Tart, Nate Rivers thought to himself as his small pout molded itself around a thick lemon wedge. He'd plucked it from his peach tinted glass, ignoring the sparkling clear fluid inside. He sucked on the yellow fruit until it was dehydrated, pitilessly pressing it with his tongue until it withered and dissolved in defeat. The acrid flavors burned the sensitive flesh of his cheeks and stung the tender roof of his mouth.
Nate adored sour foods, unpleasant people, and cold emptiness in every possible form. Despite his preciously diminutive appearance he had an incredibly malicious personality. He was the type of child that snapped the wings off insects and pulled the tails of cats for sport. Nate was also callously, calculatingly brilliant. His IQ was off the charts for his prepubescent age. Predictably, he didn't get along with other children very well so he remained isolated, inaccessible, and unapproachable.
He was plaything pretty, spoiled rotten, filthy rich, and exceedingly bored despite the fact that he was currently residing at a five star resort.
Currently, Nate's parents were off somewhere schmoozing and becoming drunk off of expensive champagne. His mother was a pageant queen housewife who readily married for money. His father was a mousey businessman who was the chairman of a vicious pyramid scheme. Neither one of them took any interest in Nate unless they were bragging about his academic achievements to others. Nate had no form of affection for them or anyone else.
His unsympathetic gray gaze scanned the peppy scene in front of him with distaste. Chatty tourists and gluttonously large pools annoyed him. The crooked smiles and blobby forms bothered him. Nate liked perfection, and geometric shapes, and sharp angles. He shifted in his textured lawn chair, drawing his towel over his porcelain face. It was too hot for him to be outside. He was deathly allergic to the sun and it seemed to scorch him from the inside out. He managed to catch the gaze of a blonde pool waitress. When he spoke, his placid voice sounded like baby powder. He daintily waved his tiny fingers for attention.
"Excuse me, Miss."
As the waitress drew closer, Nate visually read the sharp cheekbones and budging pectorals. The person was actually male.
"Ah, my apologies…"
He wasn't sorry at all. Nate treasured making others humiliated and uncomfortable. He loved to see people squirm. Humans were naturally faulted and Nate's favorite sport was exploiting the fissures in their physique.
Unfortunately, the other boy seemed infuriatingly unaffected. He smiled warmly at Nate and bent down so they could be face to face.
"That's alright. What can I do for you?"
Nate resented the cocky confidence of the waiter's aura. His voice was just a bit too emphasized to be of pure intent. His blue eyes sparkled with self-assurance and he smelled of spicy cologne. Nate couldn't return such a gaze. The young man was far too physically close for Nate's liking. Nate narrowed his small brow in unconcealed irritation and greatly repressed attraction.
"I want a pink lemonade."
The demand was childish. He was fifteen years old after all. But he was striving to be juvenile, problematic, and impolite. Nate didn't want the golden haired waiter to pick up any emotion or compassion from him at all. He hoped that the other boy would classify him as spoiled, get the beverage, and keep his distance. He wanted the other male to despise him because the alternative was too sensitively multifaceted for him to comprehend.
"Of course kiddo, coming right up."
The guy flashed Nate a cheeky wink and hastily moved away to complete the task. Nate's white eyebrows pinched at the phrase "kiddo". The blond couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen years old himself. It additionally irked Nate that he remained genuinely cheerful and unaffected by his blatant rudeness.
Something was different about this one.
He watched the man beaming and moving gracefully through the bustling throng of other vacationers into the kitchen wing of the hotel.
Nate wasn't quite sure what came over him, but he had the most sudden urge to sprint after the waiter and see where he was going. Which was preposterous. His tender heels bruised easily from lack of exercise and he would never willingly set foot in a place designated for the help.
But something deep within told him that if he did choose to follow the man that his monotone existence would never quite be the same. Besides, he didn't have anything better to do.
Nate flung off his towel and staggered to a standing position. Glancing for then finding a wisp of gold hair in the crowd, he nimbly sprinted after the man. He chased the blond like a snowy ghost through masses of sweat drenched guffawing tourists, mosaic coated side tables, and glitzy pool cocktails. After what seemed like ages the blond opened a carefully concealed door set behind several frayed palm trees.
Nate succeeded in slipping inside before the large wooden doors crashed shut in an automatic lock.
The kitchen was disgustingly moist and steamy to the point of suffocation. Nate could hear the clanging of silver and the crash of dishes being washed at a furious pace. Due to his height of just under five feet Nate was barely noticed as he glided through the series of activity in the kitchen. To him this was a place for commoners, and he lacked the cosmopolitan experience to be familiar with a place as simple as a scullery. Nate paused in fascination to watch yeasty bread rise in a pastry oven, multihued spring vegetables being viciously chopped, and a delicate bowl of crème brulee being torched to crispy caramel. With a youthful allure he observed the candid work ethic of the chefs combined with the natural vibrancy of the meal components. Nate wondered for the first time what it would be like to actually perform physical labor for a living.
Temporarily, the blond boy was forgotten and Nate settled onto a tarnished silver stool to watch a chef stuff mushrooms with creamy cheese and feathered herbs.
"Guess who?"
The Russian accent was unmistakable, but startling nonetheless. Mail Jeevas jumped in surprise as warm fingers settled over his energetic lime eyes and obscured his vision to darkness. He was elbow deep in a pool of hot dishwater and the embellished porcelain plate he'd been scouring slipped out of his grasp. He wiped his dripping hands on his stained apron in annoyance.
"Damn it, Mihael!"
He heard sensual chuckling in his ear and as the other boy released him he twisted around to meet his best friend's dancing blues with intended exasperation. The blond was practically on top of him, his crotch rubbing shamelessly against Mail's leg. Mihael Keehl was gorgeous so it was difficult to stay angry with him but Mail gave it his best shot.
"We're at work, you know. Isn't there something you should be doing?"
He recognized the lusty smirk that crept onto Mihael's pink mouth. The look on the blond's face promised immense pleasure or inconceivable misfortune. Or both.
"Actually Mail, it's more like someone."
"You have another crush on a guest? Do I even have to explain to you why that's a bad idea?"
"Oh come on. He's just a bratty kid, so he's perfect. You should really get a look at him Mail-he is mannequin pretty."
Mihael licked his lips in what could only be described as an incredibly lewd manner. Mail balked with open aversion.
"Just a kid? That makes it even worse! You're so disgusting."
"I know. I'm also nineteen, which would make it illegal for me to mess around with him. But you're only seventeen, right?"
"Mihael!"
"What? It's not like you haven't before, right?"
"That was one time! Plus, I was sloshed, desperate, and in juvenile detention! There is no way I would screw up like that again. I need this job and so do you. God, you are the worst."
Mihael pouted in mock disappointment and ruffled Mail's hair teasingly. His long lashes fluttered against his angled cheeks like insect wings.
"Fine. But…just consider it? For me? It's being such a long time since I've gotten to have any fun around this dump."
As always, the loyal redhead easily cracked under Mihael's concentrated sapphire scrutiny.
Despite his considerable character flaws, Mihael had physically and emotionally bailed Mail out of the most difficult time in his life. Mail loved Mihael with every fragment of his heart and two of them had simply experienced too much together for Mail to ever deny him anything. Regardless of his earlier repugnance, the idea did privately get his blood boiling. Really, Mail was just as animalistic and perverse as Mihael. He just managed to keep it in check most of the time.
Mail sighed and cupped the blond's cheek with resigned affection.
"Ugh, okay. Where is this boy anyway? If I'm going to do this for you there should at least be something in it for me, and I'll only go through with it if he wants it too-"
Before he could finish, Mihael caught Mail's mouth in a fervent clash of teeth and tongue. He was clearly delighted with the redhead's change of heart. Besides, he knew Mail needed this just as badly as he did; regardless of his ardent protests.
"He was just outside by the pool. I can't wait till you see him, Mail. You won't regret this, I promise…"
The blonde's animated prattle trailed off and Mail followed his gaze around the corner and past the produce fridges to a small tuft of white hair. Cobalt eyes flashed with depraved yearning and raw exhilaration.
"In fact, there he is."
Pausing to grab a slightly hesitant Mail by the collar of his work shirt, Mihael swiftly moved towards the unsuspecting albino boy.
"Hi."
Nate blinked in bewilderment as he unexpectedly found himself face to face with the cocky blond waiter from earlier and a somewhat gentler looking red-haired boy in a filthy apron. His little hands gripped the silver counter for balance and he tried to regain his composure.
"Hello."
Nate's voice was flat, shiny plastic.
"Did you come looking for me?"
Mihael's voice was soaked in sugar syrup.
"N-no, of course not. I only wanted to see what could possible create such a long waiting time for a simple pink lemonade."
Nate's impertinence was intended to insight or insult the other boys but instead it seemed to have the opposite effect. The two employees spread their teeth in shark like grins and inched closer to Nate; perching next to him like brooding vultures. Mail put an uncomfortably warm hand on his shoulder and Mihael traced an intimate finger over the boy's reddening cheeks.
"You're right, I'm very sorry."
Mihael's soft croon didn't sound apologetic in the least. His tone was spiked with sarcasm and dense with something richer that Nate was incapable of detecting.
"We'll get you your lemonade immediately, isn't that right Mail?"
The fiery haired boy nodded in mock reassurance and firmly clasped Nate's petite shoulder.
"Yes, of course. We're going to take care of you so don't you worry."
Mail's voice was like fluffy peaks of whipped cream on a sundae. Nate shivered a little bit, though he wasn't sure why.
"Why don't you come with us to the back of the kitchen? We'll make a special drink just for you."
Nate looked Mail and Mihael up and down. He took in their overly animated stares, their lightly toned adolescent physiques, and their vicious smiles.
It wasn't like he was an idiot. Nate was cunningly intellectual, arithmetically gifted, logically progressive, and an avid bookworm. But when it came to the complicated science of human feelings he was greatly disadvantaged. In spite of his immoral tastes he actually was a fairly naïve, tolerable child. Nate had no knowledge of emotive or carnal intimacy and he had even less practice detecting it.
So he nodded in assent and let the older boys slip their lanky arms through his to take him to his perceived pink thirst-quencher.
The two older teens eventually lead Nate to the produce freezer, located in the most isolated corner of the kitchen.
Mihael used his tan muscles to pull the heavy gold latch from the door and Mail used his freckled biceps to smash it to a firmly sealed position once they were all crammed inside. Mail met Nate's mildly panicked gaze with glassy green comfort.
"We have to lock the door to keep the cold inside."
The room couldn't have been more than ten feet across and five feet wide, so personal space was no longer an option. Mail and Mihael guided Nate to a discarded wooden crate so he could sit down. Mail lingered beside him while Mihael beginning rummaging through compartmentalized fridge units.
"Hi, what's your name?"
Mail's voice was jauntily friendly, as if they were meeting for the first time. He tucked a stray strand of gray behind Nate's rosy ear.
"N-Nate."
"Pretty name."
"Thank you, Mail."
The arctic air from the open cooling unit hit Nate like a heavy bucket of ice water and goosebumps immediately pricked his small body. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively.
"Are you cold? C'mere…"
Nate tried to protest, but Mail's mottled arms encircled him in a sturdily protective hold and the body produced warmth was too good to resist. Nate could smell the soapy scent of dish washing liquid radiating from red locks and feel Mail's name tag pressing into his chest. He unconsciously nuzzled his face in Mail's throat.
"Better?"
"Y-yes."
A loud clank made Nate and Mail start. Mihael emerged frosty and insipid from the nearest enormous refrigerator. He triumphantly clasped an iced elaborate glass filled with blushing lemonade. He then produced a red curly straw and a small umbrella from his black pocket and popped the decorations into the cup with practiced skill.
Both Mail and Mihael hungrily observed Nate's little gray orbs light up with preciously immature anticipation.
His little fingers reached out, trembling and eager, as he carefully collected his prize. Nate's eyes closed in pleasure as he pursed his thin lips and hollowed his cheeks to draw lemonade quickly down his waiting throat. He made desperate sucking sounds and muted squeaks of pleasure as he swallowed the contents of the glass. Drippy rivulets trickled down his mouth and past his chin.
Nate opened his eyes and flinched at the ravenous gazes that he realized had been imposed on him this entire time. Mihael obviously surveyed him from his spot between his legs and he could feel Mail's scorching gaze on the back of his head. He wasn't used to being watched so intently and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Nate was a bit mortified at putting on such a disordered demonstration, but he told himself that he must have just been dehydrated. He tried to wipe a trickle of lemonade from his lip but Mihael beat him to it.
"Ah, there you go. You liked that a lot didn't you. You slurped almost the whole thing down. Was it good?"
"Yes, it was. T-thank you."
Mail gently spun Nate around so that passionate jade could meet cooled ash. Nate's waist rubbed Mail's firm abdomen and his miniature frame naturally draped around the redhead's gangly figure. Mail brought his mouth close enough that Nate could feel his hot breath when he spoke.
"The lemonade looked so good when you were drinking it. Can I taste some?"
Mail swiped his wet tongue up Nate's quaking jawline and murmured a sound of approval.
"Mmmm, I was right. It tastes great."
Just like that, the previously innocent dynamic escalated to a completely different hue.
Nate gasped softly into Mail's mouth as the redhead brought their lips together for a tender, chaste kiss. Smooth lips coaxed a virginal mouth open and a small tongue to come out and play rough. Nate's head frantically swam and brightly sparkled with over-stimulation as his mouth yielded for Mail's.
Without realizing it, he ground himself audaciously against the redhead's stained khaki's. With a groan of approval, the ginger haired boy slipped his hands into the back pockets of Nate's gray swimming trunks and firmly squeezed his ass. Nate squeaked and shuddered with shameful pleasure in the tight grip of Mail's firm arms. The combination of searing body heat and artificial cold air became bracingly enjoyable. Nate felt his nipples perking underneath his sun shirt and Mail pinched them in fierce appreciation. He could sense the blond's blistering brazen scrutiny brutishly touching them from afar and he met it with a white fire gaze of his own.
Just one look, and Nate had Mihael's hand desperately roving down his black pants for relief.
Mail pulled Nate's snowy head back again to meet his gaze, cupping Nate's chin possessively and exposing his neck so it could be feverishly nipped with pearly canines. Nate couldn't believe that he was here-in this minute freezer, with these two strange boys, letting himself be molested like this and relishing it. He couldn't stand other people and he despised being touched- and above all he was disgracefully above these individuals in terms of class. But he loved the way Mail was exploring him, ferociously eager, and he adored having Mihael watch him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"Ah-ah-ah…"
Nate couldn't help letting out yelps of pleasurable agony as Mail thoroughly bruised his vulnerable throat and chest. He knew that the sea of red nips were going to be quite difficult to conceal the next day, but he didn't care. His creamy skin purpled and pulsated with desire under the attacks. Somehow the raw pain was interpreted by his corrupt body as mind numbing bliss. Mail's assault seemed to become more frantic as his own need became increasingly difficult to ignore. He pulled away from Nate, gasping for air and he gave the blushing boy another once over.
Nate's sun guard was twisted at an odd angle to reveal an impressive trail of bite marks, his white curls were damp with sweat, and his cheeks were saturated with a lusty flush. His tiny square teeth clipped the edge of his pouty lips and he let out a mewl of frustration. Mail could feel Nate's desperate protrusion chafing the cotton of his right leg.
Oh fuck yes.
"Mihael…"
Mail caught the wavering stare of the blond and it was only steady self-control that kept him from coming undone at that very moment.
The older teen was bent over at a vulnerable angle, rubbing his sopping tip in ardent pleasure. His gold locks outlined his expression and stuck to his saturated neck. Mail had almost forgotten that he was the singular cause behind this erotic gathering and that he'd been watching them voyeuristically the entire time. He skimmed his eyes over the Mihael's painfully flushed erection. It drove him insane how the blond could get so incredibly wound in such a transitory interval of time. It was only a matter of time before the two of them uncoiled in the most delicious of ways.
"Y-yeah?"
"Hold him for me?"
Mihael slowly crept over to Nate. As Mihael encircled his arms around the boy's petite shuddering form, the two of them exchanged a brief look of forbidden craving knowing this was as close as they could get to any form of sexual intercourse.
Nate sighed delicately as he was cautiously taken into Mihael's burly grip. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been terrified, but now he didn't have the mental capacity for fear. Mail settled between his spread legs and tugged his dull colored swim trunks all the way off. The white haired boy let out a whimper as his erection was exposed to the brutally sharp air in the icebox. Mail pressed his freckled jawline against the silky skin of the boy's cock and savored the sounds of his raspy snuffles. He licked the weeping tip in a delectable circular motion.
"P-please…please…"
Nate didn't know what he was begging for, but fortunately Mail knew better than anyone.
He zealously took the entire length of the kid's cock down his throat and gagged around the head as it scraped his sensitive walls. Nate's eyes rolled deliriously and he thrashed in Mihael's grasp. Mail augmented the suction and reached down with his other hand to take care of his own need.
"Yes, Mail suck him…suck him…oh God…"
Mihael was grinding his hips headily against Nate's spindly back. The young boy let out a vulnerable keen as he felt the blond's clothed erection rub against the crack of his exposed ass. Mihael was big enough that the vibrating pressure was almost the equivalent of being penetrated. The unadulterated friction Nate was receiving burned him like a doubled sided match lit with two twin flames; he knew it wouldn't be long until he released all over himself. His backside felt charred with abrasion and his cock ached as it pulsed in the hot cavern of Mail's esophagus. Mihael released another more forceful hiss.
"Fuck, I'm coming…"
Nate inhaled sharply as Mihael ferociously sunk his teeth into the pastel flesh of his neck to muffle a hoarse shout of release. Mihael's climax seemed to set Mail off and the redhead began to tend to his own shaft with even more fervor. Pushing his fingers between Nate's legs, he cautiously rubbed the tender space between Nate's buttocks.
"N-Nate, tell me this is alright…"
The redhead's tone was pleading, despite him position of dominance.
"It's a-alright, I w-w-want it-ahhhmmm!"
Near lost his ability to form coherent speech as a wiggling, slick finger was ruthlessly shoved up his virgin entrance.
As his prostate was savagely kneaded inside and his cock was buried in slick hotness outside he had no choice but to aggressively give into his pent up desire. Nate spurted his translucent semen in a thick jet deep into Mail's waiting throat.
The redhead choked, sputtered, and gasped for breath as he tried to finish himself off. Nate yearned to help him but he was too exhausted and satiated to move. He struggled to spread his quaking legs, preparing to give all of himself to the redhead. A sultry foreign voice interrupted his motions and he felt a silky hand pushing his legs closed.
"No need for that, my love."
Mihael purred and leaned forward over Nate's trembling chest to reach Mail. Though he had already finished once it was clear by the tone of his voice that he was quite capable of another round. Mail groaned beautifully in frustration.
"Mail, let me."
Just like that Mail thrust his tender, sore cock right over Nate's shrunken stomach and Mihael was inclined over his shoulder to willingly taste it.
Nate watched the lax tongue mock the tip,
watched flecked fingers pull antagonistically on a mass of gold tresses,
heard the gurgle of Mihael's wet choke,
then the pop of the organ leaving his mouth,
and finally he sensed the warm milky liquid of Mail's release as it generously coated his bare abdomen.
The three males lay in a satiated, sweaty tangle until they were able to breathe routinely. Mihael smirked with woozily boastful contentment and pressed his lips to Mail's, then to Nate's soft forehead. Mail kissed Nate full on the mouth and pulled the boy back into his lap for an affectionate, lengthy embrace.
Nate still couldn't quite believe what he'd just done but none of that seemed to matter anymore. People always let him down and failed to meet his expectations-even his own parents. He never felt affection for anyone, especially those whom he previously considered to be lower class-but these boys were different.
Although what they did to him could be considered perverse, they had taught him the joy of spontaneity, the thrill of human contact, and the impact of social interaction. Honestly, they'd altered the hue of his life indefinably. Because of them Nate had experienced the art of sensation-not in his nerves, but in his soul.
Nate could gradually feel a somewhat floral and delicate blossom flowering in the depths of his heart. He had to tell them, Mail and Mihael, just how much they meant to him. He knew that they'd just met and that it was ridiculous, but Nate adored them with every filament of his mind and every newly plucked string of his heart.
Mihael and Mail noticed Nate's watery eyes and questioned if he was alright. Mail reached for his hand and Mihael stroked his cheek.
"Hey kid, are you okay?"
"Yes, but I-"
Suddenly, a fussing female voice penetrated the testosterone musk that previously saturated the room.
"Nate, honey? Are you in here?"
The freezer became an instant whirlwind of activity. Mail poured geometric freezer trays on to the tile to conceal their shameful bodily fluids with ice chunks. Mihael pulled his soiled shirt back on and tried to hastily lick the stickiness from Nate's soiled midriff. Nate struggled to reach a standing position and muss his knotted hair into something more respectable.
A thick pounding could be heard, and an instant later the heavy doors of the freezer swung open. Amber light filled the blue tinted room and a cosseted woman clacked in followed by several suited men.
"What the hell is going on? Oh Nate, my sweet baby boy. Did these hooligans harm you?"
Nate found his face pressed into an artificially hard bosom. Gaudy red lips stained his skin with urgent kisses. Overpowering fragrance burned his nostrils. Normally Nate would have been thrilled that his mother was paying attention to him, but at this moment he couldn't care less.
The only two people that he did care about were being grabbed by security and meeting Nate's eyes with wary, defenseless uncertainty. All of them were being thrust unwillingly into reality, and the unpleasant power dynamics that were included. Sure, they'd taken advantage of him a bit-but he'd loved every minute of it and he'd given full consent to another minor. Nate knew that they were apprehensive that he would use their status to cruelly exploit them. Mihael looked defiantly stubborn and Mail looked despondently guilty.
Nate's heart ached for them.
He found himself physically unable to stand seeing them like that, which was ironic because normally he loved manipulating and inflicting pain. But the throbbing in his core was long repressed empathy and Nate knew instinctively that it was the best thing to ever happen to him. The shift that these boys had instilled in him was wonderfully irreversible, but he wasn't going to let anyone, including them, know that.
Nate's brow tightened into accustomed unruffled composure. He heard Mail take in a nervous breath.
"No mother! Let them go please; they didn't do anything wrong. They were just helping to fix me lemonade and some ice spilled."
His mother gaped like a fish in relief. Her shrill voice threatened to pierce his ears and bleed them bone dry.
"Oh thank goodness! I was afraid that they'd done something disgusting to you-you know how depraved commoners can be! Ha-ha-ha! Let them go now boys, and be sure that they get a nice tip for helping my precious son Nate."
Mihael and Mail freed visible sighs of reprieve as they were released. The helplessly longing atmosphere that clung to them was reflective of Nate's state of inner turmoil. It was Mihael who spoke first, meeting Nate's eyes with shimmery ponds of rising sentiment.
"That's very generous Miss, but we don't want your money. It isn't necessary."
Mail cleared his throat in an effort to stop his rising tears.
"Y-yeah, spending time with Nate was p-priceless. But you know that already don't you?"
A temporary flash of passion lit Nate's mother's face for a moment before it returned to its characteristic artificial exterior. She pursed her matte coated lips indignantly.
"Well of course. Nate is a lovely boy. The smartest in his class! I would be a fool not to spend time with him. I am especially proud of him for making friends that we don't have to pay!"
Her florescent titter of laughter turned Nate's face to stone and brought fresh, silent tears to Mail's. Mrs. Rivers didn't seem to notice as she domineeringly clawed at Nate's back.
"Come on darling, we have to leave this hotel pronto. Daddy has a business meeting in Dubai so we have to fly out tonight. Tell your new friends bye-bye!"
Nate's world seemed to sluggishly unravel as his mother dragged him out of the room and he waved goodbye to the two boys that were justifiably the only two affections of his entire life.
He made sure to capture their images in his mind for safekeeping-their expressive irises, their wholehearted grins, the sounds of their bubbling joy and the breathy chants of their intimacies. They were incredibly vivacious, saturated with the sugar of life that Nate had never experienced until he'd met them.
He watched Mail's tear stained, freckled face quiver with unhappiness, and Mihael's smooth jawline set in incomprehensible pain. The two of them urgently clung to each other and watched him depart with the bare defenselessness of teenage boys that had no coinage or influence.
They were so beautiful.
Nate would have given all the currency in the world to stay with them, and one day he planned on doing just that.
But right now his life was bitterly tart and they were far too sugary, so he turned away from the warm glow building inside to board the plane with his prettiest smile.
He was Nate Rivers,
wealthy prodigy,
gorgeous youth,
and heir to a multimillion dollar franchise.
He was Nate Rivers;
who was sick of his mother's hollow fondness,
sick of his father's drenched smugness,
and drowning in the empty riches of being a child of old money.
He was Nate Rivers;
who desired freedom,
who sought sunshine,
who admired hard manual labor,
and who coveted two boys
-one with red hair
and one with blond.