A sinful tongue teases me as he takes possession of my cock in his mouth. My hands twist over my head, clutching the pillow as I arch my back off the bed with a sigh. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, the slow burn as he commands a release from me.
A low hum curls in his throat, amused by my attempts to keep quiet, that brings on a whole new spiral of sensation. I'm at his mercy, to do with whatever he likes and for this morning it would seem my pleasure is his for the taking.
I always found it odd that he seemed so fond of having me this way, expertly navigating my manhood but one would never hear a complaint from my lips. How could a man who was so familiar with the female form also be so comfortable with the body of another man?
It had never made sense to me, while he seemed obviously reluctant to ever receive, everything about my body and owning it appealed to him. I'd known I was gay from a very young age, I couldn't comprehend finding out so late in life.
I gasped as he applied his teeth. "Am I boring you?" He grumbles, kissing the base of my length before taking me back into his mouth with newfound determination.
As I near completion, my hands slide down to find his hair, writhing against him as I lose myself in the sensation. I toy with the length of it, longing for the days when it was practically at his shoulders, and I could take hold. I think of his lips, the way he would growl at me as I pulled him to me. "By the gods, you're an incredible man." I moan under the assault of his will.
A crisp knock on the door makes me squeeze my eyes tighter, and I damn anyone who dares to intrude to die a horrendous death.
"Verando. Are you decent?"
Biting my lower lip, I hear the pestering voice of Senator Campbell and I secure my hold, desperate for him to not stop. The knock comes once more, more pronounced.
"Verando, I need to speak with you. I've been warned not to come in, but this is pretty urgent. What happened at The Bijou?"
It's enough that the ordinarily clear-spoken Senator now yields to his lineage, his New Yorker accent slipping with his frustration.
"It's not like you to sleep in. Are you sick?"
So it would appear Verando had a third wife, the Senator, himself. With enthusiasm all but gone, I know I've lost him to work once more. I sigh in defeat, releasing him to grip my own hair as I threaten to pull it out at the roots. What happened to common decency? Were I still a King, this man could be hanged for such atrocities as waking a royal person for something so remedial.
There would be no chance of getting any more out of him now, not at this stage in the game and not with the one man who could summon him from me outside the door. He climbs up my body from under the covers, and I narrow my eyes at the boyish grin I'm greeted with, cursing him.
"This is really unfair." I mouth to him, not kissing him back as his lips find mine. "Kill that man. I give you my permission. I was so close."
Snickering, he kisses my nose. "Maybe you should have focused more, hmm?"
I stick out my tongue childishly.
"I will make up for it, promise. Also, it doesn't work that way, and you would hate me if it did. We can't kill people who prevent orgasms." He exhales as he slides out from under the covers.
The word gives me a chill and I wrinkle my nose in disgust, must he use such technical terms? It hits my ears wrong, effectively killing any hope I had of maintaining arousal. Truthfully, I'm just in a foul mood altogether from my state of neglect.
"I hear you, Johnathan, one moment and I'll fill you in on all the dirty details."
I hear the scoff from outside the door and roll my eyes. "You could sound less happy, it's all over the damn news. Just get out here."
As he picks up our clothes from the night before and carefully stores them in the laundry basket, I scrub my fingers through my hair as I try to overcome the frustration of incompletion. Entering the bathroom behind him, as he brushes his teeth, I put my arms around his waist and lay my cheek against his back.
My eyes wander, finding the faint line of a mark on his side.
"That's remarkable. I've never seen you heal like this." I point out, releasing him to trace over the wound.
He glances down, raising an eyebrow and I marvel at the intense routine of brushing that I'm witnessing.
"Why did I not notice this side of you? You're giving me a complex about my brushing habits..." Casually, I grab my own toothbrush and try and make up for my shortcomings when next to someone who takes things so seriously.
"Really? I've been interested in control since we met. Does any of this madness truly surprise you?" Verando rinses, leaving the bathroom, and quickly steps into a pair of jeans, and pulls on a simple shirt. I couldn't help but worry, was it new or old habits I'd never noticed?
Was he getting worse with his debilitating darkness, was I losing him to the war against the sadness and that's why he forced himself to clean to aggressively?
I watch him depart with a forlorn expression and catch a glimpse at my own reflection, the casual stubble, and the fact that my hair is growing out again. I almost chuckle, I look nothing like a King, and I think my past self would not approve of my current self.
Raking my eyes over my body, I can't help but scrutinize the barrage of scars and marks that litter my olive skin. I look older; there are lines in my face now that I feel weren't there before as I tilt my head to examine my jawline.
No longer was I a kid; it felt as though overnight I had stepped out of youth and into the actual depth of adulthood with a hardened jawline and less baby fat. Even though I see my reflection every morning, how often did I genuinely look at it? Dismissing myself, I get dressed in the clothes he'd brought for me from the compound and enter the living space to eavesdrop on the power struggle between a Senator and a dictator.
As Verando recants the night, I just want to get out of the house.
Marisol places a cup of coffee in my hand with a tired expression, and I wish I had just gone back to bed. Mostly, I just find it very tedious; I suppose he would have to learn that the best way to work with Verando would be to let him do as he wants or come up with actual reasons, emotions earn you very little ground in that thunder dome.
Walking over to the tense man, I kiss him on the point of his shoulder.
"I'm going to town for a bit. I need to talk with David Malcom, and I imagine you don't want to be there for that." In fact, I hadn't planned anything at all but fresh air and some alone time would be wonderful.
I note the flash of hesitation that crosses his face, only for Johnathan to throw his hands up.
"That's another thing! Why do you want to kill David Malcom?"
"Why don't you?" Verando retorts sharply before pulling out his wallet and handing me a shiny black card. "This is not open for discussion, Johnathan. This is how I do business; if you don't wish to do business, then we are done here."
Turning his attention to me, he sighs.
"Maybe for the best, this will be quite boring for you. Keys are on the shelf, please don't wreck it, as it's carrying very precious cargo." Kissing my forehead, I practically shrink away in embarrassment. Public displays of affection weren't his thing, when did he become so lovesick?
"Do you want to come with me, Soli?" I ask, to which she flashes her middle finger at Johnathan and follows me out the door.
In a way, Marisol reminds me of Penelope without anger issues. I feel like the woman does few things out of anger, her emotions are precisely how she felt them and she has full intent with everything she does. Perhaps that's why this dynamic was working.
I never felt as if Marisol was trying to steal him from me; she strutted around his house half-naked and pregnant with his child, and yet I felt as though the boundaries were clear, and I had even begun to think of her as one of my friends.
Verando seems to exhale in relief. "Thank god." Taking the keys from my hands, he places them in hers. Horrified, offended, and slightly relieved, I flash him a scowl and storm out of the house with what little dignity I had left.
"Where do we stand, you and I?" I ask her as we sit in the car, reluctantly resigned to the passenger seat. I'd had a few lessons but not enough to manage this beast. Touching the seat, I begin to do simple math.
How did he make so much money so quickly? Well, he was the only game in town. Saving the world didn't pay nearly enough, which stung as money was never something I had to worry about.
Marisol frowns, fluffing her kinky hair as she pulls down the mirror to look at herself before turning the car on. "What does that even mean?"
I pull my snagged jacket a little closer around my body; having borrowed one of his coats, I swim in the size, yet it feels perfect for comfort and warmth. Her tone and her gaze make me regret my questions, yet I feel as though I want to set things right before this baby gets here.
I had lost Penelope; if she was ever my friend, to begin with, I didn't want to go through that same pain twice.
"Well, I'm currently having sex with your ex-husband... who is, I'm assuming, still your husband? Verando wants me to marry him when we go to France. You're carrying his baby; this is like a bad television show."
We pull out of the driveway and her eyes rest on the road before us, though she appears composed as we accelerate at an almost uncomfortable speed.
"Do I like that you're having sex with him? I mean, no, but does anyone like the idea of someone fucking when they're not? Nic, I told you this already: don't act emotionally when I'm the one who's pregnant. Doe is my best friend, I know him to well to think that he and I will ever be a thing again and I have accepted that. Friends with him is enough, and seeing him happy is more than enough."
She leans back into the seat, tugging at the black legging material. "We're good, you and I. If you were a bad person, you wouldn't care so much about how I felt. You might be a total bitch sometimes but aren't we all? You're letting me stay in his life when, with one word, he would send me away, and for that, I'm very grateful. It's been nice not to be alone for once. I wish I had known a long time ago what it was like to stop running."
I reach over to touch her leg, and the car swerves, causing her to smack me roughly on the arm, and suddenly I know why Verando fears her. I feel like a bat has hit me. "Idiot! Don't touch people who are driving! Have you lost your damn mind?!"
Parking in the parking garage, I remind myself that allowing this woman to see me cry might trigger her prey instincts; I decide if my arm were fractured, I'd allow it to fall off. "Where would you like to go?"
"Shopping," Marisol tells me with a grin, clutching my arm as she drags me obediently down the sidewalk of the strip of stores. Shopping is my guilty pleasure of my lavish lifestyle, and it's the first experience I've had with it on this scale in this time period. Only, this time, it's not my own money I'm spending.
Glancing over my shoulder at the expensive car, I pull my lips into a thin line of restraint, and she slows her pace at my reluctance. "Que? What's the matter? Nic, I have two gay friends, and one is useless. You can't tell me you don't like to shop. I've watched too much television to allow this dream to die."
I burst out laughing; she catches me off guard because, at least for me, it is true. "Excuse me?"
Marisol shrugs, almost sheepishly. "On television, they say gay men like to shop. They act like women? I don't know! You're making me feel weird now!" She practically pouts, and I laugh again, thinking back to all my friends who seemed to fancy men back in our own time.
"Mmm, I can't say that's true for all gay men... do all women like to shop? Surely not?"
Deciding I've let her suffer long enough, I pull her closer if nothing else than for her warmth in the chilly wind.
"Adriam liked to shop, and so did Steffan, but that was about it. It was a much different time, though, I missed the last 'Gay' meeting, so I'm a bit behind-"
Marisol doesn't comprehend my sarcasm and gapes at me; oh lord, she's just like Verando. My sides begin to ache, and my cheeks twinge with the grin that hadn't plastered my face for this long in centuries. I hadn't laughed this hard in ages.
She punches me, and I wonder if I'm going to die all over again.
Finally, we settled on a cafe for coffee and cake after much deliberating on how we would spend the day and at what shops. "I just don't want to spend all his money."
She pats her rounded belly.
"The thing about Doe is you could spend every last dollar he had, and he wouldn't say anything. We never had money growing up; I lived on the streets, and he had Mama's place. So thank you for looking out for him because he won't look out for himself, as proven by the car.
Well, we can do what I used to do as a kid and try things on and leave. I'm not going to fit in much nowadays anyway; who the hell am I trying to impress? Or-"
She pulls out her phone and presses a button. I eye her as it rings.
"Hey.- Hey! Don't be a dick, I have your boyfriend! - Fiance, sorry. Lord, you're pissy.- Nic doesn't want to spend your money."
She ratted me out! I reach for the phone, and she produces a knife, holding it towards me with narrowed eyes.
"I might cut him.- Oh, for- NO!"
She stabs the knife into the table and crosses her arms over her chest.
"I told him you wouldn't care.- Alright. No, you can't talk to him; he's mine for the day.- Love you too." I hear the tone as she hangs up. "There. I have an undisclosed limit; let's go. You know, I could always steal stuff."
"We're not stealing!" Finishing my coffee, I stand with her, and she snags the remainder of my brownie with a wink, taking a rather unladylike bite.
We gallivanted from store to store, and I can see why Verando preferred her over other women.
We cruise through clothes stores, and I marvel at the selection of fabrics and accessories, picking out only a few things instead of the armfuls I would have liked to have left with. In our time, clothes were so cumbersome, but here, there were various shirts, vests, jackets, sweaters, and anything in between.
She has similar tastes in clothes as I do, and we fawn over fur coats and draw attention with our laughter over a variety of shoes that I never imagined existed. I tell her about my time in the Citadel when I raided all the closets and basked on a bed of expensive robes and skirts dead set on bringing them with me.
That time felt like a dream compared to now.
We end up in a bookstore, sprawled in an aisle and partaking in any cover we can get our hands on for easy reading and sorting through our goods like children in sacks of candy. Cross-legged on the carpet, we get odd looks from the store clerk, who looks like she wishes we would leave.
Drunk on laughter, I stand, running a hand through my hair. "We should probably find the car, at least, so we don't have to carry all this stuff. Hey. Is this an extra bag?"
She grins, carefully standing. "I have sticky fingers." She teases, gathering up her parcels. I scold her for stealing, and she slowly begins to become very still. Grabbing her arm to bring her back to reality, she yanks me to the ground and practically lands on top of me, crouched low to protect us both.
I notice the pop from a bookshelf behind me and see the book flip off the shelf as if it'd been yanked. "Shut up." She hisses.
"What was-" Her hand lands over my mouth, and I recognize her expression. The glass explodes from the storefront as bullets rain down on us, and she drags me back with her to the rear of the store. I hear the garbled scream of the store clerk, losing her life to the assailant.
Covering my ears, the books explode all around as the bullets rip through them. A stray snags the corner of my arm, and I tuck closer to her.
"Hold on!" I breathe, holding out my hand and pulling a surge of wind through the air vent and into the bookshelves. With a shove, they fly across the store and into the window.
"Shit!!" She yells, grabbing my arm and yanking me out the rear door. We run down the back alley, and the shop erupts into flames; the explosion throws us to our knees, and I reach out to shield her and the baby. "I'm fine, let's go! We have to move!"
We run down the alleyway and break out onto the busy street. She pauses to catch her breath, pressing her hand to her belly and flinching. "You're not fine!" I tell her firmly. "I know you think you can do these things, but this is insane. They're probably after me. Go get Verando-"
The bricks pop overhead, and I yank her back into the alleyway. Extending my fingers, I grit my teeth as I burst the top off of a fire hydrant and aim the spray in the direction of the gunman.
"And leave you blind? Not a chance. There!" I follow her eyes, a trick Verando taught me, and blow the dark figure off a fire escape only to freeze them to the ground. "They look human. They're not cats."
"Yet." I spit. I hear the hum of a car and see the flash of headlights as the aged vehicle flies across traffic towards us. Aiming the water towards it, I freeze the street as cars screech, squealing across the surface while trying to find traction.
"We can't stay here." But we can't run. Jutting my fist up, I flip the aged vehicle as people pour out of it and form an ice barrier. The bullets chip and wiz off as people close in. Dozens, running out of every which direction. "Damn it!"
We're trapped. I can't leave her or get to a higher vantage point without exposing her.