"Open the door!" Oliver awoke from his dreams to the ear-cracking sound of knuckles on wood. Seizing the keys on the counter, he fumbled for the lock. "I'm coming, sir!" The pressure of sleepiness and the increasing impatience of this anonymous visitor impaired his senses, making it all the more difficult to grant the person's wishes. "Open the door!" Finally, Oliver twisted the jagged piece of metal and the door swung open from the kicks and bangs of the impatient guest. Walking in to the room, Noah Claypole glanced around for a moment, absorbing his surroundings. But there was one particular entity in the room that attracted his attention more than anything else: the boy who had opened the door. "Are you looking for a coffin, sir?"
"No, thank you."
"May I be of any assistance?"
"I have no idea yet, what's your name?"
"Oliver Twist, sir."
"How old are you Oliver Twist?"
"Thirteen, sir," the boy bowed slightly on the word 'sir' giving Noah a sense of superiority. He liked this. Pausing a while to take in the boy's physical appearance, Noah Claypole realised that Oliver Twist was taller than most other boys of 13, and that he was rather close to Noah's own height, and he had a handsome boyish face. He was also slightly muscular, this puzzled Noah.
"Oliver Twist, how long have you been here?"
"I arrived from the workhouse yesterday evening, sir." That was it, the workhouse. Manual labour may be cruel, but it certainly makes a person easier on the eyes.
"Please, Oliver, don't call me 'sir.'"
"Oh. If you don't mind my asking, what is your name?"
"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Noah Claypole."
"Noah, Mr Claypole, this sounds rude but may I ask what you're looking for?" Noah, unsure whether or not to take offence at these questions, stood up straight, as though trying to cause an eclipse with just his shadow.
"I am here on a visit. I am a family friend, which makes me your superior. You are under me, Oliver Twist." Speaking these words, Noah recoiled a little at the image they planted in his head. He began to wonder. 'Is this wrong? It feels so right, it could work…' Regaining his composure, Noah stepped a little towards Oliver Twist. "You are under me, Oliver Twist." Inching further towards the boy, Noah repeated the words, toying with the thought of what might happen next. "Oliver Twist, you are under me." Oliver looked startled now, as though Noah was having some kind of fit.
"Mr Claypole, are you alright? You seem distant."
"I feel great." Noah stopped walking and placed his hand on Oliver's shoulder. Oliver smiled at him weakly, clearly still worried. Noah smiled back. Slowly, he began to move his hand down Oliver's arm, stroking the muscles as he travelled. Stopping at Oliver's wrist, Noah worked his way back up the arm. Gazing into Oliver's eyes, he could see the boy was adjusting to the idea of an encounter with Noah. Bringing a hand to the back of Oliver's neck, Noah pulled the boy close. Their lips within touching distance, Noah again uttered "you are under me, Oliver Twist." And with that, he kissed the boy square on the lips, passionately hugging Oliver's lips with his own. After a moment's hesitation, Oliver began to return the kiss, pushing his tongue in to the older boy's mouth. They stayed like this for a short while, their tongues licking over and around each other, their hands began to explore each other's bodies. Necks, shoulders, arms, backs, chests were all caressed, kissed with fingertips. Eventually their hands settled – Oliver's on Noah's rear, Noah's on the younger boy's crotch. He began to rub and Noah felt both their cocks grow simultaneously. Oliver was now kissing Noah's neck, sucking and nibbling on the soft flesh a little.
Before long, both boys were at their largest, and they began to undress each other. Slowly at first, but then they were both gripped by desire, by passion, by curiosity. Shirts were ripped violently from their bodies, braces were snapped, trousers were tugged at viciously until they gave in to gravity. Kneeling down, Noah placed Oliver's youthful appendage in his mouth. They were both grasped by many long moments of pleasure, Noah tugging on the boy's balls like a kitten playing with wool, Oliver's eyes rolling back into his skull. After a close shave with choking, Noah stood up and Oliver took over. Not just sucking, but kissing and licking Noah's cock, Oliver felt wanted, felt loved. Noah was certainly enjoying his company, no one had ever been quite as welcoming towards Oliver Twist as Noah Claypole was being right now. Not wanting to disappoint, Oliver kept going, Noah placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, digging his nails in to the young, muscular flesh. Oliver shrugged of the sudden pain of nails drawing blood and kept at work on Noah's throbbing member. After thirty or so seconds, Noah came inside the boy's mouth. Still obsessed with aiming to please, Oliver swallowed. Noah pulled his cock out of Oliver's mouth and pulled the boy up off of his knees. They kissed again for a moment, but it was clear that they both longed for what was inevitably coming next. After sucking on Noah's tongue for half of a second longer, Oliver turned around slowly and leant over the Sowerberrys' counter, his arms spread across the surface as though trying to cling to it. Noah picked up his trousers from the floor placing them in front of Oliver's face.
"Noah, what are those for?"
"I'm going to need you to bite down on them, this may hurt."
"Oh."
"Don't be scared, I'll try not to."
Oliver took a deep breath and bit down on the crinkled seem of Noah's trousers.
"Are you ready?"
"Mmmghas," Oliver mumbled.
"Good." And with a final "you are under me, Oliver Twist" Noah spread himself across Oliver, gripping the young boy's hands, holding them in place. "1, 2… 3" Noah entered Oliver with force, a force that Oliver had been warned about. Or was it a promise that Noah had made him? Either way, it hurt. Oliver screamed through the creases of Noah's trouser crotch. Noah dismissed this, and Oliver thought again of how wanted he felt, needed even. Noah increased speed and Oliver became accustomed to the concept of a cock in his arse, and the pleasure it brought him. Noah pulled out of Oliver and came again, this time on his hand. He took the trousers from Oliver's mouth and wiped his hand clean on them.
"Would you like me to be under you, Oliver Twist?"
"Shut up." Oliver kissed Noah again, biting his lip as passion overcame him. At that moment, a door opened. And in walked Mr Sowerberry.
"What is going on in my parlour?"
'Shit,' Oliver thought, 'this is going to be hard to explain.' He glanced at Noah who was close to laughter. Noah took the boy's hand and, ignoring Mr Sowerberry's protests, scooped up their clothes. And both boys ran, quite naked and laughing, out of the undertakers' house and off into the cool, dark morning.