Gilded Agony

by K. A. Merikan

  “After me,” Diego whispered, grabbing the nearest tree to aid his transfer to the shore. Domenico and Miguel followed his example, and minutes later, the three of them pushed their way through the suspiciously thinned flora— a sure sign of human presence.

  Still, the only sounds were of monkeys calling out to each other and bird-like cries that had the fine hair on Domenico’s nape raising the closer he was to the unknown. His feet sank into the mud, and each step felt like a leap of faith, even though he trusted neither their guide nor his own senses. The jungle was an alien landscape, and even though he’d lived in El Encanto for the past two years, he hardly ever left the urban areas, trusting his men with jobs he didn’t feel confident about doing.

  He was a city rat after all.

  Diego nodded at them in silence and led the way through cut bushes. Domenico made sure to carefully watch the large knife in his hand as a sense of unexpected dread dawned on his shoulders with each step away from the shore and the safety of the boat.

  Maybe his skills have gotten rusty? He sensed nothing. No smoke, no one talking, no one in the trees, no calls that might not have been made by animals

  But this wasn’t Domenico’s usual hunting ground. He was a creature of narrow alleyways, forests of concrete, and crowds. The jungle, with its unfamiliar smells and noises, its thick greenery that hid a hundred things to kill you, made him nervous. So no matter how much he resented having to rely on an insolent man from nowhere, he had to do just that if he wanted to survive the current drought of money and respect.

  Diego straightened up as if whatever threat he was expecting was now long gone. “Fuck,” was all he had to say when they stepped out into a wide clearing between the trees with shacks scattered throughout, barely visible in the sparse moonlight.

  “They’re gone,” Miguel offered as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

  Domenico’s first instinct was to lie to himself, to say that maybe they’d just left, but if that were the case, a lingering scent of human presence would still have been in the air. With a doomed feeling crushing his shoulders, Domenico switched on the flashlight and pointed its beam straight at a large campfire that was already being taken over by some sort of greenery. No one had been here for at least a couple of days.

  “Fuck. Fucking fuck,” he growled and kicked a beam supporting a small shelter with dry leaves for roof. The thing shifted under pressure, as if about to fall over, but even destruction couldn’t go right tonight.

  “Let’s search it anyway,” Miguel said and turned on his flashlight as well. He didn’t wait for an answer and walked off, leaving Domenico with the last man he now wanted to be around.

  With the camp deserted and no clues left, the two of them examined the few paths leading out into the jungle, because there was still hope that the Lungs might have left some of the stolen cargo hidden. What they found instead was latrines, an impromptu bathing space, and a small creek. This whole trip deep in the night—for nothing.

  “At least you’ve got a hot pair of cocksucking lips to go back home to,” Diego said with a shrug and the fucker even dared to smile, as if he hadn’t dragged them all out here on the night before Christmas Eve, only to give them nothing of worth. It took Domenico a moment to process what Diego had said.

  He could have given the dirty bastard a chance to apologize. He could have pretended he hadn’t heard any of it, but he was Domenico Acerbi, and he would not let anyone talk of his husband as if he were a piece of steak. He grabbed the stubborn column of the abandoned shelter and ripped it from under the frail roof, making the shack collapse from lack of support. White shapes danced in front of Domenico’s eyes as he smashed the thick stick against Diego’s back.

  Diego yelped and fell forward, but instantly scrambled away, ready for another attack. “The fuck? It was a compliment!”

  “A compliment? You want another one? I think your blood is a fucking pretty color,” Domenico said, tossing the piece of wood into Diego’s arms. He dashed right behind it, but when instead of grabbing the stick, Diego moved his hands to his belt, Domenico knew he needed to act fast. One twist of the fucker’s wrist was enough to make him drop the gun, and things went fast after that.

  Blood rushed to Domenico’s brain as he twisted back Diego’s offending arm and delivered a hard kick to his back. A muffled scream left Diego’s mouth as he dropped into the mud. The difference between their skills couldn’t have been more obvious than in this moment, right after Domenico dislocated Diego’s right shoulder with two moves.

  He still had it in him. The skills he’d polished since childhood, the knowledge of the human body, were still deeply entrenched in his muscle memory.

  “Seth is my husband. You will talk of him with respect. Am I making myself clear?” he asked coldly, stepping on Diego’s back to prevent him from regaining any dignity.

  Diego wheezed, his body twitching when he tried to move. “Understood,” he groaned, and even that one word held defiance.

  Why was it so hard for Diego to understand he was here to do a serious job, and his comments and dumb jokes were not welcome? Did he see this as an opportunity to get closer to like-minded men? If that was the case, his macho instincts were leading him in the wrong direction.

  Domenico sighed and sank lower, resting most of his weight on the strong body. The rabid animal would now seek opportunities to get back at Domenico, because it was too goddamn stupid to understand that its strength and brutality couldn’t measure up to someone who’d spent his life becoming perfect at killing people.

  It could be put down if necessary.

  “Say sorry.”

  In the dark, Diego’s eyes seemed completely black when he glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry for talking about your husband’s cocksucking lips.”

  Domenico smirked. Then sank his knife into Diego’s thigh. In this position, he couldn’t be perfectly precise, but if Diego suffered more than just pain, he’d have only himself to blame.

  Diego’s scream tore through the air, alarming a large bird, which flew off the nearest tree with a frantic cry.

  “Sorry! I’m sorry,” Diego rasped.

  A rustle ahead made Domenico look up to meet Miguel’s dark gaze. He lowered the rifle he was holding, but his lips twitched, as if he agreed with Domenico’s decisions.

  Domenico exhaled and pointed his flashlight at the knife sticking out of Diego’s thigh. He removed the weapon and was happy that the bleeding was manageable. Having cleaned the blade on the back of Diego’s T-shirt, he put the dislocated arm back into its place.

  “Deal with the wound, and then we go.”

  He walked off with Miguel and lit himself a cigarette, but took Diego’s gun with him. The rabid dog would get it back once he cooled off.

  “That’s it? Nothing?” Miguel whispered.

  Domenico squeezed Miguel’s arm and let the warm smoke soothe him.

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter 8 - Domenico

  They only came back after 3 a.m. With Mark deciding to crash whichever Gina’s bedroom, Domenico was alone when he opened the gate to their villa with the code and walked along the path by the hen house. A part of him dreaded coming back empty-handed, because after the abrupt way they had all left, he expected to find Seth drunk yet again. That would’ve been the last thing he wanted to deal with.

  Still buzzing with the remnants of anger after finding nothing at the camp, he only noticed the lights in the pool when he was about to enter the silent house. A sense of dread squeezed his chest as he slowly turned around and approached its cool glow. There were times when he came home and feared there would be a body floating face-down, with a bottle of liquor forlorn by the sun chairs, but he told himself that Seth must have forgotten to turn off the lights.

  The closer he got to the pool that seemed like an oasis after watching the murky waters of the river, the more certain he was that a shadow moved in the canopied daybed.

  Tiredness pulled at his limbs, but he made his way alon
g the shiny surface, expecting one more chore from this pathetic night. “Seth?”

  His husband slid from beyond the white curtain, but instead of approaching Domenico, he walked along the other side of the pool as if he were avoiding Dom on purpose. His gait spoke of confidence, even when he looked up and met Domenico’s gaze across the shimmering water.

  That was new.

  “Are you pissed off at me?” Domenico asked.

  Seth watched him in an odd way, and even though he wore the same T-shirt and jeans as at the party, something felt different. “You’re always late, I got used to it.”

  Was he trying to pick a fight now? Seriously?

  Domenico took a deep breath. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not you who had do drive down to the river to find nothing!”

  Seth never stopped circling the pool and shrugged. “Excuses, excuses… I had to find myself another dick since my good-for-nothing husband can’t even find the time to fuck me.”

  Domenico’s eyes lost focus. Forced to repeatedly blink as he stared at Seth across the water, safe from Domenico’s fists, which pulsed with an energy so powerful they could break stones. “You … you what?”

  “The pool boy has a very nice dick, you know? And he made the pool nice and clean.” Seth slowly took off his T-shirt, exposing his chest in a prolonged motion. “Win-win basically.”

  Domenico’s brain was about to boil over in helpless anger when everything came to a halt. ‘Pool boy’? They did have one, but she definitely didn’t have a dick. Was Seth fucking with him? Did Seth want to fuck with him?

  Breathless from the tension, Domenico didn’t even remember why he’d gotten home so late in the first place. His gaze zeroed in on the muscular torso revealed in the cool underwater light. The soft waves reflected on the canvas of skin, transforming the handsome man Domenico loved into a dangerous creature that crept out of the waters of the Amazon to tempt him.

  “Come over here, you fucking slut.”

  All Seth had for him was a mocking smile. “You wish. He gave it to me so good I don’t think you’d be able to top it.” His large, veiny hands unbuttoning the jeans became Domenico’s sole focus. “But I’m in a good mood, so I’ll let you watch what you can no longer have.”

  Arousal cooked in Domenico’s arteries, making it close to impossible to make a decision, but in the end he emptied his pockets, kicked off his shoes and jumped into the water. It was lukewarm against his flesh, caressing sensitive skin with each movement he made, but there was only one goal in Domenico’s mind—the tall form looming at the other end.

  When he reached the edge of the pool, Seth was kicking aside his jeans, watching him from above. He slowly sat down, spreading his legs and sliding each foot into the water on either side of Domenico’s head. Those thighs were succulent enough to bite into, and the outline of a thick, still soft, dick faced Dom through white fabric.

  “You could suck my dick if you’re so desperate for forgiveness.” Seth watched him with challenge in his eyes. Always there to prod and provoke Domenico. The distant sounds of birds and monkeys turned this moment into a stolen minute in a mythical garden of pleasures where Domenico was a man free to do anything and fearing no one. And Seth was his prize. His trophy husband.

  Domenico’s hair lay flat against his scalp and shoulders, cooling his head and finally allowing him to think. He squeezed the meaty sculptures that were Seth’s legs and used them to pull himself partway out of the water. His gaze fixed on his husband’s chocolate stare, looking for discomfort and anticipation alike. “How many were there?” he whispered, rapidly grabbing the hair at the back of Seth’s head the moment he managed to rest his knee against Seth’s crotch. With gravity working to Domenico’s disadvantage, he was at Seth’s mercy now. They could both either stay as they were or topple into the water.

  Seth pushed his head closer so that their foreheads touched, as if they were two bulls locking horns. “How many do you think there were?” he whispered, running his hands up Dom’s chest. “You didn’t assume I’d just sit around bored all day, did you? There’s the mailman, the plumber…”

  Domenico gasped and grabbed Seth’s pec, squeezing it hard, like a lemon he’d like to juice. His lips swallowed the groan coming from his lover’s mouth, but he wouldn’t relent and pushed Seth down until he lay flat on the tiles.

  “I’m gonna have them all. I’m gonna gut them and make you bathe in their blood.”

  Seth pressed Domenico’s shoulders but didn’t use even half of his strength. “Won’t take away the fact that they’ve had me.” He whispered the poison looking into Dom’s eyes and only making him throb with the need to take Seth back Seth. Even if the idea was only imaginary, having claim over Seth wasn’t.

  Seth was his.

  His husband.

  His lover.

  His forever, and a lowlife like Diego didn’t have the right to say a single nastily-accented syllable about him.

  “It means nothing to me. From now on, I will keep you locked up, so that no one but me can see your face or your body.”

  “You can try,” Seth whispered. In one unexpected but very well-practiced move, he pressed his knuckles into Domenico’s stomach, causing enough distraction to push him off. It wouldn’t be enough, and as Seth tried to slide away, Domenico was already grabbing him, but it was a pleasure to see Seth use the skills Dom had taught him.

  Domenico rolled away but got to his knees fast and put a hold on Seth’s neck from behind, pulling him away from the water even as he bit Seth’s ear, breathing in the fresh scent of sweat.

  Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbing under his hand sent adrenaline into his veins, and the helpless whimper that resonated into Dom’s palm made his cock even harder for the prey in his arms. Best still, Seth had been the one to provoke this. He’d waited long into the night to pull Domenico into a dangerous game they’d both enjoy.

  Seth reached up to Domenico’s wrist but didn’t pull on it. If he wanted to be shown the full extent of Dom’s claim on him, that was what he would get.

  Domenico jerked him even closer, teeth pulling over the sensitive skin of Seth’s neck. With their hearts thumping in unison, Domenico grabbed Seth’s growing bulge and squeezed it hard, making Seth twitch violently.

  “You are mine. This is mine.”

  “Are you really so sure?” Seth rasped and tried to struggle, which only made Domenico hornier when he got to pull him right back. He took away Seth’s air for a second, making the pulse against his palm that much quicker.

  He tasted salty skin with his tongue, pulling it along Seth’s stubbly cheek. He could sense his large, muscular lover fight for each breath, but now it was up to Domenico how much air he would be given

  “I know it. And I will prove to you that I hold your life in my hands,” Domenico growled, rapidly rolling Seth onto his stomach and pressing down on him hard until the handsome face was flat against the damp tiles.

  Every breath Seth took was deliciously heavy and told Domenico how exciting this was for his husband. The shiver that went through Seth’s body was so intense it seemed to transfer to Domenico’s flesh.

  They were only a piece of underwear away from one of their favorite setups—Seth naked, Domenico still clothed. Even if wet.

  “You’re claiming you can keep me away from other dicks?” Seth’s challenge only spoke of how much he wanted to provoke a reaction, and Domenico couldn’t wait to show him how much power he could have over Seth if he chose to.

  He grabbed Seth’s balls through his boxer briefs and squeezed, enjoying the shudder going through his lover’s form. With a grin, he tasted the sweat on Seth’s nape, rubbed his face in it and imagined that they would eventually share one scent.

  “You’ll forget any other dicks exist. From now on, I’ll be taking you with me everywhere, so I can give it to you whenever you get the itch.”

  Seth groaned and arched his ass against Dom’s crotch. It was everything they needed to forget the world around them even existed. Se
th raised himself slightly, but it was enough to lift Domenico, and that show of strength only made Dom want to pin him down that much harder.

  Dom pushed Seth down to make a point, and dragged Seth’s underwear lower, roughly pushing it off and tossing it into the pool. He was on top of his lover the moment Seth tried to pull himself up again.

  “Where do you think you’re going, you dirty cheating slut?”

  Seth’s breathing quickened, and he looked back with those glazed-over bedroom eyes. “I’ve still got his cum in me, you know?”

  None of this was real, and Domenico knew, but the words still twisted around his dick in a way that was both painful and so arousing the damp fabric clinging to Dom’s cock was impossible to stand anymore. Only Seth could cause so much mayhem with his emotions. He sank his teeth into the flesh of Seth’s cheek and bit down hard enough to leave a mark. Seth jerked, pressing that round ass into Dom’s groin, and he found himself forced back, reduced to shaking when he opened his pants and got out his pulsing dick.

  “I’m going to remove it with this. You feel it?” he asked, pushing his tool between Seth’s buttocks.

  The choked whine was all he needed in answer, and the pliant way in which Seth spread his thighs to accommodate him made Dom’s cock twitch. This beautiful man under him wanted him inside, and he wanted to be fucked hard and with no mercy. The blue lines of light reflecting from the water on Seth’s face transformed him into an ethereal creature, and Domenico would love every second of this imaginary reclaiming.

  His gaze frantically shot to Seth’s pants, and he pulled them close, searching the pockets for the proof that Seth had indeed planned this. The packet of lube felt hot in Dom’s hand, and he ripped it right away, splashing the cool gel over the tight, lovely hole. Seth’s body hair tickled when Dom delved his fingers into the lubed crack, first stroking then pushing into the hot, tight cavity of Seth’s anus.