Page 35 of Hero Worship

I had to admire how naturally he worked our cover story into conversation—Asher Verity, the crime novelist, and his beautiful young muse. "You've heard it all before, baby. Several times."

"But I love hearing you talk about your work." His smile was pure seduction. "Besides, what else are we going to do for the next few hours?"

I could think of several things, none of them appropriate for public viewing. The memory of this morning—of Xander spread out beneath me, begging so prettily—made my cock twitch. But we had a cover to maintain, and I needed to keep my head clear.

"Why don't you tell me about your modeling experience instead?" I suggested, maintaining our pretense for any listenerswhile giving him the validation I knew he needed. "I love hearing about your work, too."

The genuine smile that flashed across his face made my chest tight. He launched into a detailed discussion of photographers and runway shows. I watched them gesture animatedly, struck by how the practiced performance fell away when they talked about fashion. Their eyes lit up with genuine passion as they discussed fabric and silhouettes. Fashion wasn't just their cover story. It was their art form, a means of self-expression and transformation they'd mastered long before this mission. After this morning, I understood better why he approached fashion with such intensity. Every choice was deliberate, every element carefully crafted to create the image he wanted the world to see.

Seeing him like this, completely unselfconscious in his enthusiasm, made me want to preserve this version of him forever.

"You're staring again," he teased, but I heard the vulnerability beneath his playful tone.

I caught his hand, bringing it to my lips in a gesture that looked romantic to observers but let me whisper against his skin. "Can't help it. You're beautiful like this."

His breath hitched, pupils dilating. For a moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped, showing me the Xander beneath the performance. Then someone walked past our seats, and the professional model persona snapped back into place.

"Such a charmer," he laughed, the sound perfectly calibrated to carry just far enough. "No wonder I married you."

But his fingers tightened around mine, silently asking if I meant it. If this was real. If I was going to reject him now that I'd had him.

I squeezed back, promising without words that I meant every touch, every claim, every mark I'd left on his skin this morning. We'd save the serious discussion for somewhere private. Fornow, this would have to be enough, these small touches, these careful words, these moments of connection hidden beneath our cover.

"Rest," I said, an order wrapped in gentle concern. "We have a long few days ahead of us."

"Bossy," they murmured, but settled deeper into their seat, maintaining their grip on my hand. Even in this small submission, they managed to make it feel like a choice rather than capitulation. I watched them drift off, still marveling at how they could yield without ever truly surrendering their power—a paradox that made every moment of control they chose to give me infinitely more precious.

Soon we'd be in our hotel room, where I could properly reassure him of exactly who he belonged to now. Where I could show him that this wasn't just a game or a cover story. This was real. He was mine now, in every way that mattered.

Just a few more hours of maintaining our cover. Then I'd remind him exactly why I'd claimed him in the first place.

The plane banked again toward Charles de Gaulle, giving us our first glimpse of Paris sprawled below. Even from this height, the city gleamed like scattered diamonds, the Eiffel Tower rising from the center like a beacon. Xander pressed closer to the window, his carefully maintained facade cracking just enough to show genuine wonder.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I kept my voice low, intimate. Playing the doting husband while fighting the urge to pull him into my lap, to mark him as mine where everyone could see.

"It's perfect." He turned to me with that devastating smile. "Thank you for bringing me here... darling." The slight pause before the endearment betrayed his own adjustment to our cover.

The landing gear deployed with a shudder, and Xander's hand found mine. I wasn't sure if it was performance for observersor genuine nerves about what awaited us, but I squeezed back either way. The weight of the prop ring on my finger felt heavier with each mile closer to Paris.

Xander maintained his model persona flawlessly through landing and initial processing, charming every official with that practiced smile. But I saw the tension in his shoulders build as we approached the main customs checkpoint. We both knew his documentation could raise questions. France wasn't known for its progressive stance on gender markers.

Sure enough, the customs agent's eyes narrowed as he examined Xander's passport, lingering on the "X" gender marker. While technically required to accept it under international law, the French official's expression made his feelings clear.

"Additional screening will be necessary," he announced in clipped English, gesturing to a separate area. "Standard procedure for... unusual documentation."

I felt Xander's mask slip for just a fraction of a second before he recovered, smile brightening even as his fingers tightened on his carry-on.

"Of course," Xander replied smoothly

The "additional screening" started with being pulled into a small office away from the main customs area. A second agent joined the first, both of them staring at Xander's passport like it was a puzzle to solve.

"Please explain the purpose of your visit," the first agent demanded, though we'd already provided our cover story.

"Honeymoon," Xander replied with practiced ease.

"And you are... what, exactly?" The second agent gestured vaguely at Xander's appearance. "Male? Female? The passport is unclear."

My jaw clenched, but Xander's smile remained steady, professional. They must have navigated this particular brand ofignorance countless times before, each encounter building the diplomatic skill that made them such an effective operative. "I'm non-binary. The X marker is legally recognized under international-"

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