A Renaissance Party

He lifted her onto the sideboard as their tongues melted into each other. The music outside the curtain to their right was muffled but still loud, their escapade cloaked in privacy. They were two strangers masked in fantasy Renaissance costumes. His violet eyes cast by dark eye lashes and set in a brown leaf mask. Her emerald green eyes decorated with magenta fairy wings that spread from the bridge of her nose on either side to her ears. They were drunk on rum and floating through the night on a wildness of mischief and ecstasy.

She clutched at his collar using her other hand to grasp the back of his neck and tug him closer. They ravaged each other as though they were deprived of oxygen, deprived of calm, and deprived of release. His fingers pulled at the fabrics of her gown trying desperately to find the skin of her legs. Layers and layers of lace, silk, and cotton.

She giggled when he groaned in annoyance. His impatience was beguiling. He leaned his head back to look at her fully, her full bosum puckered over the rim of her neckline and her neck glistened in the glow of the night. She bit her lower lip watching him soak her in. Slowly her hands clasped the fabric of her skirts and she raised them up exposing her legs. His breathed hitched and hands shot forward, gripping her skin excitedly. She was just as soft as he imagined.

Her eyes zeroed in on his mouth and in answer he took her mouth in his again and they kissed passionately. In moments he had dropped his trousers down and settled himself between her legs. He was pleasantly surprised to find no panties on her, and thankful for the easy access to her silken entrance, as his hand grabbed hold of his cock and he teased her opening with the tip. She bit his lip begging for penetration, her legs beginning to wrap around him and lock him into place. He brought a hand to her chin and raised her face up to his, and as her eyes hooded in desire he gently kissed her on the lips simultaneously sliding into her entrance with ease. She was soaking and warm, her cunt enveloping his cock and swallowing him up inside of her. She squeezed her pelvic floor muscles and smiled as he groaned in response.

Without care to be in public, much less at someone's house during a very large party, they rode each other slowly and deliciously. They savored the moment as their bodies became one. This was love making. This was possession. This was sex like they knew each other when in reality they couldn't give first names. All they knew was that when their eyes locked, not once or twice, but consumed each other's attention, against all odds they acted on instincts. Desire brought them here to this butler's pantry on the edge of the ballroom curtained against the hundreds that danced and mingled on the other side. It felt soul tied and reckless. Vengeful and deep.

He hadn't felt this inhibited and raptured in all his 29 years and she in her 27. They would fuck one out and then disappear back into the crowds, reuniting with their friends who would be oblivious to the secret they shared. They would likely never meet again.

That was the plan at least...

He gripped his hand around her mouth silencing her moans as he picked up pace. His hand was rough and his thrusts became punishing. They were eclipsing quickly and as her eyes began to roll back he knew it was time to seal the deal. She tore through his tunic to touch his skin and the sideboard rocked beneath them. If they broke this furniture they were going to be so fucked. His pace quickened and she matched his rythym grinding against him. The sideboard shook and he lost balance, his hand thrown out to the side to catch himself so he didn't break pace. With his hand gone, her moans became loud and sensual. It was too much. When she was silenced it was easier for him to control himself, but now that he could hear her spirited moans of pleasure his body tightened up everywhere at once. In one loud cry, her body spasmed as she climaxed sending him over into his own reckless oblivion. Her legs trapped him and his seed, and he caged her in his arms as they both pulsated, the explosion slowly ebbing into a faint tingle.

She blew a strand of hair from her face and began to smile. Tendrils of raven hair stuck to her sweat covered neck. He breathed heavily, some of the drunk clearing from his mind as he took her in again. One of her nipples had popped out of the fabric in all their haste. She had the brightest smile as though she had been satiated but could definitely go another round if he were open to it. He let her go to wipe his brow and began tugging his trousers back on and tying his tunic back in place. She simply dropped her skirts over her legs and tucked her breast back in.

The thought of her dripping with their fluids beneath the skirts in secret enticed him again, and his cock hardened with satisfaction.

She had just finished adjusting herself when suddenly the curtain pulled back and three figures appeared on the other side.

"Az?" A woman asked. Their faces came into view then and he looked from the figures at the entrance and then back over to the raven haired fairy. The sex had cleared his senses better and now he felt like he could truly see her beyond the haze of desire.

She had an asymmetrical bob and flushed cheeks against her magenta fairy mask. Moreso, were her eyes. The emerald green matching the fabrics of her gown. Her strong brow pinched as she looked back at him. Confusion and curiosity.

"Az!" the woman cried. "What are you doing here? Who is she?" He could hear her jealously loud and clear. It enraged him.

The green eyed beauty looked back at the few and smoothed her hand down her skirt as she said, "Marcus, hello. I was just getting a rag and I wasn't quite sure where you had them so this gentleman was assisting me." She displayed her hand on a stain of red wine which he now saw graced the side of her skirt. Was that there before? He didn't remember her spilling a drink, however she did have a glass in her hand when he had first grasped her hand and drug her into this shadowy nook.

"Oh no!" The third figure walked forward and held hands with her. The two women smiled at each other sheepishly as though a secret passed between them unspoken. The woman dressed in fire orange wrapped her arm around green eyes' shoulders and embraced her friend. "Oh Marcus, your party is so thrilling it's a wonder everyone is still standing! Gemma and I need to leave. I cannot have my best friend balked at for being loose with wine and rum." She giggled and Marcus' cheeks burned with adoration.

Gemma. That was her name. Named after the gemstoned emerald beauties that captivated him all night most likely. He watched her friend tug her past towards the ballroom. A pain tugged in his chest. The first woman stood with her arms folded across her chest glaring at him, but he paid her no mind.

Gemma stopped for a moment and turned back to him. Her eyes danced bright and her cheeks bloomed as she shyly regarded him. "Your name?"

He paused, at first taken aback. "Azriel, but you can call me Az."

She smiled sweetly at him and reached for his hand, gently holding his fingers for a moment. "Thank you, Azriel. For the rag." His name graced her tongue like honey and against his right mind he melted in the depths of those forest eyes. She winked at him teasing him with an inside joke, and as her fingers left his he found it hard to swallow.

In all his drunken stupor, he managed to find the most beautiful woman in the entire room.

Gemma left with her friend and the first woman rammed her way in front of him turning him around so his attention was pulled from her. She began berating him for leaving her alone. But as he turned and looked over his shoulder, he found Gemma had glanced back as well. Their eyes locked once more.

And then Gemma walked into the crowds and he lost her.