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Here at the ball, everyone wears masks to hide their faces. An exciting high profile event for the Parisian elite - but Gustave can only scoff at that.
Those rich snobs and people who only pretend their names are worth something don masks each and every day anyway. Just tonight they actually pretend not to recognize anyone, making for a ‘fun, low stakes event’ - or so they try to sell it.
Gustave is attending the mask ball not because he finds any enjoyment in the worthless chatter between people who now think that, behind their mask, they could lose their inhibitions for one night only. No, he’s here for a different reason.
“What a splendid dance, monsieur lupin!” A man with a bear mask and a brown, ill fitted-suit is patting the shoulder of a man with a black Wolf mask. The latter is dressed to impress: wearing a fine black suit with gold adornments, complicated geometrical patterns and expensive jewels. Even his black and white mask shaped in the form of a wolf is much more artistic than the simple wooden brown one of the bear’s.
The wolf nods his head in quiet thanks and laughs, his deep baritone voice fooling none. “I do think our dear swan couldn’t keep up, but oh well. I will apologize to them later.”
“Don’t. Who cares? You’ve been astonishing on the floor. Breathtaking.”
The bear-masked man has removed his hand from the other’s shoulder - but now comes even closer, daring to touch the wolf’s hip.
“All eyes were on you, mon cher. Say… wouldn’t you like to-”
CRASH.
The sound of glass breaking makes them both jump in shock. Both masks now turn to the source of the sound.
“Pardonnez moi, messieurs.”
A man wearing a white bunny mask stands right in front of them now, the shards of his shattered wine glass spilled on the floor. He quietly wipes the red stains of liquid off the metal fingers of his left hand with a silken white cloth as servants are rushing in to wipe the floor.
Not a single drop of wine stained his elegant blue suit and vest, its silver adornments speaking of a high scholar. Blue eyes peeking through the wolf mask stare intensely at the bunny-man, as if ready to pounce any second.
“It was nice to talk to you, bear. But I’m afraid I have to leave”, the wolf hastily says in a monotone voice, betraying any emotion.
“W-wha-” The bear-man hasn’t got time to fully grasp what was just said when the wolf already wrangled himself out of his grasp and hurried off - heading for the backrooms of the mansion they are in.
“Bear.” Said person freezes and stumbles back in shock as the white bunny growls his fake-name at him in a cadence that conveys honest anger. “Keep your fingers to yourself next time. Or I’ll see you at dawn with my gun polished and cocked ready.”
He leaves the brown-suited man in utter disbelief, frozen in place and fearing for his life. Good, he should be scared, Gustave thinks to himself and hurries to trail after the wolf.
He doesn’t have to search. The other is already waiting for him in a storeroom for the servants, unused this night – they both know.
Verso stands there unmasked and ginning, casually leaning on a large wooden box filled with wine bottles. “What has gotten you so riled up, bunny bo—”
He doesn’t manage to finish the sentence. Gustave has already crossed the distance, thrown away his mask and pulled Verso in by the lapels of his suit, violently crashing his lips against his.
The moan he gets out of Verso is debauched, as is the high pitched whine Gustave forces out of him as he swiftly pulls down his pants, exposing his ass.
“Never forget-” Gustave whispers darkly as his hand reaches behind Verso and harshly pulls on the metal plug that is stuffing him. “-who you belong to, mon lupin.” It pops free with a wet squelch, the plug falls to the floor and Verso’s thighs tremble in response, only held up by the strong frame of Gustave as a thin rivulet of cum now drips down his hole.
“Hah- I think you have to remind me…” he breathes against Gustave’s angry red lips. He promptly gets silenced by Gustave’s metal fingers, eliciting another desperate groan from Verso. Gustave uses his strong right arm to promptly lift Verso off his feet and haul him on the box behind him.
It’s quick. It’s intense. Gustave opens the fly of his pants, taking out his fully hard cock and shoves it inside Verso without decorum.
He doesn’t use lube. He doesn’t need to, his own cum he had fucked deep inside his Verso just a few hours ago carving a path.
Verso throws his head back, gagging on Gustave’s fingers while pushing himself down on the length he desperately needed.
He is Gustave’s, his mind chants as his lover brutally ravishes him, fucking him hard and fast till Verso is dizzy headed, drooling and freshly filled with a new mark of ownership.
He will carry it around for the rest of the ball proudly, keeping it all inside him with the plug.
He is Gustave’s. And only his.