Together, Dante, Minerva and Angelica, stare at you, raking their eyes over you with deep approval and unbridled curiosity.
You train your peripheral vision to pay close attention, catching them conversing among themselves in a native tongue you cannot speak or follow.
In an effort to feign your awareness, you endeavor to ignore their interest, moving your eyes around the room, taking in the details, the deep, dark seductive colors of this crypt, the low candlelit lighting, the heavy shadows, sumptuous silk drapes, satin and velvet fabrics.
The pace of your heart has quickened with excitement, and as you breathe in deeply to sooth and fill your senses you find exotic tones of deep rich dates and molasses, oriental spices, coriander, pomegranate blossom, mandarin orange, peach, jasmine and Bulgarian rose.
With a relaxing sigh your senses go deeper, surfacing mimosa, cloves, orange blossom, wild clover and rose, before uncovering the base notes of labdanum, amber, sandalwood, tonka bean, opoponax, civet and vanilla.
Breathing in these rich opulent scents your mind maps their corresponding colors, and with growing arousal, you sense a pleasure chest slowly opening, a covenant of trust, from which you project the imagined colors of these fragrances, unconsciously drawing from a champagne-laced cocktail of emotion, your glass lifted to your lips, you take another long sip.
You crave permission. The freedom to feel your thoughts without fear. Without judgement. To allow the experience of life, to live, even if just for a moment, unfiltered. To experience the authenticity of being at one with your instincts, no matter how primitive or primal.
Glancing over at the young Robert, you see his tight jeans failing to hide the outline of his manhood, and how the hardening there has begun, seemingly commanding your attention, perhaps begging, perhaps demanding.
You feel a blush of disapproval, punishing yourself for daring to have such open thoughts and wants. And yet they can feel so good.
On the other side of you, Aragorn relaxes back further into the sofa, his knees opening, widening, confidently letting you how he too cannot restrain or conceal his growing excitement and approval.
He’s competing for your attention, expressing his love for the scent of you and displaying his crush for wanting your pleasure, turned on by being so close and right beside you.
Neither man makes the slightest attempt to hide his obvious and carnal excitement with your being there between them and with every sip of champagne the room grows warmer on your skin as if you’re slipping naked into a fresh hot bath.
The heat climbing up, over your legs and up through your body, into your chest, your shoulders and head, until you begin to swoon, your physical form melting into the warmth, leaving you aching to be held and occupied, overcome with a wanton lust, unlike anything you’ve experienced before.
Your eyes search for the source as you feel cooler air, akin to a draft, reaching your skin, and you catch Minerva lifting her gaze, and sense the warmth of her approval leaving you, her admiring attention turning instead to the young man-boy sat beside you: Robert.
You look on, as the light in her eyes connects with his and her features form with concentration and you sense she is projecting her thoughts to him.
With obedient, hypnotic motion, Robert slowly rises to his feet, as if summoned by a higher power. Standing he turns through a few degrees to face you, and your eyes ignite with their own inner light.
The energy of you, palpable, pouring out from behind your mask as your eyes climb the length of his fit body, reaching up to the magnificent head of hair that hangs over his shoulders with a halo glow.
Unable to move you watch in awe as Robert’s hands begin to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his fly. He tugs off his heavy worn boots, and slowly pushes his jeans down off his thighs, then steps clear, shedding the denim, leaving his jeans rumpled on the floor.
Half naked, his incredible cock bounces and twitches freely and the want of it reaches out toward you.