I raise an eyebrow at the question, glancing over my shoulder at him. "I thought you were sore? You also didn't answer my question." I remind him, half-heartedly. I didn't wish to be appeased or for him to take pity on his horny housewife.

Pressing his lips to the base of my neck, he smiles against my skin as I inhale with a groan, my head tilting back. "This conference will take some time; it will keep you... entertained.. while we are apart, and it shouldn't be too hard on you. I might feel as though I've been run over, but I am also a man." 

Blazing a trail to my ear, he takes in my scent with a smile against my skin as my hand slips behind me to grope him through his shorts. 

Delivering a firm smack on my ass, I inhale sharply in surprise and discomfort. Verando instructs me to bend over the bed. "What if I don't want to go?" I mumble, pressing my cheek to the bed, gripping the sheets over my head. 

"Then I'd wonder who replaced you; you've never turned down a social event before. They're going to speak with me about our wedding and my plans for the tour in France; Tiberius will be there for protection." I hear him opening the bedside drawer and the distinctive pop of the bottle of lubricant. "Shouldn't take long. Just basic questions, creating public interest, and what have you."

Scoffing, I glance over my shoulder once more. "Any opportunity to remind the world you belong to me, hmm? You are really excited about this wedding, aren't you?"

Verando hesitates, trailing his fingers slowly down my spine as he takes me in. "Quite."

"So proper." I sigh. Slapping my ass once more, I jolt as he takes one of my legs and lifts it onto the bed to expose me properly to him. Kneeling behind me, my body shivers in response as I tip my head down, restraining the plea that so desperately wants to come from my lips as he uses his tongue on my entrance. "You don't have to do that." I manage, shuddering at the slick nature of his tongue.

"I want to. Are you not looking forward to the wedding?"

Was I?

I was trying not to think about it. The broad hands collect my hips, teasing me with that devilish tongue. "I'm excited to give you what I promised finally." I breathe, blushing darkly, wondering just how sinful this man was. How could he perform such acts so easily? It was the first time I'd ever experienced something like this, and the shame only seemed to heighten my arousal as I buried my face in the sheets.

Inserting two fingers inside of me, I groan as he finds my sweet spot, unable to stop myself from trying to press my thighs together. I can practically feel him smirking as he stands, pinning me down with a hand on the small of my back while working me over with his fingers. My body was reluctant to submit; I suppose I was more sore than I thought. My ribs, my thighs, my back, every part of me resisted the coaxing of his fingers, and yet, there was something so incredibly hot about his insistence. 

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to take what I've gone through the trouble of purchasing for you." Verando teases; I tense as the third finger enters me, gasping as my hips move against my will. "Does it hurt too badly?" The concern creeps into his tone, though for the sake of the play, I focus on the mask of indifference. "Are you attempting to run away from me after all that talk?"

While I wasn't comfortable, I thrived on stress. My body betrays my mind; I was entirely too turned on to be a functioning member of society. What was wrong with me? 

"No, keep going." I manage, rocking my hips, pressing back against him as his fingers curl within me, sending a jolt into my stomach that makes my nerves ignite. I can't help but whimper. He was right. My body had been dragged, beaten, and abused. I was pushing it to its limits before I offered it to him. And yet, I loved being in this position —exhausted but serving him. It makes me shiver as he removes his hand.

"That's right, you like pain." Verando reminds himself. I hear the crinkle of a bag and steal a glance, only to see a moderately sized black object that appears smooth. I freeze, stiffening at the sight and causing him to laugh, the boyish grin curling to dimple his cheek.

"It's a toy, a plug. Marcello showed them to me, and they look quite fun. You'll wear this for the duration of the interview." His confidence in me did not match my own. I swallow hard, not knowing what to expect. "Don't look so afraid; they're supposed to feel good."

"So you tried it?" I ask shortly.

"Do you want me to stop?" He pauses his teasing; I feel the burn in my stomach, while my body might be slow to catch on, my libido is front and center. "You need to prove to me you can even take a cock, if you can't handle a toy, how are you going to take this?" I feel the length of him slide against my ass and groan. 

After a brief moment, I shake my head. "I want it," I murmur. 

"That's a good boy." Verando exhales, spreading my cheek as he inspects his handiwork. To my shock, he spits onto my ass, stroking the length of his manhood against me with a low curse. My body erupts, every nerve within me throbs, my own cock impossibly hard as I pray for him to find me. 

"Please," I beg. "You're driving me insane. Just take me."

"I'm simply savoring what belongs to me, making sure everything is in working order. We were at hell's doorstep last night; I'm feeling sentimental." He explains, groping one cheek, "If I took you now, I wouldn't stop, and neither of us needs that. You're a damned mess, Nic." 

Pressing the toy to my entrance, my breath catches. It almost feels too big; I clutch the sheets and curl my toes as he inserts the plug firmly inside me. The base holds it in place, cramming it dangerously into my sweet spot.

I want him to move, to do something —anything — to me, but not to leave me like this. Smacking my ass once more, I jump and can't stop the desperate moan that escapes my lips. Covering my mouth, I'm horrified by the sound he just produced from so little.

"You don't say?" Verando chuckles, slamming his hips against my ass as he yanks me back into him. His cock slides between my thighs as I squirm, but despite my attempt to close my legs, he's firmly between them. I feel him stroke against my own manhood, impossibly hot, slick with pre-cum. My thighs tremble as I whimper again, making him sigh, knowing that there's no way in hell he would be giving me any relief. 

"We nearly died yesterday, and you're practically in heat. Go ahead, get up."

"Says the man fucking my thighs like a teenager." I manage as I straighten, my back pressed against him, and inhale sharply at the feeling. I feel strange, full, and yet so painfully empty. 

 Verando kisses a line from my ear to my shoulder point, "What I wouldn't give to stay here and devour every inch of you. Get dressed. I had Ron drop off a suit for you."

"A suit?" I complain, wishing to touch him, wanting there to be a way to provoke him into taking me here and now.

There's no room for discussion as he leaves to begin his primping in the bathroom. "Humor me. Get dressed."

______________________________________________________________

The suit feels strange —something I don't often wear —and if I do, it's usually a fancy coat rather than one with buttons. Shielded with a longer overcoat on top of my suit, I wrap my arms around myself as I wait in the side wings of the set. 

The hovering spotlights cast warm rays, leaving me feeling almost normal, compared to my usual chill. As tempting as it might be to sit in the audience, I was immensely enjoying the privacy of being off-stage and out of sight. 

Verando slides a scarf around my neck, and I flash him a small smile, still flushed from our previous encounter, as I shift awkwardly at the sensation. "Did you enjoy the car ride?"

"Asshole." I smile sarcastically, accepting the scarf gratefully as it smells like him. "How long should this take? While it's been fun having my insides ground to pieces, I'm ready for the real thing. I'm getting sore." I'm not particularly quiet about this fact; the ache in my stomach was wearing on me. 

Adjusting my coat, he considers this. I admire his clean-shaven face, still preferring the scruff but able to admit his jawline was just as lovely. "An hour at most, then a small interview afterward with a private company. I have a lot of questions to answer; we'd said you were dead, and now you're alive and well. It's made quite the commotion."

 I'm unapologetic, as he's seen fit to torture me for the duration of this meeting. 

"I'll put a rush on it. Would you be up to having dinner with me afterward?"

Allowing him to squirm under my lack of an answer, I nod. "You may buy me dinner." I allow. "One might think you were avoiding taking me home. I'm well-versed in your tactics, Mr.Mercer. You will be fucking me before the night is over."

 With a chuckle, Verando bends to kiss me, capturing my chin with his index finger. I slip my fingers around his tie, pulling him to me as I lean into the inviting firmness of his body. I feel an intense sensation from adjusting onto my toes and startle into him, clutching him tighter as I gasp against his lips.

 He grins wickedly, and I glare up at him, tightening my hold on the piece of clothing. "What did you just do?" I manage against his lips, catching those light eyes, my lips barely parting from his.

Innocently, he holds up his phone. "My part in all this fun. It vibrates." 

I quickly grasp for his phone, and Verando shoves it back into his pocket. The toy surges once more, and I opt to bite his neck, sinking my teeth into the space that I know would be hidden under his collar if he tried hard enough.

 Panting against his chest, I clutch his coat for dear life as the sensation fades. 

"You are so in for it later, there is no corner of hell far enough for you to hide from me," I murmur against his hammering pulse; our public location fades away as I kiss him once more, invading his mouth with my tongue as I slip my thigh between his legs. "I want you inside of me, think about that while you pretend you're not hiding a hard on in front of these people." I push him out for the clapping of a crowd. 

Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, he holds onto me, refusing to allow me out of his grasp. 

I spy our faces on the big screen and groan inwardly; I didn't need to be broadcast in such a state for all to see.

"Looks like someone can't wait to tie the knot!" The announcer giggles; a flamboyant man with colorful blue hair and a bright turquoise suit gestures from on stage. "Will Mr.Mattescu be joining us this evening?"

Verando's arm curls around my waist possessively, "Unfortunately, he's a touch under the weather, so I believe I'll be coveting him entirely for myself. But you'll see plenty of him in the future."

 I slip out of his grasp and wave him off as I compose myself. Tiberius appears as I round the corner, but I don't have it in me for another startle. Straightening out my coat, I greet him with a nod, swallowing back my state of frustration as my body pleads for relief. In truth, I had intended to run to the bathroom and remove this damned toy, but to do so now might raise suspicion with the Siren.

Tiberius appears amused; dressed in a suit, his tattoos peek through as if they refused to attend such an event without representation. Gesturing, he guides me to a rear sitting room to watch the show without the prying eyes of the press, closing any opportunity for escape.

As much as Verando hated him, I had decided to tolerate Tiberius even though he was aiding in my torture. He did what he had to do to keep the balance, but other than that, he was justice-neutral, making him a constant at the very least.

"You looked happy."

I shrug. "I'm about to be married," I tell him, yet I don't even convince myself with my lackluster performance. "Butterflies being in front of a crowd again. Any word on Gabriel?"

With a sideways smirk, he raises one shoulder with his eyebrows. "Butterflies, hmm? Gabriel is gone. The forest is repaired. It was as if it never happened." 

How strange. 

Those amber eyes glimmer as he watches me with growing interest. Under most scrutiny, I feel undressed, but with Tiberius, it's as though he sees right through me. 

"I like you, Nicolas. Don't know why; we haven't gotten to interact much, but I do like you. I've lived with Loki for a long time, serving as a pawn to the gods, and anything to do with Fenrir is not easy to control-" 

Pausing, he casts a murky shadow onto the table in the vision of the massive wolf. "Fenrir, son of Loki- the god of mischief. Fenrir will eventually devour the earth, but for now, he's under lock and key. He has two sons, Hati and Skoll. They are those who created Whitewind and the Brotherhood."

So much lore was wasted on me; I would never be able to remember all of this. I feel the toy buzz and glare at the television, only to see that he's leaning, not pressing anything, as his arms crossed in front of him. "You have figured out more than your ancestors since the original. It's awe-inspiring."

The sensation driving me mad makes it hard to see myself as anything but a useless heap. 

"I strive for perfection." I allow, sighing in relief as he straightens and relieves pressure on the button. "What are you hoping to accomplish here, Tiberius?"

A solemn expression overtakes his face, and he stares at the screen momentarily. "Peace. I want peace. I will do anything to help this planet survive."

"Because if it doesn't, your gods have no one to govern?" This makes him smirk. "Alright then, Siren. You see into the future; you know the script, what will happen?"

"Within reason. I only knew what could happen; nothing was decided. The gods weren't exactly specific. "

Was he bound to the same laws as Fergus? "Can you tell me where our future currently lies?"

"No, because your knowledge could change the future. It must happen naturally."

Of course.

Verando speaks with this excitable host on-screen about what he's been up to. His acting ability surprised me as he had never been a social creature. Given the events of last night, I'm surprised he agreed to go through with this. They mostly ask him questions about me and his opinion on the growing magical presence in the United States. 

Considering he was marrying me —the head of that front —I imagine they were hoping for some juicy insight into my plans. The professional, as always, does a good job playing coy and respecting my boundaries; they skip to talking about his hair and clothes as if he were an accessory.

The topic of designers is lost on the man who is too masculine and prideful to dare squander his good name with such information. While he might know it, he'd take it to the grave before giving his manly counterparts more ammunition. This seems to surprise the host, who encourages him that any self-respecting gay man might at least care who dressed him. 

Verando's expression reflects patience, and I find it hard not to chuckle. They proceed into a conversation about the community and how he hoped to go forward with his sexuality and those involved with it.

"Can you do me a favor? As someone who wants to see this world succeed?" I ask the dark-haired man who hums so harmoniously beside me. Tilting his head in my direction, I swallow as I compose myself. "I need you to go into that hotel and get the necessary paperwork. We are running out of time; if you could tell me what was in there, we would be leaps and bounds ahead of Gabriel. Do you think you can do that?" 

Considering his options, he mulls it over in his head, and I gasp as the toy starts up again. The light, cat-like eyes peer at me curiously, and he must hear the ominous buzzing because he giggles like a schoolgirl. I'm so close to the edge; I struggle even to hide the experience I was forced to endure.

"Naughty boy." He teases, and I force an awkward smile, clutching the arm of the couch. "Remote control?" I nod as best as I can, sighing in relief as the feeling fades again. "How fun. Well, Mr.Matesscu, I can not go into the hotel, but-" 

His eyes shift to land on a familiar face in David Malcom, grazing at the concessions table. 

"I know someone who knows exactly what is in that room. I've seen him with Mistress; he has to know something."

David Malcom? 

 I can feel the smug expression already. Verando wanted to kill him, and I stopped him. "Hmm. Curious. I believe I know him. Do you think you could get him to talk?"

Tiberius mulls this over, clicking his tongue as he leans closer to me, resting on his arm over the back of the couch. "What do I get?"