in front of a computer and his fingers started flying over the keyboard.

"This is how you get into the system, here's the password. Once you're in, this is what you do." Before I could even sit down next to him, he was already six steps ahead and refused to slow down.

By the end of the afternoon, I'd learned one command and how to turn down good ass for a friend.

"Coreopsis Rosea"


By lunch, Iggy and I weren't talking, unbeknownst to me. Ashley came over as I exited the cafeteria line with a tray full of goodies and informed me.

"Iago isn't talking to you, so we're not talking to you. Good shit at the pool party though, stud." He said with a wink as he walked away.

I glanced over at Lucien's table where he was being talked to by two boys, a blond and a blond with a green rinse. He caught me looking and gave me a withering look before returning bored to his conversation.

Left with no friendly faces to sit with, I picked a table with one other person and sat down across him.

"Hey." I managed.

He didn't respond and I actually looked at him. His curly hair was so much messier than my blond mop that it was beyond comparison. His two different color eyes, one green and one hazel, made him seem an exotic rarity among the sea of blue eyes at the school. It took a while for me to realize he was black, though he was probably just one half-shade darker than my `barely-giving-a-fuck' tan, but he was.

"Uh huh" He sighed, staring past me at the cafeteria line.

Out of curiosity, I traced his line of sight back to guy in a tan blazer, brown tie, a Top.

"You know him?" I ventured, trying to make conversation.

He snapped back to reality.

"What? Oh yeah...He was like, a friend of mine..." He said in a far-away voice. I was skeptical, at this school, `friend' seemed to mean fuck buddy.

"Graham Raleigh." I said, extending my hand.

He took it. "Hunter McTyre."

I paused and my brain went on scan.

"McTyre, like...McTyre & Grayson, the celebrity law firm." I asked.

He looked surprised.

"Yeah, that's right. My father is Roger McTyre." He looked at me with a level gaze. "Gregory Grayson is my stepfather."

I had heard my father talking about the gay couple who could get you out of any trouble, for a steep price, which for him meant a share of the earnings of his latest film. When he balked, they reminded him that producers who go to jail for manslaughter usually don't make movies. The film did exceedingly well.

I shrugged.

"My father had some business with your...fathers?" I took a gamble.

He half-smiled, not giving a fuck who my father did business with, I appreciated the honesty of his body language.

"So that guy, the Top, who is he?" I asked, genuinely interested for now.

Hunter sighed, the average response of the affluent.

"He used to be Alexander Weatherby. Now, he's Alexander Michael Cross. His mother is Celeste Cross and they met a few years back." He read my blank look. "You don't know Celeste Cross...Shit, who are you? She's the media mogul who axed the former president of AMU -- you know...American Media United -- in the back so that she could climb the ladder."

By the end I didn't care about the history. Each person had their very own long and convoluted explanation of who your parents were and how they could afford to not care enough to send you here.

"Oh." I said finally.

He rolled his eyes.

"We knew each other before we got here. His father was our architect and Alex...I mean, Alexander was his assistant I guess. We would all go to the site of the house well before it was built and our fathers would hash out the plans. Alexander and I, well, we hooked up." He looked up at me to see if I was buying his story, I had no reason not to.

"It got serious after a while and we started seeing each other well after the house was built. Then I got sent here for some shit...but we still corresponded. Then suddenly there was nothing, no letters or calls or anything. Apparently, his mother got back into his life and took custody with relatively little fight. She changed his name and suddenly the architect's son was better than his rich playmate. The tables turned and he came here. I never looked down on him but that doesn't matter here, now does it?"

"I guess it doesn't." I said, taking the first sip of the lemonade on my tray.



After classes, with Hunter's boy troubles still on my mind, I went back to my room for a nap before dinner and found Iggy just collapsing on his own bed fully dressed. Without even looking over to the door he groaned and put a pillow over his head. Frustrated I slammed the door and went over to Iggy's bed, he moved to take the pillow off and react but by then I'd already straddled his waist and pinned his hands. A string of curses poured out of his mouth as he flayed his legs and tossed the pillow off of his face using his mouth.

"Lucien Gray is an asshole. You don't need him." I roared over his noise.

He calmed a bit, still struggling against me.

"Shut up. What do you know, whore? What was it lousy the second time you fucked him?" I'd never heard the word used so venomously, accusing me of being the worst kind of low, of being damaged beyond repair. "Get the fuck off of me, whore!"

I did.

I was amazed, for a minute. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, I was angry. At first I just blinked at him there, his hair tousled and his cute face twisted into a wretched scowl. I had tried to help, to fix the mistake and he was still here angry and seething. I promised to never try to do anything for anyone ever again. But before that...

"You --" I started and then stopped.

Instead of saying what was written across my face, I walked away from him and out of the room. I'd take my nap elsewhere.

Hunter's room was one the other side of the building and by the time I got there, I was a mess of confused emotions. I was angry but, I was something else, I couldn't get a handle on it. I knocked on his door and he answered, his curly hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. Without asking questions I stepped in and closed the door, he looked confused so I wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled him forward.


I guess I should have mentioned there was no real sex here...

I kind of forgot then decided to put it down here.

Ah well.