Ansel's eyes were torn away from his attractive companion once the sound of an overly-excited male fell upon them, loud, thick and heavy, blanketing the entire crowd that had been carefully placed throughout the decorated ballroom. Although clearly an older man, it seemed as if the announcer was practically bouncing around the stage with energy, enthusiastically calling to the crowd with his joyous, boisterous voice. Ansel found the tone somewhat irritating, but not enough that he'd bother putting up a fuss about it. Instead, the professor sat quietly, watching the man strut around the stage as he spoke, his hand gracing Lucio's affectionately.<br/><br/>Though the event certainly wasn't to Ansel's liking—he found the whole auction dreadfully dull, and though the money was going to charity he did find it to be in poor taste knowing the whole thing was just a show for rich people to throw their money around for a good cause—he couldn't stop himself from thoroughly enjoying the meal that accompanied the flashy affair. He indulged himself on the raw oysters, a food he had already planned on having at his and Lucio's future wedding, as they both enjoyed the dish so ravenously, and was beyond pleased when a delicate bowl filled with whiskey ice cream was served. Ansel took a spoonful and slipped it in between his lips, making a small, satisfied sound as the dessert melted on his tongue. The taste brought forth a rush of sensual memories, images of Lucio's naked body lying on the couch, shivering as the professor dragged his tongue along his fair skin. He was momentarily brought back to the present when Lucio took a spoonful of his own, smiling.<br/><br/>“Yes, it seems I was just caught up in one of those memories,” Ansel purred, watching with yearning eyes as the svelte blonde enjoyed the ice cream.<br/><br/>Ansel sipped a cup of black coffee as Lucio's brothers' photographs were auctioned off, admiring the images from afar. His brows furrowed in alarm when Lucio stood, his body stiffening at his lover's kiss, not wanting him to leave. Lucio's words left the professor smitten, and he followed the young man's movements toward the stage, noting the smoothe fashion in which Lucio ascended the steps. When he spoke, his words came out unnatural to Ansel, though he doubted anyone else in the room noticed much. The crowd seemed to soak up his pandering like a paper towel and it didn't take long for the masked guests to begin throwing around insane amounts of money for a single print of Lucio Bane's angelic form.<br/><br/>He continued to nurse his coffee as auction paddles went up around him, the women from Lucio's fanclub eager to capture a piece of Lucio's eternal youthful beauty. Ansel wasn't surprised when the old creep Delou bid on the full shot of his lover's naked body, thankfully covered with thick strips of faux fur, but naked nonetheless. The professor's body grew stiff and the lines of his mouth were unforgiving as he listened to Delou tossed thousands of dollars away “for charity.” Ansel was sure Delou didn't give a flying fuck where the money went as long as he could steal a piece of his lover for himself.<br/><br/>The professor's rage didn't truly reach its peak until after the<i>evening </i>with Lucio was dramatically given away to that fucking Delou, so ready to subtract a measly three hundred grand from his bank account so he'd have a reason to place his hands all over the stunning English beauty. Ansel was well off, especially for a professor, but he was common compared to the collection of wealthy individuals who had gathered together that night, and even if he wanted to sit there and make a spectacle of himself and potentially embarrass Lucio, just for the opportunity to keep him away from Delou, there was no chance. Ansel didn't have three hundred grand to just give up. He bitterly resented the way Delou made it clear<i>he</i>was planning on having Lucio, slumping forward in his chair and gripping at his coffe cup until his knuckles were white. The fingers of his left hand tapped impatiently on the table when the auction was finished and his mouth was nothing but a hard, thin line hidden among the dark hairs of his beard. Delou either didn't notice Ansel staring at him or simply didn't care, for the old man stood up with a satisfied grin plastered onto his leathery face and moved to leave the ballroom with all the others.<br/><br/>Lucio approached warily, and rightly so. The professor huffed when the young man spoke, rolling his eyes and looking away toward the doors. “He's going to try to fuck you, y'know,” he fumed, ignoring the young male's hand as he stood, neurotically straightening his suit jacket. “He's going to think that just because he has money he can do whatever he wants to you. I won't have it. Did you see the disgusting, smug look on his face when he won? I don't like using that word, you're not an object to be 'won,' you're not one of those photographs. You're a person, and the love of my life, and he's going to treat you like you're some perfect little sex doll and I will not tolerate it whatsoever.”<br/><br/>A puff of hot, tense air left the man's flared nostrils. He took his time turning back to Lucio, his jaw tight and his eyebrows knit together in an indignant line. This night hadn't gone at all like he had expected. He certainly couldn't have predicted that a member of Lucio's fanclub was an annoyingly touchy pervert with cash to burn, though he probably should have seen it coming. He was irate with Lucio for not warning him beforehand.<br/><br/>“When is this 'date' supposed to happen, hm?” Ansel pried, not content to just accept the situation and let it rest, not content with the idea that another man would be alone with his sweetness.