Angelo's First Secret

Ivanov Phillips, 26, had prided himself in the fact that his uncle, one of the top players in Larks' private security firm, Larks International, had picked him to be the personal guard to Larks' heir. He was molded into the perfect bodyguard since young - from self-defense to driving to safety - he was trained to do it all. But most of all Ivanov knew to be loyal and to listen to his patron. Therefore, he liked to think he knew everything about Michelangelo Magnus Drake.

For instance, he knew Michelangelo was often annoyed when his mom called him Angel, yet loved it when his grandmother used the same name. He also drinks whenever his parents were involved - especially with nagging him. And lastly, Michelangelo - Angelo, he insisted - prefers commercial flights over flying private. He said the silence of flying alone was stifling, and it was awkward to be in an enclosed space with few people he barely knew.

Which was why they ended up in the first class of a commercial jet, with his patron already a tad tipsy before he asked the flight attendant to bring him some drinks.

Now, Michelangelo was not much of a drinker despite having been able to maintain himself after some dose of alcohol; but this was a lot. Perhaps it was the madam this time, or it was Mr. Larks. If that was the case, Ivan would rather stand back and not get involved.

Ivan was about to put on the headphones from the entertainment unit to watch Pulp Fiction when he heard the person next to him drawl.

"I'm in love".

Ivan's hands stopped mid-air. His head made a slow robotic turn to his left, where his young patron was seated; a frown on his face, a glass of bourbon in his loose grip. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I'm in love".

"I...," he did not expect this and he had never been briefed on whatever this would lead to. Take a deep breath, Ivan; you could do this. All those training in Larks International would have served him some foundation for such conversation. "Okay...," he started again after a deep inhale whereas his brain raked his memories of Michelangelo's recent interactions with the female species. What would be a 23-year-old's idea of love? Michelangelo had gone with a couple of women, mostly older, in the past; but in the last couple of years, he had busied himself with his studies and work, leaving no time for any romantic nor sexual pursuit. "Is it, I assume, someone from the gala?"

That was why they were in Paris to begin with.

"No, it's - we met about 2 years ago".

"In JSU?" Jaxxon State University was one of the world's best to get one's higher education. Angelo was accepted into their School of Business and Faculty of Political Sciences years ago. The family was very proud of him for that.

"Yeah, I - oh my God," Angelo had one hand cradling his flushed face as he remembered the day they met. "We didn't start on good footing".

Angelo remembered seeing this 'kid' in Professor Tuccan's advanced philosophy class. He was scrawny compared to the other guys and wore a silly hoodie with the face of Einstein printed on it, yet he had the gall to contest Angelo's thesis on Professor Tuccan's monthly hypothetical debates. "But then I saw him in this gathering and I; I just remember seeing him looking so...," Irresistible, perhaps, was the word he was looking for.

There had always been tension between them ever since their first clash in Professor Tuccan's lecture; possibly because Angelo was the golden boy of the whole Faculty of Political Sciences and he almost lost his cool after being challenged by some nerdy guy from engineering school who decided he wanted to take advanced philosophy for one semester. That night, the tension added to the fire. Blame it on his alcohol-addled brain - they were having an impromptu celebration after a huge intervarsity competition. Angelo's team won their share of medals in the competition and was well-celebrated by everyone present at the small bar in the area.

It was a messy night in its own right with half of them already drunk before the clock hit midnight. Angelo remembered one normally shy and silent chick yelling about how everyone should have totally just stabbed Julius Caesar and there was a guy telling everyone he was a bush. Yet Angelo could barely pay attention to any of those details. He was too busy eyeing how Edward Owens' - that was his name - denim jacket was trying to escape his left shoulder.

"What's gotten you into this party?" Angelo remembered communicating his curiosity through the lift of an eyebrow. By the looks of it, Owens won his own share of medals in the competition, but looking at the yellow E=MC2 hoodie he's wearing alongside his band of nerdy nerds, he seemed to be the kind of who would skip this kind of event to play video games at home.

The kid looked like he lost his spunk despite having The Great Michelangelo Drake, his arch-rival in Professor Tuccan's spontaneous debates in philosophy class, in front of him. All he did the whole 15 minutes and 23 seconds Angelo spent sitting across from him at this table was hiccup while sporting a vacant gaze and a massive flush over his nose although he really only had one glass of beer the whole time.

One of the students did mention how Owens should have not had a drink and the others were wondering who gave him beer. However, all Angelo could think about then was how their eyes met and the thoughts of having this guy - who had been shaking his throne - here and looking so vulnerable was empowering.

Maybe it was the fact that he, despite being such an obnoxious punk, was the one person who could stand up against Michelangelo. Their banter irked Angelo; but the thought of having an equal mind was so refreshing that even seeing him on this long boring drinking night was like a blessing.

And somehow, Angelo reached out to the other from under the table using his foot. This was a trick he learned from all those women he had gone out with - he slipped his foot in between the other's legs and slowly, he hooked it to the side before pulling his foot back as to caress the other's inner thigh.

The confusion took hold of Owens whole expression like a bear fresh out of hibernation. It was comical. His absent gaze turned alive and it went straight to Angelo who was tilting his head to the side as an offer to leave the place. The way Owen's eyes followed the gesture signaled that the message was loud and clear to the recipient. It was an invitation.

Angelo smiled victoriously behind his glass of beer.

Only ten minutes later, they were making out in the passenger seat of Angelo's black Jaguar. Owens might look like a nerd, but his kisses were as eager as a serial heartbreaker. Angelo had to push him to the backrest a couple of times just to keep him still. Taming this one wild animal would indeed be quite a challenge, but it's a challenge Angelo would take head-on.

His two curious hands easily slipped under the other's denim jacket and he proceeded to measure the other's waist through the outside of his yellow hoodie. Edward Owens' was breathing like he had just run a full marathon. Angelo, unforgiving as always, dragged his tongue to the other's pale light caramel neck for he always wondered whether it tasted as saccharine sweet as looked. Owens' whole body tensed and he curled upward. It was this exact movement that exposed their raging boners to each other and Angelo knew - they both wanted to do more.

"I hope you're still sober because we're humping each other right now and it's getting unbearable," Angelo voiced in between kisses; puffs of breath fanning the side of the other's face. "Do you want to?"

Owens sought his mouth blindly and initiated another sloppy wet kiss. They did, only for a couple of seconds, before Angelo put it to an abrupt stop and got him back to the topic, "Hey!" Angelo half scolded.

Owens, who had his eyes closed the whole time, opened an eye with such effort; then, irritated, he answered, "Yes, my brain's still working. Eight hundred and twenty-five seconds since you pulled me out of that dingy bar; exactly 700 seconds since we saw that drunk guy trying to fuse with the decorative bush outside of the exit".

Angelo paused for a millisecond in the middle of biting the other's ear. "Did you count that?'

"Yes. I saw the clock on the dashboard and converted it into seconds, so yes I counted".

It was baffling, but it did not stop Angelo from pecking him on the lips and asking. "So?"

Owens seemed like he was considering his options. His stare was directed at a distant space right behind Tsukasa's head and his lips pursed as though in deep thought. Was this really the time to do that though? Especially when he was already sagging halfway down on the expensive leather of Angelo's car seat with Angelo between his two legs.

"Are you soliciting me for sex?" The punk actually asked. Angelo, being way too horny to process the situation, gave in, "Yes, I'm asking if you want to engage in sexual intercourse. With me."

He's fine if Edward Owens, the weird nerdy engineering student in his philosophy class, didn't want to go all the way. It was just that the conversation normally didn't go this way.

"Hnn," the guy had the gall to consider it further as though they were in the middle of haggling for a piece of tuna. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay".

Angelo must be half drunk too because that weird exchange actually turned him on more. The rest was a blur of motions. Angelo had always enjoyed just rolling around naked with his partner of the evening. He loved watching their eyes mist and the color of their face darkens. The joy of love-making, to him, was very much in the small details. He made sure to kiss Owens throughout the preparation and he really enjoyed just cuddling Owens while he scissored his insides. He was sure he complimented the other's dick too and commented on how interesting it was to see that Owens' lightly tanned complexion was even throughout his body, which earned him a short jab of, "You're a creep". It wasn't until the shorter actually complained that Angelo should just get on with it that he stopped and undressed.

"Stop," Angelo blurted when he caught the other trying to undress too.

"Huh?"

"Don't undress".

"... why?"

Angelo considered whether he should just come clean. "Because I like the hoodie," he confessed. Owens was now full-on judging him with his stare. Not that Angelo cared; he was going to get his dick inside him after this.

"Fine, whatever," Owens relented and relaxed to the now fully pulled backrest meanwhile Angelo positioned himself between the guy's legs to get better leverage. He was about to start entering but paused to fix Owens' yellow hoodie so he could see Einstein's special relativity equation. The shorter guy rolled his eyes and muttered a sarcastic, "Weirdo".

He ceased from saying anything when Angelo finally entered and started making noises with a tone deeper than his usual speech while his face scrunched as he was overwhelmed by the vast amount of sensory input. A couple of times, Owens looked like he was in a lot of pain, but he would insist to keep on going after a short pause. Once he was fully sheathed, he spent a minute enjoying the view of Owens trying to gather his breath. Angelo would forever burn the image of having Owens under him to memory and retrieve it anytime they butt heads in the future. There's something about having the normally unbothered guy be so affected by him - the feeling is akin to conquering a new foreign land.

In just a minute, Angelo's sport car was filled with groans and the sound of skin meeting skin. Owens entire face had turned a darker shade. The taller man was planning to go slow on him, he really did, but this was too intense. Angelo lowered himself so he could embrace the shorter, which Owens welcomed, and he whispered to his left ear. "Hey, can you handle more?"

"Hmm?"

"Just hold on to me," Angelo suggested while hooking his two arms under the other's armpits, "Tighter". The engineering student followed his advice without any word; he was probably far too lost to even think rationally anymore. Angelo sucked on the neck that he adored so much and dragged his nose over Owens' shoulder blade. "Okay, here we go".

Angelo rammed into the other with an unforgiving pace that Owens actually yelped when he started and started clawing at Angelo's naked back. Lucky they were in a Jaguar, because a cheaper car would quake uncontrollably with this kind of fucking.

"I'm gonna cum," was Owens' words after they had been at it for a while. Saying it alone was already so much for him seeing how high-pitched his voice had become.

"Wait a moment," Angelo coaxed. Owens groaned in complaint.

"I really really - unnh- can't wait for you".

Angelo hushed him but didn't falter in his pounding. Instead, he heard Owens distracting himself by reciting the first 100 numbers of pi.

That did it. Angelo pulled out and took both of their manhoods in his hand and started pumping them both. The shorter of the two tensed and climaxed first under Angelo's watch. Angelo required some more time, but he maintained eye contact with his partner of the night the whole ride.

Coming back to reality, Angelo wiped his face tiredly in front of his confidant. Ivan visibly paled, but caught himself before dropping his jaw to the floor, and tried to hide his anxiety by taking a sip from his own glass of wine when a small velvet box was dropped onto his lap. "What is this?" He questioned.

"Keep it with you. I was just...," Angelo paused, "Being stupid".

There was a weight to the box, and the smooth sleek design speaks for its price tag. Ivan curiously opened the box and was surprised by the sight of Michelangelo's own handwriting on a piece of card. Happy 20th birthday! It said. Behind it was something sparkly.

It was a ring; a diamond ring.

"You're buying this for your 20-year-old lover??" Angelo's response to Ivan's protest was to down his whole glass of bourbon in one go. "Look, Angelo - What are you thinking? You want to propose to this 20-year-old??"

"He's not like all the other 20-year-olds. He's beyond his years," Ivan dully noted the 'he' in Angelo's response, "He's intelligent".

"Okay, so the guy's smart -"

"He's not smart. He's intellectually brilliant," Angelo corrected with what Ivan perceived as a glare. The stewardess returned just then to refill Angelo's empty glass.

"That's beyond the point! Brilliant or not this is a 20-year-old . Last I remember, most 20-year-olds are mentally infantile. You and I, on the other hand, are starting an uprising!" Ivan stopped only to check if anyone else was listening. He lowered his voice in hope of not attracting any unwanted attention. "The family had just started to welcome you as their future leader and a 20-year-old with a ring will not be able to contribute anything to our cause".

"Look, I'm not trying to propose to him in that way. It's just a gift; a jewelry," Angelo denied, "And I believe he does not want that kind of relationship at the moment. He's in it for the sex".

Ivan gasped loudly. "What?" There's one thing about not being good enough for Michelangelo Drake; but it's another when you think you're too good to have a proper relationship with him. Ivan honestly didn't know which scenario was worse because he had always seen Angelo as the ideal human. To think that a person in the latter category exists was rather terrifying.

He watched Angelo downing his second glass. He needed to tell Angelo to leave this... monster! "This further proves that you need to terminate the relationship now. He doesn't appreciate you! Actually, let's give him this gift and throw it to the nearest garbage dump so he'll regret ever not appreciating you. He'll feel so worthless he'll -," Ivan was silenced by the content of the small box again. He had seen enough luxury items to know the value of this one. It was glinting obnoxiously back at him despite the dim lighting. And on its thin golden band, Ivan saw a beautifully carved line.

It said: For Ever and After.

Ivan quickly closed the box and put it down. That was not just a gift. That was something you'd expect to be exchanged at a wedding. God, Angelo really was planning to throw a diamond ring to a younger guy who was only in it for the sex.

The horrifying truth set in and Ivan covered his mouth in silence. This cruel faith could not befall his young patron. Michelangelo was far too good for this world. The world shall not treat the Larks heir like this!

"It was in the car".

Ivan turned to his friend and employer, "Pardon?"

"The first time we fucked was in the car," Angelo had to be so drunk to be able to use the F word casually. Ivan noted the man was now on his second glass. He also remembered the younger man was already drinking when they were at the hotel, probably stressing over the fact that the ring he purchased signified hope for something difficult between him and his lover.

That demon of a lover!

"I-I see," Ivan responded tersely.

"And it was his first time too. I was wondering why he was so silent the whole ride home so I teased him a little bit. He could be very feisty and I have always secretly enjoyed our back-and-forth. And I said - gosh, I must've come off as an uncultured jerk to him - well, I was saying whether I was fucking him better than his previous lovers that it put him to literal silence. Then he said, oh God I was so stupid, he said he never had a lover before and it was how I found out that was actually his first sexual encounter. I wasn't - I wasn't being considerate or nice either; I was just pounding him like an animal. That had to be what he thought of me; an animal. A fucking primate," Angelo inhaled behind the two hands that were now covering his face as though he was tired. "He even told me he was hurting all over and I didn't console him. I was just too stunned. I didn't even say a proper goodnight once he left my car. We didn't know each other that well back then; we were not even friends. If I had known better, I would have brought him to my apartment -"

"You never take strangers to your apartment -"

Angelo ignored his interruption, "And I would have treated him better. A bubble bath, or something, maybe a massage after the sex. Anything. God, no wonder he ignored me afterwards".

Ivan blinked owlishly at the man beside him. This. He did not know who this sobbing mess was!!

Angelo did not stop there. "I was so shocked by that discovery that I forgot to mention he left his denim jacket in my car. I sniffed it - a lot. I only returned it as an excuse to get his number when we finally met again. And you want to know what's worse?"

No.

"He was only 18 and already a junior in college," Angelo gave an empty laugh, "He was so brilliant he skipped grades straight to JSU, could you believe that? And he ended up having drunken sex in someone's car. He didn't act like a 18-year-old so it just went past me. I only discovered this when the people from the party came to me the next day wondering if his parents scolded me for having their son home late and drunk when he was only 18 And I was like, 'well, I was too much of an asshole to take him to his door' so I wouldn't know".

Ivan turned his head robotically to the screen that had been playing Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction. He did not expect to hear all of this. A drunk Michelangelo could really let you in on all the details.

"I just wish he was right here, on my lap," Angelo was now moving his hand to picture the outline of a person on his lap, "He has all the right shape to be hugged, you know?"

This time, Ivan was the one finishing his drink in one go.

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To be Continued.