Til Death Do Us Part

TIL DEATH DO US PART

A WEDDING/KIDNAPPING SPECIAL

Simon POV

Everything was going perfectly to plan.

It hadn’t taken much to convince Wolfy to wear a tux to dinner instead of his usual suit, since he always traveled with one anyway.

Or two or three.

Now that the outfit has found its way into our bedroom repertoire.

Perhaps it was because he was so trained to my demands at this point—obedient dog that he was—but he dressed as instructed while I arranged for a car to take us to the restaurant on Quai Courbet.

Actually, to the chapel next door…

Little did he know, I’d laid a tender trap that included our family and friends, plus a legally binding ceremony where he would swear to be mine and only mine until death do us part.

And perhaps beyond that .

Butch—our dashing defender of Big City—had been an eager accomplice to my schemes, more than happy to convince the United Super Nations to approve our union before helping plan the guest list. This was partly because he was a hopeless romantic, but mostly because he was already in wedding-planning mode, thanks to his highly anticipated nuptials.

An event that may or may not include butt pirates aboard a cruise ship.

Unclear.

Speaking of The Dumb One in the group chat, I’d threatened Balty with immediate death if he spoiled my plans to kidnap Wolfy for unholy matrimony.

“Why not just ask him to marry you?” Balty had—privately, but unwisely—asked me one day. He’d then immediately course-corrected by rewording his question. “Or why not just tell him he’s marrying you?”

That’s more like it.

“Because, Baby Hulk.” I’d patted his tree trunk arm as one might soothe a small child. “Wolfy needs a little excitement in his life. I like to keep my sweet murder baby on his toes.”

That was one reason. Another was that I’d hoped my disobedience would earn me a mild-to-severe spanking.

One can only hope.

Perhaps the biggest reason of all—the one I’d rather wear polyester than admit to—was that I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to say no. My rationale was that Wolfy was much too nurturing to deny me in front of our nearest and dearest. Therefore, our legal union was assured.

Along with a prenup strong enough to make his financial advisors weep .

If he changed his mind afterward, so be it. There was plenty of acreage at the Suarez family compound to bury another body.

So it’s best if he simply does what I say.

“Perhaps we should skip dinner,” I slyly spoke as the car drove past the Rue Obscure and along the dark nighttime waters of Villefranche-sur-Mer on the way to the Chapelle Saint-Pierre. “Because you look like an entire meal in that tux.”

Wolfy didn’t react. He didn’t adorably blush or even acknowledge my flirtations. Instead, he absently turned from the window to face me and slowly blinked.

“What?” he murmured, clearly distracted.

That’s… odd.

One of the many—countless—things I adored about my man was the undivided attention he showered me with. Even when he was busy running our evil empire, he set aside everything the instant I called, texted, walked into the room fully naked, or pulled out his beautiful cock.

What? Sometimes I just need something to suck on.

“Are you… all right?” I hesitantly asked.

I was confident none of his siblings had spoiled the surprise. Even when Zion Salah had the nerve to text Wolfy a GIF of a wolf wearing a tuxedo earlier today, I’d been able to redirect his suspicions with some quality playtime.

My sore arse is proof of that.

“I’m fine,” Wolfy finally replied after too long of a pause.

Things were obviously not fine. Something was bothering Wolfy so badly, anxiety was pouring off of him like his signature scent of lavender, bergamot, and the same leather of the flogger I’d tortured him with a few hours ago.

Or the sensory deprivation mask we’d experimented with...

“Putain!” I exclaimed, suddenly emitting eau de anxiety myself. “Did I trigger you by using that mask, mon chou? You know you could have safed out at any time! Why would you let me send you spiraling into the Argentinian jungle of your traumatic childhood?!”

Wolfy gaped at me. “What are you talking about, boss? I loved the mask, along with every toy you picked out for me…”

Then, he gave me a filthy smirk, and I recalled just how much he’d enjoyed himself—as demonstrated by the bucketload of cum I’d licked off his chest and abs.

We do have a good time together.

“I just… have a lot on my mind tonight,” he haltingly added, and my eyes narrowed as I tried to gauge whether he knew what he was walking into.

I will resurrect medieval torture methods if some traitor foiled my plans!

My revenge montage was interrupted when the car pulled to a stop outside the Chapelle Saint-Pierre. We exited to the scent of salty air and the sound of the Mediterranean lapping against the boats tied along the docks.

A perfect night for a shotgun wedding.

Wolfy immediately took in the too-quiet scene, glancing up at the pale peach Romanesque building with a frown as the car drove off.

“Why not drop us off in front of the restaurant?” he murmured .

“Oh! I forgot to mention, I have a quick errand inside the chapel,” I sang in a voice that wavered only slightly. “One of the visiting clergymen discovered schematics for a custom St. Andrew’s Cross, and I thought it would make a nice addition to our Parisian apartment.”

Wolfy’s amber eyes darkened. “It would. I’d love to torture you on the cross with only the light from the Eiffel Tower to illuminate your bruises.”

Behave, Sir!

“Well, then you shan’t mind a quick in and out before we dine,” I cooed, dragging him into the chapel, giddy with nerves and anticipation.

The ticket area was shuttered for the night, but the finely-coiffed women who guarded the till had left everything unlocked for us.

Dirty money makes all things possible.

I paused before opening the door to the nave. Although it would have been great fun for everyone to jump out of the shadows for a grand surprise, I’d witnessed Wolfy in terrifying action. A Game of Thrones -style Red Wedding was not the vibe I was going for tonight, despite how titillating the bloodshed would be.

I suppose the foreplay will have to start at a low simmer.

“Mon chou…” I began to sweat through my tastefully sheer black suit but was determined to get this out before we had an audience. “While I may not be the overly emotional type, I need you to understand just how crazy I am about you. I want to spend every second of the rest of our lives together, and I hope… Well, I hope you feel the same, because I’ve made an executive decision of sorts…”

Wolfy’s gorgeous amber eyes widened with each passing word, but I didn’t give him the chance to speak—or flee—before flinging open the doors for the big reveal.

“SURPRISE!” everyone who’d been wrangled for the occasion shouted, with a “you stinkstiefel” added at the end for good measure by a beaming Erich.

Wolfy’s bestie best man.

My scared little murder cabbage was frozen in place as he took in the scene. Erich was standing on one side of the aisle with my mother, Violentia, Baltasar, and Wolfy’s mentor, Luca, while Xander, Butch, Kai, and Zion took up the other.

I’d invited the heir to the Salah throne because of the kindness he’d shown me when we’d stumbled upon each other that fateful day in Villefranche. I also appreciated his collection of ironic T-shirts and how adorably riled up Baby Hulk became at the mere mention of his heroic sports rival.

Despite being a potential threat once he succeeded his parents—and apparently being unable to refrain from sending unapproved texts—Zion was a good man.

Gabriel and Andre were waiting at the modest altar tucked into the chancel at the far end of the room—two artists appropriately framed by the murals of Jean Cocteau, who’d painstakingly renovated the chapel in the 1950s.

Gabe was officiating the ceremony and had irreverently dressed as a priest. His version consisted of an all-white suit and blood-red clerical collar, complete with heavy eye makeup and an upside-down cross dangling from one ear.

Okay, I may have found a new fashion buddy.

Also true to form, Dre was standing off to the side, gladly giving his twin the spotlight while dressed in a matching suit—sans priest collar, but with the addition of black shit-kicker boots. The only reason he was up there at all was because I’d tasked him with holding Twoey for the ceremony .

Our carnivorous ring bearer.

“Are we… getting married?” Wolfy finally croaked, taking an alarming step backward.

Don’t you dare!

“Yes, we are, Wolfgang, and that’s final,” I snapped, grabbing his enormous hand and dragging him down the aisle.

Of course, he only moved because he wanted to, but when I nervously glanced over my shoulder, his smile was blinding.

My relief was staggering. I didn’t have the upper body strength—or wardrobe—to bury a body. Plus, I possessed a truly infuriating need for continuous proof of Wolfy’s devotion.

Which he never fails to give.

“Jesus, that smile’s almost as scary as his death glare,” Balty muttered as we passed, causing Zion to snort in amusement on the other side.

It’s true—Wolfy is like a feral animal who figured out how to wear a suit.

“All right, quiet down, Rabble and Rabble-adjacent,” Gabe called out. “Let’s get started so these two can go raise hell on their honeymoon.”

Once everyone had taken a seat and sufficiently shushed, the talkative twin took a deep breath and smoothed his hands down the front of his blasphemous garb.

“Jean Cocteau lived in this dilapidated chapel for two years while he renovated every surface, inside and out. The ‘prince of poets’ was called to this undertaking by something outside himself—whether the divine or his muse, we’ll never know—but still, he struggled with his task. It was only once he succumbed to the chapel walls themselves that he was able to bring the beauty of his vision to life. ”

I hadn’t the slightest idea where Gabe was going with this, but I was happy to let him wax poetic while I got my rollercoaster of emotions under control.

If I cry, it will take them forever to fear me again!

“Wolfy was dealt a harsh hand in life… pun intended,” Gabe continued, smoothly pausing for the expected snickers from The Rabble. “But he honed his innate gifts into something beautiful despite his constraints. And while he would have willingly dedicated his life to protecting us, fate found someone to watch over him in return.”

Oh, no…

“Simon,” Gabe turned to me with an amused expression. “I’m not sure what dark, twisted hellhole you crawled out of, but I’m convinced you were specifically created for Wolfy’s immaculate designs—to be his magnum opus, his raison d’être.”

You mind-melting connard!

Wolfy’s perfect lips twisted at the sight of my traitorous tears before further ruining my impassive facade by giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

I love this man so much, it makes me sick.

Thing Two continued, absolutely relentlessly, “As Cocteau said, ‘beauty is made up of relationships… expressed through a host of balances, imbalances, waverings, surges, halts, meanderings, and straight lines.’ Our family is better for the two of you having found each other—more powerful, untouchable, and feared than ever before. Both beautiful and brutal.”

I suppose I love this family too.

By some miracle, a loud sniffle from the peanut gallery— Butch, no doubt—captured everyone’s attention long enough for me to regain my composure.

“Thank you,” Wolfy blessedly spoke for both of us. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Gabriel gave his older brother a meaningful nod, heavily weighted with things left unsaid. Wolfy had tirelessly protected all his siblings from their parents for decades, but it was no secret the twins were his favorite— his precious murder babies. Luckily, they seemed to hold him in the highest regard in return.

Since Things One and Two are the only supes alive who could challenge Wolfy’s throne.

Intuitively understanding I couldn’t take any more sentimental threats to my fearsome reputation, Andre stepped forward, holding Twoey so I could reach the ring carefully nestled within one of her gaping maws.

It was a custom-made band of smooth obsidian, threaded with veins of carnelian meant to resemble blood. I’d commissioned it from an artist friend of the twins, and I’d paid a pretty penny to have them include a hint of love-spelled rose oil—superstitiously ensuring the bearer remained mine forever and ever, amen.

One can never be too careful.

“To echo Gabriel’s sentiment,” I haughtily spoke while reverently sliding the band onto Wolfy’s gloved finger with annoyingly shaky hands. “Let this ring be a reminder of how your life took a turn for the better the day you met me. I’d assumed you would prefer to go shopping for mine together, to ensure the ring is as obscenely expensive as possible…”

My villain monologue trailed off as Wolfy dropped to his knee, his lips now fully curled in a smug little smirk .

Putain de bordel de merde!

“Simon, you have made my life better in ways I never dreamed possible—simply by being yourself. You’re bossy, spoiled, bloodthirsty, fearless, and more unhinged than any supe I’ve ever met. In other words, you’re perfect.”

He really gets me.

With hands that were also shaking, he withdrew a box from his jacket pocket and snapped it open to reveal a diamond so large, I almost lost an eye.

While gaining a boner, full disclosure.

Bunny gasped as Wolfy slid the rock onto my finger before rising to his feet again. “I’m sure you—and your mother—have already assessed the full value of this ring, but you should know it snaps open to reveal a tiny bottle of arsenic.” He paused with a heated look in his eyes. “So you can threaten me with poisoning whenever you want.”

He really, really gets me.

“Ooh, kinky,” Xander chuckled while Butch blew his nose into an official Captain Masculine handkerchief and Violentia muttered something about how ridiculous we were.

Gabriel stepped forward again. “Well, it sounds like this kidnapping is consensual after all. So let’s make it official. Simon—do you take Wolfgang to be your villainous husband?”

“I do,” I whispered, too overcome to care that my voice shook.

“And do you, Wolfgang, take Simon to be your equally—possibly more— villainous husband?”

“I do,” he solemnly spoke. “Until death.”

“Beyond death,” I reminded him .

“Yes, boss.”

Good man.

“Fair enough,” Gabe chuckled. “By the power vested in me by an online ordination and this fine ass outfit, I now pronounce you husband and mafia queen.”

A bawdy, communal cheer echoed throughout the nave, but then Wolfy was kissing me, and everyone else disappeared. He licked his way inside my mouth, groaning like the first time we’d connected in this way—as if he’d never experienced anything as life-altering as the sensation of his lips on mine.

The feeling is entirely mutual, my sweet murder baby.

What followed was an hour or so of conversation—and signature Suarez ball-busting—while we all took part in the gourmet buffet and open bar the restaurant next door had delivered.

Butch and I chatted about ideas for his increasingly elaborate destination wedding before he wandered back to where Xander was hovering over Kai as if she— not the beefy hero—was his baby.

Or… carrying their baby…

We now knew supes and normies could safely reproduce, but the original Suarez power couple was being tight-lipped on whether their surrogacy plans with Xander’s bestie were moving forward.

I suppose we’ll leave that exciting news for another day.

Speaking of unwed mothers, Bunny was busy flirting with Luca—while Erich watched in open amusement—and I vaguely wondered if it was her mission in life to populate the world with parasitic half-supes.

Or more gold-diggers in her image .

“I have to say, Simon, I expected more of a royal wedding out of you.” Zion was suddenly at my side, grinning wildly, certainly inebriated. “Although I won’t complain about being able to bullshit with a celebrity like Captain Masculine all night without needing to fight my way through a throng of cape chasers.”

Wolfy rolled his eyes. “You are just as much a celebrity as he is, Zion. More so, in certain circles.”

The hero scoffed. “In dirtball circles, sure. And on that note, I can’t wait to win back my crown at this summer’s Games…”

I followed his ravenous gaze to where he’d locked on Baltasar like a predator. In turn, Balty was staunchly pretending not to notice—and failing miserably.

Silly little hetero.

I’d since learned that supes had their own version of the Olympics called the Supremacy Games, which featured sporting events meant to cater to the strengths of different superpowers. Zion—in giant lizard form—was regularly pitted against Baby Hulk in a sport called Deathball, although I was disappointed to hear actual deaths were rare.

Where’s the fun in that?

Wolfy was watching Zion stare down his brother, his gaze thoughtfully flitting between the two rivals in a way that was delightfully sly.

“What are you thinking about, mon chou?” I cooed, eager for gossip.

The more salacious, the better.

He smiled in a way that told me he was a naughty cream puff keeping secrets. “Just scheming, boss. And thinking about what a perfect night this was. “

I knew he was simply buttering me up, but I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to take credit. “Oh, you know… only the best for my murder?—”

“…Although it does seem to be missing something.”

Wolfy’s expression turned triumphant, but just as I opened my mouth to argue, a tsunami of exhaustion washed over me—pulling me under, into unconsciousness.

When I awoke again, I was no longer in the Chapelle Saint-Pierre, or in Villefranche at all. Instead, I found myself in our Paris apartment, completely naked except for my new ring.

And tied to a shiny new St. Andrew’s Cross.

Putain, he works fast!

“Wolfy?” I weakly lifted my head and peered around the room. It was dark, save for the twinkling lights from the famous landmark across the street.

“I’d love to torture you on the cross with only the light from the Eiffel Tower to illuminate your bruises.”

“Are you ready to play, boss?” came the reply from the shadows, complete with the natural scent of all my favorite things.

Which is still terribly unfair.

“Did you…” I shook my head to dispel the last of my grogginess, suddenly realizing he’d engaged the services of our unruly brat mind-melters. “Did you get the twins to mentally drug me so you could kidnap me for our honeymoon?!”

“I did,” Wolfy calmly replied, finally stepping close enough for me to see him.

He was still wearing his pants and dress shirt, although I noticed the top few buttons were undone, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms .

The torture has already begun!

“I also debated whether I should wake you up with my cock stuffed down your throat or yours stuffed down mine,” he absently continued, as if discussing the weather. “But then I decided to pass the time until you regained consciousness with my fingers in your ass instead.”

Merde…

“You… you violated me while I was unconscious?!” I gasped, wiggling a bit to confirm that yes, I felt sufficiently violated. When he simply nodded, I narrowed my gaze. “Gloves on or off?”

“On.” He licked his lips, clasping his gloved hands together in front of his obvious erection with a leathery creak—patiently awaiting my reaction.

I dropped my head back against the cross, no longer able to play it cool. “Fuck, I love you.”

“There it is,” he chuckled, closing the distance between us to deliver a bite to my bottom lip that drew blood. “If all it took was somnophilia to finally hear you say you loved me in slutty English, I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“Just get on your fucking knees and swallow my cock,” I hissed, annoyed I’d lost the upper hand so quickly but loving this turn of events all the same.

“Yes, Sir,” he murmured before hitting the parquet floor and sucking me down.

I cried out at the sensation of his warm, wet throat constricting around me as I struggled against my restraints.

My orgasm was already thundering down my spine—thanks to the very consensual non-con I’d awoken to—but just as I was about to find sweet release, Wolfy pulled off and abruptly stood .

“What?!” I choked out. “Get back on my cock this instant!”

“No,” he calmly replied before spinning the cross so I suddenly found myself upside down, all the blood rushing to my head. “Not until you make mine nice and wet.”

“I swear on all that is holy, Wolfy, I will poison you on our honeymoon, or so help mmph…”

My words were lost as my new husband-with-a-death-wish pulled out his cock and shoved it down my throat.

“That’s better,” he hummed, pressing his still-clothed groin flush against my face for an alarming amount of time before letting me breathe again. “It’s the least you can do after spoiling my plans to propose to you tonight.”

Mon chou…

I was Wolfy’s inventus, and therefore, I was attuned to his every mood. Yes, this faux anger was part of the game, but I also knew my man well enough at this point to sense the truth behind his words.

He’d been so nervous and distracted on the way to the chapel, and all I’d been focused on was everything going my way.

While he’d still had the opportunity to drop to his knee and declare his undying love, my sweet cabbage probably had a vision in his mind of how the evening was going to go.

Then, I had to blow in with my big plans…

Well, I’d better make it up to him.

With the sluttiest moan I could muster, I got to work—bobbing my head and using my tongue to lick his beautiful cock like the tastiest ice cream cone this side of the Champs-élysées .

“Jesus, fuck,” he choked out before finding his rhythm. “I love what a whore you are.”

“Mmph mmm,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

“You’d better make me come before you do,” he murmured, tracing a gloved finger over my already violated hole before jamming it all the way in.

He immediately found my prostate, making me cry out around his cock and double my efforts.

My vision grew hazy as I lost track of time. For long minutes—possibly hours—Wolfy brutally fucked both my mouth and my arse while I battled unconsciousness with saliva dribbling down my face.

I’ve never been happier.

“Such a. Perfect. Little. Whore. Tragaleche… mi putito…”

OH, MY GOD—HE’S SPEAKING SLUTTY SPANISH!!!

This rare event brought back my impending orgasm with a vengeance. I didn’t care what the consequences would be for my disobedience—I welcomed them, because there was no stopping this train.

And if my man wants his whore to guzzle his cum like a refreshing glass of milk, who am I to deny him?

I momentarily blacked out as I came, but I immediately—and luckily—regained my senses in time to suck down Wolfy’s release. He lazily continued to thrust through his aftershocks, ensuring I collected every drop before he withdrew.

Merci.

My cum was dripping down my abs to my chest, but Wolfy dutifully licked me clean. Finally, he returned the St. Andrew’s Cross to its upright position and topped off the experience with a filthy kiss .

“Did I please you, husband?” I asked sweetly. “Or shall I take my spanking now?”

He chuckled and began untying me from our new toy. “Your very existence pleases me, but give me twenty minutes, and I’ll fuck you while I spank you.”

And this is why we’re married.

“Twenty minutes!” I squawked in faux outrage. “I thought supes were tireless machines of war and coitus.”

Gathering me into his arms, my inventus carried me toward the en suite, where our enormous jacuzzi tub awaited.

“No one wears me out like you, boss,” he laughed, the rich sound lighting me up like the Eiffel Tower. “But no one makes me happier.”

“Because I’m your favorite,” I murmured, peppering his neck and jaw with kisses.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“And because you love me like crazy.”

“Yes,” he chuckled before staring down at me intensely. “And you love me too.”

I met his gaze, allowing him to see all the hopeless, unhinged love found in the depths of my black heart.

“Oui,” I cooed, fluttering my eyelashes adoringly. “Je t'aime comme un fou.”

“Brat,” he muttered, his amber eyes flashing in a deliciously threatening manner. “Let’s get cleaned up so I can give you the spanking you’re misbehaving for.”

He really, really, really gets me.

And with that, my villainous husband gently set me down so he could draw the bath, showing me the sweetest murder muffin aftercare before we continued our honeymoon of debauchery in the City of Love.

Forever and ever, until—and beyond—death.

Amen.