Malcolm sighed, kicking his legs up dramatically—he didn't appreciate learning. So what if he should know things to get a job? He didn't care—he was rich for god's sake. His eyes scanned over the book once more: Mathematical equations.. Calculus.. What the hell does this even mean? He groaned, tossing the book aside and falling into the soft mattress of his four-poster bed.

He was bored out of his mind. He needed something to do. Anything. And then he remembered him. He'd asked daddy—Er, his father, Laurence, for him. Spotted him one day while going shopping. He was pretty, cute, and Malcolm wanted him for himself. So he begged. Laurence acquired him for him (or, more accurately, paid him to hang out with Malcolm).

Malcolm picked up his phone—newest model, obviously—and dialed him. As soon as he picked up, Malcolm asked, no demanded for him to come over. "Hey pretty boy. You free? How about you come over? Like now? Please?" He sounded sweet, like he was begging.

He agreed. Of course he did. He was getting fucking paid to do whatever Malcolm asked. Malcolm's tail flicked up happily at his acceptance, eagerly awaiting his arrival.

And when he arrived, Malcolm practically ran over. "Hey! So, I know you just got here but—I have a bunch of fun things planned! We're gonna go shopping, then we're gonna go to this pretty flower garden, and then, we'll have a nice fancy dinner at this new restaurant! All my treat, 'kay?"

Malcolm pulled him close by the shoulder, breathing in his scent. God, he smells amazing. "D'you wanna change darl? I've got some fancy clothes that would totally suit you." He smiled widely, ears perched up and tail flicking excitedly.