Chapter One

Adrian POV

"Urgh... Adrian...yes"

"You're so...neat, fuck"

"Mmm, urgh ... Adrian"

Reuben's voice pace through the room, as my warm hands grabs his erected cock. He jerks from my warm touch.

"Right..,there Ad...oh" He voiced out as I stroke in his cute pink dick into my mouth. 

"Mmm, suck me harder, plea.."

I took in fully his 5 inch cock.

It mixed up with the liquor I had from the bar.

"You want this don't you?" I groan in-between his dick on my throat.

The music still plays faintly from the background.

"Please Adrian... don't stop" I didn't, I never would. 

Instead I pulled out his cock. I made a circle round the top of his erected cock. He whines excitedly, pulling my hair roughly. 

"Ben, mmm you're so fucking good..."

I tried smiling in between having his hot straw back inside my greedy mouth. He jerked for the second time, unknowingly pushing more length of his rode inside my mouth. 

"Mmm..."

I sizes the opportunity to mouth glide him up and down, until my pace were becoming faster.

"Ooh...ughhh"

He couldn't stop himself from groaning in pleasure.

This was the same guy that didn't want me to come closer to him. But now...?

Fuck his dick starts moving on its own accord. I knew he was going to cum inside of me. 

This was the part I always enjoyed the most.

"Adrian, am about to cum..." I didn't mind his worried face, infact that was what makes me like him more. Those pretty cute innocent faces.

"Yes... Ben, cum for me... I need..." I couldn't finish up my words when I felt his hot liquid splashed down my throat.

"Ahh..." His body vibrates with pleasure, still gripping tight to my hair. His dick slightly hitting the tip of my teeth.

I removed my mouth from his cock, my hands still holding firm to it so I could lick every of his fucking juice.

I took it close to my mouth, at first I didn't lick the dripping juice glowing all over his cock, instead I placed a soft kiss on the top of it's head. This should send another pleasure to him, and it did. 

"Mmm"

I raised my head to face him, he gave a cute smile which I couldn't help returning.

Again my direction shifted to his dick, then I hungrily licked everything filled in salty taste of satisfaction.

His hands slowly moves from my already messy hair down to my chin.

He drew his face closer, hesitating at first as if asking for an approval. Before smashing his lips against mine. 

"I want you" He whispered as we deepen the kiss, entirely going crazy.

"Mmm" A moan excaped from my mouth 

I slide my tongue into his mouth sucking everything out from him. As we both tried keeping each other's pace.

Gawd! This was what I have always fantasies about.

He wasn't just cute, but yet he was innocent, so clueless.

And I wished he wasn't going to be at this moment.

He suddenly pulled from the kiss.

"I...I want to do the same things you'd done to me... to you " His words sounded like a question.

"That's if you are going to be as bad as I was " My voice almost sounding like a challenge, but yes it was. I wanted to see how good he was. Or maybe bad.

"Yes, Adrian I want to fuck you with my mouth"

He slowly starts pulling off my belt. He was just too slow, I had to help him.

And now my pants were also down, revealing just my underwear. 

His eyes desperately greedy to see.

"You want to see?" He eagerly nods. I just smirk darkly.

I pulled down my underwear, finally letting my hard monster off behind the bar. It pops, dingling left, right, different directions as though it was excited.

I watched as his eyes glow with perplexion and astonishment.

"You aren't scared, are you...?" He raised his head to look at me. My eyes fixed on his, entirely lost in those beautiful grey eyes.

He suddenly grabbed on my hard awaiting dick, yet slowly.

"Oh! Gawd, fuck"

I wanted more from him. But just that touch from him sent shivers down my spine.

I want this. We both do, obviously.

He continues stroking down my cock, while his other hand plays with my balls unknowingly.

"Fuck... Ben faster"

Why was he going slow? Does he want me to beg for this?.

I'd gladly do that though I have always asked this from him. I was always fucking ready to get dirty with this saint.

"Urgh...fuck...damn" A weak groan escape from my mouth.

I turned my attention, my eyes searching for his, but then I felt something warm. No, warmer than I thought, was pressing round my dick. Fuck!.

How on earth did he get done there. Was I that lost in thought or...?

"Ben...! Fuck this, I want you " Another desperate words escape from my mouth. Then another and more...

Shit! This guy is driving me nuts.

Where was all that innocent look of refusal? Was it just playing hard to get or he was already bad inside, just couldn't show his talent?.

I needed to confirm, and by doing this I meant by forcefully sliding my full length dick into his small wide mouth. He choked, but I wasn't going to stop here.

"Ooh...oh!"

I dragged his head down between my legs. He continued slowly coming out, in, and out again.

I moved my head towards his collar bone, bitting softly on the spot, before placing a gentle kiss on it.

"Mmm.., Adr..ian" His voice sounded like a female's. But still its cute.

I kept pushing his head down between my legs. I groan in pleasure, our voices replacing the sound of music from the background. 

And we went faster, dirtier for about 13 minutes, already soaked in our sweats, while dying in pleasure.

The room was filled with nothing more than the intoxicating smell of drunked alcohols and mixture of sweet smell of heat and cologne coming out of our body and the desiring smell of sex.

The smell seems to be driving us crazy enjoying the moment of giving pleasure and getting fucked.

"Fuck, harder!" I screamed in excitement. Feeling my cum buildup.

I quickly withdraw my cock from his mouth. 

"Ughhhh...!" I screamed in satisfaction bitting hard on my lower lip. As I ejaculate, the milk glowing all over my penis.

Reuben watches me with greedy desire. I want him to do his job and he did. Not even slow this time.

"Oh right there, yeah" I moan as he sticks his tongue licking every whitish liquid stain on my cock.

"Hmm, yes" he breath slowly fanning on my penis.

"More... like that..."

"Haa"

As we lay there, on the bed ditched in sweat. Our hands holding each other's slightly. His head rested on my chest. I swallowed with just the thought of what had happened few minutes beck. 

He turned to me with his glowing eyes.

"Adrian..," He called softly.

"Yes" I turned slowly, my eyes meeting his.

"Are you going to protect me? Are you gonna keep your promise to me?"

I closed my eyes for a brief second before flicking it opened.

"Yes, you know I will do anything to keep you" A small smile escape his lips.

"Mmm, I love you Adrian" He said placing a soft but short kiss on my lips.

"Love you... Ben" and I felt his head slowly pulled, then it rested on my shoulder. 

I rolled my eyes to look at him, already asleep. His breath were soft and gently under control. I rubbed on his hair carefully, not waking him up.

Finally pleased with satisfaction of fucking Reuben of all gay I'd ever felt something for. And yes, just as there are other people who aren't gay like us, we do choose or rather our hearts does choose who to love.

 We don't just have sex with anyone who isn't attractive to us. We do grow feelings, except it's a gay whore. 

And that, is something you will be getting to know if am part of or just a spoilt bad boy, everyone wants to have a night of hot pleasures with.

---

The first thing I noticed that morning wasn’t the sun filtering through the blinds or the soft hum of the city outside. It was my phone, lighting up like a warning beacon in the dark. The notification had woken me, jolting me from sleep, and now the message itself glared back at me, accusatory and relentless.

I hissed softly and let the device slip from my fingers onto the carpet, cursing under my breath as I swung my legs off the bed. The floor was cold beneath my feet, a small shock that stirred me fully awake. I moved toward the bathroom, still staring at the message in my mind.

“Breaking News: Adrian Martinez Caught in Private Scandal…”

Of course. They never got tired, the media. Never. It didn’t matter how many times they repeated the same old headlines, recycled the same gossip. They loved it, and worse, the world lapped it up, hungry for every detail of my life, every private thought made public.

I was Adrian Martinez. Wealthy, powerful, untouchable to most. And yes—I am gay. Everyone knew it, though no one wanted to believe it fully. Women were… women to me. Nothing more. Nothing deeper. My attention, my desire, my curiosity, my fire—it only ever leaned the other way.

I brushed my teeth mechanically, the mint sharp against the lingering haze of sleep, while my mind wandered over the absurdity of it all. Was I the first person to live openly like this? Or did my wealth and family name simply make me a spectacle? Maybe both. The world loved an impossible story, and I was it.

Shower water scalded my skin, rushing over tense muscles, washing away the grogginess, leaving my body alert and aware. Steam curled around me as my fingers traced the lines of my torso, the familiar comfort of my own skin grounding me. Emerging from the water, I grabbed a towel, roughly drying my hair before applying lotion, smoothing it over my skin, massaging it in while shaping my damp hair into that effortless, ruffled style I favored—wet, careless, deliberate.

A brown T-shirt and black shorts later, I slipped my feet into worn leather shoes and stepped out, every movement casual, precise. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Climbing down the stairs, my gaze swept across the grand sitting room. My mother, Rachel Martinez, was setting the dining table for breakfast. But the usual energy of the weekend staff—the cleaners, the kitchen helpers, the low hum of daily activity—was gone. No chatter, no footsteps, no laughter. And the absence of Nanny Anastasia—Miss Anna—felt like an alarm bell. Something was off.

My mother caught my eyes immediately and raised her head, as if expecting me to appear on cue. “Adrian, breakfast,” she said, her voice warm, careful, measured.

I allowed a small, practiced smile as I stepped fully into the room. “Good morning, Mom.”

“How was your night?” she asked, tilting her head. Nothing casual in her tone—every word carried weight, expectation, judgment.

I slid into the chair, noting the silence. It pressed in around me, suffocating in its stillness. Only the faint clatter of silverware against plates broke it. My mind wandered briefly to the news I’d just read, the headlines spinning in my head, before returning to the tension radiating from my mother.

Finally, she spoke, her voice slicing through the quiet. “How was dinner with the senator’s daughter?”

The words hit like a cold gust. My fork slipped slightly in my fingers, clattering against the plate. I felt the old irritation rise—the familiar tightening of my chest, the exhaustion of another lecture about something I’d long ago stopped caring to explain.

“Mom…” I began, voice low, trying to steer the conversation away, to stop the lecture before it began. “I know you must have heard of the news by now, but—”

She didn’t let me finish. With a calm precision only she possessed, she raised her phone and pointed it toward me. “Maria called me, crying,” she said, voice soft but unyielding. “You didn’t show up until midnight. And do you know what she did? She went live. Half the city watched the moment she finally… caught the attention of the wealthiest, most eligible, handsome man everyone assumes is gay. She hoped you weren’t. And here you were—absent. Again.”

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the familiar wave of exasperation crash over me. Every dinner, every date, every carefully orchestrated attempt to convince the world I might… be anything other than what I was—it was the same story, over and over. My mother wanted me to date, to marry, to produce heirs. She wanted a legacy built on appearances, on societal approval, on someone else’s idea of propriety.

I sighed, brushing my hand across my forehead. I could barely summon the words. “Mom…”

She didn’t give me a chance. Her phone was already raised, her finger pointing at the screen with deliberate clarity. My stomach turned as my eyes followed her motion—and froze.

The video.

I felt my pulse spike, heat rushing to my face, a twist of dread curling in my gut. There I was—no masks, no shadows, every detail exposed. My face, my body, the intimacy I had thought private, public now.

Mom's voice cut through the silence again. “Adrian, if you’re going to behave like this, why not at least cover your face? You’re embarrassing the family. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I leaned back in my chair, hands gripping the edge, every nerve alight. Shock, humiliation, and the familiar sting of regret collided. “Fuck! How could I have made a mistake?” I muttered, voice barely audible, but sharp in the quiet room.

For a moment, nothing moved. The air was thick, heavy with tension, unspoken judgment, and the gnawing sense that the world had just become infinitely smaller—and infinitely more dangerous. My mind raced: the media would devour this, the public would judge, the family name would quake under the weight of exposure, and my carefully constructed life… would crumble.

And yet, even as dread and regret flooded through me, a small, stubborn part of myself bristled. The Adrian Martinez who had survived the glare of cameras, the whispers of journalists, the prying eyes of society—he would survive this too. But not without a price.

I ran a hand through my still-damp hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, trying to dispel the heat rising in my chest. The pride that had carried me this far now burned, an almost tangible weight. The mistake had been made, the exposure was real, and I would have to face it—face everything.

But Adrian Martinez did not fold. He never had. He never would. Not for the world, not for the media, not even for fate.

Yet as I sat there, frozen for a brief second, staring at the screen, I knew this morning was different. Something had shifted. The rules had changed. The game was no longer in my control. And for the first time in a long while, I felt the rush of fear, of anticipation… and the dangerous thrill of inevitability.