There was a dull fire that burned in Ansel's chest as his eyes moved from one man to the other, his first love and his last. Although Ansel felt a stir of emotion in Emerson's presence, he realized quickly that it had nothing to do with any lingering feelings he may have had for the man. It was true that had Ansel encountered Emerson just a few weeks earlier, before he had begun his illicit affair with Lucio, Ansel would have had no reservations about hopping into bed with Emerson again after two and a half decades. Johanna's plan would have gone off without a hitch, and Ansel would have allowed himself to be swept up in resurrected emotions that were best left cold and buried. But as he moved his gaze from one man to the other, Ansel realized that anything he had once felt for Emerson was only a weak, vapid imitation of the raw emotions he harbored for Lucio. Throughout all of his studies, his internal conversations and constant self-analyzing, Ansel had never come to the conclusion that his adolescent love for Emerson had just been puppy love, love fueled by puberty, confusion, and self-discovery. There was something there, he could feel it, something spoke to him as he looked at Emerson and followed the lines of his straight nose, his strong jaw and the curve of his pink lips. He was still so painfully beautiful. But he wasn't Lucio. He wasn't the one.<br/><br/>Ansel was encouraged by Lucio's touch and wrapped his arm around the alluring male's waist. Johanna brought a hand up to her temple and rubbed as she closed her eyes. Wrangling Ansel's lovers had never been an easy thing, and it seemed that egos were always going to be in play. She did like Lucio, however, liked the way he claimed her brother so definitively without hesitation. The look in Ansel's eyes as he did so told her everything that she needed to know. Emerson, despite his habit of breaking hearts, was a class act. Johanna was sure he would respect Lucio's claim even if he didn't particularly like it. He had made it very clear when getting in contact with her that he wanted to see Ansel again. This was most certainly not what he had expected, but it was what it was.<br/><br/>"Twenty-one? What a sweet little age. It's not uncommon for older men to use younger lovers as a way to recapture their own youth. Very rarely do they advance to the level of a real relationship, however. It's dreadfully charming."<br/><br/>Johanna furrowed her brows and placed a hand on Emerson's arm. This certainly was not what she had been expecting, and she wasn't about to let Emerson put Ansel in a bad mood with his chiding. "Emerson, dear, you remember Oliver and Deandra? I think they're over there, by the hors d'oeuvres. We should go say hello. Taking up my brother's time would be incredibly rude on his big day." She began shooing Emerson away, turning behind his back and mouthing "I'm sorry" to her brother as the two shuffled between some guests.<br/><br/>"I apologize, Lucio, Emerson is . . . he was my first," Ansel spit out, looking down at Lucio and stroking his cheek affectionately. "I didn't know he'd be here. We had a rather turbulent affair. A lot of sex, a lot of declarations of everlasting love, a lot of fighting. I was devastated when we broke up. Took me a very long time to get over it.<br/><br/>"I don't love him anymore." Ansel added this last part firmly, confidently, as he stared deeply into Lucio's eyes. "He has nothing I want."<br/><br/>He cleared his throat, his eyes shifting to momentarily look down at the floor. "Hearing boyfriend on your lips was rather pleasant, I must admit, even if it was a lie."