Michaels in Love (English)(BoysLove)

Chapter 12 - Season 1: The Serenade

As the warm water rinsed over Mike's body, I knelt before him, taking in the sight of his eager length. Without hesitation, I took him into my mouth.

The flushed tip, firm and throbbing, was impossible to resist. My lips moved over him as my hand stroked the base, feeling every inch of his length. His guttural moans filled the room, his voice raw with pleasure.

"Uuuuuuuuuh… Damn it! Michael… Sheeet… Aaaaaah…" he groaned, losing himself completely in the moment.

I moved lower, trailing my tongue over his sensitive skin, teasing his balls before taking one into my mouth. My hand continued its steady rhythm, driving him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, Mike pulled me up with unexpected strength, his eyes serious and intense. The room fell silent as he stared into my eyes and softly said, "I love you."

Without a word, I wrapped my arms around him, whispering back, "I love you too, Mike."

He kissed me deeply, pouring all his emotions into the embrace. His lips traveled down to my neck, leaving trails of warmth. When he reached the hollow of my throat, he pressed harder, his lips marking me with a passionate red bruise.

"Aaaaaaaaah, Mike..." I exhaled, shivering as his tongue trailed lower, brushing against the base of my neck. His hands roamed over my chest, teasing my n*****s as his tongue danced over my shoulders. The friction of his arousal pressed against my firm backside, and I couldn’t help but respond.

"Aaaaaaah, Mike… aaaaah…" I groaned, matching his rhythm with my own strokes.

I could feel what Mike wanted—to claim me completely. The thought sent waves of heat through me.

"Mike… press harder, but don’t enter just yet. I’m not ready," I whispered.

"Don’t worry, my love," he reassured me. "Just hold it tight."

"Okay," I replied, breathless.

Mike grabbed the apricot-scented shower gel, lathering his rigid length before positioning it against my firm cheeks. I tightened around him, feeling his warmth and hardness as I stroked myself.

"Aaaaah, Michael… Aaaaah… I’m close… Aaaaaaah!" he groaned, his voice deep and rough as he quickened his pace.

I felt a surge of warmth spill between my thighs as he released, his body trembling against mine.

"Aaaaaaaaaah… Michael… You feel incredible… Uhmmmm…" he whispered, licking my cheek as his body shook with pleasure. The sensation left me gasping, my body surrendering completely.

Before long, another release overtook me, my own c****x spilling under the relentless rhythm of his continued movements.

"Michael… Aaaaaah…" he moaned again, his voice ragged yet filled with satisfaction.

"Yes, Mike… Aaaaaah… I’m going to come again… Aaaaaaah!" I cried out, my body shuddering as we both reached the peak of pleasure.

The warm water washed away every trace of our passion as we leaned into each other, our breaths mingling in the steamy air. We kissed one last time, soft and lingering, before shampooing and rinsing off.

Once clean, we dried ourselves off, stepping out of the bathroom, a sense of peace and love radiating between us.

Mike’s room wasn’t just a room—it was an experience. It felt more like a high-end condo, designed with a mix of modern sophistication and personal touches that screamed comfort and luxury. A 46-inch flat-screen TV dominated one wall, its Dolby sound system promising a cinematic experience. Nearby, an Apple desktop computer sat on a sleek white desk, glowing faintly in standby mode. A mini fridge hummed quietly in the corner, flanked by three spacious cabinets that held an array of carefully curated clothes. A compact gym setup occupied one side of the room, while a king-size bed with a rich, dark chocolate bedspread took center stage. Beyond the sliding glass doors lay a wide terrace, offering breathtaking views of the skyline that sparkled like a thousand diamonds against the velvet night sky.

Mike, with his characteristic charm, opened one of his cabinets and gestured for me to choose something to wear. My eyes scanned the neatly arranged garments until they landed on a black jersey with the number 87 emblazoned on the front and a pair of yellow Tommy Hilfiger shorts.

“Good choice,” Mike said with a grin, grabbing the outfit and placing it on the bed.

Still undressed, he reached for a pair of glow-in-the-dark boxer shorts and held them up with a teasing smile. “These are for you,” he said playfully.

Before I could protest, Mike gently crouched before me, his hands steady as he dressed me. It felt like such an intimate, caring moment, almost childlike in its tenderness. He laughed softly as he pulled the boxers up. “Perfect fit,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with delight. Then, he slid the yellow shorts over them before carefully tugging the jersey over my head.

Stepping back, Mike surveyed his handiwork, his gaze lingering as he bit his lip. “My clothes look perfect on you,” he said, his voice filled with pride.

“Hehehe, thanks,” I replied, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “But you need to get dressed too. Want me to return the favor?” I teased, grinning at him.

Mike chuckled. “No need, Baby. I’ll handle it.”

The way he said “Baby” sent a ripple of warmth through me. My heart fluttered, and I couldn’t suppress a shy laugh.

While Mike got dressed, I wandered over to the bed and threw myself onto it, letting out a contented sigh. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender, the comforter a deep green with delicate leaf patterns. I rolled around, burying my face in the pillows. Uhmmm, heavenly.

I propped myself up just in time to see Mike slipping into a fitted white Armani Exchange boxer. He rummaged through another cabinet and pulled out an old Ateneo Blue Eagles jersey. The sight of it made my chest swell with admiration. This wasn’t just any jersey—it was a piece of his history. Twice an MVP, part of the national championship team, and now one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, Mike had come so far. Yet here he was, mine.

Michael, you’re so lucky, I thought, my heart bursting with affection. How did someone like you capture the heart of someone as incredible as Michael Angelo Tan?

Mike finished dressing and walked over to the bed, lying down beside me. He pulled me into his arms, his lips brushing against my cheek in a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice like a warm caress.

“I love you too, Mike,” I replied, my heart full.

He cradled me against his arm, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder as we talked. Mike wanted to know everything about me—my childhood, my dreams, what brought me to Manila. His curiosity was genuine, his questions gentle and filled with interest. As I shared my story, he listened intently, his gaze never leaving mine.

When I finished, Mike took his turn, opening up about his life, his triumphs, and even his struggles. We laughed, smiled, and occasionally kissed, the bond between us deepening with every word.

After nearly an hour, Mike sat up, his lips quirking into a sheepish smile. “I’m thirsty,” he said, walking over to his mini fridge. As he sipped from a bottle of water, something seemed to occur to him.

“My phone,” he said suddenly. “I left it in the treehouse earlier.”

“I’ll go with you,” I offered, swinging my legs over the bed.

Mike set the water bottle down and walked back over to me, greeting me with a sweet kiss. He took my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Let’s go.”

The walk to the treehouse felt like stepping into another world. Hand in hand, we strolled through the garden, the cool night air brushing against our skin. The treehouse stood tall and sturdy, a relic of Mike’s childhood.

Once inside, we sat together on the wooden floor, leaning against the wall. The air felt crisp and clean, the kind of freshness you rarely find in the city. Everything about this moment felt magical—the serenity of the surroundings, the warmth of Mike’s presence, and the undeniable love between us.

“This place is special,” Mike said, his voice soft. “I used to spend hours here as a kid, dreaming about the future.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “And now? What do you dream about?”

He turned to me, his eyes filled with emotion. “You,” he said simply. “Just you.”

As the stars twinkled above, I couldn’t help but think this was the beginning of a forever I never dared to dream of before.

“This place is amazing, Mike. I’d love to have a treehouse like this someday,” I said, a wide smile spreading across my face.

Mike leaned against the wooden railing, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his handsome features. “Consider this your own, Michael,” he replied with a smile so tender it made my heart skip.

“Really?” I asked, my voice tinged with surprise and wonder.

“Of course,” he said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on my cheek. His lips lingered just long enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Wait here for a moment. I need to grab something inside,” he added, his voice warm as he stood and disappeared into the small room of the treehouse.

Left alone, I wandered to the terrace, letting my eyes drink in the view. The world seemed so peaceful, the cool night air brushing against my skin. From up here, everything felt simpler, more beautiful.

When Mike returned, I was startled by the change in him. His expression was serious, his deep eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. In his hands was a guitar, its polished wood glinting faintly in the moonlight. The air around us seemed to grow heavier, the breeze colder, as he approached me.

He sat down, the guitar resting on his lap, and began to speak. His voice was raw, filled with an emotion so profound it left me frozen in place.

“When I kissed you for the first time, I knew… I knew there’d never be anyone else. No one could ever make me feel the way you do, Michael. Why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be the one to make me surrender everything I thought I knew about myself, just for the chance to have us? But maybe… maybe you were always meant to be mine. And if the day ever comes when we’re no longer together, promise me one thing. Keep me here…” He pressed a hand to my chest, over my heart. “…because I’ll stay there until your very last heartbeat.”

Tears blurred my vision as I felt my chest swell with emotions I couldn’t put into words. Love. Joy. Gratitude. It was overwhelming. I smiled through the tears, unable to speak, my heart so full it felt as if it might burst.

The moonlight seemed to grow brighter as Mike began to strum his guitar. His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, and then his voice—smooth, soulful, and filled with love—carried the first lines of Adam Sandler’s Grow Old With You.

(Mike singing…)

I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do is grow old with you

Each word felt like a promise, a vow wrapped in melody. As he sang, his gaze never left mine, his eyes brimming with love so pure it left me breathless.

I’ll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you…

Tears streamed down my face, but they were tears of uncontainable happiness. I couldn’t stop smiling. His voice was even more captivating than Adam Sandler’s—each note, each word wrapping around my heart and drawing me closer to him.

As he reached the chorus, Mike stood and moved closer to me, the guitar still in his hands.

I’ll miss you, kiss you, give you my coat when you are cold

Need you, feed you, even let you hold the remote control…

By the time he sang the final lines, I was utterly lost in him, in this moment that felt plucked straight from a dream.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you’ve had too much to drink

Oh, I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you…

As the last note faded into the night, Mike set the guitar aside and knelt before me. His hands trembled slightly as they took mine, his eyes searching mine for something—reassurance, perhaps, or the same love he was offering.

“Michael Alexander Muraoka,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotion in it, “on this 5th day of February 2012, at exactly 11:10 PM, will you allow me to be your boyfriend?”

He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “Michael, can I be the one? The love of your life?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of my emotions. “Of course, Mike. I could never love anyone else in this world but you. I love you so much.”

He stood, pulling me into his arms. “I love you too, my Baby Michael. From now on, you’re my baby—the one I’ll love forever.”

He peppered my lips with soft, lingering kisses, each one a testament to the depth of his love. How could someone like him exist, let alone love me? It was almost too much to bear.

That night, we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms on his soft bed, the world outside fading into insignificance.

Morning broke with the sound of Mike’s iPhone ringing incessantly. I stirred, blinking groggily as sunlight streamed through the windows. Neither of us had bothered to dress before falling asleep after another intimate moment.

The phone continued ringing, and I nudged Mike. “Mike… Mike… Baby…”

“Hmm… Baby… What is it?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Good morning. I love you,” I said softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

“I love you too, Baby. Let’s sleep a little longer…”

“Mike, your phone’s been ringing. Someone’s been trying to reach you.”

He groaned, rolling over to grab his phone. The screen flashed with a missed call from Liza. Twenty-five missed calls.

Before he could say anything, we both froze at the sound of a woman’s voice echoing from the stairs.

“Mike! Mike!”

Panic flashed in his eyes. “Michael,” he whispered urgently, “I think I forgot to lock the door last night… That’s Liza. She’s coming upstairs.”

“What?” I whispered back, my voice rising in alarm. “You didn’t lock it?”

“Mike… Mike… Mike…” Liza’s voice grew louder, closer, until the doorknob began to turn.

“Mike?” she called, her voice sharp and insistent.

To be continued…