Gilded Agony

by K. A. Merikan

  “See you at home?”

  Domenico groaned out a yes and disconnected.

  Everyone was in such a perfect mood today.

  Mark made one more call to make sure someone could come over and help the Buenos out of bondage, but he didn’t envy the man who would have to deal with the couple, because he could still hear their screams from the car.

  Mark entered the peaceful house dying for a shower and some food. The latter, he was happy to find in the kitchen, under a glass dome. Twelve perfect lemon cupcakes. He ate two before he even walked into the living room and he could bounce with excitement from the delicious mix of sweet and sour. A perfect treat after a really shitty day.

  He gravitated toward the sofa, wanting to switch off the television but froze when Seth’s brown eyes glared at him from a pile of pillows on the floor. He sat with his legs spread out and his back resting against the sofa, his fingers curled around a large wine glass and with two bottles of the alcohol resting next to him. One was already empty.

  “What do you want?” Seth asked in that confrontational tone he sometimes used for no reason. He couldn’t possibly still be angry over Mark not wanting to indulge him with photos in the morning. There were bigger fish to fry.

  Mark rolled his eyes when the scent of alcohol finally hit him. “Nothing. I just didn’t see you at first.”

  “Well, I am here,” Seth snarled as if he wanted to communicate something more, but he didn’t follow up with anything.

  Mark raised his arms. “Err, okay.” He hated seeing Seth drunk. Tipsy was fine, but sometimes Seth really took things too far. And when that happened, he reminded Mark of his dad, the junkie who’d sent him out into the streets to earn money for liquor without ever asking about its source.

  Seth didn’t care how the money for his rum, his vodka, and his expensive whiskey was made either. He just sat at home, doing nothing, and got shitfaced every other day. How this was right, Mark had no idea, but that was how things worked after the takeover from Toro 1.0, and he didn’t feel it was his place to question Domenico about it. And now here they were, in the throes of a silent agreement that Seth didn’t ask questions, while Domenico and Mark didn’t talk about what they actually did in the day.

  Would Domenico even mention today’s fiasco to Seth? Mark would wait and see. He didn’t want to be the one to introduce the topic.

  “Can I have the cupcakes?”

  Seth watched him in prolonged silence, his eyelids already slightly droopy. “Sure. Have them all. Offer them to your friends or whatever.”

  Mark’s heart skipped a beat. Fuck yes, he’d eat them all. “Thanks!” With that, he walked off for a quick shower. Somewhere in between shedding his sweaty clothes and drying his body with a towel, he’d changed his mind about being tired. Maybe it was the cupcakes, maybe the wish to leave before Domenico came back and found Seth in a state even worse than he was in now, but he was buzzing to go out and relax.

  Mark was dressed in nice but comfortable clothes and smelled of his favorite cologne when he came back downstairs. There were condoms and lube in his pockets, and once he picked up the remaining cupcakes, his night could begin.

  When he passed the sofa, Seth climbed onto the seat and rested his elbows on the backrest, drinking more wine while he watched Mark. “Will we take some photos together next week?” he asked with a slight slur.

  Mark had to quickly chew and swallow the cream and sponge to answer. “I don’t know. It’s… hectic right now. But if things clear up, then sure.” If you sober up, he added in his head.

  Seth’s face twisted, and he finished his glass rapidly. “You never have time for me anymore.”

  Was this actually Seth’s opinion, or the wine talking? “Yeah, ‘cause I work with Dom, and I try to have a sex life in my time off.”

  Seth pursed his lips but then disappeared from sight as he slumped down to the sofa. “Go on then. Find another hole to fuck.”

  Mark growled. “Christ, Seth! What is wrong with you? Grow up.”

  “I’m ten years older than you, and I’ve been through more than you can imagine!”

  Mark dismissed him with a wave of his hand and was off. He had no patience for discussions like this. Seth was perfectly capable of joining Mark and Domenico at their work. He was physically strong and could be intimidating when he wanted to. He was no sugar muffin and had proven in the past how mean and focused he could be, but for whatever reason, Domenico insisted Seth needed to lead a life of luxury, devoid of worry about all that pesky cartel stuff. It felt unfair and created a growing resentment each time Mark walked in on Seth wasting his days away with a bottle or working on yet another idiotically impractical hobby. A crossbow. A fucking crossbow.

  He wanted to point out that while Seth had been getting drunk and watching DVDs, Mark had beaten up a man and threatened several others. So what that Seth was older or more experienced if he stopped using his combat skills once they’d settled in El Encanto?

  In the end, Mark decided having an argument about it would have been a waste of time when he had cupcakes to eat and people to see. Tonight, he didn’t feel like romance. It had been a tough day, and the woman he’d been casually dating recently had just dumped him, so he might as well go to where hard, fast, and sexy were plentiful. The docks.

  El Encanto didn’t exactly become a gay paradise just because no one dared to question Domenico about bringing his husband to church every Sunday or the two of them indulging in a bit too much PDA. Cruising and short hook ups was still the name of the game, and Mark stuffed another cupcake into his mouth, unable to imagine what Seth could have possibly put in them to make them so addictive. It couldn’t have been drugs, since Seth had no access to any, and Mark was in heaven rather than tripping.

  He left their little fortress within a fortress and started walking across the vast plain of grass, already feeling invigorated. His focus was mostly on the car he’d left in front of the main building on the property, but he couldn’t help becoming somewhat nervous when he recognized a lone figure approaching from its direction as Domenico.

  He looked terrible. There was nothing wrong with him, technically, but after having known Domenico intimately for four years now, the slumped shoulders and sloppy gait were easy to spot. His throat itched to warn Dom of the pathetic sight he was going to walk in on at home, but when Domenico was tired or agitated, good-natured words could easily be turned into a violent argument, so Mark said nothing about Seth.

  Mark wasn’t afraid to park his car in the seedy area around the docks, because no one would even dare to scratch it. Maybe he could find some pretty tourist up for an adventure? He wasn’t exactly anonymous in El Encanto, and that meant people either avoided him, or flocked to him, depending on their preference. He needed a breath of fresh air, without having to live up to being Toro’s man or ‘Mr. Vincitore’. Would it be too much to ask to just be ‘Mark’ tonight?

  He pulled his unruly curls into a short ponytail, but it didn’t have the classy, sleek effect Domenico’s hair had, and Miguel kept making fun of it. Maybe he should cut it after all?

  With the four remaining cupcakes safely stored in a small lunchbox, he walked between the empty stalls that were so lively during the day. Some of the stores and bars were still open, but later at night, town life moved to the center. The air smelled of trash waiting for pickup in the early morning hours, of river mud, piss, and oil. But Mark made his way farther, past the little carousel for children and the port authority buildings, delving between warehouses bordering a measly park that had mostly been left to grow without human disturbance.

  The air was cooler here and smelled a bit fresher, even if the aftertaste of the river remained at the back of Mark’s tongue whenever he inhaled. Two pale figures loomed in the distance, standing close between the trees, their hands touching places that should remain untouched in the open. Mark ignored them, entering a narrow yet well-trodden path that led deeper between the bushes. Damp earth and decaying leaves re
placed the earlier scents, but as he went ahead, his gaze was focused on locating someone standing alone.

  From behind a tree, a curious face emerged, but it was too dark to see who it was. The man, as he had a distinctly male shape, approached in an increasingly confident gait. Mark lit himself a cigarette, waiting to see more of the stranger.

  A careful smile, barely visible in the faint glow, was all Mark needed to decide that he could have sex with this man. He smiled back and offered the stranger a smoke without a word.

  The guy was a bit older than him, and the brief moment the flame of Mark’s lighter illuminated his face was enough to take in the broad nose, thick eyebrows and lips Mark wanted around his cock. For a few seconds after the flame had gone, they could barely see anything, but once Mark’s eyes got used to darkness again, he couldn’t miss the whites of the other man’s eyes. He wasn’t exactly Mark’s type—a bit taller, with the firm body of someone who did a lot of physical labour, but he had pleasant features and smelled of citrus. His body was warm, too, where Mark touched him. And that was what counted most.

  “There’s quite a crowd here tonight,” the man whispered with a laugh to his voice.

  “Big boat full of fresh meat has arrived. People trying to get their kicks before Christmas?” Mark chuckled and took a deep inhale of smoke.

  The man turned his body toward Mark’s and pressed closer until Mark could taste the smoke on his breath. “Of course. Everyone wants to sin in advance before they’re forced to be good for those few days.”

  “How about you?” Mark grinned wider and ran his fingers down the man’s stomach. “You up for some sinning?”

  “I’m getting an early Christmas present. Been eyeing you for a while, Mr. Vincitore.”

  Cogs jammed in Mark’s brain. So he wouldn’t get the anonymity he craved tonight. The aftertaste of frosting on his tongue was suddenly more sour than sweet.

  “Oh, yeah?” He got stuck, unsure how to pull out of this awkward limbo, because his excitement for the guy dropped like a rock down an endless well. “Show me your hand.”

  The man raised his eyebrows, but offered his arm in the dim light. Mark grabbed it and examined the inked knuckles, even though he was actually looking for an excuse to leave.

  “Sorry, don’t like tattoos,” he said and took off without waiting for an answer.

  “Hey! What? You wouldn’t have even seen them in the dark!”

  Mark kept walking, but groaned when the man followed him.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re saying ‘no’ to a blowjob because I’ve got ink?”

  Mark turned around and pushed at the man’s chest. It didn’t matter that the guy was a bit bigger. He’d taken on Miguel in training and knew how to handle physically larger opponents. “I said ‘no’, and that’s it. You’ve got a problem with that?” He shoved the guy again, only getting more agitated. He’d come here for release, not to constantly worry how what he did reflected on his family.

  The guy scoffed, shaking his head. “I get it. You think you’re too good for me? Well, fuck you then,” he said, visibly stiffening, as if he anticipated a punch.

  Mark shook his head and started walking again. “Good luck.”

  Stalking tourists it was then. Which wasn’t even all that bad an idea, as he always liked to watch their carefree lives unfold in the streets. They were so oblivious to the thorns of the secret world that surrounded them. Just like Charlotte had been before her kidnapping.

  But he wouldn’t think about Charlotte, who now most likely lived a perfectly normal life back in England. He, on the other hand, was out to relax. Have a good time. If he went into one of the nice bars, he could surely catch himself a hot guy for the night, one who would be completely oblivious to the fact that he was in the arms of a predator deadlier than the local fauna.

  He quickly left the unkempt park and sped up, wishing to leave the cruising spot behind. He rushed past a woman shutting down her store but said nothing when she greeted him in passing.

  He took a shortcut that would lead him to the town center, but the dark emptiness of the wide dirt road seemed to go on forever, even though somewhere far off he could hear distant music. A skinny dog followed him, then another.

  “You’re not getting my cupcakes,” he said to the mutts as he walked on, but his focus turned to the sound of hooves in the darkness ahead.

  The clomping created an echo somewhere beyond the bend of the road. The rider was in no rush, steadily approaching Mark. A breeze pushed his hair back and forced him to blink just as the animal emerged from shadow, sliding into the moonlit stage of the empty road like a moving statue.

  It was huge.

  So tall its massive head reached way above the fence on the right, the horse continued down the road at the same pace. Despite dim illumination, Mark could already recognize that the animal’s coat was black as tar, and its body—muscular and heavy-boned, with long hair dancing around its hoofs.

  The two stray dogs stood still, one letting out a whine as it curled its tail between its legs. Mark walked on toward the animal that could’ve carried the Grim Reaper himself. He looked up at the rider as he came close. In the dark, the whites of the man’s eyes stood out, but the rest of his face was obscured by the shadows of wavy hair as dark as the horse’s coat.

  But the man didn’t pass Mark. The closer he got, the slower was the majestic horse’s walk. Long hair moved with the breeze, tracing the stranger’s wide shoulders. He held himself straight, and when Mark was close enough, he couldn’t miss the man’s muscular legs resting against the sides of the gorgeous animal. He wore plain black boots with ripped jeans that clung to the shapely body just right. It was only the stranger’s face that still remained a mystery, shrouded by hair and shadows cast by the moon shining from behind the man’s back.

  When they were about to pass each other, the horse came to a halt.

  Mark walked on.

  The situation was weird enough as it was. But he couldn’t help himself and glanced over his shoulder after a few paces. The rider stared back at him as well, and this time, with the moonlight shining into his face, Mark took in its harmonious features. Dark eyes sat deep under pronounced, thick brows, positioned close to a wide, masculine nose. There was a bit of softness to the man’s jawline, but his chin was sharp and protruding slightly below lips that were stretched into a smile.

  He was no local. Mark would have remembered seeing a guy this handsome before.

  “I like your horse,” Mark said and turned around to stop stupidly straining his neck. He’d always wanted to learn horse riding, yet there never seemed to be time for it.

  “I also see something I like,” the stranger said, and his voice, low and velvety smooth, seemed to physically rub against Marks balls.

  Mark stood straighter. Okay. Now he was really paying attention. The guy was either this confident or had a death wish. Mark smiled. This was good. He was getting giddy and hot all over.

  Mark stepped closer, and as he approached, the horse—stallion—moved its head to look at him. It was almost the size of Mark’s torso. “How can you tell from so high up there?”

  The stranger laughed and leaned down, reaching for Mark’s face. His fingers moved in a universal gesture of invitation.

  If Mark had learned anything from Domenico, it was to avoid getting carried away, and always coolly assess the situation. But taking into account that Domenico often didn’t follow his own advice, Mark stepped close enough for the man to grab his jaw. They watched each other in silence, and the way the fingers traced Mark’s cheeks, had him getting harder by the second. By the time the man slipped his thumb under Mark’s bottom lip, Mark was ready to fuck right here and now.

  The stranger hummed and lowered himself farther, hanging off the horse with his other hand firmly gripping the front of the saddle. The scent of musky aftershave overwhelmed Mark’s senses even before a stubbled cheek rubbed across his lips, making them burn for the silky smooth tongue that fol
lowed.

  Mark arched to his toes to meet the man’s lips, and finally broke the spell the stranger must have cast on him. His heart rattled as if this wasn’t yet another meeting in a back-alley. Was it the horse? The man’s piercing brown eyes? He wasn’t sure, but he greedily gave in to the kiss, stroking his palms up the stranger’s neck, which scratched him as effectively as his chin had.

  The warm, steady hand moved along the side of Mark’s head and buried itself in his hair, twisting in the strands just enough to allow the stranger control without it being painful. Teeth pulled the tip of Mark’s tongue, then nipped his bottom lip, holding on until the pressure became almost too much.

  Mark exhaled deeply through his nose, stepping so close his front was pressed against the horse, but he wouldn’t let go of the man’s lips. This was exactly what he craved. With this man, he would forget all about the turmoil of the day. He was so hard his whole groin throbbed for release, so he slid his hand up the man’s thigh, unwilling to wait with the touch. It was as firm as he’d imagined, but the stranger chuckled and pulled away with a wicked grin. Any and all attempts to follow the delicious lips were stopped by the hand tightening in Mark’s hair. They stared at one another, both breathing rapidly.

  Mark hardly remembered the last time he’d been so flustered around a man. “Do you have a place, or are we just gonna fuck here?” He wouldn’t even blink, but his imagination offered all sorts of visions in which they did it on horseback, in the dirt, or one where the man just sat in the saddle sideways and Mark sucked him off, standing on his toes.

  The stranger let go and straightened his back, removing his foot from the stirrup before Mark could protest.

  “Get on.”

  Mark wanted to remain dignified while doing so, but he didn’t have much experience with riding. At least he was tall enough to handle the beast. He grabbed the front of the saddle and pulled himself up. Mark’s ass was a tight fit against the hard cock in the stranger’s jeans, and he exhaled deeply, drunk on the surreal atmosphere of the moonlit road.