by Lea Bronsen
A slight breeze ruffled his hair as he stepped out on the back deck. The boards beneath his feet creaked and bowed. While the interior of the home had been maintained by someone, the outside had become weather-worn. Still, each footfall to the railing didn't send him crashing through. The top of the pines bent back and forth, and the blue sky offset the dark emerald needles. Peaceful as it was, the demon clawing at his battered soul urged him to escape before the devil exacted his payment.
"Are we finished with our little hissy fit?" At the end of the deck, Butcher leaned against the railing, smugness on his face.
"If you're looking for more, forget it. Call it a moment of weakness I won't repeat." Gianni glanced away briefly. Like it or not, he was stuck with the tempting man.
"I believe I made my point on that matter pretty clear." Butcher scraped a knife along a thick chunk of wood. "While you hinted at a repeat performance, so cut the shit, Gianni."
"You're delusional." He gazed out into the woods again, hoping for a clear path down the mountain and away from the hulk of a man who tossed the truth in his face. Too much for his liking.
"The one thing your mother used to say about you was you couldn't stare into the mirror and admit who you are."
"Don't you fucking talk about her." He flared his nostrils. "You don't have the right."
The knife slowed. "I don't have the right?"
Gianni stumbled back as the knife plunked into the wood millimeters from his foot. All amusement had drained from Butcher's face.
"Where were you when she was gasping for breath, trying to hold on in hopes of seeing you again one last time? Oh, that's right. Taking it in the ass from a guard in jail because you can't help but shove that candy up your nose." He jabbed a finger toward Gianni. "The one son she loved the most disappointed her time and time again."
The clang of the truth reverberated in his skull. Every word stabbed at his soul, and Gianni snapped. Ripping the knife out of the wood, he charged Butcher. The beauty of the emerald forest stained garnet as his rage poured out and blurred his vision. He stabbed out. With the jerk of his arm, Butcher twisted him around and slammed him to the deck. His grip on the knife lost, Gianni screamed profanities, yet Butcher never yielded the pressure. He sucked in gasps between each derogatory insult before tears streamed down his face.
Hate consumed him, but not for the man pinning him down. His mother was gone. The soothing words she offered him when out of earshot of the family faded. Her beautiful eyes haunted the edge of his vision. "I can't quit," he choked out.
"Bullshit."
Gianni cried out as Butcher dug his knee into his back while twisting his wrist.
"You don't know what it's like."
His lips brushed Gianni's ear. "Ever wonder why your mother chose me to protect you through all your tantrums? Addiction comes in all forms, Gianni. In the end, you got to want something more. That's the trick."
The weight ceased, but Gianni remained on the deck as Butcher went inside. He couldn't imagine wanting anything more than a quick bump or an all-night party of snorting cocaine off Shannon's beautiful cock. Those days had passed. Nothing survived the aftermath of his brother's rage. Isolated, Gianni curled up and waited for the creeping darkness to take him.
Chapter Five
How had it come to this point? Mixed emotions tormented Butcher. To deny the attraction with Gianni would be lying to his body. Something deeper probed his conscience, hinting that he craved more than physical. The man Rosalia had described seemed too good to be true, and so far, he saw nothing to belay that. Addiction had taken root and flourished in the younger Bencivenni.
When Butcher became the caretaker for Rosalia, she couldn't beat what was killing her. His comfort had been to ease her suffering with a morphine drip that he regulated so that she'd stay conscious. Even in her moments of weakness, she never begged for more. The calm in her face didn't match the tremor in her hands. She had more strength than he'd ever possess. How could she believe that he could save her youngest son?
"What have you gotten me into, Rosalia?" He snatched the blanket off the couch and headed back outside. Gianni lay on the deck, still unmoving except for the occasional shiver. Night would descend soon and the temperature dropped quickly at this high altitude. A passing thought begged him to leave the whelp where he lay, to teach him what it meant to truly suffer, but Rosalia's spirit scowled at him. He draped the blanket around Gianni. On the ground next to him, Butcher heaved a loud sigh. "I really don't know what your mother saw in this place."
He didn't know how long he lay there with his quarry—at least he tried to think of Gianni as another job—but he re-entered the house with the sleeping prince.
Days blurred into nights. The bedrooms upstairs remained unused for any purpose. Amid the cursing and begging, he spoon-fed Gianni. Withdrawals were ugly on both sides of the fence. Even if he flushed the last of the cocaine out of the younger Bencivenni, the cravings would always linger. To this day, Butcher yearned for a small drop of whiskey to lessen his visions of the dead. When the sun rose and Gianni slept, he practiced his route to the snipe point. He managed a fifteen-second time, but that was with the sun aiding his sight. His night vision goggles would help some, but how much?
While Gianni slumbered on the couch, Butcher stepped outside to watch the sunset. The azure sky faded into ultramarine splash. He waited for the sounds of the night to accent the bitterness in the air. Eerie silence answered him. In such a remote location, that was the last thing he wanted to hear. While the cool air would ease his ache, something itched along his spine. A tick tock warning he never ignored. He headed inside for the monitor hooked to the security cameras. Two in the lower quadrant had gone dark. Toward the middle, two figures moved through the pitch black.
"Fuck."
His father warned him that Salvatore had slipped through, but to find them this fast? Rosalia had never shared the secret of this home to anyone, and only Gianni knew of it. Had the kid talked in one of his drug-filled hazes? In his room, he stripped and changed into something more suited to the dark. Knives slammed into their sheaths along his thighs. At the small of his back, he tucked a 9mm and put goggles on. With a tactical bag strapped to his back, he climbed out the window and sprinted into the darkness. It took fifteen minutes by car to get up the mountain road at a decent pace. He had less than that on foot because the route was more direct. His chest tightened. He ascended the ladder to his hiding spot. Lying prone, he fished out a box of .22 bullets. He slid his rifle over from its resting spot and loaded the chamber with five rounds. His fingers flexed. Gianni would be safe so long as he killed each and every one of them before they reached the house. He trusted his skill, that wasn't in doubt. The dark specters hovering at the corner of his vision, however, were a distraction. Figures moved into his crosshairs, their dark clothing stark against the foliage through his googles. Without a silencer, they'd be able to pick up his location should he miss. Three men, all with AK-47 rifles, spread approximately twenty feet apart. When they were still a significant distance from the house, Butcher slowed his breathing. His finger eased to the trigger as he inhaled deeply. Exhaling, he stilled before firing. Fluid in motion, the next shoot lined up and broke free of the barrel. As he swung to the third target, the man had vanished. Seconds ticked off in Butcher's head. While the house was locked tight, it would only stay that way if Gianni didn't wake from his stupor.
He flexed his fingers searching for the last man. A chill coursed through his spine, and he rolled from the perch to the ladder. Halfway to the ground, he jumped and rolled, ready to sprint to the house. A heavy weight slammed him to the ground. The momentum sent him careening down the slight incline with his assailant holding on tight. Branches dug into his back and tore at his clothing. As he skidded across a rock, he dislodged his attacker, who flew through the air briefly, followed by Butcher. The unmerciful ground knocked the wind from his lungs. Staggering up, he blinked in the darkness. His goggles had broken free durin
g his tumble. In the sparse moonlight streaming through the thick branches, he found the man responsible for his fall. Twisted and mangled, a broken branch impaled his chest. The whites of his eyes glowed in the twilight.
Battered, Butcher winced and scrambled through the brush toward the house. A single light shone like a beacon, but not one of hope. He'd purposely left all the lights off, so if one was on, Gianni had awoken or someone had breached security. He felt dizzy, his legs giving out. He was going to fail the one person who possibly made him feel any kind of emotion beyond regret.
"Don't you dare give up on him now." Rosalia's face formed on the moss clinging to the rocks. His fingertips brushed her cheek. Soft and velvety, the moss tore off, revealing a smear of blood. Droplets fell and her voice resonated in his head again. "Rain blood, Butcher."
* * * *
"You little cunt. How far did you think you could run?" Salvatore's fist plowed into Gianni's cheek. When his brother had smashed a window out to gain entry, Gianni had tried to retrieve the gun he'd taken from his mother's old room. Salvatore had reached him first and kicked him back onto the ground. A rain of fists came next. Not enough to break any bones, but to make him bleed like a stuck pig. Salvatore smashed his perfectly polished shoe into his stomach.
"Just kill me and get it over with." Gianni curled into a ball.
"I have plans for you, little brother. I'm going to start cutting things off one by one, but you're not going to die. Oh, no. I'm not going to make it easy on you. I'm going to start with your cock and make you eat it since you seem to like that perverted shit."
A shadow loomed in the broken shards of the window. Another brute to aid his brother in torturing him until his body gave out?
"So fucking worthless." Salvatore leaned over him and yanked Gianni up by the hair. "You could have all the pussy in the world and instead you'd rather have a dick in your ass. I have nice hot poker to curb you of that sick act."
A scream born of rage and violence pierced Gianni's eardrums and Salvatore barreled off him. Rolling, he nearly broke down at the sight of Butcher hammering his fists into his brother. Blood spewed to the sickening wet sound of flesh caving into breaking bones. What was once Salvatore's flawless face was nothing more than a pool of pulverized flesh. Butcher's anger boiled into the crimson staining the floor. His knife whipped out and gouged the skin and cloth protecting his brother's black heart.
Gianni crawled to his gun, the cool steel blurry in his vision. His salvation from the agony tearing through his being. What would stop one of his other siblings from sending another kill squad? He'd end it all with a bullet through his skull. Gun in hand, he rolled to his knees.
Butcher stood, his chest heaving. Blood coated his upper body, giving his dark clothing a wet sheen. Deep cuts crossed his chest. "What the fuck are you doing, Gianni?"
"You heard him." Gianni nuzzled the gun under his chin. "I'm fucking worthless."
Butcher's shoulders dropped. The extent of his injuries from fighting Salvatore's crew on such a big body made Gianni wonder why Salvatore stood there and mocked instead of finishing the job himself. Perhaps if that giant lug hadn't come through the window, he would have eventually, instead of taunting Gianni to do it himself. None of it mattered. The gun pressed against his flesh was his release from a world that didn't want the abomination he was. Staying clean was never going to happen. He had nothing to live for now. He pulled the trigger and gasped.
Nothing greeted his silent farewell, but Butcher stared at him and the click of the gun. He yanked on the trigger again and heard no sweet serenade of a bullet ripping his head apart.
"I removed the striker and firing pin from your mother's gun. It was the only one you'd have access to since the rest were coded to my fingerprints and no one else's."
"You fucking asshole." Gianni broke. Slamming the gun against his forehead, he sobbed. "Just let me die!"
"I can't let you go. Not again."
"You left me!" Gianni sobbed. "Just like everyone else." The gun slipped out of his grasp.
"If I hadn't, we both would have been dead. My father found out we were fooling around." Butcher spread his arms in surrender. "I had no idea who you were, Gianni. We're not supposed to mix. Rule number one for the pact."
"We could have run."
"To where? Your brother found this place. Do you think you're the only one to suffer? You were my first. You set me free. I am never letting you go again."
"I'm not who you think I am."
"You're exactly what I need." Butcher knelt in front of Gianni. Blood smeared on his cheek as Butcher traced his cheekbone. "I'm going to take care of the bodies. Promise me you won't do anything rash."
"Too late for that." He managed a slight smile. "I'm never going to be clean."
"Yeah." Butcher chuckled, getting up. "I said that to your mother about me. Man, did she prove me wrong."
Gianni never let his eyes stray from Butcher as his savior talked quietly on the phone. The man was all business. Tall and strong, he couldn't wait to explore every inch of his taut flesh. His killing Salvatore had more than a tinge of revenge in it. He might be the Butcher, but the brutal reducing his brother to pulp had the same fiery passion as their past love affair. More importantly, he believed him about why he left.
"Why don't you clean up, Gianni? You're not going to like what I do next to Salvatore."
"What's that?"
"Everything the prick said he'd do to you. I only regret he's already dead."
Chapter Six
With plastic strewn in the living room and beyond, Butcher supervised the cleanup of what was left of Salvatore's body, while one of the cleaners stitched the few gashes he received in his tumble. He gave the locations of the other bodies and reluctantly headed outside to be sprayed down with a hose, not that it wasn't necessary with all the blood. His mind was firmly on Gianni, and his need to be with him. Naked, he shook the hands of the crew before heading back into the house. His clothes had to be disposed of, and with his bulk, replacements would have to come from his stash. Several hours had passed, and he hoped Gianni hadn't fallen asleep. Speaking the secret he held for so many years had freed his soul.
Shivering, but clean, he bounded up the steps. The only way he wanted to be warmed was next to Gianni's body. A soft glow radiated from his room. To his delight, Gianni lay sprawled in the middle, fast asleep. Though he itched to wake him, both had a turbulent night. Sliding between the sheets, he wrapped his arm around Gianni's waist.
"I thought you'd never come to bed."
"I was debating moving our location." Tentatively, he kissed Gianni on the cheek. "Get some sleep. We both need it."
Gianni pushed his arm lower. Butcher's hand brushed the rigidness between his thighs. "Sleep is the farthest thing from my mind right now." Butcher tried to protest, but Gianni straddled him. Smoothing his hands over the tight stitches, he smiled. "Better not strain you too much tonight until you heal." Lips gently touched his, slow and steady.
"Oh, fuck the stitches." Butcher grabbed Gianni's hair and deepened the kiss. His tongue searched and explored until his lungs cried out for oxygen. The younger Bencivenni slid down, tasting each nipple. His teeth clamped on the tender flesh before he flicked his tongue on the reddened nub. Underneath the sheets and planted between his legs, the wetness of Gianni's mouth claimed his cock. Butcher groaned. More than he could hope for, the way his newfound love sucked and lapped his shaft left nothing to question on where their relationship would go. Tender care with a rampant hunger, he shivered as his cock disappeared farther and farther down his throat. He almost came when a finger explored his backdoor. Gianni spit and slathered his hole for ease of entry. One digit prodded slowly before another joined.
"Fuck yes. I'm going to come."
"Hold it. As much as I want to taste every inch of you, I plan on riding that cock." Gianni's fingers pumped. "I need lube."
"Shit." The one thing he'd never thought about packing. "Get on your hands and knees."
"But I'm rather having fun doing this."
Butcher growled and fisted the sheets as Gianni quickened the fingering. "Oh, shit. I'm going to come." Clenching his jaw, Butcher tried to stop the overwhelming need to spray his semen. He wanted this moment to last, but his abstaining had hurried his need for release. Gianni, heedless to the warning, bent and sucked on the tip. His tongue twisted along the underbelly before his downward descent matched the ferocity of his finger fuck. Butcher's stitches threatened to pop as each muscle hardened. His cock jerked inside Gianni's beautiful mouth. His puckered hole forgotten, his lover continued to work his balls and shaft until every last drop was swallowed.
"Aww, Johnny. You taste so good."
At the sound of his birth name, Butcher thrust his hips up. "Give me a second and I'm going to fuck you hard and fast."
Gianni shook his head. "Too late. I've already got your ass primed and ready."
Bearing down while lifting his legs, Butcher cursed and moaned as Gianni's cock invaded the space between his cheeks. Smooth, yet forceful, his beloved guest penetrated his ass. Pain flared in his wounds, but with each thrust, it faded to pure pleasure. His vision blurred back to the first night they'd spent together in some cheap motel.
Gianni had bent him in half just like this moment, rubbing his hard cock between his ass cheeks while pouring copious amounts of lube over the area. The beauty of his sweat-drenched skin and the lucid way his eyes had bored into his soul had made him wish the night would never end.
He damned his body for being too broken to ride Gianni, yet the tortuous pace unhinged his thoughts. He screamed out the only name ever to burrow into his heart. "Gianni!"