A Night at the Opera

Tags: FFXIV, NSFW, opera, MLM, blow jobs, face-fucking, mating press, no protection.

"Your performance was stunning, as always, mon chere..." Renaud was already in the dressing room when Ambroise returned from his encore, holding out a single red rose to the diva. His short, platinum blonde hair was slicked back, contrasting the dark skin of the duskwight.

Ambroise plucked the rose from the shorter man with slender fingers, lifting the bloom to his nose. "I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Not that I expect anything less." He moved to his dressing table, beginning to pull the pins from his elaborate wig. Renard slid behind him, hazel eyes locked on the diva in the mirror.

"Your confidence is, mmm... Exhilarating." The wig and cap came free to reveal wavy brown hair, spilling to the top of Ambroise's pale shoulders. Renard's lips pressed to the tip of his lover's ear. "Shall I make you sing once more tonight, my nightingale?"

Ambroise looked towards the champagne resting in the ice bucket nearby with a smile. "Make the Twelve jealous with your fervant worship of me, dearest, and my sweet songs may yet grace your ears." He pushed up and away from the dressing table with that, moving to remove his costume and stow it safely away. When he returned from the rack he was greeted by Renard sweeping him from his feet and carrying him to the sofa.

"It is worship you crave? Then by your leave, I shall not suffer your feet to be sullied by touching this mundane floor one moment longer, dear Prince." Renard lifted Ambroise's hand to kiss each knuckle in turn. "Bless me with your smile, that I may bask in its glow that rivals the light of Menphina."

Ambroise preened under the praise, aquiline nose lifting to the sky with a sly smile. When Renard settled him onto the sofa he tossed his long legs over the arm, lazily draping himself over the seat. "My skin longs for your lips, dearest. Pray remedy that..."

Renard dropped to his knees before his lover, beginning at one of the long legs before him. Gentle kisses drifted up his skin as Renard peeled free the diva's stockings. Ambroise's leg shifted to drape over the man's shoulder as he trailed his way up the inside of his thigh. The diva's gentle murmurs of pleasure were encouragement enough for Renard, and he finally paused to nose against the man's growing length through his smallclothes. "It seems I have come to an obstacle, My Prince."

Ambroise's deep laugh filled the dressing room, and he shifted to pull his weighty shaft from his pants, curling his fingers in Renard's hair. "Well we can't have that..." One sharp yank had Renard's lips down in position, and a subtle swirl of his hips teased the tip along them. "Now see what songs you may yet draw from me, my sweet..."

The duskwight descended on the offering with a fiery passion, lips and tongue caressing every ilm that he could reach. His mouth fell into an easy rhythm, bobbing and working itself down the diva's length until a gurgling gasp announced the limits of his gag reflex. Ambroise did not seem to care, though, tightening his hand and thrusting up in the rhythm, urging Renard to push past the discomfort. "I'll have no slacking in your service, my sweet."

Renard tried to respond, but the attempt merely allowed passage into his throat, and Ambroise reveled in the feeling. Each thrust bottomed out in his partner's mouth, forcing himself as deep as possible with deep, hungry moans. The brief time felt like an eternity to Renard, but was blessedly short in reality. With one last breathy cry Ambroise pulled away from Renard's mouth, spilling his seed on the man's face and dress coat before lulling back onto the sofa. Renard's face turned at the feeling, but he remained on his knees before his lover, gently petting his thighs.

"I crave you wrapped around me, my Prince," he said, pulling Ambroise's smallclothes free as he stood, kneeling on the couch and hauling the slimmer man up. He barely opened his pants, pulling himself free while teasing between the diva's legs. "Pass me the oil?" While Ambroise thought to comment back, the teasing blew any brattiness aside, and his long nails scrambled over the table to find the bottle of lube.

"Hurry, my sweet," he said as he held out the bottle, and Renard had no intention of disobeying. He gasped at the chill of the oil as it trickled down his throbbing length, and with one swift motion afterwards impaled Ambroise upon it. He pulled the diva's legs up over his shoulders, leaning over to rut into him with his own needy groans.

A few ticks of this had the pair echoing through the halls of the opera house, until finally one perfect stroke sent Ambroise over the edge once more, shooting heavy spurts over his chest while Renard roared. His own climax chased Ambroise's soon after, filling the diva before he collapsed atop him, gasping for breath.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. "Ser Ambroise, you're needed at the director's office." The pair met each other's gaze and broke into laughter. "Duty calls, my sweet."

"It can call later," Renard growled, settling in for a second round...