‘They say that coffee is a natural aphrodisiac … and there’s nothing that’s more ‘stimulating’ than the smell of fragrant, freshly-brewed coffee. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I imagine, fueled by caffeine, things would get a little ‘frisky’ at Le Cafe Theatre, and Arno and I would end up in his bedroom and have the wildest, most vigorous, and most passionate sex. I think I’ll be taking regular coffee breaks from now on …’
‘Few more weeks to go for my exam and I’d self-appoint myself as Arno’s personal whore.’
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‘I have a *thing* for masks, so seeing Arno in his Phantom Hood, Jacob with his stolen mask at the Alhambra, and Ezio wearing his Carnavele mask does all sorts of things to me~ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I’d like to be pushed up against these three beautiful gentlemen as their hands caress my body, slowly relieving me of my clothes, and they tempt me with their mouths and tongues and voices, their eyes dark with desire in the shadows of their masks …’
I’m so in love with Arno that I just want to kiss those beautiful lips of his and hold his angelic face in my hands, and then I’d just want to be held in his arms while I ride him, hearing his moans and his warm breath against my neck and some French dirty talk… oh my god, I’m dead just thinking about it.
‘Le Cafe Theatre is closed for the night, and Arno and I are the only ones left in the cafe, tidying up. Playfully, Arno invites me onto the stage, and starts making up his own play about a pair of lovers. The scene starts of innocently, until Arno pulls me in for a kiss, which grows into something more passionate. He begins to undress me, and I run my hand over the stiffness in his tight breeches. Needless to say, we end up with a ‘play’ we would never be able to stage for the public ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)’
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Arno and I are together on a hot summer night on a rooftop garden in Paris. The air is thick with the scent of roses, and in the summer heat, we begin to disrobe each other until we’re completely naked. His eyes are dark and excited as he slowly maneuvers his way into me, I gasp in pleasure as his thrusts begin slow and languid but then gain in fury and intensity. I can think of no better way I would spend a night in the City of Love. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I want Arno to make love to me in his Cafe Theatre bedroom, while it’s storming outside. Our moans of pleasure rival the pattering of the rain and roars of thunder, and the heat of our bodies warm us against the cold. And when we’re done I want to cuddle against him under the covers as the storm continues to rage on, while I feel safe and comfortable in his arms.
‘This is just about as sinful as it gets but I wanna fuck Arno in a confessional booth at Notre Dame.’
‘You know … just between you and me … seeing Arno’s face is all it takes to get my ovaries into high gear like it’s my duty to repopulate the planet. 😛 What is this level of sexual frustration!’
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‘I want to seduce Arno wearing one of those “virgin killer sweaters”. Or maybe I want him to seduce *me* while wearing it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)’
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