Why? Because he was so tired of girls fawning over him with the glint in their eyes that said, I know exactly what you want and I can give it to you when he knew they couldn't. Lying whores. He was satisfied when they would allow him to slide into them and use them so easily. But he never returned the glint in his eye. He had the confident air that proved he had exactly what they wanted. And they could suck and lick and do whatever they wanted wherever they wanted, but they could never do it correctly. All of them attempted and failed and rose and fell in waves, just barely breaching the shoreline to graze his pleasures. He wanted to be completely emerged. He had yet to feel such a wholeness.

So that night, when some slut slunk her way towards him, thrusting her hips about and tossing her hair over her shoulder and presenting her breasts in such a manner that could drive a normal, mundane man mad, he smirked. He took her hand. He lead her up to his room. Then, he raised his eyebrow and laughed at her.

" What, my dear, makes you think that you deserve a night in bed with me? Not even a night- not even ten minutes! Tell me, who did your breasts and how much did they cost? You were robbed. They're certainly not done well enough so that you can shove them where they simply don't belong. And Jesus, don't wear that skirt with those boots when each step you take results in your thighs jiggling so! It's sickening. You have no class, no beauty, and no place in my room. Take your false impressions and get the fuck out of New York… that is, unless you plan on standing on some street corner. You're cheap. Go."

As the trash stumbled its way out of his suite, he smirked and strode to the only beverages that quenched his thirst. Alcohol. Scotch. Pure and golden and tempting and everything right.

He listened as the ice cubes clinked into the glass. He grinned like a madman when the drink of the gods flowed into the crystal and shone in the dim light. He pressed the glass to his lips and tilted it back, stifling a moan as it burned down his throat in just the right way. He was interrupted by his best friend, and his lip curled in disgust of being interrupted.

" Nathaniel," he greeted. Yes, he was pissed, but he was not going to be rude. He was a Bass. He had his standards.

The response was a chuckle and slight drawl. " That girl… you turned her down." Spoken as a statement, meant as a question.

" Yes. Easily. She was a whore. A filthy, disgusting piece of trash." He set down his drink and turned to face the boyish man, taking a step in his direction.

" Nathaniel, I'm so bored with them. They're sluts. I want challenge. I want pleasure. I want sex that has me screaming and pleading and begging for more- but not literally. Bass's are not undignified. I want someone to make me want a second night. No woman has ever done that."

Nate frowned, taking his usual seat on the couch, sprawling out and lounging.

" A person, you say. Why, Chuck, if I didn't know you, I would say you wanted a man." His fingers spread themselves on the fabric of the couch and rubbed circles.

" Mm, exactly." Chuck smirked for the second time that evening- this time, however, from anticipation and excitement rather than amusement- and lowered himself beside the man he wanted. " For one night, we will forget responsibility(because let's be honest, this isn't going anywhere after this evening) and labels and the shit our parents feed us. We're not going to think about anything but how it would feel if I moved just a bit faster or if I touched you -here-" His hand found its way between Nate's legs and he squeezed, a groan emitting from the back of the boy's throat and a swift thrust of his hips. "Tonight, I just want you."

With this, Chuck enclosed the gap between them, spreading the other man's legs and fitting himself into the space it created. His tongue trailed along the boy's lips and found its way inside his mouth. He ground his hips into his friend's while his hands expertly undid buttons. He broke away to marvel at the bare, tanned and toned chest before him already rising and falling heavily due to lack of oxygen and anticipation. He kissed each nipple and ran his tongue along each one and sucked lightly. He grinned when they were pert. He began to devour Nate's neck and swivel his hips further and closer to the other man until the scents of their colognes mixed. Chuck moved in such patterns that hit Nate in such ways that he had to close his eyes and concentrate on the amount of noise he intended not to make.

Everything moved so quickly, but so slowly and so focused, that Nate hadn't remembered his pants, Chuck's shirt and his pants being removed. Or that, now, they were sprawled upon the bed, messing the sheets the maids had so carefully tidied.

But he did see the burning in Chuck's eyes as he lowered himself onto Nate's dick, running his mouth over it, under it, and sucking so tenderly on his balls. The boy grasped the sheets, gasping for air.

He's had to have done this before. Nate shook the thought from his head. He liked to believe that this experience was both of their firsts. He had agreed so easily only because he would do anything for Chuck, murder qualifying.

Nate writhed and clutched at the back of Chuck's head as the other man brought him nearly to completion before withdrawing. He fought back a whimper and opened his eyes and looked at his friend, incredulous.

Chuck simply raised an eyebrow and climbed back up, returning to the lips he had neglected.

Between nips and kisses on his neck, Chuck whispered, " I was preparing you for something so much better. You're going to do this for me, hmm?" He knew the answer. He ran his fingers down Nathaniel's thigh, pushing slight for him to turn over. Obediently, he obliged and spread his legs. Chuck's thumb entered without warning and Nate bit into a pillow. He himself tightened in rejection. Chuck licked his lips and removed the thumb, then sucked on his index and middle fingers, staring at his companion's face. Then, swiftly, before any protest could be made, he inserted his digits and paused as Nate groaned, pain overwhelming his senses. Breathing heavily, he nodded to continue. Chuck moved slowly, scissoring them in and out and in different angles. And then, after most of the aching had disappeared, he pressed a spot that made Nate gasp, " Again!" before he could stop himself. Chuck grinned at the blush that followed. But he pressed the same spot repeatedly and quickly until his partner was panting. They were gone and replaced even more quickly than the motions before. Again, Nate tensed. "Wait," he choked, closing his eyes and grabbing onto Chuck's hand. After a few seconds, his grip loosened and let go. " Just hit that spot again. Make me feel it."

Chuck moved slowly, pursing his lips to keep from moaning. He was in control. He would show no sign of weakness. But Nate… so tight and warm and… he squeezed in all of the right places. His pace quickened and to compose himself and keep Nate from thrusting against him and taking the dominance that was his, he grasped Nate's hips and thrust harder, moving deeper and deeper and deeper. In response, Nate screamed, curling his toes as Chuck pumped harder.

Nate breathed in the scent of scotch and sweat and some cologne that was so musky and so Chuck. The sound of skin smacking over and over again was blissful. And Chuck's face, the look of pure concentration and determination(Nate liked to believe to pleasure him) was ecstasy.

And then there was an explosion of everything, and everything was right and time paused as if to take in the scene it beheld. And release. Everything and nothing was happening and it was perfect.

Chuck withdrew himself and collapsed next to Nate. He debated with himself momentarily before placing a quick, chaste kiss upon Nate's lips. Chuck refused to cuddle or show fondness or any emotion after sex. It was what it was.

" Tomorrow night."

And Nate nodded.