Dance with the Dragon [Mile x Apo] [MileApo]

Chapter 5: It Comes in Emerald

*Disclaimer: NSFW Scene in this chapter*

Awed, humbled, and downright floored to the ground.

He swore if he wasn't flying in the air already, he'd have floated away or would have fallen to his knees as they buckled with intimidation at the splendor in front of him. It was not an exaggeration or figment of his imagination; the mini pinch marks on his hand were proof of it after the plane settled at a reasonable altitude and he was free to 'move about the cabin'. The amount of luxury that was painted inside of the vessel was exceptional, Apo had no idea how to really swallow this pill. He knew Mile was rich. Rich to the point that he was convinced the man was a gold god, that everything he even peeked at, instantly turned to riches. The watch, the connection to the Guns N Roses band, the flower garden that was in his apartment being tended to by his land lady (the woman sheepish and excited for him all at once was only too happy to do so) all of it seemed to pale in comparison to this moment.

Being flown on a private jet was nothing like he had seen the movies and shows; they gave him a false sense of illusion and expectation that failed in every way, shape and form. Apo even played a 'billionaire' on a show once, which now seemed stupid because that set was a pauper's trashcan compared to all of what laid in front of him. He was never shameful to play a part except now. Embarrassed almost. He hoped Mile never saw that movie. He would call the director and producer and tell them to burn every copy in existence to help him save face.

This...this was the real deal. His hands were folded behind his back, palms sweaty with nerves, crescent shaped divots in the palms of his hands, mind prattled incoherent drivel for a good five minutes that it tuned out whatever was being said to him but he wanted to give off an expression of curious indifference as he followed one of the attendants.

Apprehension slid into his core, his heart, his resolve, and not for the first time – he hesitated. Did he make the right decision to come? Damn Jeff and his way of twisting his words to make him jump into situations he could not readily get out of. He was in the air, what was he going to do, parachute out? That seemed even more terrifying of an experience. Apo should have thought this through, not give into whimsical child's play and globetrot with a man who made him feel like he was on fire every time those eyes were hard pressed on him. His form. They analyzed, critically calculated Apo's every move, fuck if that didn't make perspiration drip down the back of his neck and into the outfit he wore as he thought about them in another context.

He was NOT turned on by all of this. That was egotistical to think that he could be readily bought by fancy furnishings that he was pretty sure cost an arm and leg on the black market or the expanded space that the exterior of the plane deceived his perception upon his arrival to the airport.

He tried to play it cool, to play as though this was not impressive in the slightest; but he was unable to keep up a charade poorly concocted if his life depended on it. The jet was exquisite. The attention to detail in the fixtures, the space, the bedroom – that one had him pause for a moment longer on the tour the woman was giving him as Mile was interrupted in a business consult – and he peeked inside. He was appreciative to the pause to escape from Mile's hand that had curled into his own. Apo put on a brave face, a very 'I've got this' expression that seemed to fool the other man, but he was dying on the inside of stresses.

He shook his head of his reprieve and pity party after all – he had to think of this like a challenging role, one that would benefit him personally and helped him grow – even if it ended with egg on his face, Apo could claim the experience, cross it off his non-existent bucket list, and say he had sex in an airplane.

'Wait. Pause brain pause. We are NOT having airplane sex, especially with Mile, back the fuck up. Stop being so perverted,' Apo grumbled mentally to himself, told kicked his brain to stop that thought process immediately and just have a gander at the view in front of him, take an inhalation of the scent that was clean, laundered, and comforting to him. It reminded him of when he did laundry on his days off, hung it out to dry on his balcony and kept the door open to let the smell permeate inside of his one-bedroom apartment. The aroma reminded him of a rainy day, musk, and whiskey – like Mile.