Opal Langley, a champion figure skater well-known globally, faced an abrupt and devastating halt in his once flourishing career. His mentor, the woman he'd trusted with his skills throughout his formative years, was arrested for horrible offenses...
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Narrator's pov
AMBROSE BROUGHT THEIR TANNED BEAUTY in the mysterious clear garden house, it was the home to the most extravagant flowers of Mystaline, ones that were as old as Ambrose and Florin themselves.
Opal was calm, he itched to run away and find a bottle of whatever to drown the leftover feelings of failure, a feeling he knew too well.
But Florian and Ambrose were adamant about showing their fragile one a soft love filled with a wonderful adventure of love.
"It's pretty, I mean... just.. wow." Opal's Xazenthliethian accent echoed in the room filled with flowers and furniture which would cost him years worth of his skating career.
Florin chuckled, dragging his nails along the brown-skinned neck, sniffing the scent along his velvet complexion.
The smell of sweet nectar.
It was entrapping and daring, it's what pulled Florian and Ambrose, made them possessive, obsessed.
"It truly is, I have dashing taste I must say... Ambrose picked the furniture. He always had an eye for darker colors, but you, our beautiful shades of pastel and light colors, it's time we add a bit of you into this space." Florian swiped dust off of one of the paintings that hung on the wall.
Opal's heart sped up at the words of Florian. He knew the king's (beasts) intentions with him but he was sure this was another level to their relationship, with nude paintings of Florian and Ambrose in such a close space hung up in corners of walls, self-portraits of them and their life... Opal was sure this was the final invitation to their royal love.
Ambrose placed him on the dark red sofa, Opal's wings sprouted up and flapped with curiosity. Everything was beautiful about this room, the dimmed lights, the colors, the smell.
"Yes, you are the softest part of us, it would be nice to have a bit of your personality in here." Ambrose pecked Opal's forehead softly.
Florian plopped down beside the fairy, wrapping his arms around his waist, and Ambrose did the same by either side.
Opal's heart only sped up more, it was the reaction he hadn't yet gotten used to. His heart always exposed him, because the ears of the men who thought of him fondly always wondered about the beating organ in his chest, thinking of his feelings, wondering why his heart beat the way it did, wondering how they could make it beat faster, how they could find their hands under the fairy's blouse which held a million buttons.
They stared. That's what they did.
They stared at Opal and admired his beauty, they weren't ashamed of it either. Florian took the time to admire and learn the appearance of Opal, the moles, the freckles, the scars.
