“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Niko says, smiling at me as he props his ass on the edge of the desk by the window. He’s wearing nothing but underwear and an unbuttoned shirt. “Isi called. It’s time.” He tilts his chin toward the bathroom, the adoration in his gaze turning my stomach upside-down. “I did my best to clean you up, but you should probably still shower.”
My cheeks catch fire. It’s not exactly from embarrassment, but I still get this tight feeling in my chest, like bubbles trying to escape.
“You okay, Tommy? Or do you need me to carry you there?” Niko teases, his smile transforming into a playful smirk as the morning sun envelops him in a fiery halo.
I dramatically flick a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of my eyes and huff with overplayed indignation. “There’s no need for that. I am perfectly capable of walking even after you railed my ass all night.”
His chuckle accompanies me as I slide off the bed and pad over to the bathroom. My legs feel a little wobbly at first, like they’ve turned into noodles, but after a couple of steps, I’ve got everything under control.
Shower out of the way fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom feeling refreshed. Niko has laid out clothes for me on the bed, the sheets of which he has also changed. Aw, how nice of him to hide the evidence of our filthy adventures. So thoughtful.
I put on the black briefs, grab the burgundy shirt and frown. “Uh, what’s up withthis?”
Niko hums as he positions himself behind me and throws his arms over my shoulders. “Ah, yeah. Apparently, the Gala Andras is throwing has a dress code of super extra fancy.” He laughs, taking the frilly, glittery silk shirt from my hands. “Isi got us a matching set. Your shirt and my pants and my shirt and your pants.”
I follow his gaze to a second pile of clothes sitting on top of the drawer. “I’ve never… worn something so luxurious.”
“You’ll get used to it fast, trust me. Now chop, chop. We need to be in the lounge in ten.”
He kisses my head and gets started on his own clothes. Just like he said, they match the color of mine, just reversed. The burgundy pants with glitter look amazing on him, form-hugging and leaving little to the imagination. It makes my mouth water just looking at him. His dark gray shirt is simpler than mine, with frills only along the button line as opposed to the way my sleeves end in beautiful ruffles.
“Stop staring, Tommy. You are making it awfully hard not to think with my dick when you give me this look,” Niko says, snapping his fingers.
I shake my head, because he’s ogling me just as shamelessly. “What’s with the double standards? You think you’re any better?”
Heties the drawstrings of his shirt, then walks over to me and does mine. “I can’t help it. You look stunning, like some royalty going to a ball.”
I consider that for a moment, gliding my gaze along the ornate ceiling. I suppose that’s kind of correct, sort of. The ball part, I mean. I steal a glance in the mirror, checking myself out. The clothes fit me perfectly, tailored in a way that compliments my build. The burgundy and dark gray bring out my eyes and the golden ear cuffs that came as part of the getup. They are simple in design, but they follow the curve of my ears all the way to the top without being too much. Niko has the exact same.
“I think we should go shopping, once this is over. Your wardrobe needs an update. Isi might be a bit eccentric at times, but when it comes to clothes, his taste is unmatched.”
I peek at the mirror again. The two of us standing next to each other truly look like something otherworldly, like we’ve come from some magical kingdom far far away.
“I’d argue for the principle of it, but this is actually quite comfortable.” I spin around and stretch my arms and legs, the fabric giving in pliantly.
Niko places his hand at the low of my back and turns us so we are both facing the mirror. A beat of silence passes before he makes an approving sound and kisses my cheek. “Let’s go.”
When we arrive in the lounge, it’s bustling with activity. Isidoro stands in the middle, waving his arms and talking in quick, but curt sentences as people buzz around him.
“There they are!” he announces when he sees us. “Hair, makeup, please.”
Two women appear next to us, placing a pair of chairs. “Please, take a seat,” the one with dark purple hair says. “This won’t take a minute.”
I do as told. While she does something or other to my hair, the second woman, who has light blue locks, does Niko’s makeup. It’s nothing too extreme, just a black eyeliner and red eyeshadow that make him look like one of those goths from my sex fantasies.
“Good. You two look presentable,” Isidoro deems once the two women have changed places so my makeup and Niko’s hair can be done. “Here, take this.”
He produces a beautiful black box from somewhere and hands it to Niko, who shakes off invisible dust as he stands. His hair has been slicked back all the way, exposing his chiseled face.
“What is this?” Niko asks.
Isidoro laces his hands together. “Open it.”
I observe with budding curiosity, speculating what might be inside. In the end, it’s not a gun or syringes with sedatives or tranquilizer darts or some kind of a ceremonial weapon. It’s two Victorian masks.
“You can’t go to Andras’ Gala and risk being recognized.”
“Wow.” I pick the smaller one that’s meant for me. The details are mind-blowing, the golden flowery patterns intertwining with the red and the black. “These are so pretty.”
