Hall of Debauchery

Few strands of golden rays, beaming through the arched window, grew thinner as soon as dusk began to take over.

The room was already dark, perhaps filled with dark and cold hues, engraving its mysterious atmosphere. Even if the light wasn't enough to illuminate the large chamber, it was enough to distinguish the blandness designed from the ceiling to the carpeted floor.

However bland it may be, it bore great contrast with the unusual and luxurious items sprawled within the four corners of the room as though it was in a surplus commodity.

Torn packets containing white powders were either spilled or smeared across the room.

From the golden glints reflected from the several almost empty liquor bottles and glasses, toppling like dominoes everywhere...

Across the nightstands, chaises, and floor found several ashtrays filled with embers from cigarette butts and conspicuous plant remains.

Their smoke lingered for some time, creating a dark mist that shrouded.

One could tell it was akin to a dreamy, starry night sky.

Although the difference was: it wasn't the only one glinting as their bodies drenched, and it wasn't serene and quiet as one would notice.

The walls echoed with moans, grunts, and ceaseless curses of derogatory and wanting immediate bodily release and pleasure, both uttered by men and women.

...With kinds of items and smokes that were enough to rile up emotions and caused disregard for logical reasoning and awakened the primal roars from within.

On the wide and comfortable bed—creaking a fast and subtle sound—was enough to cater several people at once, Athan's head rested by the ebony wood headboard while laid his godly physique on the soft, dark-velvety mattress.

Eyes wide open in a fraction of a second from the lucid dream that came over him.

His body glistened as well from the sweat that coated every inch of his toned forearms and from his defined torso—most especially his broad chest—rose and fell quickly with every deep breath he took like he woke up from a nightmare.

Athan sat up with palms anchoring on the bed with a grunt. '—Another premonition—?! What the fuck—' But then, he bit his lip, almost giving in from the pleasure that only attacked his sensitive spots.

The sensation dawned upon him.

It made him look down with a voluptuous woman having her hands and mouth wrapped around his girthy manhood, occasionally bobbing her head up and down.

Amidst it, the lady was on all fours, her ass sticking out for another svelte, robust man to ram her from behind. Unbeknownst to his initial shocking reaction, her eyes said it all—too indulged with his all for her.

Meanwhile, two men, with fair skins and slender bodies, rose and looked at him quizzically as they got interrupted from taking their time suckling around his already taut and swollen pink nipples.

Even the ladies that slinked and kissed his arms and nape were no different.

"Man, what got you so worked up now? We just started our fun, and you look like you saw a ghost or whatsoever."

From the baritone voice, along with his occasional grunts, he arched his neck and saw his aquamarine eyes peering at him.

However, the crown prince glared at the grand duke that he deemed trustworthy and his right-hand man.

"Matthew…" he let out a low growl.

Indeed, Sylvester Matthew Salvatore was the robust man, grinding out his lower loins unto the fleshy cavern of a noble lady, with her mouth around the shaft of Athan for all she cared. He also copied his frown look before he raked his slick flax hair to the back, revealing his soaked face with a seductive look.

His wolf tail and ears perked from his tensed body from satisfaction.

"Really now—" He now grabbed the nape of the woman, drawing his face closer to her ear, and let out a warm breath. "Shut your mouth if you don't want me to fuck your brains out, you hear me? Hmm?" When his hand now gripped her jaws, she nodded and bit her lip.

The woman did her best, restraining her voice as her eyes slipped up in his deliverance.

"Not really in the mood for this," Athan muttered.

"God be damned, not you interrupting the mood. Could it be they don't satisfy you enough, huh?" Sylvester pulled away and had his hands now on her waist, thrusting faster and harder.

'He's still the same.' Athan kneaded his forehead what occurred to him.

She now lost her focus as she could only arch her back and away from Athan with the intense ride she got.

"You lot! Who told you, imbeciles, to stop your acts? Damn whores, do your services well!" he cursed aloud, prompting them to do their action and went on to do there with him and Athan.

But instead of submitting to the delightful lust, Athan thrashed them away. He moved out of the bed and took out his trousers and sleeves to dress himself up.

Everyone got dumbfounded with his acts, including his best friend.

Never did he denied this kind of polyamorous acts, let alone sexual interactions.

After all, satiating his libido was his number one priority.

A lot of men claimed to be monsters in bed, but Athan was on a different scale. Even Sylvester just came second to him. Every woman would die to get a taste of him, and he wasn't the man to turn down, especially if noble ladies threw themselves at him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!" Sylvester roared in disbelief.

His instincts, ironically, overtook him, and he went on fixed himself rather swiftly.

"I have a business to do." Athan donned his greatcoat with haste before leaving the room.

When he thought that shutting the door behind him would seal the decadence behind, he thought wrongly.

His gaze greeted the upper floor and wandered around, realizing it was a great hall he was deeply familiar with it. Looking down was the perfect place for a banquet, but it was different.

...Just a lot of drugs and liquors now overcrowded with men and women, filling up their sexual desires of one another...

With the place stank with their fluids.

The Hall of Debauchery.

He knew almost every corner of this place.

Like it was his second home.

Athan's tongue clicked, rushing his way out of it.

Several yards away, he reached the balcony; adjusting his cuffs and collar, he looked up at the sky. Hands pinned on the intricate railings. With his jaws locked firmly, he pondered.

'I have returned to the past, yet again.'