Summary: When Mrs. Iero gets fed up of always having her son, Frank, do yardwork and tend to the pool, (since her husband is always too drunk to do anything at all) she hires someone to do it for her, what she likes to call a "Pool Boy." oh the thrills they will have... Pairing: Gerard/Frank Rating: 12/15 ~ Swearing ~ Sexual Content I do not own anyone in this story, none of this has ever happened before, this is all just a figment of my imagination that I have written down and posted in this thread; the only thing that I own that is somewhat related to this would be the mouse-pad. :glare: [M] = Mature Rating Chapter Index: Prologue - Page 1 Chapter 1 - Page 1 Chapter 2 - Page 2 Chapter 3 - Page 3 Chapter 4 - Page 4 Chapter 5 - Page 7 Chapter 6 - Page 8 Chapter 7 - Page 9 Chapter 8 - Page 10 Chapter 9 - Page 12 Chapter 10 - Page 14 [M] Chapter 11 - Page 16 Chapter 12 - Page 19 Chapter 13 - Page 22 Chapter 14 - Page 24 [M] Chapter 15 - Page 27 Chapter 16 - Page 31 Chapter 17 - Page 34 [M] Chapter 18 - Page 38 Chapter 19 - Page 39 Chapter 20 - Page 41 Chapter 21 - Page 44 Chapter 22 - Page 47 Chapter 23 - Page 50 Chapter 24 - Page 53 Chapter 25 - Page 56 [M] Chapter 26 - Page 58 Chapter 27 - Page 59 Chapter 28 - Page 64 Chapter 29 - Page 67 [M] Chapter 30 - Page 72 Chapter 31 - Page 75 [M] Chapter 32 - Page 88 Chapter 33 - Page 92 Chapter 34 - Page 103 [Final Chapter] Prologue Frank's Point Of View: "Mom, I'm telling you, we really don't need a 'Pool Boy'," I argued, making quote signs with my fingers when I used my mother's pet name for whoever she needed to have help me with yardwork and attending the in-ground pool. "I don't care, I already called him and he agreed to come over tomorrow to check out the pool and that fun stuff; besides, what am I supposed to do with this?" My mom inquired, holding up a spandex-tight rainbow speedo. "You bought a speedo for him, too? What the fuck is up with that?" I said, my eyes practically popping out of my head. Just thinking about someone wearing that near me, especially a boy, made me shudder. Seeing as I'm gay and all, (but my mom doesn't know that) it's gonna be tough to not get a hard-on with an almost-naked guy that's gonna be here every other day cleaning my pool. I mean come on, that speedo looks really tight, you know what that means? I means that everyone will be able to see the bulge were his dick is. I mean, that'd be kinda embarrassing, don't you think? Especially with a homosexual guy that's gonna be there to watch your every move... "Yes I did, it's gonna be hot out, and plus, it'd be sexy to come home to see that anyways," My mom said, smirking at the glittery speedo. "Mom.. You're old, you have absolutely no chance with him, and I'm starting to realize how much of a sick freak you are," I said, still weirded out by this whole situation. "Don't call your mother a sick freak you ass!" My mom practically yelled at me. "Too late!" I said, dodging the speedo she threw at me, running up the stairs to my room. Upon entering my room, I was welcomed by the warming smell of Febreeze. I don't know, ever since I was twelve I've had a weird habit of spraying everything in my room with Febreeze, it smells good, alright? Five years later, I'm 17 and I still love the smell of Febreeze, I even keep a few bottles of it in my closet. I walked over to my bed, dodging the scattered pieces of clothing on my navy blue carpet. My bed had black sheets and blankets, and a bright orange pillow; it matched my room. My walls were painted black and orange (my favorite colors), it had orange painted down the sides of the black walls to make it look like blood was dripping from the ceiling. But that was hard to see because the majority of my room was all posters of bands, skulls, wolves, and Slash. Ever since I knew who Slash was, I've been obsessed and was inspired to play guitar in a band. Hence why I have a Les Paul Epiphone in the corner of my room, adjacent to the black amp that came with it. I even named my guitar Pansy, which was my aunt's favorite type of flower, before she died of breast cancer two years ago. My thoughts were interuppted when the familiar sound of Guns 'N Roses: Sweet Child O' Mine played from my Verizon phone. I dug my phone out of my pocket, looking at the screen to see the name 'Bob' flash on the screen. "Hello?" I said into the phone. "Hey man, what's up?" Bob said from the other end of the line. "Nothing much, you?" I replied. "Nothin' really, my mom's being a bitch right now, as always," Bob said, annoyance obvious in his voice. "How so?" "Ugh, she flipped out because I refused to rake the lawn," he sighed. "Haha, that's too bad," I said, toying with him. "Does your mom do shit like that to you?" He asked me. "Eh, sometimes, but now she wants to get a pool boy and he's gonna start tomorrow," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, as if he could see me. "Your mom got a pool boy?!"