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Patrick grumbles under his breath as Mr. Rose’s adult son, David, saunters through the French doors of the mansion and walks his oiled body over to a lounge chair. Like every day this week, Patrick is about to be graced with this man’s distracting presence while he is supposed to be cleaning the pool.

Yesterday, Mr. Rose’s daughter, Alexis, was hanging around too but she’s off on a trip to Dubai now, if Patrick heard right. Patrick really wishes David had gone too. It’s very difficult to focus on removing detritus from the pool with David lounging around practically naked, designer shades on, frequently sipping something alcoholic from a cocktail glass, and occasionally making out with a visitor. David doesn’t appear to discriminate based on gender. All kinds of people have passed through.

Patrick is just trying to make some money for his next year of college. His uncle helped him find this job, cleaning rich people’s pools for the summer, and Patrick needs to be professional. Staring at David all day because he’s blisteringly hot is not professional. Patrick should be focused on his work, even if David looks like he’s modelling for a swimsuit company, especially since he seems to wear a different (hot) swimsuit every day.

And for some reason, David keeps making out with boring rich people who aren’t remotely on David’s level. It’s not like it matters or anything, since his job is to clean the dumb pool and not have an opinion on the hotness of David’s make-out partners, but he can’t help but notice that none of these people seem attractive or interesting at all.

In his peripheral vision, Patrick sees David stretch and drops the leaf skimmer. He curses and fishes it out of the pool, glad the hot sun has already made his face flushed.

Patrick’s nearly done cleaning out the filter when a man strolls on to the pool deck and straddles David. Patrick looks away quickly. He can hear them, though - the slow, lazy sound of their lips meeting again, again. Patrick swallows; his throat is very dry. These shorts are not going to hide anything if he doesn’t manage to get himself under control soon.

Again his gaze is drawn back to them. The newest visitor has his mouth fixed to David’s throat, and David’s arching into it, his sunglasses pushed back on his head. The sounds he’s making. Patrick looks away but only for a few moments and then he’s helplessly looking again until David’s eyes open and he sees Patrick watching.

Patrick whirls around, horrified, and hurries into the cabana. He can’t be spying on his employer’s son, god. He’s not getting turned on at work; that would be entirely inappropriate. Everything is fine.

Oh god, he doesn’t want to find another job right now. It’s actually very nice working out in the sun, and it’s peaceful when there aren’t attractive people around to sidetrack him.

He’s straightening the pool noodles in their rack when he can feel the presence of someone behind him, someone standing in the door of the cabana. He looks over his shoulder quickly, surprised. It’s David - tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a fitted black swimsuit that Patrick finds himself staring at until he realizes what he’s doing and rips his gaze up. But that’s worse; now he’s looking at David’s face, handsome and tanned with stubble that Patrick wants to feel on the insides of his thighs so badly his mouth waters. David was making out with some guy a moment ago. What happened to him?

And oh joy, now Patrick hasn’t said anything for way too long. “Oh! Uh, do you need something in here?”

David arches a very sexy brow. “Hmm, depends what you’re offering. I’m not the kind of person that comes on to the staff. But like, if that’s your thing…”

Patrick’s jaw nearly drops. Maybe it actually does. He feels faint. David’s asking if—David wants—

No, god, he can’t. He can just imagine it now: Mr. Rose sternly ordering him off his property because he hired Patrick to clean the pool, not explore David’s mouth with his tongue. He’ll be fired! Fired in disgrace!

Patrick shakes his head. “I should—I have to finish…” He cannot for the life of him remember what he has to finish.

“Suit yourself.” David shrugs in a lazy, unconcerned way that somehow only makes Patrick more attracted to him. It’s rude and dismissive and hot as hell. Then he leaves the cabana, Patrick’s eyes drawn to David’s ass as he saunters back out into the sun in his fancy sandals.

Patrick takes a second to breathe. David just propositioned him. Hot David with his little swimsuit and his freckled, oily chest and muscled calves just gave Patrick an opening. Patrick, the coward, didn’t take it.

This is a running theme in Patrick’s life, being too scared to make a different move, too concerned about the way things look and people’s expectations of him, to follow a whim and do what he wants instead of what he should.

Evidently, today is not the day he tries to reverse that, so Patrick finishes organizing the stupid pool noodles, and by the time he heads back outside David is gone, leaving only a empty cocktail glass as evidence of what happened.

David is already on the lounge chair under an umbrella when Patrick arrives for work the following morning. That is out of the ordinary since David doesn’t usually show up until mid-afternoon. But, in fact, he’s sleeping—snoring, actually.

The sight of it makes Patrick stop in his tracks. It’s so adorable that it doesn’t fit Patrick’s idea of David, who he’s been thinking of as this scorching hot socialite who doesn’t have to do anything with his days because his father is the owner of a video rental empire and his mother a soap opera star.

Not nearly as distracted, Patrick gets a lot of his work done quickly with David occupied by sleep instead of his usual horizontal activities. David is roused just after noon when the guy from yesterday shows up again. Patrick doesn’t like him. He hasn’t done anything, besides make out with David, so yeah, Patrick doesn’t like him.

They get in the pool and there’s a lot of splashing around for a bit until the guy pins David against the wall. Patrick averts his gaze but not for long. When he looks over, wishing he could resist in any way, David meets his gaze over the guy’s shoulder. He smirks.

Patrick turns away, flushing hot with arousal. David’s hanging out with this guy, but he’s looking at Patrick.

Patrick escapes to the safety of the pool house to start changing out of his work clothes. He’s just taken off his sleeveless top when David strolls right in. “So,” he says, folding his arms across his chest. “This is the last time I’m gonna ask because otherwise it’s just desperate.” Patrick drops the t-shirt he was about to change into and holds his breath. “You have this nice wholesome vibe that’s really doing it for me. Like, who cleans a pool in cargo shorts?”

David’s teasing him. “What would you prefer I wear?” Patrick asks, shocked at his own daring.

David takes a step closer. “Nothing.”

Patrick just bites back a gasp. He’s getting hard in his wholesome cargo shorts. “I - your dad hired me to—”

“Oh my god! Please don’t talk about my dad while I’m asking if you want to hook up,” David says haughtily.

“Sorry,” Patrick says automatically, and then he feels really stupid. He also feels like he’s burning up from the inside out. His pulse beats a nervous rhythm. “You - you really want to—?” He can’t even say it. He’s never expressed a desire so directly before. He’s made out with a few guys at school, but fully clothed, and that’s obviously not what David’s getting at here.

“Yes,” David says firmly. He’s taken addition steps toward Patrick, now just a few feet away. “What I want is to peel those shorts off you. I want to get in the pool and then I want you to rub your cock all over me ‘til you come, and then I want to do the same. I want you to do to me what you’ve been doing with your eyes all week.”

Patrick makes a strangled sound. If he gave one iota of a fuck right now, he would probably be embarrassed about it, but his brain is busy conjuring those mental images, and he is so, so hard, god. “But someone might see.” Why is that his sole objection? He's not actually contemplating this...

David looks Patrick up and down. “Let’s just say this is the witching hour. No one’s home.”

Patrick can't help himself. “What happened to... that guy before?”

“Who, Virgil?” David sniffs and looks at his nails with an air of disinterest, but it seems a bit performative; he waves the hand in an airy, dismissive way. “Something about needing to attend The Situation’s launch of a new self-tanner.”

Patrick tilts his head as he processes that. “Wow. Virgil sounds like an idiot,” he says.

David exhales a laugh, his eyes suddenly soft when his gaze settles on Patrick. He closes the distance between them in the next moment, shrugging in a self-deprecating way. “I do have a type. But I think I might like to switch it up. You really do seem refreshingly nice and wholesome.” He puts his hand on the drawstring of Patrick’s shorts and looks him directly in the eye. “So?”

Oh god, Patrick wants, with a ferocity that feels overwhelming. He only hesitates for a second, long enough for the logic centre of his brain to register its usual concern about propriety, and then Patrick nods jerkily. David promptly tugs on the drawstring and slips Patrick’s shorts and underwear off. Patrick gasps, instantly nervous about being completely naked in front of this extremely attractive stranger. God, David doesn’t even know his name! Patrick’s never hooked up with someone who didn’t know his name.

David pulls his own swimsuit off with a tug of his thumbs and turns to leave the pool house, apparently comfortable with nudity, and glances back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

And, well, it sure looks like Patrick’s gonna be coming.

In the water, David licks into Patrick’s mouth, and Patrick groans and kisses back. He strokes along the wet skin of David’s shoulders and gasps as David moves to mouth at the water pooling at Patrick’s collarbones. Patrick whimpers.

“My name’s Patrick,” he blurts out. It must be quite the non sequitur, but David doesn’t seem to bat an eye.

“Mm, Patrick the pool boy.” Patrick shivers, liking that maybe more than he should. David kisses him then pulls back to give Patrick a shrewd look. “Have you ever done something like this with a guy before?”

Patrick shakes his head, moaning and biting his lip. “Never. Just some making out. But, um, we were wearing clothes. I don’t - I don’t know if I’ll be good or—”

“Oh, I can tell you’re gonna be good,” David murmurs into his ear, and Patrick keens and wraps his legs around David’s waist, kissing him hard. They make out for a minute against the wall of the pool, and then they’re rubbing against each other.

The silky smooth sensation of David’s cock against Patrick’s in the wet of the water makes Patrick clutch David’s hips. They find a rhythm and go for it. Patrick is crying out into the open air, head tipped back, clutching at David’s biceps. He’s flushed and hot all over at the idea that someone might hear him, might see them out here, David and the pool boy David found interesting enough to bring into his orbit.

He thrusts against David, his hands moving non-stop over the hot form he’s been admiring for days, ruts until he comes so hard his hold around David’s waist slips. He gasps and moans, trembling, but David just lifts him higher and thrusts until he comes, too. David’s teeth graze Patrick’s shoulder as he hums his pleasure, and he plants one kiss on Patrick’s pulse point. Patrick’s cock pulses a final time, and he lets out a frantic moan. “Jesus, you’re fucking hot,” he breathes out.

“Thank you,” David laughs. “And I was right about your wholesome… thing. Very hot yourself.”

Wordlessly, David disentangles himself and starts to get out of the pool, and Patrick barely stops himself from holding David close and refusing to let go. Right, he just got off with, for all intents and purposes, a client. And David has many… (paramours? No, that might be the worst word in the world) people that come through, so why would David want anything besides a quick one-off with the pool boy?

Patrick stands at his full height, then climbs the ladder to exit the pool. The nakedness that had seemed transgressive and hot a moment ago now feels exposing and awkward. Except David passes him a big fluffy towel as he wraps one around his own waist. David doesn’t look at him as he speaks. “Um, I’m gonna have the cook make a grilled cheese. Swimming always makes me very hungry.” David glances over then away quickly. “Do you want one? Or do you have to… I don’t know, get to the next pool on your schedule?”

Patrick recognizes the opening and takes it immediately. “Well, I think I have to clean up the mess we made first,” he says with a grimace, pointing at the pool with his thumb, and David gives Patrick a grimace to match, laughing, and gosh that’s a gorgeous sight and sound. “But then, yeah, a grilled cheese would be nice,” Patrick adds, smiling and trying not to look as goopy as he feels.

David smiles. “Cool. I don’t like the feeling of chlorine on my skin, so I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He gestures to the pool house. “Did you want to join me?”

“I don’t know, David,” Patrick says playfully. “A shower could distract me from my very important job.”

David gives Patrick a sly, surprised look, his smile crooked. “Well, don’t let me distract you,” David says archly, shooting a saucy look over his shoulder as he starts off for the pool house.

But Patrick follows David. He can’t remember what he should be doing just now.