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The Jubilee is the celebration for Vega as a whole. Hope for the future of the lower classes. A reminder that hard work and cooperation benefit all. The Masquerade is a celebration for the elite. The event is held annually in the grand ballroom at the Venetian, remodeled and crafted to the most opulent tastes. Floors of black stone. Arched ceilings in white. Roman columns connect the two; gold plated and shiny in the low light of revelry.Champagne flows. Its seemingly endless supply fuels the bitterness of the Consul’s son. William Whele wears his finest tux, custom-tailored to perfection. He is a slender, pleasing figure. His mask hides his youthful face.But his awkwardness still shows when he spies his childhood love. Claire Riesen is the picture of beauty in a white Grecian gown. Her mask is gold, arched eyes like a cat. She would look divine, if labeling one such a thing was still complimentary. But Claire’s eyes are on another. Blonde hair, strapping white suit, mask black. He has the body of a soldier, but there is a regal flair to his movements. Airy confidence as he takes Claire’s hand. A smirk as he kisses it. He basks in the attention of the crowd, knowing he has won what so many others covet.William gulps the rest of his champagne and drops his empty flute on the tray of the nearest waiter.Claire being suited is not a surprise. Neither is her companion. Strong and dashing, like a goddamn fairy tale. But it still hurts.William fishes through the sea of masks for a fresh glass of champagne. Or something stronger, preferably. He happens upon a man resting back against a column. Black is all he wears, suit, shirt, and mask. Dark hair drapes across the forehead of his shroud. But his smirk stands out the most, a puckered tilt meant solely for William. He holds champagne in both hands.William approaches. "One glass for you, one to spare?“ “The plan was two for me,” the man says. His accent is more interesting than anything William has seen or heard tonight. “This party is a bore.”“No one is forcing you to stay,” William points out. The man grins. “That goes for you too.” He holds out his spare glass. William accepts it gladly. “I owe you one.” “A dangerous thing,” the man muses. “To owe me.” William cocks his head, more intrigued than threatened. He sips from his glass. A glance tells him that Claire has shifted to the dance floor with her companion. He's as good at dancing as he is at smirking. Why wouldn’t he be, to win the affections of the Lady-in-Wait? “Are your eyes for the woman, the man, or both?” The stranger leans against the post. When he drinks, his pronounced Adam’s apple jumps below his jaw.William swallows instinctively. “They make a striking pair.” “Awfully pretty, yes,” the man says. “If ‘pretty’ is your thing.” “What is your thing?” William asks. He blames the champagne for his forwardness. He also blames the champagne for how his chest tightens when the man faces him. “I like what I should not want.”“Forbidden things, you mean?”The man smiles like a cat. “Nothing is forbidden to me,” he replies. ***“You haven’t told me your name.” “Would a name make a difference when you can’t see my face?” William cannot argue this. But he cannot argue much of anything with his back to the door, the man’s shrouded face feasting on his neck. His hand tightens around a half-full champagne flute. His other scrubs through the man’s hair. He makes a tight fist and pulls. An amused grunt is followed by a bite. William gasps. The sound whooshes in just before the stranger’s mouth covers his.William lets his hand fall from the man’s hair. He pulls at the mask instead, the black shroud hiding all but the glint of his eyes. The man snatches his hand away, pinning his arm against the door hard enough to knock. William hisses, but not from pain. He turns to welcome the mouth tasting his ear. “Naughty, naughty,” the stranger laughs. William spreads his legs subtly, urging weight between them. A smirk of understanding laps at his earlobe.“You won’t show your face?” William asks. The man grins. “What fun would that be? Adventure with me, friend.” William raises his glass in a silent toast. His champagne is gone in two healthy swallows. William's cheeks feel warm, but not as warm as the rest of his body. The man is solid under the hand William rakes down his stomach. His fingers go for his jacket buttons. Kisses trace down William’s jaw and nip at the soft underbelly of his chin. William lifts his head without being asked. He drops his glass when the man’s tongue pushes flat on his throat. The flute hits rug. It does not break, landing with a lazy thump. “Careful, boy,” the man purrs. William twists his head away, a snarl curling his mouth. “I’m not a boy."His offense earns a snicker and a hand between his legs. A sudden squeeze makes William falter, knees buckling, eyes wide. “You most certainly are not,” The man breathes. He grinds the heel of his palm into William, fingers hooked around the outline of his balls. William’s hips rock forward. He sucks in a breath, mouth forming words without sound.“Is that a yes?” the stranger asks. William nods. “Say it.”“Yes,” William hisses. “Go on.” He succeeds in sounding somewhat in control. But it doesn’t matter. The man’s grin cuts right through William's facade, and his hands cut through the front of William’s shirt. William's clothes fall like the rags of a V1, tux and shirt a rumpled heap on the floor. The belt, the man takes his time with. He urges its edge from the buckle, then yanks on the leather strip. William’s hips jerk forward. “Have you been fucked before?” the stranger asks.The words make William’s head spin. “Yes.” It is an admission that could ruin him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but William can’t bring himself to lie. “Good,” the stranger murmurs. He makes a show of undoing William’s zipper, pinching the front tab and easing it down tooth by tooth. William rocks forward. “Patience,” he’s told. William licks the taste of the man from his lips. He stares at the hidden face, the wet mouth and mask. Large hands settle on his waist, sliding his pants and underwear down. William is already half-aroused. A hand wraps around him, dry but warm. He twitches to thickness, throbbing in the tight grasp. A thumb swipes over his tip, quick but hard. William jumps. A laugh shivers against his lips. William breathes in through his nose, mouth too busy accommodating the tongue pressed past his lips. He pushes the shirt from the stranger’s body. Skin on skin. His back is firm, cut to a more slender waist that disappears under his pants. William reaches between them for his belt. His hands are forced above his head, pinned by the wrists. The stranger grinds himself forward, clothed body against William’s nakedness. William grunts, shocked and affronted.“Patience,” the man repeats. He undoes his own zipper. William twists under the hand pinning his wrists. Teeth scrape his chin, breaths hot against his mask. “Yes,” he hisses. The ’s’ lingers when the man cups his arousal, two cocks in one palm. Hardness on hardness, stroked with wet fingers. “I like when you say that word,” the man says. “What else will you say ‘yes’ to, hmm?” “What did you have in mind?” A bad idea, but William is tipsy and aroused beyond tolerance. A smirk pets his temple. “I’d like to fuck you, of course.” “Of course.” William grins. His reaction startles a grunt from his mystery. Fingers tighten around the hands still linked above William’s head. “Get on with it,” William says.This earns a laugh and a kiss. “Oh, I do like you,” the man croons; William feels his voice deep in his belly. “Turn around.”William is far less steady than he would like to be when he complies. He flattens his hands on the door and bows his head. William expects spit-wet fingers and braces himself.He jumps when the intrusion comes from the man's tongue instead. Hands spread his ass cheeks wider. William’s thighs jolt apart, unsteady. He feels the stretch to his balls. His cock, so hard now, throbs against the wood.“My, but you are pretty,” the stranger murmurs. “Perhaps you do belong with those two. The lovelies who turned their backs on you.”“Please,” William gasps. He doesn’t want to think about Claire. He just wants the breaths bursting on his spread ass and the heaviness of his own need between his legs.His request is answered with a snicker. The tongue stretches him with a wet thrust that makes William hiss and claw against the door. The pressure delves deeper, lips curled around his rim. A french kiss, twisting, stroking him wider. A slick stroke in long-untouched places. William pulls his own hair. His mask clicks its frustration against the door. The stranger chuckles, tremors shooting through nerves already on edge. William's erection pulses, maddening. He scratches the door, teeth grit against mortifying sounds that threaten to spill out. Too good already, too good and it’s only beginning. “Tight as a drum,” the stranger hums. His teeth graze William’s ass cheek, making him jump. “Are you sure?” “Please,” William repeats.Fingers replace the man’s tongue, slick too, in his already-wet hole. The sensations are strange, forgotten. William’s hips buck forward with surprise. He grunts at the discomfort, fists clenched beside his face. “I’m not small, you know.” William glares over his shoulder to where the stranger kneels.At William's silence, the man licks his lips. “You’re ready then.” William pants through an open mouth. It is the only answer he offers. As the stranger stands, William sees that his pants have been undone. His cock is out, worked in a wet fist. William swallows and faces the door again, hands clenched in anticipation.A bite at the back of his neck makes him gasp, and this is when he feels the start of pressure. The cock head, thick, splitting him wider. William groans, chewing back his volume as best he can. He tightens a fist in his own hair, whimpering into his wrist as the pressure builds. The incremental spreading. Hands brace on his waist to assist him, pushing him open, forcing his hips to angle. The man’s tongue eases the sting left on his neck. William shudders, blowing out against the door. The man does not ask William if he is all right, and he doesn’t ask if he should stop. William appreciates this despite his struggles. He is all right, he doesn’t want him to stop.Hips fit snug to his; strong, hard. The man’s chest claims his back, sculpted like art. William is his. For one night, he’s been chosen. “Good boy,” the stranger murmurs. His waist rocks forward, making William hiss.William does not mind being called ‘boy’ now. Lips touch his ear, and a thumb crosses his cheek. Breaths sweep over his skin. William turns his head. A nudge of contact, a show of affection.A snap of hips, and William bites his lip, chewing back the cry that wants to tear from him. Pain and elation - he’s been chosen!The thrusts shift, deepen. William moans weakly. He gropes a dizzy hand through the man’s hair, pulling until he can kiss him. He hears the man’s growl, low and possessive. Their bodies move together, skin slapping in unison. William’s hand wraps around himself. His cheeks are hot from the lack of air.He tips his head back to suck in a breath. The man’s mouth smears across the edge of his mask, teasing with his tongue, a stripe of saliva left on his face. William groans, the sound breaking as hips bruise into his. His waist spasms, and he hisses. William claws at the door, at the stranger, at anything his hand can grasp. But he’s coming, spilling into his own hand.The pressure lingers inside, dragging his orgasm out. His stomach knots, waist jerking of its own accord.He is aware of the wetness filling him as he slumps against the door, sweaty and spent. A drop slips down his thigh as the stranger draws from him. But he stays close, body draped over William’s back.“My name is William,” William mumbles. “Gabriel.” William glances over his shoulder, bemused. “Odd name in these times.” The man’s mouth twitches. “Oh, you have no idea.” *The End*