"Oh?" Cesare half-turns. "As matters stand, you have seen me undressed. Or was it a slow, sensual dance you had in mind? Sorry to disappoint in that case." He pats the stubbly cheek that's digging into his sore shoulder. Motherofgod. Fuck. "Women are better suited for that."

He grimaces under Alex's pointy chin, then manages to twist away from him and hide the gasp in his voice. "Gesù, look at yourself, you're all green," he says eventually. "What an aphrodisiac that would be, you quietly vomiting into your hands while I'm nearing completion. No, I think I'll pass. You may always put the suggestion to madonna, provided she allows you to get close enough for her to incline her ear." He clears his throat.

And then Cesare's smile grows slow and dark and dirty. "What says I make you scream, this fair and mistful morn'?"