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Preminger, Man of Many Men

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Smooth jazz poured from the kitchen. Preminger drummed his phalanges, across the mahogany table.

“More wine?” came a questioning voice from above, smooth as butter.

“Yes, Antoni from Queer Eye,” the royal advisor devilishly crooned, “Bring us a hole bottle.” Preminger was taken aback by the beauty of the swole, voluptuous chef. Antoni was a snack… in more ways than one.

“Hey, eyes over here,” petitioned Flynn Ryder. The aging noble turned his eyes, gold as a leprechaun's treasure, to the young man sitting across from him. \just then Preminger caught his own reflection in the wine glass..

“Mmmmm…. Looking especially stately tonight, aren’t we,” purred Premonger at his reflected visage. Flynn blushed momentarily, although the blood would not linger in his cheeks for long ;) it had a one way ticket south by virtue of his sugar daddy’s voice He thought the compliment was for he.

“O’ Premingere, you always know what to declare,” Flynn moaned as he ate the penultimate bite of his ratatouille. (Remy smiled under Antoni’s chef hat). “Let’s grab that wine and take this to the bedroom.”

“Aren\t you going to finish your rat=tat=touille” Preminger smirked.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Flynn groaned. Just then, Antoni lunged forth, scooping up the terminal bite of the french peasant dish.

“Here comes the airplane,” Antoin sang, guiding the nibble to the hungry hungry rat under his cap.

“Thanks Antoni from Queer Eye,” cried out Flynn, seductively lifting his caramel cookie brown eyes to meet Preminge’s, “I couldn’t eat another morsel. I’m positively… . stuffed.”

Preminger stood with a flourish on his chair, and grabbed the Ryder by his waist. “Oh you will be stuffed before the night is out,” he cooed with a sexxy growl and a throbbing pal making his first tender debut from beneath his belt.

“Stuffed like a ravioli,” Antoni murmered in agreement as he handed over their wine, red, and retreated to his nest.


---- time fast forwards ----


The door to Preminger’s royal chambers thundered with the weight of Flin’s taut twink body being thrown against it in the throes of passion.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Rider,” the royal uttered.

“Oh you’ll see alright. I am so good at riding,” Flynn sang out in pleasure, and he opened the door,, leading his older gent to the bed. He lay back on the silken sheets, and looked at the mirror Preminger kept on the ceiling over the lovemaker. And then at the mirror he kept on the bedside table and also the mirror on the wall. Next, the mirrors of Prominger’s orbs came into view.
Wow, thought Flynn, and that was the end of that thought because Preminger had began to touch his nipples. His sensitive prune disks. Preminger opened the bottle of wine, red, and poured some on Flynn’s chest, getting his white blouse all soaking wet.

“That was my favorite blouse,” pouted the ex criminal Flynn Ryder. “I got it from Blouse Barn in Schitt’s Creek. Do you know how long of a journey it is to get there. We don’t have cars yet.”

Preminger silenced Flynn with a hungry kiss. “I’ll buy you all of Blouse Barn, my precious.”

Flynn liked that. He reached back in for another smooch, their saliva dancing between their mouths. He peeled off his wine soaked shirt like a strip tease and Preminge got even more hard at the sight of his smooth abs and prunish disks.

Reminger reached for his pink Ipod shuffle, and blasted his favorite song through his expensive speakers. “I Promise That You’ll Never Find Another Like Me,” the speakers sang.

“Mmmmm I love this song,” warbled Flynn, and Preminger took off his balloonish pants. Flynt had never been so turned on. His g spot thundered with yearning. He turned over to expose his juicy ass. Preminger spread his thick hands over Flynn’s supple mounds and asked for consent because consent is important.

Flynn said “mmmmmhmmm yes, I consent daddy.”

It was time. Taylor Swift sang even louder because she was excited. In the distance, you could hear antoni singing along, gayly.
Preminger remembered one must always wrap their stump before they hump, and reached for a glistening gold condom, which he kept in a bowl beside his bed. Flynn watched eagerly as the man cloaked his member.
Preminger fully removed Flynn’s pants, and was taken aback to find no undergarments on the man’s core. It was a little baby commando moment, which preminger relished.

“MmMMMmMmmMMMmM”, exclaimed the noble, his meat pulsating in time to Miss Swift’s thought-provoking lyrics.

“Put in it my ass”, Flynn begged.

Everything was perfect, Pringlemer thought. Brendon Urie had just started his solo. Fynn parted his gentle cheeks, hole aching for penetration. Preminger dipped in just the tip.

“Ready for launch?”

Suddenly, the door flew open. Y/N was perched, silhouetted in the doorway, and they let a shocked gasp escape.

“Preminger? Wh-what is all of this,” Y/N inquired, taking in the smell of wine, red, and the sight of their boytoy about to smash another man’s booty.

“Y/N!” Premin’s goldilocks eyes widened in fear and shock. “I-I thought you weren’t coming home until late!”

Y/N’s orbs filled with hot spicy tears. “I wasn’t. I was at the club with Wreck-It Ralph and Bibble, but I missed your tender embrace so I came home.”

Flynn, looked back over his shoulder and his thicc cheeks and gazed at Preminger in betrayal. “You have another lover?”

“No, YOU’RE the other lover,” Y/N wailed exasperatedly.

“I’m the other lover??” Flynn shrieked.

“No…” came a voice. Y/N, Preminger and Flynn turned towards the closet. From out the door stepped a shiny black shoe… and a thin exposed ankle with an eye tattoo.

It was Count Olaf.

“I am the other lover,” he decreed, raising his unibrow for emphasis.

Preminger flushed a deep dark hue of vermillion. All of his lovers…. tn one room… Me! has finished playing, and then next track, Lover, cues. He still has his dick in Flynn’s ass as he croons:
“I - I can explain.”

Faced with reality, Preminger began to weep, his tip popping out of the young Ryder’s sphincter like a champagne cork, as he let out a cry of anguish. Y/N slapped Preminger across the old face. “U were supposed to be my baby…. my goddamn cinnamon apple..”

Flynn stood up too, and stood beside Olaf and Y/N. Premynger searched their faces for mercy, but there was none.

“Olaf..” He murmured, but the Count shook his long head.

“I was waiting in the closet for you, but you brought another man into the bed. Now…..” he paused for effect, and pulled out a glock. “You must die.”

Preminger fell to the count’s feet, and began begging for mercy.

“P-p-please Olie-Aioli…”

“The secret to a good aioli...” interjected Antoni’s voice from outside the door.

The glock fired at the door, aimed for the chef’s curvaceous figure. It barely missed.

“And i OOP!” tittered Antoni, and he scuttled away to safety.

Olaf trained the gun back at Premgin, who was now using his tears to polish the Count’s shoes, with Y/N and Flynn on either side.

“Ready for launch?”, Flyn murmured darkly.

Preminger locked his eyes with ferocity on his sugar babies face, and then turned to a mirror, for he wanted his last sight to be of his own glorious reflection.

The Count pulled the trigger.

Flynn tenderly scooped up his wine-stained blouse and headed for the door. There was nothing left for him here. He whipped out his phone and called the Blouse Barn.

“David, can u come pick me up”, his voice echoed as he walked down the dramatic hallway.

“Are you going to be okay,” Count Olaf asked Y/N, who still stared at Preimger’s body. “I can always use another pair of hands in my troop.”

Y/N nodded. “I always wanted to be with Bibble anyways. Now… I finally have my chance.” They looked into the distance as the music, still taylor swift, swelled with passion. “Now… I am finally free.”

The Count and Y/N turned their backs on Preminger’s limp body and hard dick. Silence fell on the Preminger estate as everyone left….

Everyone except Antoni from Queer Eye.

He slowly, chef hands shaking, removed the tall white hat from his head. “What…. What have you done?” he whimpered.

Remy tightened his grip on Antoni’s hair. “What have we done, Antoni from Queer Eye. Rejoice, my son, for all has gone according to plan.”
Antoni hardened his gaze, committed to the life of devious crime that he had chosen...

And as Taylor’s voice faded out, Antoni from Queer Eye met his own watery orbs reflected back at him in Preminger’s pooling blood, red.