4. Aftermath
Chapter four
Aftermath
(Dante)
The throbbing at the base of my skull intensifies with each movement.
Not now, I command my body. She needs you.
That asshole really did a number on me with that lead pipe.
As the adrenaline wears off, the pain slowly takes its place, radiating through my body.
But I refuse to let them get me down.
I’ve survived much worse than a blow to my neck.
It’s not about me right now.
My heart breaks for the hundredth time today as I slowly wash the dirt off Danica’s body while she sits in the bath, unmoving, staring ahead wordlessly. Usually, she’s the one washing me, but there is nothing usual about today.
Next to the tub, her once-beautiful (now completely fucked) wedding dress lies discarded on the white tiles, angry streaks of blood staining the ripped fabric for life. Carlo’s blood. Fuck.
Those cunts!
It still doesn’t feel real.
Everything happened so fast.
They’ve fucked with the wrong wedding.
I will not rest until every last one of them has been wiped from this earth, I silently vow.
Later.
But for now, my Queen is my primary focus.
Gently, I kiss the side of Danica’s head, trailing the sponge over her back in what I hope is a soothing pattern. “You okay, Tesoro?” I must have asked her that question 17 times since carrying her upstairs.
“Fine,” Danica mumbles, her thoughts still keeping her far away, distant.
She would’ve been my wife by now if those assholes didn’t ruin everything with their disrespectful ambush.
It is just a formality, though—in my mind, Danica is already mine, all mine, forever and always, until the end of our days. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove it.
But she deserves a wedding. She deserves only the best. And the best doesn’t include this much blood.
“I’ll get those guys, don’t worry,” I try to reassure her, saying something just to say something. But the words hold little comfort for either of us.
Danica doesn’t blink, just stares at the wall. “Yeah…”
“You really kicked some ass today,” I try again, “I am so proud of you, darling.”
Nothing, just a distracted, “Hmm.”
“Look at me, Tesoro.” I tilt her face toward me, finger under her chin, locking her gaze in mine.
It feels weird to see Danica so submissive; this isn’t how our dynamic works. But I know it’s a give-and-take; she doesn’t always have to be the strong one. I will spend my life protecting her—my Queen.
“We’ll make this right, I promise.”
Danica simply nods, and I gently kiss her forehead, stroking a messy strand of once-perfect hair from her face.
Every time I raise my arms, the pain pulses harder.
But I force it down.
I focus on her face, using her presence to anchor me against the growing darkness threatening to pull me under.
Danica suddenly jerks her head up, her eyes wide, “Biscotti?” she asks in a panicked voice.
“He’s fine. Alessio’s given him some treats and taken him to his kennel; don’t worry,” I reassure her. His “kennel” being his own room right next to ours—a spoiled pup indeed.
“Okay.” She sinks into the bath again, her concentration drifting away.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Slowly, I move the sponge over her chest, covering her breasts in soapy bubbles. That finally gets some reaction out of her.
Danica gasps, her lips popping into an “O” as I roll one of her nipples between my fingers, teasing it into a little peak.
I smile. “Okay, time to get you dry. You’ve sat in this dirty soup long enough.” The comment manages to elicit a weak smile from her, but it’s something—I’ll take it.
Kneeling before my bride, I slowly dry her from the bottom up with the fluffiest fluffy white towel I can find, ensuring I cover every inch.
"Let me take care of you," I manage to say, even as the room spins and my own voice sounds far away. Everything hurts now, but I won't let her see. She’s seen enough pain today. I don’t want her to worry.
Danica purrs softly when I part her thighs to dry between them, knees buckling ever so slightly when I flick my tongue over her clit, just for good measure.
“You’re supposed to make stuff dryer, not wetter,” Danica comments, frowning at me. There she is, come on. Come back to me…
“I made no such promise,” I reply with a grin as I place a kiss firmly on her pussy lips.
She doesn’t stop me as I move higher up with the towel, only to linger around those gorgeous breasts again.
When Danica’s finally dry, on the outside at least, I wrap her in a soft bathrobe and pick her up again, cradling her in my arms.
My vision blurs as I lift her weight, lightning shooting down my spine. I clench my jaw, willing my arms not to betray how they want to shake.
“I can walk, you know,” she tells me but hooks her arm around my neck anyway, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I know you can,” I say, not bothering to find an excuse I don’t need to find.
Today has been so messy.
Sure, I’m used to all the death and destruction, but I’ve been trying to shelter Danica from this world as much as I could. She’s seen her fair share of violence since we met, but having Carlo die on her lap is not something I wanted to be engraved into her memory.
Fucking assholes. You’ll pay.
When we enter our room, it looks different from how we left it. Alessio welcomes me with a big grin as I gently place Danica on the bed.
“And this?” I ask him, eyeing the giant slab of cake and champagne glasses on the dresser.
It is the top tier of our wedding cake, the little figurines still planted in the icing—the bride with the groom chucked over her shoulder.
It is cute, I have to admit. Danica had it specially made. What a waste.
“Well, I figured we might as well enjoy a bit of the wedding. No reason it should be a total write-off.” My Vegas love grins, wrapping his strong arms around me for a solid hug.
It feels good to be held, especially after this day.
Maybe if he squeezes hard enough, he can put the pieces back together, make the spinning stop.
When we finally part, Alessio sits down beside Danica on the bed. “What do you say, cara mia?”
“I’m so, so tired,” she says softly as she sighs.
He strokes her hair sweetly, weaving his long, elegant fingers through her locks to undo the plait. There is no way I would know how that thing works; I’m glad he’s got it covered.
“You should have a little nap. It’s been a long day,” I suggest.
Danica nods slowly, pulling the covers higher up over her chest protectively. She doesn’t even protest, how very unlike Danica.
It’s so hard to see her like this—so defeated.
It takes so much effort not to punch a hole through the wall. I clench my fists tightly instead, the knuckles turning white.
“Sleep sweetly,” I tell her, leaning down to kiss her, my hand on Alessio’s shoulder. But she’s already fast asleep, snoring lightly.
“Your turn,” Alessio says, and I shoot him a puzzled look.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself recently, Don Fera, but you sure as hell could use a clean up too.”
I look down. He has a point. My tux is messed up and dirty, the pants torn at the side…and the shirt covered in Carlo’s blood. I hadn’t even noticed the state of me. My main focus was not giving in to the nausea, to the pain taking over.
“You’re right.” I sigh, kicking off my muddy shoes. “You’ve looked better yourself, by the way.”
“True, very true.” Alessio gives Danica one more forehead kiss before taking my hand in his. “Come then.”
I look back at Danica, but she’s far away in Dreamland.
“She’s fine. Come on,” he encourages me, dragging me to the en suite where I had bathed Danica moments before.
With a heavy sigh that weighs my shoulders down into my chest, I sit down on the edge of the bathtub while Alessio turns on the shower.
It’s a massive walk-in shower with all the fanciest of fittings.
Since Danica officially moved in, the place has had quite an upgrade.
I never cared much for decoration or modern furniture, but bit by bit, she’s transformed our castle from my father’s ancient fortress into a beautiful, tasteful home. The shower bench was her idea.
Alessio drags his shirt over his head and comes to me for a hug. I rest my head against his abs, exhaling slowly as I try to gather my racing thoughts.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him, and Alessio kisses the top of my grass-filled hair.
“So am I. How’s your neck?” he asks, lightly touching the warm spot above my shoulder.
I flinch, hissing between my teeth.
“That bad?” Alessio asks.
“I’m fine,” I grumble. Physical pain is something I long ago learned to push down, to ignore. Endure.
“Man up, pussy,” my dad used to shout as he hit me with his belt, again and again, until blood ran down my back. “You need to be stronger,” he’d tell me, voice thick with disappointment as he left my broken 10-year-old body outside in the backyard, in the cold, and walked off.
It was always Emilio who’d come to fetch me, who’d treat the cuts that now form little scars all over my back, weaving in between the tattooed lines.
Alessio runs his fingers over my cheek, releasing me from the fucked-up memory I haven’t thought about in a long time.
“You don’t have to be strong for me, Dante. I’m a big boy. Where do you keep your painkillers?” he asks, his stern tone making it clear that he’s not here to argue.
I point at the cabinet under the sink, and the tanned god in the grass-stained pants brings me two pills, watching as I swallow them down.
“Happy now, Mom?” I ask sarcastically, and Alessio just rolls his eyes at me, ignoring the comment.
“Come, let’s get clean. We can’t get into the bed this dirty.” Alessio unbuttons my shirt, undressing me layer by layer as the shower’s steam mists up the space around us.
I let him, no fight left in my body.
I’ve been strong enough for one day.
Usually, Danica is the one who takes off my collar, but today isn’t a usual day, and I know she won’t mind that Alessio’s taking it off, placing it neatly on the sink to keep it dry. It always feels momentarily strange not to have it around my neck anymore, to miss its familiar grip.
When we’re both naked, he opens his arms, and I get up for a proper hug, both of us just holding each other, skin against skin.
A familiar comfort sinks into me, but also a tingle of lust. My cock perks up uninvited.
If you told me two years ago that I’d be living happily ever after with my Mistress-Queen and Don Santoro as our shared lover, I would’ve laughed at the ridiculous notion.
Heck, two years ago, I thought I’d never see Alessio Santoro again, never mind being allowed to freely fuck and be fucked by him.
But so much has changed—especially me. And Danica has been there for every step of the journey, holding my hand, supporting me, driving me wild with frantic lust.
It was all so perfect.
…And now it’s ruined.
“We’ll get them, don’t you worry,” Alessio says, pressing his forehead against mine like he can hear my thoughts.
I close my eyes. “I know. I just wish it went differently. Danica doesn’t deserve this.”
“Neither do you, amore mio. We’ll make it right. But there is nothing you can do about it right now, so let’s make the best of this situation.”
“I know, I know.” I put both my hands on his face, pulling him into a kiss. “At least you’re finally here. Took you long enough to come visit us.”
“Vegas waits for no one; I have stuff to do,” Alessio replies with a grin, kissing me back fervently.
“You have stuff to do here, too.”
“Are you making a pun?”
“Never. Come, we’re wasting water.” I pull myself from his embrace and step into the too-hot stream, letting it scorch my skin. It feels good on my neck muscles, easing some of the tension that’s been threatening to pull me down.
Alessio follows me in, flinching as the water splashes off his body. He turns the hot water down slightly—probably for the best.
“The entire day doesn’t have to be a waste.” Alessio reaches for my cock, and it instantly comes alive.
Of course, I’m already hard.
He always seems to have that effect on my body.
A glance down confirms that I’m not the only one who is excited.
What a beautiful cock.
“Hmm,” I groan louder as Alessio palms my dick to full hardness.
With my arms locked around his back, I pull him closer to me, kissing him desperately as he jerks me off.
It’s a welcome distraction from the day we’ve just had.
His own erection grinds against my stomach, desperate for friction.
I love making him hard.
“Are you going to help me out here or what?” Alessio bites my ear seductively, and I smile, smacking his ass playfully.
“You could’ve just asked.” I take his length in my hand, squeezing his tip as I kiss the moan from his lips.
“I just did,” Alessio gasps.
With hungry kisses between rapid breaths, we stroke each other to completion, until we’re just panting under the hot rain of the shower, holding each other close as our cum seeps down the drain.
Oh, sweet release.
He doesn’t make me beg for permission, and I don’t ask for any—only Danica gets to own my pleasure. With Alessio, we are equals, matched in every way, Don vs Don.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my heart pumping too fast as we just hold each other for a while longer.
Perhaps all isn’t lost…