One Shots [OPEN]

[f] cricky : sugar daddy

Ricky rushed to clean himself up, washing his face and slipping into some nicer clothing. Almost everything he owned was from when he was still in high school, so black pants had faded to more of a grey color and almost every shirt had at least one hole or stain. He chose his least battered outfit and sat down on his mattress while he brushed his hair. He still had a few minutes so he curled up under his blanket and rested.

Ricky ended up falling asleep, waking up to someone shaking his shoulder. It was Chris, squatting by his side and attempting to get him up.

"Is this where you live?  Your front door barely even closes." Chris sighed, looking around the bare apartment. It was run down and there was no actual furniture. Ricky nodded as he sat up and pulled the covers off of him, instantly shivering. He could never afford heat and his low body fat didn't help.

"I want you to pack up anything you care about," Chris told Ricky as he stood up. "You're moving in with me." He insisted. Ricky was scared to speak out against such a strong and dominant person, but he just couldn't keep quiet.

"I can't just move in with you. I barely know you. You could be a murderer..." Ricky voiced his concern. But then again, Ricky didn't care all that much if he was killed. He wouldn't have to worry about school or work or surviving then.

"I'm not a fucking murderer... Google me. Google 'Chris Cerulli'." He ordered. Ricky sheepishly pulled his phone out and did as he was told. He found webpage after webpage.

"You listen awfully well, don't you?" Chris looked Ricky up and down, offering him a hand and helping him up.

"How much do you weigh?" Chris could tell just from his frail figure that he was underweight. Ricky shrugged his shoulders. He didn't have a scale and he never went to the doctors so he guessed he was about 90 pounds.

"Come on, time to pack up." Chris coaxed. He went to the closet and picked through it, only choosing a few pieces of clothing from it. Ricky picked out some of his trinkets that he felt were important to him and put them in a box. All that was left was items that should've been thrown out years ago. Chris checked out the kitchen, seeing a few plastic utensils and the little food.

Chris took one of the two boxes for Ricky, carrying them outside to where his Rolls Royce was waiting. Ricky was a bit surprised that someone with so much money had interest in someone with so little. Up until that point, Ricky thought the social classes mostly kept to themselves.

Chris put the boxes in the trunk and opened the passenger's side door for Ricky, shutting it behind him. He took his spot in the driver's seat and rested a hand on the smallers thigh, causing him to blush. It was a long drive to Chris' house which was situated on top of a hill like an old castle. Except instead of a stone mansion, it was a modern cube. 

Chris called for a maid to take the boxes and bring them to a spare bedroom while he showed Ricky around.  Chris kept an arm around his waist, supporting his frail body.  They walked around the property a bit and Ricky kicked at the falling leaves. 

Eventually, they headed inside, Chris showing Ricky to the living room.  Ricky was very easily intimidated. There were more decorations than he had ever owned or his parents did when he still lived with them.  There was carved wood and flowers and stacks of books.  All the furniture was tufted velvet and anything metal was gold.  Meanwhile, Ricky wore a shirt with a hole in the bottom hem and pants that were worn through at the knees.  His hair was greasy and dirty along with his skin and he felt so incredibly out of place. 

A maid rolled a cart into the room and positioned it be by Ricky's side, removing the covering to show a few plates worth or crackers and cheese and other snacks. 

"This is for me?" He asked shyly, mouth watering a bit.  The maid instructed him to eat as much as he liked and turned on the television for him, along with setting the fireplace.  It was the first time Ricky had ever been pampered in such a way.  He nibbled slowly at a cookie and then moved on to a Martini glass of mousse, but ended up with a stomach ache. 

Chris came back after Ricky had relaxed into the sofa a bit and became engrossed in a show.  He sat by Ricky's side and watched with him for a moment before turning to him.

"What do you think about living here so far?" Chris wondered, lightly trailing a hand up Ricky's thin thigh. 

"Would every day be like today?" Ricky asked quietly as he turned to Chris a bit, his stomach cramping with the twist.  He slowly glided his eyes up Chris' body to meet his stare.

"Well, you'd wake up here too. And you wouldn't go to work.  You'd sit here and look pretty and be my little baby boy." Chris explained. "If you just wanted to eat all day and sit by the fire then that would be okay." Ricky nodded as he was deep in thought.

"Why? What do you want from me? Why me in the first place?" Ricky questioned as he prepared himself to sprint from the room in case he found himself in a bad position. 

"Because I'm lonely. Because I've built an empire for myself and have no one to share it with.  I know it won't be true love or anything, but I'll have someone who is dependent on me and who I can spend time with." Chris admitted.  He knew that they'd become codependent on each other and eventually fall in love. It was just bound to happen. 

Ricky nodded as he thought again.

"But why me?" He asked again, biting his lip and nervously playing with his hands. 

Chris sighed and took a deep breath.

"You're cute. But you don't really acknowledge you're cute so I don't have to worry about you running off.  You were obviously having a hard time at work but you consistently make me the most amazing coffee ever.  Also, you clearly need the help." Chris leaned in closer. "And between us, I know you got a tight ass that needs some tending." Chris snickered and slipped his hand to the inside of Ricky's thigh and squeezed lightly, making him blush.