Tiberius didn't answer her question, but he did consider it in pensive silence. He had enjoyed that, and could not pretend to himself that he hadn't, but he wondered about the wisdom of admitting as much to Antigone. She had initiated that particular part of the evening, after all, in her own roundabout way. If he admitted that he'd enjoyed himself, would she try to find some way to use this against him?

This was really a moot question, however. As if she needed verbal confirmation to deduce what was obvious. It had been obvious, hadn't it? He hadn't taken any pains to hide the pleasure he was taking from the event during intercourse... but then, he had also spoken primarily in profanities and insults until the end. Under normal circumstances that would hardly be construed as a sign of enjoyment, but nothing had had ever occurred in the whole of Tiberius and Antigone's marriage could qualify as having happened under normal circumstances.

He was roused from this particular line of thinking when she pulled the sheets tighter, causing the bedding covering him to shift and draw his attention. He glanced over at Antigone — not at her face, but rather her sheet-wrapped body — and frowned. "Those sheets are wet," he muttered. He ought to know — he had been the one sweating all over them for the past half hour. Rolling over, he leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved his wand from where it had fallen half an age ago, still faithfully producing a soft glow against the floor boards. Returning to his position in bed, he cast a quick drying spell on the linens, then extinguished the light from his wand and plunged the room back into darkness.