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It was just another run of the mill party - pop stars telling shit jokes to their brown-nosers, ghouls mixing with people as if they weren’t creatures of hell. Secondo sat in the corner, alone, sipping whiskey. His imposing presence kept people at bay even when he wasn’t actively looking down on them. He looked over the chattering crowd. He noticed his younger brother doing cocaine with what looked like the breakthough artist of the year and her entourage. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something, no - someone, shining, glistening in the party lights. He knew that shine from when the sun would hit his own bald head just right illuminating the room.
He looked over trying his best to hide his excitement. He stared intensely at the man who had just entered the room and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was him. Pitbull . His sworn enemy. Secondo has actually never met the man before, but couldn’t stand the thought that he called himself Mr. Worldwide. Whoever gave him the right? Secondo was the one with the true power of the entire satanic church. Pitbull had nothing. NOTHING, Secondo yelled in his mind and huffed.
He couldn’t approach him in public, so he just observed. Pitbull was wearing sunglasses, inside, at night, so Secondo couldn’t make out his expression. He went around the room greeting people and they smiled at him like the fools they were. Eventually, probably feeling Secondo’s fiery gaze on his back, Pitbull turned and looked directly at the man. With one smooth movement he removed his glasses and smiled at Secondo with his eyes. Secondo’s breath hitched. What the hell? He thought, questioning his body’s reactions. Then, their gazes still locked across the room, Pitbull winked. Against every rational thought he’s ever had, Secondo felt heat creep up his neck. Pitbull casually added teeth to his smile.
Secondo growled and jumped to his feet gracefully, never spilling a drop of his drink (it was The Macallan Triple Cask Matured 15 Years Old whiskey, and he would kick a small child in anger if he ever spilled any). He waltzed out of the room garnering attention from other attendees, his threatening and sexually charged aura following him dutifully. As he left the room, paying the others no mind, he failed to notice Pitbull’s fading smile and the sorrow that replaced it.
Once outside, Secondo searched for a secluded spot to calm down and enjoy the rest of his scotch. He found the perfect place, but there were at least seven people there having sex with each other simultaneously.
Che bella cosa! He thought. “Get the fuck out or else.” He said.
His commanding voice and the way the light emphasized his satanic face paint made the half naked people’s moans turn into screams, and they scrambled to run away. Secondo smirked at a job well done. He leaned against the wall where he had just watched someone get absolutely railed. The thought comforted him.
Secondo sighed deeply. What the fuck just happened? He took a sip of his drink and mourned that he wasn’t appreciating it enough due to his sour mood. It’s $135 per bottle, an expense that he always billed to the church. He didn’t like the thought of wasting his followers’ money. He could barely even smell the combination of European and American Sherry-seasoned oak. In the dark, he also couldn’t see the drink’s natural rich straw color. The night was a disaster.
As he stood there, mourning how he was missing out on the decadent flavors of orange and chocolate, he heard footsteps coming towards him from the direction of the party house.
“Whoever you are, do yourself a favor, and fuck off.” He called into the darkness. The only light there was came from the lamp that stood right next to him, so he was clearly visible, but couldn’t see the person approaching. Pezzo di merda! Whoever they were.
Just as Secondo took his last sip of the Macallan Triple Cask Matured 15 Years Old, his mystery guest reached the line of light. His silhouette was unmistakable. Pitbull.
Che cazzo ci fai qui? Was what he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat. He has never experienced anything like this. HE, SECONDO, was the one who made other people feel this way! Secondo had the single most impressive sexual presence out of anyone he’s ever met, and he took pride in it more than in anything else. They even held a poll at the Ministry and he was voted most sexually intimidating by a whopping 78% of the people. Now he stood in the darkness and refused to acknowledge the warmth surging through his body.
They stood in silence for a full minute, Secondo with his empty glass, Pitbull in his sunglasses. It was the second man who made the first move. He stepped further into the light, and once fully visible he removed his sunglasses and tossed them aside. He looked straight into Secondo’s eyes.
Confused and unsure, Secondo could feel something twitch in his pants. Not his cock, no. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t about to be aroused by Pitbull. Right?
Then Pitbull moved forward again, leaving only a few steps between them, making Secondo’s breath quicken. The sudden influx of sensations angered him. Nobody was allowed to make him feel this way.
“Whoever the fuck you think you are” He snarled. “You’re not the real Mr. Worldwide.”
To his utter shock, Pitbull chuckled.
“Modern day Hugh Hef (uh yes). Playboy to the death (uh yes). Is he really worldwide? (uh yes).” He said.
“No.” Secondo replied firmly. “I am Mr. Worldwide.” His gaze hardened against Pitbull’s warm one. The other man chuckled again and took another step forward, closing the distance between them.
“This for anybody going through tough times. Believe me, been there, done that. But every day above ground is a great day, remember that.” He said calmly, and Secondo could no longer deny the hardness in his elegant trousers. Pitbull was now close enough for him catch a whiff of an all too familiar smell. He smelled like… chocolate and orange. No, it couldn’t be. Could it? Pitbull smelled just like the combination of European and American Sherry-seasoned oak, and it was absolutely intoxicating.
“What do you want with me?” Secondo snarled.
“And the mama is like wow. And the booty’s like bang, bang, bang. I don’t bring sand to the beach. Bring the beach to the sand.”
The blush that grew on Secondo’s face was so intense it threatened to show from under the paint, and in return all Pitbull did was smile politely.
Secondo tried to fight his body’s reactions. He wanted to hate his current predicament, but he couldn’t. His body wasn’t lying, he was extremely aroused. Aroused and vulnerable. Secondo never felt vulnerable. Never. What was it about this man? What made him special?
“Who the hell are you? And what do you want? Answer me.” Secondo repeated, growing desperate.
“Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane. No, it's just me, ain't a damn thing changed.” Pitbull responded and leaned forward. He raised his right hand and put it on Secondo’s shoulder in a friendly manner. Secondo tensed every single muscle in his body to not react to the touch.
“2 2, I’m gonna undress you. Then we’re gonna go 3 and 3 you gon’ undress me. Then we’re gon’ go 4 and 4. We gon’ freak some more.”
With that, Secondo could no longer hold it in, and full on whimpered. He has never before felt self-loathing as intense as this. Pitbull continued.
“Your man just left. I’m the plumber tonight. Let me check your pipes. Oh, you’re the healthy type. Well, here goes some egg whites.”
Secondo felt like he was going insane. What did he mean? What was he saying? He wished he could ask, but his throat was as tight as his pants. Pitbull was smiling politely at the mess of a man in front of him, as if completely oblivious of what he was doing to him. He raised his left arm to Secondo’s remaining untouched shoulder, and spoke again, looking deeply into Secondo’s wild eyes.
“And it's not our fault that we have all the ladies. But it's hard to see these ladies when your middle name's Equator. All around the globe, matter fact, see you later.” His last words almost a whisper, Pitbull sighed and let go of Secondo’s shoulders. He winked, and just like that, turned to leave. Secondo looked after him bewildered, unable to move or speak. He heard Pitbull’s receding footsteps and a crunch that sounded exactly like someone stepping on a pair of sunglasses.
Once Secondo was sure he was alone and out of earshot, he proceeded to masturbate violently. Spent and exhausted, he collapsed to the ground, panting. Maybe he was wrong about all this from the start. Secondo always felt the need to be in control, to be the only one calling the shots. He could never let himself be vulnerable, and yet Pitbull undid him with a simple look.
Maybe what it would take for Secondo to learn to let go is someone of equal power. Someone like… Another Mr. Worldwide. He smiled. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all. The world was wide, and he wasn’t alone in it.