Even in the dark, Angel could say he saw alright; though he was exhausted. This was a really strange turn of events, that was for sure. There had never been a time when he found someone else asleep in his bed--hell, he didn't even bring anyone into his bed. And it shouldn't have been so weird, he did leave his door unlocked a great deal, but he trusted his companions enough not to go through his shit, besides, Blaze would be the only jackass stupid enough to go rooting through Angel's stuff anyway. Though you never knew when one of the boy's home-rigged 'alarms' would bounce out and spray pepper spray in your face. Knowing Blaze he'd probably enjoy the pain though. Speaking of which, Angel distinctly leaned backwards, avoiding (to the best of his ability) the arm directed his way. Of course this caught him off-balance and the second the stranger tackled him, hands traveling along his form in a manner that Angel wasn't sure he liked, he squirmed.

Opening his mouth to protest seemed like a good idea at the time, but every word scattered from his brain, and his breath froze in the back of his throat. Light eyes had widened with the initial shock, while every muscle in his body ceased. There are times in a person's life where they doubt themselves, and this was one of those times where Angel doubted his ability to live past this second. It wasn't like he hadn't been on the receiving end of a kiss before, but this would be the first time--he could safely say--that he'd been kissed by another male. And he put so much effort into denying the fact that there was a portion of him that was convinced he was gay. But it was five in the morning, and there was someone worshipping his mouth, and that someone happened to be a guy, and fuck said guy was straddling his hips in a bad spot.

Briefly his eyes had drifted closed, but they snapped open again as Angel tried very hard to make his muscles work. But the more he tried, the more like rubber he seemed to feel until, all at once, he gave up the fight. Who was going to know? From the taste, this other person was drunk, and who really ever remembered anything after they'd been drunk? With some deep, simmering amount of shame, Angel failed to bite back the tiny whimpering moan that escaped his lips. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And then the larger male was rolling off of him and back onto the bed. Angel should have gotten up, he knew he should have, but all he managed to do was furrow his brows in obvious worry while propping himself up on his elbows. He also should have gotten up, grabbed his gun, and--at gunpoint--ordered this person to leave. But there was little time to do so before he was being pinned again, eyes widened once more and now staring up into the other's face. There was a rush of heat that filled his pale cheeks, flushing them dark red when the other male opened his eyes. It was obvious, from the reaction, that this boy didn't know where he was any more than Angel knew who he was.

Tentatively, Angel opened his mouth to attempt to speak, but found the words wouldn't come. He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly, but still no sound. Fuck, come on Angel, speak. A few tense moments passed before Angel's voice cracked to life, uneven and small, "F-french is my n-native language..."

Squaring his jaw, he tried to drag his eyes away, and tried to will down his blush, tried to gather the urge to be violent, defend his territory and sexual persuasion, but the only thing he could do was lay there. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he responded once more, "Probie...means newbie...I th-thought you were...w-who are you?"